LANNISTER

Tytos Lannister Thirty Five Heir to Lannisport "Is there no limit to Lannister Ambition"

[endiness]

[gildedheirs]

It took no time at all for Gyles to go back to his cup and plate, and before long, he was staring down at it, refusing to look up. Even as people were utmost concerned or putting on a show, he couldn't muster up the courage. He couldn't even muster up the courage to look at the show.

Eventually, they were escorted out of the courtyard, attempted to be ushered back to their quarters. Gyles could easily get out of the crowd, and after all, who would notice such a little lord?

Unfortunately, he was near someone who was pretending, seeming to notice his presence. Not that Gyles could tell! All he did was blink as his face turned more sour.

He held no convictions towards Aenyx, and despite not wishing death upon him, he also held no inclinations towards him either. He was simply the Crown Prince of the Kingdoms to him, an aloof and distant figure even in their youth. That wouldn't change even once he became King, Gyles was sure of that.

"A wedding to die for," Gyles retorts, no humor in his voice. "I'd bet my favorite horse that no one suspected that to happen."

[lannisportfm]

Tytos hums thoughtfully, pursing his lips. "-I'd take that bet. I've need of a new mare, she'd be a gift, you see-" Tytos glanced at him then, pale eyes twinkling with mirth, blue as the sunset sea. "-or need of a new stallion, I'm not fussy either way My Lord." Tytos mused with a grin.

Tytos then turned his attention back toward the grand hall proper, it's doors shut to the public. He tilts his head to the side and they stand in silence for a moment before he says, in the same high lilting tone he had used before-

"-I'd say you're right. Bad sport to kill a man at his wedding, worse if that man is a Prince." Tytos tossed his head as somewhere, in the distance, a woman begins to cry. "They'll sing songs about this until we are over run with Northern dead and the Dragons burn us all in their beds, riderless and wild, I suspect."

He adjusts his doublet, undoing the high collar of his shirt until it spills open in pristine white ruffles and exposes the hollow of his throat. "Now my Lord-" he says, turning fully to face him. His smile is soft but wolfish at the corners. "-Shall we come to terms about this bet?"

[moonslost]

"very well."

valarr cast one last glance toward the corridor, as though ensuring no one intended to stop them. satisfied that the palace would continue descending into panic with or without their supervision, he returned his attention to tytos.

"provided we agree that if anyone asks, we're conducting an extremely thorough investigation into the quality of dornish vintages."

the faintest pause followed. "i expect several bottles will be necessary before we can deliver an informed conclusion."

[lannisportfm]

He slaps a hand to his chest, rings glinting with one of every type of jewel. "Valarr Qoherys-" Tytos begins solemnly. "-you have my word."

Tytos directed them both away from the mobs, the throngs of onlookers in the hallways that served no purpose what so ever. What help were they all to a dying Targaryen Prince?

"Oh, so do I. I hear the Prince of Dorne has a cellar as big as the castle that sits atop it. I fear we may find more than a bit of Arbour gold or Dornish red if we go snooping about in there." He cocks his head to the side, grinning. "-or shall we play it safe and retire to my rooms? I know for a fact there's at least two casks there, and i'm sure the Martells would be more than happy to provide more, to aid their guests in sleep and solace-" he bows his head "-on this most solem of nights."

Then, he's pulling Valarr by the arm down the hall "-Come, my young Lordling, i'll teach you how to beat me at Maw, and then perhaps you might just be good enough to beat Alyssia."

[cfshadows]

Bitter and angry as he was, Orys was never a fool. He'd spent his whole life watching the man who refused to call him son rule Dragonstone, learned next to the man who became King. He was a general, a master of strategy. And telling a Lannister anything would take away years of hard work. Especially one that wasn't Visenya's. At least those she held control over. Not this one.

"There are more ways than dragon fire to take action, especially for Balerion. A waste of his potential." Orys had taken the Stormlands without dragon fire. Rhaenys and Meraxes hadn't needed to lift a finger. And a personal touch was much better. Walter Wyl was proof of that. The hands and feet that hung on his tent had proven that. Orys didn't need dragon fire to destroy two houses.

