A pleasant day, the sun fair, the wind warm, fat white clouds sailing along the sky, presides over a regal hunt in the Kingswood. But there are no princes here, and certainly no king: only princesses, Daena on the one hand, Mariah on the other, each with their retinues and hangers-on, and beyond them more lords and ladies of the court with their own smaller companies. A great pavilion has been laid out, black-and-red silk pennons fluttering from the staves that lift it up, and many are the servants tending to providing every comfort, whether it be a cup of wine or some sweet morsel brought in baskets from the Red Keep’s kitchens.
Daena’s sisters did not oblige to join the hunt, it is said; Elaena is still sulking, they say, while Rhaena prefers to keep to her prayers alongside Queen Naerys.
The hardly appropriate, if her lady mother and erstwhile Septa were to weigh in, adventures of girlhood inside Riverrun’s walls had nevertheless left Lady Jannia Buckwell with decent skill with the bow and arrow, all the more reason for this prominent lady of the court to be among the hunting party. Evidently pleased to bask in the cool shade of the dense Kingswood flora and the altogether lovely weather, she has taken the time to fetch some apples from the pockets of her saddle to treat her mount with.
She is surrounded by her own ladies, the lively Sara, the lady Joanna Mooton, and a red-faced Jeyne; the girl is skittish as far as folk of noble stock are concerned, but her mistress seems to as of late indulge her less and less. Clad in a simple dark blue gown with a little blackwork on the sleeves, skirt, and neck and a long, black leather vest, Jannia would blend easily with her companions, where it not for her tell-tale Tully red mane.
It is a day in the woods, so Josella is not exactly in her finest dress. Although, being an event of the royal court, she has made an effort to look as respectable an can be. Her hair is braided back so that she can hunt easily, and her green garments are plain apart from the leather belt that holds a dagger. She takes a seat at the pavilion by Princess Mariah, taking care so that her boots do not muddy their surroundings too much.
She is grateful to the shade with the height of spring, and the eventual approach of summer. “There must be fowl aplenty in the woods,” she thinks aloud, perhaps hoping to be more proactive than relishing in the luxuries of the Red Keep brought to the Kingswood.
While some may prefer the comfort of the pavilion—as the princesses do, at the moment, after a morning of riding about from the riverbank into the woods and then chasing after game—others have taken the opportunity of beaters in the forest driving game birds in the general direction of the pavilion. Among those is Ser Aidan Dayne, with his double-curved Dornish bow. He takes turn with several others, waiting for a bird to be flushed and taking aim when it is his chance.
Aidan hits the bird! The arrow strikes it in the chest, killing it almost instantly.
“Whoosh”, a flutter and a soft thud- Jannia’s well-trained, as far as hunting is concerned, ear, quickly leads her to a clear understanding of what has transpired. Leaving the cluster of the Buckwell retinue, she wanders through the attendants to where she can see Princess Mariah’s captain-of-guards lowering his bow before his newest kill. She claps lightly, and briefly. “Excellent shot, my lord of Dayne. Sara” she beckons.
Her maiden is quick to fetch her bow, a lovely piece made of willow, a gift from her good-brother Ser Willard, the Master of Laws’ son, with edges carved in the likeness of trouts, and quiver. Gingerly, Lady Buckwell moves to the front, eyes narrowing as she intently looks for movements through the leaves and branches. And there!
Jannia hits the bird! The arrow strikes it graze a wing, leaving it able to fly on to safety.
She hums, softly. “The price for lack of patience, perhaps.”
the west. It’s warm in the sun, cool in the shade, and the air is clear and
dry.
Aegon is not best pleased, but worse is to come. His second joust is against Ser Ryckon Westerling; the prince complains loudly about having to ride against “that fat whelp”. What follows next is humiliating. The two men ride five passes against each other, each worse than the other with fumbling, ineffectual strikes until they seem more mummers in a farce than knights. It ends with Ryckon felling him to the smallfolks’ laughter and jeers. A dazed Aegon is led to his pavilion by his companions, there to drown his humiliation in wine and rage bitterly.
And at the end of it all, Ser Galfrid Velaryon of the Kingsguard carries the day—and names Aegon’s wife Princess Naerys Queen of Love and Beauty!
