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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Oct 11, 2013 0:43:37 GMT -5
Oswyn answered her initial claims with only silence, waiting for her to read the damning evidence laid against her. It took all his willpower not to strike her then, only honor staying his hand.
As she read, he watched her eyes, warping her reactions as signs of guild in his own mind. Her eyes widened in surprise became eyes widened in fear. The panic building on her fair features, only knowledge that her dark secret had come to light.
"Do not question my father's loyalty to divert attention from your lack of honor, harlot!" he roared, expression devoid of sympathy, gallant features warped in rage. "Do not say my name now or claim you ever loved me. A maiden you were on our wedding night, but loyal you did not remain. You claimed you went West while I was away to seek solace and companionship. I see you found it in another man's arms."
"Your aid in my recovery is the only thing that saved you from the noose, else I would have let political ramifications be damned and watched you swing!"
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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Oct 11, 2013 1:04:48 GMT -5
"Their veracity has been proven, with witnesses procured." he replied, the rest of her words lost to him. "Your swearing to the contrary means little now. What is another lie made before the Gods, to one that has already broken the most holy pact of all."
He looked to his father then expectantly, giving him a grave nod.
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Post by Sam on Oct 11, 2013 1:15:34 GMT -5
Lord Baratheon strode over to the fire, and pulled out one of the pokers. At the end, glowing orange-red from its place in the flames was an iron wrought "A" that was about the length of a man's palm from top to bottom.
"You have already been judged guilty. I, Lord Sammael of House Baratheon, the Lord of Storm's End and Master of the Stepstones, in the name of her Grace Rose, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoyanar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do commute your sentence of death to a branding, so that all might know of your crimes, wherever you go," he said in a grave voice. He took her left arm in his hand, and in a swift motion pressed the iron against the back of her hand, and held it for three eternal seconds. The skin of his own fingers sizzled, having brushed the side of the red-hot iron as he held her arm steady, but he did not react to that whatsoever.
After what felt like years, he released her, and she saw the ugly welt, stretching from her knuckles to an apex about an inch past her wrist. The smell of burnt flesh filled the room, and for a single moment Amelia saw what appeared to be a mournful expression on Lord Baratheon's face, before his impassive mask replaced it again. "My son loved you," he said, so softly only she could hear. "How dare you do this."
He straightened up, and tossed the iron to the floor, where it clattered against the wood and started smoldering. The guard by the door hurried over and picked it up, before the entire manse went up in flames, and replaced it in the fireplace.
Lord Baratheon looked once at his son, and once at his former good-daughter, and then turned on his heel and walked out of the room. "Get this bitch out of my house."
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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Oct 11, 2013 1:40:50 GMT -5
Oswyn knelt before her now, almost tenderly, as she wept upon the floor. He had hoped for some small satisfaction when the punishment was rendered...some sense of solace. All he felt instead was a chill spreading through his veins and the need for a drink.
"Remember this pain." he said softly. "Remember it well, for it is the same searing torture I have had to suffer in silence for days while untangling your web of deceit."
His soft words were punctuated by the sounds of some commotion wafting up through the window. Even with her mind clouded by pain, Aranya could comprehend the sound of marching boots. Suddenly, the night air was split by yelps of pain and mournful howls as the hornhounds in the kennels were put to the sword by the Baratheon guardsmen, their death throes echoing in the room.
"I will have a blanket made of their pelts to warm your empty bed, my parting gift to you." he intoned when the beasts had breathed their last and silence claimed the night again, returning to his full height and turning to his guardsmen.
"Have her stripped bare and deposited on the streets like the whore she is." he commanded, his eyes beginning to mist as he blinked furiously in an attempt to keep his resolve.
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Post by Lord Donal Stormshield on Oct 11, 2013 1:42:51 GMT -5
Donal looks over the proceedings pissed as fucking hell, not at Amelia and her adultery but at his father and branding the woman within a seconds notice without allowing anybody in the room to respond without a chance to.
(OOC: This post may be out of character but I don't really care, I feel that Baratheon should have grabbed the brand and let others post regarding their reactions without just branding Amelia, if Smith, Stranger, and Aramya agree that what Baratheon posted is legit then this post will continue as is but if not I say that Baratheon edits when he wakes up to just having picked up the brand to have everyone's reaction to the actually branding, with the upmost respect a drunken broseph.)