"The King will make even." He ran his left hand through his hair, "Aegon will take action in the end and I will make sure everyone remembers."

[lannisportfm]

"A waste of his potential" Tytos echoes and then, there is silence for a moment, as if he is pondering what at all that might mean it comes to a dragon. "Gods above-" his voice is smooth, condescending almost in how rapt with concern it was. "-I would hate to see what a Lordling would have to do in order to unleash the dreads potential, if not even an attack on the Prince could usher it in."

He's rash, but he's not stupid and Tytos, like many a man, is well aware of Baratheon fury, and Baratheon loyalty.

"Forgive me, Lord Baratheon-" he says with a sigh, soft as a maidens "-I do not deem to understand the will of Kings, and I do not doubt your commitment him either, and I do not envy his impending decision between peace and war-" Tytos glances at him, a side ways sort of look that was difficult to place. "-but if it were my children, I know which I would be advocating for." Tytos smiles at him then, and there is something wolfish in the turn of his mouth "-which would you deem as making even?"

[lannisportfm]

For: Alaric Manderly Location: The docks of Sunspear, day of departure @stark3d

It's early.

Early enough for the sun to still be slumbering behind the high rocks and dunes of the deserts of Dorne. Early enough that much of Sunspear was still either abed, or had departed the night previously. Scattered garrisons of soldiers struggling toward the end of their nightshift keep the docks secured but their shields are sagging in their arms and most are naught but green boys. The older men with actual notches on their belts, are in the seat of Sunspear. Tytos knows this to be true because he passed by them, passed by and counted and kept a note of just how many copper shields were out in force this morning.

The ships bob lazily in the bay, in water so clear you could peer down and see the sand and seaweed and old wrecks of vessels now gone below. Tytos did not linger long though, he was keen for home and very aware he had outstayed his welcome.

They had stalled on the docks for a while, the fine Lannister galley painted crimson and gold was still being stocked with belongings and gifts for the journey home, so Tytos had taken to reading as he waited, until he had seen Lord Manderly by his own ship.

They were to be allies now, Tytos knew, with his betrothal to a Lady of Winterfell and the Manderlys loyal to the North, he thought it no time like the present to introduce himself, downing his book and striding over.

"My Lord Manderly." Tytos said warmly, ducking his head by way of a greeting. "-I hope you do not mind the intrusion, I'm aware that it is early and some men find silence before a sunrise most imperative to their wellbeing." He chuckled then "-Are you heading home as well? Quite a journey, Dorne to the North, is it not?"

[lannisportfm]

Location: House Lannisters seat in Lannisport For: Ellyn Lannister @exfortunas

They had docked in the early hours of the morning. Tytos had remained in Dorne a little longer than the rest of his family and much to his Fathers chagrin, choosing to linger like a fog in hopes of finding out what would happen now that there had been an attempt on the Princes life.

Sailing then from Dorne to Lannisport hadn't taken nearly as long as Tytos had worried it might, so he was glad to be able to break his fast at home this morning, and not in a vipers nest.

He and the smallest garrison of Lannister men his father felt comfortable leaving behind, made land as the sun rose and Tytos had been half way down the gang plank when he saw her. He hid his smile behind the raised edge of a letter sent from Winterfell, before folding it up and tucking it carefully into the inner lining of his half cloak.

"Ellyn-" he calls, speeding up to meet her on the stone cobbles where she waited. "-did you miss me this terribly that you had to come and see your big brother back on Westerly soil so early in the morning?" he tutted at her.

Then, without warning and with all the speed of an elder brother who had done this a thousand times over, he reached across and gave her hair a hearty ruffle, mussing her curls.

"Come on then squirt-" he laughed "-before Father finds cause to be even angrier with me than he already is."

[lannisportfm]

For: Addam Hightower Location: Sunspear, the day of departure. @violetamaisonx

Tytos found him blotting out the sun in an upstairs walkway, over looking the vast water gardens below. He slowed, but the click of his heeled boots upon the marble announced his arrival anyway. There was scant few left in the palace, most Lordlings having left in the cool hours of the morning, or had stayed to pack in order to depart at night from the docks. The guard had doubled by the doors but not in the hallways. They were practically alone.