The day ends well for the prince—despite an annoyance engineered by Ser Jonn Lannister—if not for the bride or groom. For when the bedding party reaches the couple’s bedchamber, it finds the door to the bedchamber beside it left carelessly half-open—and within, Aegon enjoying his bedsport with a castle maid.
Well pleased with himself, Aegon crowns Ser Jonn’s wife, Lady Jyana, Queen of Love and Beauty, in a manner meant to taunt the Lannister heir publicly.
In the end, the tourney is won by Ser Aidan Dayne, the famous Knight of the Twilight. To him Prince Viserys gives the grand prize of 5,000 gold dragons, as well as a silver circlet set with gems that match the garland of meadow flowers surrounding it, which the Dornishman uses to crown his lady wife, Aisling of House Ryswell, as Queen of Love and Beauty.
“If Ser Aidan and others do not empty the woods of them, I believe there will still be plenty,” Princess Mariah remarks to her companion, the Dornish drawl distinct in the pavilion largely crowded with those fromnorth of the Red Mountains of Dorne.
“I will get back to it and try him, bird for bird, I think,” says Princess Daena, watching with apparent admiration as the Dornishman knocks down yet another bird, adding to the small pile a servant has collected. “But it is thirsty work.” Hence her cup of wine, it seems. As she considers her guests, she says, “I am sure his grace the king has enjoyed his hunting in the riverlands. He has spent an inordinate time at Stone Henge, last I heard, and seemed disinclined to leave from what I last heard. They must have good hunting, thereabouts, or some other comforts and entertainments to keep him appeased.”
“It was well-shot, Lady Jannia,” Ser Aidan says after watching the near-hit from the Lady of the Antlers. “And haste is not always an error, when hunting birds. They’re swift enough that a hesitation will leave them out of reach.” The Dornishman falls silent, as another hunter tries their luck, and then continues, “It’s the anticipation of how they’ll fly that is hardest to learn, I think. I’ve had good fortune to have hunted about Starfall. We’ve many ducks and the like along the shores.”
Lena hands the reins of her own horse to one of the grooms with a satisfied sigh, cheeks still flushed from the thrill of the ride. Her long boots of soft, bright leather are still suspiciouly clean, as is the rest of her outfit - a tight fitting riding dress of light blue color with fine leather applications on her arms and torso, more for decoration than for any practical use. Picking up a cup of chilled watered wine from a servant Lena joins the small crowd around the princesses, keeping a respectful distance, but listening with interest while watching the archers.
Jannia #527 2h 10m 54m 45 31W adsl-225.79.107.26.tellas.g
This young woman carries herself upright and proper as befitting a married noble woman from Seagard. Despite standing only a few inches above five feet in height, she has a sinuous frame and a dancer’s elegant grace. Her slender figure is clad in an exotic silk gown, revealing little but hinting at much, almost scandalously so. Dark blue silk is contrasted with floral designs in yellow - a nod to the Swyft house colours. Her pitch black hair is held meticulously in tresses, artfully woven into the rest of her hair, which she carries in a tight bun. The most apparent feature in her heart-shaped face are keen blue eyes. Apparent is also the lack of any accompanying jewelry apart from a wedding ring on her left hand.
“Lady Lena! You cut a fine figure today. Is that a new gown?” Princess Mariah says. “Come, sit with your sister and I. It is less exhausting to watch them at their play from here, and easier to gossip all the while.” She does not, notably, respond to Daena’s musings on King Aegon’s ... activities in the riverlands. He is, after all, her good-father.
“I can imagine,” Josella says on the king’s visit to the Stone Hedge. It is public knowledge that the king has a mistress from there, but she does not wish to show favoritism to one whose status relies on the whim of the king. “You are kind to invite my dear sister, your grace. Or perhaps you would like me to accompany you, my dear Lena?” She smiles to her sister, glad to see here close by, but also seeming ready to want to join those trying their hand at hunting, and not just dining in the woods.
Lena gives a start at being the center of royal attention, but recovers quickly, acknowledging the princess with a formal curtsy before smoothly taking the offered seat. “You are too kind, your Grace, and attentive as ever. Alas, I am no match for your striking presence. I had the gown made during my stay in Cornfield, a place as true to its name as any, but I have rarely put it to use since. This hunt is a nice change from the usual… knightly endeavors.” The young lady shrugs self-conciously. “Less boasting and more refinement, if I may say so. I only wish Princess Elaena would have made it as well. She would have enjoyed it, I am sure.” She nods at her sister in acknowledgment, returning her smile.
