Prattling Pony

[Marie]

"Of course."

He led her in the direction of the Great Sept, which could be seen rising high above the other buildings.

"So I suppose you northerners pray to those scary-looking heart trees?"

[The Flint]

"We pray to the Old Gods, not to trees." Summer replied rolling her eyes, "That's like saying you Andals pray to marble buildings, silly man."

[Marie]

Mark srhugged.

"It's not that odd, truly. We believe in the Seven but every sept has a representation of each of the gods. It's a statue, if the house is wealthy, or a painting. The smallest septs have charcoal drawings of each of the Seven. So....that's where we stand or kneel during our prayers. In front of whichever of the Seven we are praying to. So it's like we're praying to the state, or whatever. It's a representation of the god. I thought maybe your heart trees cotnained spirits of your gods within them?"

[The Flint]

Summer just shook her head her long black hair brushing against Toland's cheek as she did so. "Not exactly... it's hard to explain.

[Marie]

/////////////

Two Dornishmen arrived at the Prattling Pony. One if them looked extremely nervous and it could be seen that the other was leading him along.

"Have mercy, Triston," Mark grumbled. "I'm your blood kin. How can you - and Mother - do this to me?"

"You brought it upon yourself through your folly," Triston replied. "Now hush, you'll just have to put up with it."

Mark tried to pull away but Triston held him fast. There was panic written on Mark's face. Triston eyed his brother with a hint of contempt. Mark had never been the bravest of their house and it was showing now.

"Let me go, brother, I beg you. Mother need never know. I'll run off to Ghost Hill or Susnpear or anywhere, just let me go."

"I won't,. Mother gave her word and I won't make her an oathbreaker. You'll do this whether you like it or not. We want no trouble with the North."

"But I neve even raped the girl. Stupid frozen bitch, how could she do this to me?"

"Shut up!"" Triston snapped. "It has to be done. Afterwards, you'll go back to your chamber and rest and Mother will decide what's to be done, but you can't stay here. That much is certain. The capital is as dangerous for you as Ghost Hill. Itf you would actually make an effort to get along with Arthur and myself you might come home, but Mother wants no trouble at her own castle and who could blame her? If you're not careful she'll send you across the Narrow Sea and it will be the better for all of us, yourself included."

Marks's face turned white as they entered the establishment. He said nothing as Triston asked for Wyman Flint, giving their names as Ser Triston and Ser Mark Toland.

[The Flint]

Lord Wyman stood up from the bench on which he was seated. Tormund, Alfyn, Ramsay and Ryk sat beside him, and looked at the Dornishman with obvious distaste.

"Whose this," He said, of Ser Triston.

[Marie]

"I'm Ser Triston Toland," he said. "And this is Ser Mark, my brother. I came to help him home, after. I've also brought this."

He took a leather pouch out of the inside pocket of his jerkin and held it out to Wyman. The pouch clinked with the unmistakeable sound of coins.

"I'm sure it will meet your needs."

The Northmen couldn't help but see the terror ion Mark' face. It was plain that he wanted to turn and run but didn't dare with Triston right beside him.

[The Flint]

The northmen sniffed, "alright then, let's go out back behind the inn so no one see." he suggests, as the five Flints get up and move through the backdoor into a cramped alleyway behind the shop.

[Marie]

Mark was shaking and tried to pull away but Triston held his arm and led him after the Northmen.

"Don't you dare shame us," Triston muttered as they went behind the inn.

[The Flint]

"You want to stay and watch this?" Wyman asked, as they entered the alley and formed a circle around Mark Toland.

[Marie]

Triston had assumed he would have to stay and watch, though it occured to him now tha Viviane had not insisted upon it. His task was to hand over the money, and to make sure Mark didn;t try to wriggle out of it.

"No, but I'll stay within earshot if you don't object. My mother tasked wme with making sure Mark gets safely back to the Red Keep."

Mark looked desperately at Trison.

"Sweet brother, I beg you, don't do this. How many times must I tell you,nothing happened. except that Northern bastard breaking my collarbone? You should be sorting him out, not letting some other Northern bastards do this to me."

Triston sighed. He wasn't too sure how all this had happened but he trusted his mother's judgement where he did not trust Mark's.

"I wish this were'e necessary, but there is plainly no way out of it. Best accept that, Mark. I'm not going to fight these men for you. Your quarrel is not mine. I shall wait at the end of the alley."

He turned and walked away. Mark took fright and tried to run after him.

[The Flint]

Tormund brought his knee crashing up into the man's groin, and then hit him on the back of the head like a slaughterman stunning a cow.

[Marie]

Mark clasped his hands over his groin as he shrieked in pain and couldn't move them fast enough as he topped over and slammed face first into the ground. He rolled over, still clutching himself.

"Please...please don't."

[The Flint]

"Don't beg boy, its unbecoming," Tormund reminded him. He delivered a stern kick the boy's ribs. Soon Alfyn, Ryk and Ramsay were on him as well, in a flurry of kicks and stomps. They avoid the boy's head, and exposed hands or feet, but kick only his torso, so as to hurt but not maim him.

[Marie]

"But i never harmed the girl. It was her doing, she led me on. I never did anything to tany woman that they didn't want, I swear it."

But he could say no more as the beating began in earnest.