"Lord Hightower." Tytos says smoothly, sliding to a stop by his elbow and casting an eye out into the gardens below. "-How fortune that we have been given some time to catch up before Sunspear empties out completely and we are both bound for home."

Tytos glances at him, his gaze sharp as the killing end of a blade. "-I hope you are well My Lord. That wedding was...truly something to behold."

[lannisportfm]

For: Jocasta Lannister Location: The Lannisport seat @omnicvitc

Dorne had been trying.

The heat and the bugs and the sand seemed designed by the Seven to test a mans will and patience. Tytos had, by day 5, suitably and sulkily resigned himself to the halls of Sunspear and did not partake in the trails outward into the vast deserts surrounding its walls.

Then, the Prince had been felled and they had all been given leave to go home, which had surprised Tytos, he had thought Aegon would keep them like shiny parakeet prisoners, trussed in their house colours and kept in gilded cages, His own private westerosi menagerie.

Tytos was deep in thought, slouched at his desk in a westerly facing room with a wide open balcony that overlooked the sunset sea. It was evening time, a soft breeze fluttering through the gauzy curtains that separated him from the salt air beyond. He did not hear the door creek open, and nor did he hear it click shut again.

It wasn't until Jocasta was standing beside him, did he look up, suddenly thrust free of his day dreaming.

He's surprised at first and can not hide it. The arch of his brow and the quick opening and closing of his mouth before it sets into a firm, thin line is telling.

"Jocasta." he says, straightening himself in the high back chair at his desk. He clears his throat and shuffles some papers around before looking up at her. He's smiling, and it is a poliete but clipped thing.

"Would you like to sit? I can call for wine and a platter if you wish, but I shall be needed elsewhere shortly." It was an offer and a dismissal all in one breath. "-Are you well since leaving Dorne?"

[moonslost]

setting: near the gates of the old palace, dorne closed starter for: tytos lannister (@lannisportfm)

the outer ward had become a tide of movement. horses stamped impatiently against the stone, servants hurried between wagons with trunks balanced precariously in their arms, and somewhere near the gates a steward was attempting, with steadily diminishing success, to organize the departing households. asena stood beside her mare, giving the final strap securing her saddlebag one decisive tug. satisfied, she brushed her palms together and scanned the area until she found him.

"there you are, my lion." the words came as naturally as breathing. she crossed the distance without ceremony, stopping close enough to pluck a stray thread from the shoulder of his cloak before smoothing the fabric beneath it.

"hold still." another tug. "better." she leaned back just enough to inspect her work, lips pursed in exaggerated concentration.

"you looked terribly untidy a moment ago. you may thank me once we're safely back in the westerlands." without waiting for his opinion on the matter, she turned toward the bustle filling the outer ward.

"oh." the word came as an afterthought. "i've spoken with my brother." she nodded once, as though that alone explained everything.

"i'm coming with you." another glance swept over the wagons, where her mare stood patiently beside hellebore, her beloved direwolf keeping a watchful eye over the bustle. "it seemed rather silly to marry into a family i'd barely had the chance to know."

[lannisportfm]

Tytos finds now, since their engagement has been finalised, that she is the first head he tries to pick out of a crowd. She is not hard to miss, with those dark curls flashing like the beat of a ravens wing when she moves. He had been utterly enthralled the first time he had met her, despite how weak willed and craven he had been at the time. Her hair had been the first thing he had noticed and now, continues to be the first thing he seeks out.

Then, there she is suddenly, striding toward him with all the purpose and frankness her House was known for. Her dark eyes were fixed on him and something hiccupped low in his gut and Tytos was helpless to resist the slow smile that warmed his face as she came to a stop in front of him.

"Sweetheart." he says, ducking his head as if he meant to kiss her on the temple, but was stopped short by her fussing. Tytos watched her, aware he was already grinning like and idiot, and preening under the fine half cloak she seemed so worried about.

Once finished and suitably pleased with herself, Tytos reached out to take her in his arms but after a quick twist and pivot that left him blinking dumbly, she had turned away from him.

"Asena-" he began, taking a step forward and keen to follow like the good little kitten he was. The news then, was a shock that stopped him suddenly, his hand still awkwardly outstretched. She had her back to him, and Tytos' voice is high with surprise when he says- "Truly? Your brother has given his leave for you to come with me?"