The hunting that began the day, a chase through the woods, has now turned towards something a bit more idle: a great pavillion where the princesses Daena and Mariah sit with companions and hangers-on, and outside in a verdant clearing, a group of archers (including Ser Aidan Dayne and Lady Jannia Buckwell) taking turns as huntsmen in the surrounding kingswood beat through the brush to drive birds out into the open for them.
A small smile -rather tight- forms on Jannia’s lips as Daena speaks, before she may address the Dornishman. She does take care to offer him an appreciative look and takes him on his advice, moving along and intently scanning the sky, bow in hand. So she remains for a time, before finally breaking her silence as she discreetly returns to the Dornishman and Daena’s vicinity.
“Sitting where the Torrentine meets the sea, correct? Starfall. In some ways, my lord of Dayne, I should think, I am quite privy to the childhood you suggest. The Riverlands does have excellent game” she adds. “I take nature combined with the painstaking effort House Bracken must have taken to accommodate His Grace made for a strong combination. The-”, oh, an unmistakeable upheaval up amidst the leaves. Lady Buckwell’s hand is swiftly making for her quiver.
Jannia hits the bird! The arrow strikes it graze a wing, leaving it able to fly on to safety.
“I believe she still has her own affairs to attend to, alas,” Josella speaks of Elaena, not knowing what is too much to speak about in a more liberated court. “And you mustn’t fuss about your gown, my sweet,” she notes, hoping she isn’t speaking for the princess too much addressing her sister directly: “it would’ve been impractical if you came in your ballgowns, or dressed for prayer.”
And as it does fly on, Jannia’s hands retreat to clasp over one another, above her abdomen. “I will take that as a sign I should opt for some refreshment. I did neglect certain duties on top of that”, she muses, chuckling softly and with a short bow leaves Aidan’s company to wander toward the pavilion. Looking through the hangers-on spread around with an arched neck, she spots her ladies, and beckons them close. When they finally reach closer to royal company, she curtsies, worrying little whether it will be noticed. Her companions mimic her before they all move to take vacant seats.
Roryn stumbles through the bushes, dusting himself off as he goes. He looks about the gathering at hand and gives a warm smile. After giving a short bow to the princesses, Roryn makes his way to a comfortable spot. He retains his traditionally unkempt look with his standard silver-grey cloak. “Ser Aidan, Lady Jannia, I hope your aim has proven true today. I long for a good hunt, as it has been quite the time since my last outing.” He nods and makes his way towards Mallister sisters and provides his courtesies. “Lady Josella, Lady Lena, my pleasure finding you here. Have you enjoyed all the festivities the woods have provided?” Roryn grins.
“The seamstress seems to have a fine hand,” Mariah remarks as Lena joins her, eyeing her gown. “A pity she is so far away, perhaps. There are never enough good drapers and seamstresses, in my experience. We are all demanding the attention of too few.” She does not respond to the matter of Elaena, either, still sulking in the Red Keep over the cruelty of kings and the absence of her lover… an absence grown mysterious indeed, for nothing has been heard of Velaryon in several moons, and there is word that the small council is thinking of sending a swift ship to Volantis to try and discover what has become of him. Rumors are rife that he has chosen to become a pirate in the Stepstones, decided to explore the southern reaches of Sothyros, or is presently ensconsed as the consort of a Summer Islander princess.
Ser Aidan watches Jannia take another try at a bird, with a similar result to last time. After, he says, “I am sure you are right, my lady, about the similarities. I have understood that many a young man learns to sail on the Trident, as well, as I did on the Torrentine. As well as hunt, of course.” Then he falls silent, as it’s his turn to wait to see if the beaters flush out another bird—which they do, as luck would have it. Swift and smooth, he lifts the Dornish bow up, arrow nocked, drawing back the string and then letting fly after only the briefest of motions to try and anticipate where the bird will be.
Aidan hits the bird! The arrow strikes it in the chest, killing it almost instantly.
