The Godswood

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The Godswood at the Red Keep is an acre of elm, alder and black cottonwood trees that overlook the Blackwater Rush. The heart tree is a great oak, whose limbs have become overgrown with smokeberry vines.

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Ser Malcolm walked into the quiet place, whom looked to be devoid of guests. He put down his son, whom quickly disappeared among the trees. With only one way out, Ser Malcolm placed himself near the entrance to the Godswood, knowing that Robert could enjoy himself in there.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Ser Oswyn was in the godswood as well, inspecting the great oak that serves as its heart tree. He had always loved the forest, the better part of his youth spent in the Stormland's verdant forests. The last five years at Blackhaven had been nothing but rocks and the occasional dead Dornishman, so he revelled in just the smell of trees.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"No need to apologize, my lady." Oswyn replied kindly, despite the shock of being interrupted from his own thoughts. "My brother has the same inclination and far less grace. I thank the gods he has not taken a tumble down the stairs of Storm's End yet."

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Oswyn smiled as the woman's laughed echoed among the trees.

"After five years squiring at Blackhaven, I've actually come to miss the little oaf." he replied fondly.

He puffed up his chest proudly as she surmised his house.

"You would be correct, my lady. I am Oswyn." he said, before quickly adding "Ser Oswyn." The title was still new and felt alien on his tongue.

"A pleasure to make your acquantence, Lady Winnie..." he trailed off, hoping she'd fill in the blank.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"Very well, keep your mystery Lady Winnie." he replied, doing his best impression of the knight he was now sworn to be and indulging the woman despite his curiosity.

"I have four years on him." he answered simply, "I suppose whether or not it is a great deal is a matter of perspective."

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

The woman was perceptive, Oswyn had to give her that. He strained his mind to place her, but failed. Clearly he had not been responsible enough in his studies of the lords and ladies of the realm.

"The eldest? Certainly. Responsible? That is a matter for some debate I am sure." he answered her lightly. In truth, despite the vows he had taken and toils he had undertaken, he still felt a young man. "You would have to ask my father."

His smile faltered slightly at the revelation that the woman was married, though he should have expected it from a woman with no chaperone.

"I am all too aware. My sister is two years my elder and married to Lord Royce. Nuptials of my own seem so far off, but I know they will have to come in short order."

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Oswyn's smile feel completely now.

"I am sorry to hear of your loss, my lady. A shame to be widowed so young. Was he a good man, your husband? How did he pass?" he asked, genuinely empathetic. "We need not speak of it if it is too painful a topic."

"As for why I am here, restlessness I suppose." he said, simply. "And you?"

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"I could think of no upbringing I would have preferred." the knight replied earnestly, either ignoring his father's infamous lechery or judging it despite that. "Have you ever been to the Stormlands, my lady? There are no lands that can compare to its verdant forests, azure seas, and majestic cliffs. I spent every free moment of my childhood exploring every inch of them I could."

He became acutely aware of the woman's hand on his arm and nearly blushed as she called him intriguing. For a brief moment he fancied himself a knight from the stories, gallant and dashing enough to make women swoon. Perhaps the vigil had been more transformative than he perceived.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"So she is from the West." he thought, knowing he was only getting the information she deemed fit to share but enjoying the her mystique.

At her compliment, this time Oswyn did blush, casting his eyes downward.

"Swimming in that wrathful sea as a child did half the work and Lord Dondarrion did the rest." he answered with no bravado. "I will compete in the lists, though cannot say how far I will advance with such stiff competition, my father included. Are you a fan of the joust?"

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

"I would be most honored, my lady." Oswyn replied, with a dumb grin on his face, a combination of being able to answer without stammering and the continued fulfillment of every fantasy he had dreamed of knighthood. "Though when it comes time to name you Queen of Love and Beauty, it will be most awkward not knowing your name."

[Lord Harold Tully]

Harold Tully makes his way into the Godswood. Grander then the one at Riverrun but still refreshing to stand it, he takes a seat by the pool and takes out a book and begins to write in it.

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Ser Malcolm had remained in his place, only slightly keeping an eye upon the other guests that found their way into the godswood. He was suprised by it, the reason he had chosen the godswood was that he believed that noone besides the northern guests would come here. He had never been a believer of the tree-gods that his mother kept, but Robert had always seemed to be more comfortable around the heart-tree than in the sept, but he was certain that his son would come to love the Seven as he did.

"Robert, it's time to return to your mother." he shouted, deciding that it was time for him to mingle with the other guests, that was the reason they had come after all.

The young boy didn't come for some time, but finally he did come out, dirty and with wet clothes. Malcolm sighed but erupted in a smile soon thereafter.

"Come, let us get you change out of those clothes."

[Lord Harold Tully]

Harold looked to the boy with a smile. Silently returning to writing in his Journal.

[Lord Oswyn Baratheon]

Sept 6, 2013 21:31:10 GMT -5 @elane said:

"Just call for Winnie," she said lightly, drawing a silk favor from under her cloak. The strip of silk had orange and black sunbursts on it. These were the arms of House Kayce, but it was a small House on the western coast and Ser Oswyn had never heard of it. She gently tied it around his arm, hesitated, and kissed him lightly on his cheek.

"Ride well, Ser Oswyn," she said with a smile, and then she disappeared into the wood, gone as swiftly as she had appeared.

Stunned, Oswyn touched his hand to his cheek as the woman ran off. He inspected the favor for a few moment, a boyish grin upon his face, before departing the godswood.