He can not help himself then, striding forward and clutching her to him with her back to his front. He's grinning into the dark coil of her hair, peppering kisses to her left temple and cheek. Then, he eases her around to face him, smiling down at her boyishly, in a way that softens the sharpness of his angled face and dark pink burns.

He hums thoughtfully, winding his hands up her arms to hold her by the elbows to him. "-I think that's a fine idea, Lady Stark. It seems that I am most fortunate." Tytos tilts his head down, his eyes flickering from the high arch of her lovely cheeks to the adorable curve of her mouth. "-to have a soon to be wife that is so clever."

Then the teasing seeps from his tone and he is smiling, soft and sweet and just for her.

"You will love it, I promise." He says gently. "It...might not be Winterfell, or the North or what you are used to, but I want it to be a home from home for you. I can not wait to show you Lannisport, and the sea-" then he adds, sheepishly and with one of his knowing coy smirks "-a trip out on Redfort might be a suitible welcome gift, among others....assuming you have the heart for sailing, Lady Stark."

His excitement is a real, tangible thing. Soft and pink as the fat head a summer rose. You could hold it in your hands, for how sincere it was. It rolled from him in waves and threaded through his words as he spoke, probably a little faster than he means to but Tytos does not seem to notice.

He is excited.

Excited that she's coming home with him, excited that he will finally be able to show her the rock and the port and the seaside inlets perfect for leisurely strolls. The thinks about her sitting with him in his office, and breaking their fasts of a sunny Westerly morning. He thinks about she might make of the Lions in their cages and the monster crabs that scale the rock wall as if to try their luck at becoming lions.

Tytos thinks she might like it all as much as he does.

[moonslost]

the clap to his shoulder earned little more than the faintest lift of an eyebrow. valarr had yet to decide whether such casual familiarity was a lannisport habit or simply a tytos one.

"i've developed a greater appreciation for dornish red than i have for their hospitality." the observation was dry, but lacked any real malice. the wine, after all, had committed no crime.

his thoughts lingered instead on tytos' prediction. it was the only sensible course. no king worth following would permit half the realm to scatter while the man who had poisoned his heir remained at large. "i suspect you're right."

his attention wandered briefly toward the open corridor, where servants still hurried past with the restless urgency of people convinced motion alone made them useful.

"though if we're to be stranded together, i'll insist you find us better company than snakes."

[lannisportfm]

Tytos grins at him, all teeth, his hand still resting lightly on his shoulder. He's shrugging placidly when he lets it drift away, rising up to wave casually but dismissively in the air.

"Dornish red-" he begins with only the slightest roll of his eyes. "-I mean say what you will about the men and the woman this far South, but their wine is second to none, I agree."

Tytos tries not to look malicious when he smirks ever so slightly. "-Perhaps they'll give us all complementary casks to take away with us....it's not like we were able to drink much of it given how the night has ended." He glances at Valarr, and strives to keep any sort of resentment or glee out of his voice. He's blunt but careful. Always careful.

"Yes-" Tytos says smugly, angling a little closer to him. He ducks his head and lowers his voice to a muse, giving a coy little look. "I usually am Valarr."

Tytos gives an exaggerated scoff and then, nudges Valarrs shoulder with his own gently "-oh, come then Lord Qoherys. Shall we see what Dornish red we can find? I'm sure there's a deck of cards somewhere too, because we are hardly any use to the Maesters and mummers standing out here moping."

[astra-ferxus]

Anger could be managed. Sometimes. Mostly. Maron didn't know, and wouldn't pretend he cared at this point. Whoever it was, had the audacity to voice such empty sympathy in a hall still reeking of poison and turned-over insects, and he found himself moving before he'd quite decided to.

"Truly awful," Maron repeated, voice even, too even. He came to a stop before the man, closer than courtesy allowed. "Aye. It is."

He studied him a long moment. The tutting. The ducked head. The performance of it, so practiced it might have fooled half the hall.

"Forgive me," Maron said, "I don't believe we've been introduced properly."

He did not offer his hand.