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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Oct 11, 2013 1:58:42 GMT -5
"They do not have enough gold in Casterly Rock to pay the debts owed me." Oswyn spat. "Saddling me with a cuckolding wife. I can only imagine they knew of your transgressions while I was on the front lines. Even in the debauched West, the punishment for a wife's infidelity is the noose. Your brother can thank me for my mercy."
The guards did as commanded, tearing the dress from Amelia's body. It occurred to Oswyn that he and his wife had not shared a traditional bedding on the day they were wed. It weighed heavy on his heart as her clothes were torn asunder, the warped resemblance to that celebratory act they had been cheated of.
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Post by Lord Oswyn Baratheon on Oct 11, 2013 2:24:03 GMT -5
"You had your trial!" he said, turning back to the flames, unable to look upon her naked form. "The evidence was presented, the Lord of the Stormlands found you guilty, and your sentence was carried out. Be thankful for that. A royal court would have seen you hanged, if your brother does not throttle you himself for the shame you have brought the West."
The guards hoisted her up roughly, though their credit their hands did not roam. Oswyn looked for a moment as if he had something else to say, but seemed to think better of it, waving them away with disgust.
She was dragged to the entrance and shoved roughly over the threshold to the cold cobblestones of the street of Kings Landing.
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Post by Lord Donal Stormshield on Oct 11, 2013 17:54:33 GMT -5
Donal follows the guards escorting the hysterical woman outside. When they pushed her out onto the streets and left Donal shakes his head, "I know that this won't mean much Amelia, but I am sorry." He claims while taking off his coat and placing it over her.
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Post by Horas on Oct 11, 2013 18:06:14 GMT -5
Ser Crawley making his way through the streets when he heard the distinct sound of a woman in distress. A knight worthier of the title might have charged in and damned the consequences, but Crawley was a more cautious and less gallant creature. He ducks around the corner and watches until the branded woman is left alone before the manse with naught but a cloak to cover her honor -- or whatever remained of it.
Scenarios play through Crawley's mind as how me might take advantage of the situation, before recalling his conversation in the fancy whorehouse earlier in the day. Crawley sighs. Things were easier back in the days when he just robbed people.
Crawley approaches in his dirt-colored cloak and battered mail, sword and bow on his back. "You look like you could use a drink," Crawley says. He scratches at his chin awkwardly. That had not been the right thing to say. "And maybe some, ah... clothes? C'mon now." He extends a hand.
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Post by Horas on Oct 11, 2013 18:16:25 GMT -5
"I'm Ser Crawley the Crawfish Knight," Crawley says, in a tone suggesting that it was a name worth knowing. His eyes flit across Amelia, lingering on her legs before fixing on her branded hand. "Sellsword knight, you know, but this one's on the house. I know a place ain't too far from here if you can walk."
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Post by Horas on Oct 11, 2013 18:48:52 GMT -5
"Well then m'lady," Crawley slurs the words together, the way a commoner would, "You found yerself yer knight in shining armor." Crawley loosens his sword in its scabbard. "This way, right?" He sets off toward the Lannister manse, casting an eye back at the Baratheon compound.
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Post by Horas on Oct 11, 2013 18:57:12 GMT -5
"I make a habit about not drawing conclusions about clients," Crawley replies. "Well, okay. One conclusion. You look like a lass who might have a pressing need in the future to have a man shanked. You remember ol' Crawley's name if it ever comes to that, eh?"
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Post by Flex on Oct 12, 2013 11:34:36 GMT -5
//////////////
Lord Aurane Lannister arrived at the Baratheon Manse with a small group of guards, dressed in simple clothing, a badge with his sigil above his heart. He was unarmed.
He knocked on the door twice and waited.
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Post by Sam on Oct 12, 2013 12:50:21 GMT -5
Lord Lannister and his guards are escorted inside by a pair of servants, and asked to wait in the foyer while their arrival is announced. After a few minutes, he is invited to Lord Baratheon's solar while his men are offered wine or water depending on their preference.
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Post by Flex on Oct 12, 2013 12:54:52 GMT -5
Aurane entered the solar, having one of his guards help him bring in a chest, before leaving again.
"Lord Baratheon," Aurane said, his voice courteous and unrevealing of his intent.
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Hope you all are well and happy.