Red Keep: Tower of the Hand
Not a tenth as spacious as the King’s Throne Room, nor half as imposing as the Small Council Chamber, the Tower of the King’s Hand is nevertheless possessed of its own unique magnificence. Luxurious without ostentation, intimate yet formal, the chambers of the Hand strike a perfect balance between authority and beauty, conducive to counsel and policy. Upon floors of polished marble are strewn Myrish rugs, embroidered in fantastic patterns with birds, beasts and plants of exotic kind. At the southern end of the tower is a round golden window like the sun, and a watchful eye upon the rest of King’s Landing. Beneath it is the high seat of the King’s Hand; a deceptively simple chair of polished golden wood and black leather.
Adorning the walls, white-pillared against the red stone masonry, are wall hangings depicting scenes of hunting and battle, and famous events of history. On the northern wall, a serpentine staircase spirals upward to the Hand’s private residence chambers. Before the high seat are two smaller chairs, and upon a low table between them are quill, inkwell and parchment. An extensive bookcase contains numerous tomes and scrolls, and the personal mementos of the King’s Hand. Northward a pair of oak doors lead to a wide hall, where petitioners may wait for an audience. The door to the tower, heavy and reinforced with steel and brass fittings, bears the sigil of the Hand.
The small hall of the Tower of the Hand is somber, and well-suited to a matter of such weight as this. The table on the dais has three men behind it: Ser Richard Harte of the City Watch, Lord Terin Ryger, and last (but never least) Prince Viserys Targaryen, the Hand of the King. Behind them are arrayed guardsmen, a young maester taking a small knife to a quill to get a good point from it, and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight of the Kingsguard who stands just behind his father. At the entryway, there are two more men of the City Watch with halberds in hand, ready to block the way for any who are not permitted within.
Jyana F IC A young maiden with an ethereal beauty; golden hair, 1m
pale-cream skin, and aquamarine eyes. Her expression is
usually either gentle or contemplative, and she smiles
often and readily. There is a quiet boldness in her gaze
whenever she meets another’s.
She will be called in when she is asked to. For now, Jyana waits where she is told to wait, glancing down at her hands from where she’s seated. She is oddly quiet, though her brows are furrowed in concentration, perhaps gathering her thoughts for the entire thing. She was inwardly glad that this was a small, private trial - not a huge public one, otherwise she’d be more nervous.
She casts her eyes upwards.
She’s never been in the Tower of the Hand before.
One part of the wronged party arrived with her guards flanking her, all three in the purple and black of Dondarrion. If Carmella is nervous for this meeting she is doing an excellent job of hiding it. Her smile has vanished, replaced with a more stern countenance as she’s shown into the Hand’s tower.
“My lords,” she offers as she drops into a low curtsey, her skirts pooling around her as she remains bowed for a long moment before rising to her full height. There’s a glance towards the Arryn girl and she moves towards her friend, sparing barely a curve of her lips for the Jewel.
Elanna Penrose appears, her ever-present guardsman flanking her. Her lean form is clad in black, with hints of Baratheon gold at hem, wrist and neck in delicate embroidery. She regards the other two women with somber equanimity and the only outward sign of her discomfiture is the entwining of her hands at the level of her waist.
She approaches the two girls present and her lips are almost pale as she speaks.
“Good day, both of you,” polite utterances.
Harold enters a pace behind the Lady Elanna and just before her guards. His shoulders are well-squared and his back starched straight as he walks with all the dignity he can muster. He offers a slow bow to the assembled before joining the Lady Elanna just after she greets the other two women. He offers them quick bows as well, “Noble born.”
Ser Noel, Jyana
Ser Noel, Jyana’s constant shadow, remains outside, as always ever diligent.
“Carmella,” Jyana greets softly with a small smile. “Lady Elanna.” She stands up to greet them both properly, though before she opens her mouth, her aquamarine eyes fall on Harold Kenning.
A brief furrow of her brows, a questioning cast to her eyes directed upon the widow - but she says nothing.
“I’m here a little early,” she tells them both quietly. “I didn’t know…I -don’t- know…how these things work, so I thought it best not to be tardy, even if the tribunal doesn’t have need of me yet.”