"You'll have to excuse me if I don't manage the right words tonight. I find I've little patience left for them." His jaw worked once before he continued, each word set down like a stone. "My stepdaughter is presently in the hands of men who think nothing of poisoning a boy at his own wedding feast. So you'll pardon me if 'how truly awful' rings somewhat hollow, coming from a stranger who looks rather more entertained than grieved."

Something flickered across the man's face, quickly smoothed over, but Maron had spent thirty years reading men across a training yard and a battlefield both, and he did not need long to recognize a mummer's mask when one was worn in front of him.

"What's your name?"

[lannisportfm]

His eyes move first, a slow blink and flicker upward, not unlike one of the many long-mained lions his uncle had kept the bowels of Casterly rock. Tytos folds his expression into something placid, regarding the Prince politely but utterly bluntly.

"No-" Tytos replies smoothly "-I don't believe we have."

The downturn of his brow and the ever so slight curl of his mouth makes him look, suddenly, like he is made of marble. A sort of Sympathy seeps from every pour to the point of poisoning. Tytos slowly, and very deliberately, gives the stranger a slow once over, down the long end of his nose. From the top of his dark head, to his feet and back again, before making a soft, empathy laced noise. Then, he ducks his head again and frowns in displeasure.

"-and I feel for you, Ser Prince." Tytos replies softly "-I imagine tonight has been exceptionally hard for you. Your poor Step-Daughter."

Tytos folds his hands together in front of him, as if to start a prayer and says- "-I can assure you-" he flexes his voice pointedly half way through the sentence. "-that myself and House Lannister are nothing if not sympathetic toward poor Prince Aenyx-"

Tytos purses his lips and gives him a grief stricken, if not a little condescending of a look then.

"-and also toward your step daughter, I shall add her to my list when I say my prayers this evening." Tytos ducks his head, placid and submissive as a kitten, it would seem "-and if it would help-" his eyes rise, pale and eerie as the wall in weeping summer time "-I would be more than happy to lend a garrison of Lannister men to aid in the search for her-" another cool blink "-You'd need only ask."

The demand for an introduction almost makes him laugh aloud, but he swallows the defiance with a thin smile and another, showy duck of his head, all those pale Westerland curls falling across his face to hide his eyes.

"Tytos Lannister, of Lannisport-" he presses a hand to his desk and bows slightly at the waist. "-oh, please excuse my ignorance, this is my first visit to Dorne and I am aware tonight has been a trying ordeal for you-" he rises again to his full height and meets the Dornishmans eyes without baulking. "-I am unsure of how to address you correctly, and I wish to get it right. I would hate to cause offense" He smiles with all his teeth, something shark like in the way it balances out those cool, unblinking eyes. "-Is it Prince like that of our dear Prince Aenyx, or Lord? Like myself?"

[legendxspun]

Myriamme dips a quick, customary curtsey, “Myriamme Manderly, my lord.” She introduces herself, raising back to her full height, “Of White Harbor.” She is quiet for a moment before deciding to add, “The house with a merman sigil.” There is a playful curl to the corner of her mouth as she whispers it to Tytos, hopeful his previous chuckle is a sign his pride can survive gentle teasing.

“And you?” She prompts with genuine curiosity, “Is Dorne the furthest you have travelled?” Lords - and heirs especially, seemed to have an array of lessons and adventures. In truth, it was no big surprise the Lannister had not listened so closely to his Westeros History lessons, there were likely a dozen other things he was far more interested in, or distracted by.

She nods with silent understanding, and when he asks about her again Myriamme makes sure her composure reflects the ease she feels. Speaking with Tytos Lannister, even briefly, has proven to be a decent distraction. “Very much so. I suppose I should head back to my room now. Just to stay out from underfoot.”

[lannisportfm]

He smiles softly, ducking his head in an acknowledging little bow when she tells him her name. It sounds familiar, but he does not dwell on that,

"A pleasure too meet you. A Manderly?" It takes him a moment of clawing desperately through his knowledge of Houses, major and minor, to remember. It's an awkward thing, the both of them just standing there until Tytos parrots-

"White Harbour. In the North, yes?" His smile is warm, if not mostly teeth as those pale eyes flip back up and regard her pleasantly.