“It would not be the first time Lord Velaryon was rumored to be the lover of a princess. Let us hope it is not the Black Pearl, or he might have a dispute with the king; though I hear that Lady Otherys has lovers in every city of the Narrow Sea.” Josella clears her throat, not wishing to spend too long gossiping. “Still, Lord Velaryon has oft made great voyages, and returned quite often.” She looks to the hunters nearby: “Good show, sers; my ladies!”
Lena keeps up a light conversation with Princess Mariah, polite and pleasant but not as comfortable around the princess as her elder sister, Josella. She does not mention Princess Eleana again, although her features show a flash of annoyance at her sister’s words, having been close to Princess Elaena during her time at the Maidenvault and still wishing the Princess would have had more sense in her choice of relationships…
Ser Roryn’s arrival interrupts the idle chatter. Lena appraises his dissheveled appearance with a raised eybrow. “Always a pleasure to see you, Ser Roryn. How did the hunt go? I suppose you are more used to hunting the beasts of the Sea?” And hunting unsuspecting trading vessels at that, most likely. Of course, she keeps that thought to herself. No need to antagonize anyone in the presence of royal company, and on such a fine day.
“Few are the sewing hands so blessed that their work may cross the entrance to Maegor’s Holdfast, then. It is not too baffling.”, Lady Buckwell mutters, nodding in understanding. In her hand, she is nursing a cup of water, half-empty only shortly after she was handed it. She does not miss how each lady navigates available conversation, discreetly glancing to one who may prove more…defiant of niceties. Josella’s comments take the lady by surprise, but still, there’s chance to steer the conversation otherwise.
“It would be Ser Aidan s that chiefly deserves the credit, lady Josella, if I may so so”, Lady Buckwell offers with a modest smile and a nod of the head, She perks up, and clears her throat slightly. “Myself, I hope I will be honoured by your appreciation if you wish and are able to attend a certain small gathering.” She addresses the Princesses sweetly. “Your Graces, on the seventh day of the seventh month, this blessed day and first such to come in the new reign, House Buckwell will host a gathering where new and upcoming bards of our fine city and the Crownlands may demonstrate just of how much fame they are worthy of. Summons have been sent, and responses received. As ever, our gates are open to you -and to all” she hastens to add, who would fancy joining what we trust to be a merry company. She reserves a warm smile for Roryn, whose response to Lena she has likely prevented, coupled with a firm nod of acknowledgment.
Acknowledging the greetings from Roryn, and the cheers from the pavillion, Aidan flashes an easy smile as a servant runs off to collect yet another bird for the pile. “We’ll be feasting on forest grouse tonight,” the Knight of the Twilight says. “I believe I’ve done enough, for my part, in fact.” And with that, he moves to join the others in the pavillion, carrying his bow with him. Before he sits, however, he goes about the process of unstringing it. The Dornish yew-and-horn bow is placed between his legs before he flexes it with care so that the string can be removed. The bow nearly bends back on itself when unstrung, due to its unusual curvature.
“A fine event,” Josella considers Jannia’s event. “Only a few days from now, and fewer still after our return. Well, I am most pleased to accept,” she notes, offering a smile in the direction of the Lady Buckwell, and then to Ser Aidan, impressed by his shot.
Roryn says, “of course. I do feel much more in my natural environment at sea, but I also very much love the treat of hunting on the land.” Roryn nods and smiles warmly. “I have done little hunting today, but the weather today has been a gift in its own. I hope to attend another hunt soon.” He nods and waves as the remnants of the gathering begin to peter out. He shares one last word before fading into the pavilion. “Our time has been brief, but I’m sure we will meet again soon. My lords, my ladies, I bid you a fine eve.”
“That sounds entertaining, and the Seven knows there has been a lack of it,” Princess Daena says to Jannia’s invitation, and others murmur in agreement. “Of course, _pious_ entertainment is what we should all hope for,” she adds… but the gleam in her eyes suggests that she is not greatly devoted to piety; and who can wonder, given Daemon Waters back in the city? Princess Mariah, too, seems interested in the feast… but then demures by saying, “I shall see what my lord husband plans for that day, Lady Jannia. It may be that he intends another dinner with the small council on that day, or something like. I do believe he finds working with them to be more entertaining than any feast could be.”
With a smile and graceful nods, Jannia registers the answers, before turning to offer a few words to Sara and to retrieve her cup, content to let the conversation flow.
Josella hits the bird! The arrow strikes it graze a wing, leaving it able to fly on to safety.