“My thanks for your presence. These dire matters require witnesses to speak to the matters at hand, so that we might make the best decision concerning the accused,” Prince Viserys says, after a perfunctionary nod to those who enter. With a glance to his companions at the table, he then gestures to the guardsmen in the back of the room. “Bring in the accused.”
One of the gold cloaks bows his head and moves with alacrity, disappearing from sight. Several minutes pass before he returns.
There is no reaction from Carmella as her former maid is brought in, save for a turn of the head to watch Oslynne escorted in by the gold cloaks. It’s as if the woman in custody is a stranger. Oslynne glances to her former mistress and her two female companions and she looks as if she might spit. The scowl is vicious but she doesn’t say anything as she’s shown before the tribunal. At least she’s smart enough to hold her tongue for now.
Jyana remains silent, her arms folded behind her back as she watches Oslynne brought in. The vicious expression isn’t lost on her, but instead of glaring back or anything, she looks almost sad. Perhaps the Jewel pitied her in a way, or perhaps she was regretful that it all came to this.
Elanna reaches out to touch Carmella silently, a hand upon her arm. There is placid composure upon her features, and any regard for the creature in custody, either pity or censure, shows not in her features.
With the accused before him, Prince Viserys examines her as if for the first time—indeed, it probably is—and then asks, “You are accused of willfully bringing harm upon women of noble blood—including Lady Carmella of House Dondarrion, in whose service you were—through the use of a vile poison. What say you to this, Mistress Oslynne?” His expression his hard, and his tone is even harder.
A scowl before noblewomen is one thing, but when a simple maid is presented before Targaryen blood her nerves weaken. She doesn’t look directly at the men at the table, or those behind them, but rather she makes a good study of the floor just in front of the table. But her tongue, which is known in the Dondarrion household for speaking loudly and without thought, doesn’t hold the same modesty.
“I did,” she says finally, still not looking up. “But I didn’ kill ‘em and I dare say she deserved it,” Oslynne scowls with a gesture towards Carmella. “Ain’t meaning to hurt the other one though,” she admits with a glance at Elanna.
In response, Prince Viserys frowns and glances to Carmella. For a few moments, he consults with Lord Terin and Ser Richard, and then looks back to the Dondarrion maiden and then to Elanna. “Lady Elanna, Lady Carmella, as the victims of the accused—who does not deny her crime—have you anything you wish to inform the tribunal about regarding Mistress Oslynne?”
A glance is given to Carmella by Jyana. As Oslynne was her maid, her friend would probably know more.
Carmella takes a step forward and after a quick glance to Oslynne she addresses the tribunal calmly. “In all honesty, I never imagined any member of my household possessed such venom in them. Oslynne has always been outspoken, more so than many would have permitted but I never imagined this.” There’s another look to her maid. “I’ll not contest any punishment my lords feels is deserving, but she is no longer under the employment of House Dondarrion. That she only made Lady Elanna and myself quite ill rather than anything worse is of little consequence. She has destroyed any faith we might hold in her.”
Elanna steps forth a pace, and her gaze rests lightly upon the Hand and his fellow judicial committee. Her voice is firm as she speaks, her poise undeniable, “Whilst it is apparent that the maid meant my person no harm, it is with a disregard to life that she has shown. The lady Carmella and I still have our youth and could recover from the poisoning, but not after some time. If an older denizen of King’s Landing, or one heavy with child…” she shakes her head. A pause, and a glance at Carmella, then finally at the maid.
“..I fear the outcome might have been ill indeed.”
Nods from the aged heads at the table, and Prince Viserys remarks, “Thank you, my ladies.” Some more consultation takes place, and then he turns his attention to the Jewel of the Eyrie. “Lady Jyana, it is our understanding that we have you to thank for uncovering some of the facts of this case. How is it that you became involved, and by what manner did you discover the truth behind the accused’s actions?”