"-must be interesting-" then, because he is unable to help himself, says- "-have you seen the wall?"

There's a youthful sort of expectation in his eyes as he blinks down at her. He looks younger, boyish in a way his pinched gold collar and just about visible scars steal away from him. Tytos is smiling at her, still so overly warm toward this stranger he barely knows.

"-ah-" he catches himself, flushing just enough for the colour to climb high up his throat and linger too long on the apples of his cheeks. "-Forgive me, hardly appropriate conversation at present." but he can't help himself, he's never been one known for his restraint.

"Yes, actually-" he replies "-The North remains a dream, I hear Winterfell is a true sight to behold-" he cocks his head to the side, a feline sort of grace in the way his eyes flare and his lips curve upward. Like a particularly cheeky house cat. "-I hear up there you carve faces into trees white as bone-" he stares at her, expectantly. "-is it true?"

He pauses, before glancing down the hall and then back toward Lady Manderly. He tries not to sounds disappointed at the loss of her company, instead choosing to nod and smile polietely.

"Oh, of course My Lady, if you wish-" He steps back, away from her but those eyes, pale as chipped glass, remain fixed upon her. "-I would be happy to accompany you back, should you think it proper." He even lifts his arm in offering.

[endiness]

[sword-born]

As soon as they had been moved out into the halls by Martell guards and Kingsguard alike, Alyssia had begun searching the crowd for a few particular faces. Finding her cousin, the lioness maneuvered through the masses with singular focus. Coming up to Tytos' side amidst him sharing unfounded sympathies with some lord or another, she begged pardon and pulled him away into a slightly less full corner of the space. "Did you hear anything about this? " the golden-haired lady asked in the quietest tone imaginable. Surely he hadn't, it would be unlike her cousin not to share anything of value he knew with the noblewoman. Even still, one could never be too careful. It was always better to ask the question than leave any uncertainty unsaid

[lannisportfm]

He had been partway through a conversation with an Estren, perhaps nodding a little too overzealously at news of the Princes fate for it to be believable, but blood was up in many a Lordling and his palpable glee under some subpar acting seemed to be going unchecked by the visibly frazzled Lord Estren.

"-Yes, how awful, It must be to-"

There's a tug at his elbow and Tytos twists his head to glance down, and he is relieved but vexed by the presence of his cousin. Overjoyed to see her wholly unharmed, but troubled by the strapped down expression on her face.

"My Lord-" Tytos says smoothly, over the rambling Lord Estren "-do forgive me-" with that, he allows Alyssia to wheel him away, twisting them both into a corner of the hallway, well out of the way of onlookers and eavesdroppers.

"No-" Tytos hissed back, incredulously. "-Do you think I'd be standing out here idle if I had?"

Tytos sighs heavily, pressing his thumb and forefinger into the bridge of his nose, before casting her a long, flat look

"-This is all Dornes doing, I fear, and I don't know if that bods well for us." Tytos shook his head "-attacking the Prince at his own sisters wedding?" He snorts "-They must be as mad as the Dragonlords they seem to want dead so badly."

Then, his expression softens completely as he gazes at her "-are you alright Alyssia? Not hurt at all, I hope?" Then, he can not help the smirk that curls his mouth upward. Teasingly, he tacks on "-I hope the spiders didn't frighten you too terribly-"

[legendxspun]

She realizes a moment too late that she has misspoke, likely more than once in just a few moments of conversation. It’s unlike her, and Myriamme berates herself silently also blaming the stressful and unusual night. “I apologize,” She offers, glancing at her satin slippered feet, “Learning Westrosi houses and Lords was one of my important lessons. I did not mean to catch you off guard, I am thankful for your kindness.”

Her brows raise slightly in agreement over White Harbour, “Indeed, it is the farthest I’ve travelled in my life, I think.” Myriamme peers over Tytos’ shoulder for a moment just to see if anyone else has wandered out to the great hall, or worse is attempting to eavesdrop. When it’s clear it is just the two of them, her attention returns, “Oh yes,” Myriamme nods, “My brothers.” All of them, she muses in her thoughts, not wanting that piece of information to be intimidating either.

