The Great Hall of the Dun Fort

[mark]

"It is quite alright, friend, I promise." Robb tries not to burst into laughter. His friend was completely and utterly drunk. "How do you like lordship, Oliver?" he asks simply, not knowing what else to say.

[Quenton Baratheon]

"Ugh, izz TERRIBLE!" Oliver blurts out.

He suddenly stands and randomly staggers away without any further word.

[mark]

Robb turns and smiles apologetically to Lysette. "That's my closest friend. Lord Oliver Bulwer," he says, shaking his head with a grin.

[Sam]

Ser Grant sat near Lord Dondarrion, laughing and joking with Ser Garlan Swann, while Alyana sat beside him at the feast table smiling happily to herself. Ser Grant looked over at her and saw her hand on her belly, which seemed to grow larger by the day. He put his own callused hand on top of hers, their fingers intertwined. He lifted his goblet of wine for a draught, but Ser Garlan interrupted his drink with another joke, causing Ser Grant to spray his wine all over the poor knight sitting across from him. He started to choke, and Ser Garlan banged him on the back, and by the time he could breathe again both men had tears in their eyes from laughing so hard.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Ser Mychel Hill stood near the head of the table, several feet behind the King's seat. Rickon and his brother had been given seats of honor on the dais at the head of the long table. Ser Mychel could see three of his sworn brothers scattered about the room, pale white shadows for all they moved.

The white knight's eyes constantly roved the feast, searching for hints of something that could escalate into a fight. There were dozens' of King's Men enjoying their own modest meal in a room next door, though they had been permitted no alcohol in case they were required to rush into the Great Hall in the King's defense.

He noticed Lord Tarly talking to a man who was obviously drunk, though Ser Mychel could not recognize the man's House by his garb. The young heir to Griffin's Roost almost choked on his wine, but nothing had come of it. So many lords from the different kingdoms in one place would cause tensions, however, and once men began to get drunk it was inevitable for at least one fight to break out. Ser Mychel hoped the lords would have the presence of mind to at least save their quarrels for after the feast, but he remained vigilantly on guard all the same.

[Sam]

A page came running into the hall, and scanned it for a few seconds before making eye contact with Ser Mychel up on the dais. The boy darted up to him, slipping between the servants that were coming and going with different dishes and drinks. He started to speak before he even reached Ser Mychel. "Lord Regent, we've received a dispatch-" Ser Mychel cut him off with a laugh.

"I am not Ser Benfry, but I will pass your message on to my Sworn Brother." The page looked at him slightly abashed, but resumed speaking. Ser Mychel's smile turned to a frown at the information, and when the boy was finished, Mychel waved him away. He looked around the Hall for Ser Benfry, but could not see his Lord Commander anywhere. He caught a view of Lord Tarly's Dornish wife, and his frown deepened.

He stepped forward towards the King, who was listening to another of his brother's long-winded stories about his own heroism and prowess. "Your grace," Ser Mychel said softly. "I do not wish to disturb your feasting, but we have just recieved word that there was an attempt made on Lord Irwyn's life in Godsgrace. His guards saved his life, and their maester reported that he would recover fully in time, thank the Seven, but this may become a very serious setback in Dorne."

[Tallahar]

Tallahar started to listen when his younger Cousin advanced on Lady Aranya and asked to have words with her.

[barker520]

Mag and his retinue sat at the table, silent. The food was strange to them, as was the customs and manner of the southerners. Mag watched as young men dressed as girls ravaged his two wives with their eyes; he had half a mind to break open their skulls with his stone axe. The only time Mag had felt comfortable in Duskendale was in the training yard. Everyman spoke the same language when it came to blade on blade, the sweat and the exhilaration of a fight.

Cudge sat further down than Mag, silent observing the feast and its guests with interest, sipping wine.

[Fel]

Apr 26, 2008 9:48:25 GMT -5 @elane said:

"Of course," Aranya said, looking at him with keen eyes. "Sit down, this seat's empty as my daughter's gone to bed."

"Thank you, my lady," Marq said with an unusually serious tone, as he sat down beside Aranya.