Her head snaps up when her name is called. “Ah…” Jyana begins, stepping forward and doing a polite curtsey to the rest before speaking. “I was present at the events where Lady Carmella and Lady Elanna Penrose were poisoned,” she says, speaking clearly. “There was a bottle slipped in Lady Kellyn’s collection that she was presenting to everyone else. When Lady Carmella and Lady Elanna inhaled it, they fell to the floor. I scooped it up and covered it before it could harm anyone else. I thought for a moment that Edmund Storm, Lady Elanna’s guard, would be investigating, so I relinquished the bottle to him in hopes he would make good use of it. But days passed, and he made no progress.”
She takes a deep breath and continues on. “I first visited Lady Elanna’s maester, who examined her after the event. He told me that the effects of the poison is what is known as Whore’s Poison, something which they used undesirable clients to fall unconscious during…...their activities. When I took a trip to the city, I found out it was also called by a different name - Whore’s Kiss. In the course of my investigation I found word of a local patron at the Three Hills Inn who mentioned it. When I managed to track him down and asked about it, it seemed that the word came from a particular person in the Street of Silk. After a visit, I found out that she had been the seller and she described to me who it was that purchased it from her.”
She glances at Oslynne. “The name of the purchaser when I managed to track him down was Mallorie Waters. I confronted him at the stables where he was doing work - here in the Red Keep. He told me everything, and that Oslynne had asked him to procure a bottle for her, and that he intended to marry her and take her away from the Dondarrion house. He told me of the motive as well and that she hoped that this incident would make Westerosi nobles fear the Dornish by using one of their purported methods of choice.”
Oslynne says nothing through any of this, but each woman is regarded closely, the scowl rising easily to her lips.
“Waters, yes. Ser Richard, I believe the man is also imprisoned?” The Commander of the City Watch gives a gruff nod, and after a look from Viserys, commands the guardsman to produce this stablehand as well. Again, several minutes pass before the man is brought forth with a gold cloak hovering over his shoulder.
“Mallorie Waters, you are accused of having assisted Mistress Oslynne in the criminal acts to which she has confessed. What say you to this?”
The stable hand looks downright terrified as he’s brought forward. Any of the false bravado he uses to impress his fellow hands is completely gone right now. In all honestly, he looks as if he might piss himself.
“Weren’t meant ta hurt anyone too bad, m’lord,” he scrambles, not quite looking up at the lords either. “I jus’ bought it fer Oslynne, what she did with it was her business, I swear. Told ‘er once about how one of them whores did the same ta me, stole all my coin, m’lord. Woke up with a headache size of King’s Landing, couldin’ see straight neither. But it ain’t killin’ me.” Well, that much is obvious. “Should be arrestin’ them whores, them the ones that made it or got it or ... somethin’.”
“You fucking coward!” Oslynne’s temper gets the better of her as Mallorie goes on, proclaiming innocence. She struggles against the hands on her, kicking at the ground as she looks ready to pounce at the stable hand. “You’re as much ta blame as I am! Ain’t you a man? I’m going to kill you, you sack of shit!” So much for a well-mannered lady’s maid.
Elanna watches the procedings with bitter humour. After all, there was an element of the absurd about it. She shakes her head lightly, and reaches out to touch Carmella again, a silent gesture of support.
“Silence!” Ser Richard Harte demands, his gruff tones turning to a roar that fills the Small Hall. “Silence!”
Once order is restored, Viserys glowers and then briefly discusses the matter with his fellow judges. The deliberation does not take long. “There is one last question,” the Hand says, his heavy brows lowering over his cool, purple eyes. “Mistress Oslynne, we have had testimony that you hoped the Dornish hostages would be blamed for your crimes. Is this true?”
Mallorie goes white as a sheet and Oslynne finally silences herself, though she still shoots Mallorie dirty looks. Carmella’s starting to show something other than cold disinterest, she’s looking a little nervous, especially when Oslynne started to yell. She reaches over to touch Elanna’s hand gently and gives Jyana and hopeful half-smile.
Most people would cower under that gaze and other might try and deny it, but Oslynne is proving herself to be less than intelligent. She sees it as opportunity. “It’s true, my lord,” she says, almost proud of herself. “Damn sand rats don’t deserve what they’re given. Livin’ better than us honest folk, that’s for sure.” From the side Carmella groans and looks away.