"Lady Royce," he began, speaking slowly and steadily, "Westeros has been a broken, war-torn realm for many years now, and we have all seen our share of horrors, I know you have, and I certainly have aswell. I lost my brother at the Bloody Bolton Parlay, I experienced King's Landing under the traitor Blackwood, and I have seen the dunes of Dorne run red with the blood of men."

"I say these things because in all the chaos and horror of these times, we must do what we can to find some glimmer of happiness and joy. Some raft to cling to in this stormy sea. I have found my raft in the Lady Rhae Rykker. I beg you, if you have ever loved, ever experienced such joy, to not deny it to myself and Rhae. Please, call off her betrothal to your lord son and grant her hand to me instead. There will be other, more profitable matches for Brynden, but there is only one for me. If I must prove my worth and my sincerity I will, I will fight any champion, undergo any task to win Lady Rykker."

Marq finished his speech and looked into Aranya's eyes with a look full of purpose and hope.

[Deleted]

Lysette's mouth twitched. "He seems a merry fellow. I hope he takes the melee as seriously as he takes his drink, or my poor husband will have nobody useful to help him. Do you have good men on your team for tomorrow, my lord?"

Up at the high table, a silence fell as some people overheard Ser Marq Tyrell's words. Lysette looked up at the table, and raised her eyebrow, She studied the lovestruck young knight closely, pitying him, though she didn't hear everything.

Rhae Rykker was flushing pink, her eyes bright with love and terror. Aranya's face was like stone. Privately, Aranya was cursing herself for having asked the stupid boy to speak at the table, and she was thankful for the small mercy that Brynden and the others had gone to bed already. That stupid girl, Aranya thought. She would never have guesed that Rhae's little flirtation would result in something like this.

"It is dishonorable to covet a betrothed lady, and even more so to ask for her hand. You are young and full of passion, and have no idea what you're talking about. Cease this folly and beg Rhae's pardon. I will not give her hand to any but to her betrothed. Rhae, by her birth and by her betrothal, belongs to Duskendale." In truth, she felt a little sorry for the young fools, but Brynden would need Rhae to cement his rule in Duskendale.

[Tallahar]

As Tallahar grasps what his cousin asked he stands, "You you you Fool. I thought I had taught you enough honour when you squired." Bowing to Lady Aranya, "M'lady Royce I beg to talk to you in private with my cousin and young Lady Rykker."

[Teirney Lannister]

Aerie Falgrave eyed the boy stolidly, twisting her ring with comtemplative purpose. She was almost surprised at the sympathy she felt for him, but it was there, bitter and warm within her as she surveyed his idealistic expression. Poor thing. If only it worked that way. Aerie knew very well that it did not.

She pulled her eyes away, unable to face the grief and shame that would soon flicker into his.

[mark]

Robb looked on carelessly, wishing for the jests and rude suggestions to the servant girls to return to the hall.

[Horas]

Graham Blackwood, clearly drunk and in good spirits, stumbles jauntily towards the head table. "Wonderful. Wonderful. Wonderful!" Graham bellows drunkenly, "A toast! A toast to love!"

Graham drains his own goblet, not waiting to see if others follow his lead.

[Fel]

Marq closed his eyes and sighed softly at Aranya's refusal. Ignoring Tallahar's outburst, he opened his eyes again and looked at Aranya, keeping the hate from showing on his face. He wanted to accuse her of selfishness and unjustness. He wanted to hurl insults at her for using Rhae as a political tool, but to do those things in her own hall, at her own feast, during her own tourney would be madness, so he simply stared at her for a long while before turning away.

He looked around the room, as if for one brief, mad moment he considered grabbing Rhae and fleeing with her in his arms. He then turned his gaze to Rhae. "I beg your pardon, Lady Rhae, 'twas wrongly done, I hope I shall be able to correct it to you." And with that he turned and walked from the hall.

[Tallahar]

My the gods curse that boy. Looking from the retreating Marq back to Lady Aranya, "Can I still talk to you Lady Royce?" Looking at the crowded hall, "Alone."