“Been too cozy here, makin’ friends while many of them killed our families. Ain’t right, my lord. Not right at all. People gotta know not to trust them, especially her,” Oslynne says, pointing to her former mistress. “They’ll stab us while we sleep, just you wait and see!”
Oblivious of the eyes on her, Jyana continues watching, a different light in her eyes when Oslynne admits and corroborates her testimony. The delicate line of her shoulders is squared, and there’s certainly a determined tilt to her jaw. She refrains from shaking her head at least.
The Hand’s mouth narrows into a hard, thin line at that response. He says no more to the accused, and instead deliberates with Lord Terin and Ser Richard. This deliberation is very brief indeed.
“Justice will be swiftly rendered,” Viserys says. Looking to Mallorie Waters, he states, “For your part in this, Waters, you must pay a fine of two gold dragons or have your nostrils slit so that good men and women of the realm will know you for a criminal. You will be taken to a cell and allowed visitors, to arrange payment of the fine within three day’s time.”
Then his heavy gaze turns to Oslynne. “As to you, Mistress Oslynne, there can be only one sentence: death. You are here by condemned to hang from the neck until dead, for the crime of breaking faith with your mistress, for causing harm to her and Lady Elanna of House Baratheon, and for then seeking to endanger King Daeron’s subjects and guest from Dorne despite his promise to keep them safe. Your death must needs be a lesson to those who think they can assault, directly or indirectly, His Grace’s prisoners, hostages, and guests.”
Elanna grows very pale. She bows her head and her hands clench at her sides. A deep calming breath is taken as she raises her head to affix her gaze upon Oslynne, little light of sympathy in the dark orbs.
The sentence would normally cause her to gasp - but strangely, it doesn’t this time. The Jewel’s delicate face hardens. Under the dim light, in this profile, with the determined look to her and her eyes fixed on what was going on, the likeness between herself, and Jonothor….and even her grandfather, Josten, can be seen at least for a brief moment under the light.
Her fingers ball unconsciously on the side - but she says nothing. She doesn’t even look at Carmella, or Elanna, as if seeing their expressions might cause her to….she didn’t even know, but she can’t look at them at the moment.
The stable hand starts to shake and one hand tries to reach of his nose, but being restrained keeps that from happening. “Tw..wo gold dragons?” The question is breathed with a scared voice, as if trying to fathom such a price. He does nod ever so faintly, but looks completely terrified. He doesn’t even look to his lover, well former lover now.
Oslynne bears the judgement in sullen silence and for once she doesn’t have anything to say. Her head droops but there are no tears, not here.
Carmella has gone pale as well, for as much as she despises Oslynne at this moment, the woman was still an important part of her life for many years. Her knees start to buckle but her hand grips to Elanna’s arm and her own strength keeps her fainting or collapsing. Finally she gives a nod. As she said, she would not contest the judgement.
“The sentence shall be carried out on the morrow,” the Hand declares, with finality. With a gesture, he has the prisoners removed from his presence. “My ladies, I thank you again for your testimony. It has been of great help.”
“Whatever….I can manage to serve the realm, Your Grace,” Jyana says, her voice calm and hewn with the amount of steel expected from her by her forebears. She dips a curtsey towards the Hand, and the rest of the tribunal, and she glances over at Oslynne and Mallorie Waters.
Chances are she’ll be present at the hanging as well.
This was her doing and she will see it through the end, no matter how sick she feels watching.
When summarily dismissed, she turns around, taking several steps towards the door.
Carmella watches her maid and the stablehand taken out of the hall with that same cold expression she wore when she arrived. Her lips tighten into a thin line and she lets out a heavy sigh. The Hand’s thanks draw her attention back and she steps forward again to curtsey. “My lord, I thank you for your justice in this manner and House Dondarrion thank you as well,” she says before rising again. Her guards step up alongside her again and escort her out of the tower.
Elanna pauses a moment longer, her brow furrowed. She curtseys before the Hand, “It is well that Justice has been served.” And thus turns to depart.
Harold stands, falling into step begin Elanna. Nary a look is offered to the doomed.