“I am certain they will be just as grateful to you for inquiring over my well-being.”  No doubt, all three of them were stuck in the feast hall for one reason or another still. Whether it be duty, confusion, or…trouble. “I doubt the night is hardly over for any of us.”

[lannisportfm]

Tytos watches her for a long moment, until she dips her head and he can not help the soft, incredulous laugh that escapes him.

"My Lady-" he begins gently, with an ever so slight wave of his hands, dismissing of her concerns but careful not to be outwardly rude about it. "-please, you have nothing to apologise for." He nods, smiling politely. "-and it seems I can not boost the same level of flawless knowledge in regards to the Houses of Westeros. Impressive-" he chuckles "-it's a vast map to be sure."

He stops, looking sheepish for a moment "-I ah-...did not pay much attention to my Maester when I was a boy, to much else to concern myself with-" he shrugs "-or so I thought."

He smiles sympathetically at her "-It has been a trying night for all of us, my Lady-" he stops then, awkwardly but trying not seem like it had been so. "-Forgive me, I do not know your name....nor where your House is."

He glances about himself, to the arry of colourful house silks. Arryn blue and Baratheon yellow, Tyrell green and the dreaded Targaryen black. "I fear Dorne might be the furthest most of these folk have travelled-" He frowns then, turning those cool blue eyes back on her.

"Well-" Tytos replies, ever the gentleman. He ducks his head and in acknowledging nod, half a bow if he dared think of it as such. "-I'm glad. I know if it were my sister, I would like to think someone would make sure she was alright, given your earlier state of distress." His face softens slightly around the mouth, but his brow creases in concern "-I trust you are feeling a little bit more at ease now?"

[bloomingrcse]

"Do you truly believe whoever planned this would be foolish enough to leave anything for them to find?" she asked quietly. "It does not strike me as the work of someone careless."

She could picture it already. The white cloaks would wait until the hour of the wolf to begin their searches, hoping to catch the guilty unprepared. They would find very little of consequence. A lord emerging from the wrong lady's chambers. A jeweled brooch discovered where it did not belong. A servant bribed into silence. Plenty of smaller scandals, very few answers.

By sunrise, half the palace would be exhausted, suspicious, and in a considerably fouler temper than before. Though, truthfully, Rosalyn doubted sleep would find her regardless.

"I doubt Highgarden will notice my absence for a few days longer."

How long had it been since Highgarden had truly felt like home? She could scarcely remember the last time she had remained there for an entire moon. There was always another progress, another court, another duty waiting somewhere beyond its walls.

And yet it endured without her.

The roses would continue to bloom. The fountains would murmur through the courtyards. The gardeners would tend the hedges as they always had, whether Lady Rosalyn Tyrell was there to admire them or not. People would welcome her return -- some sincerely, others because courtesy required it -- but few were ever truly waiting for her. Not there. Perhaps not anywhere.

She looked back toward Lord Tytos, managing something closer to her usual smile. "I only hope this tragedy has not inconvenienced you any further, my lord," she said with quiet sincerity. "We shall pray this is resolved swiftly." Her gaze drifted once more toward the corridor, where guards continued hurrying past in polished armor. "Having too many agitated people confined beneath the same roof rarely improve anyone's judgment."

[lannisportfm]

Tytos stares at her coolly, down the long length of his nose and with the supposed superiority he feels his height and his House bring him.

"Not careless, no, perhaps not even foolish-" he replies with a lopsided shrug "-but, then again, you'd have to be mad or an idiot to attack a Dragon Prince in the middle of a royal wedding." Tytos blinks at her, his smile tight and pointed, but polite "-Wouldn't you agree my Lady?"

He thinks about the shuddering shot of the arrow in the young Princes shoulder, the way it had thrummed to a stop like arrows often do when they've found home. The noise had been thrilling and for a single, heart stopping moment, he had wondered if that was it, that they had a dead Targaryen on their hands. One less mad brat to drive his dragon toward the Rock to aid his even worse cousin. Tytos strapped down the shudder of disappointed delight that bubbled up inside of him suddenly. He averted his eyes from her, in a gesture he hopped would appear more morose than it did longing.

"An inconvenience?" he parrots, head snapping up. He eyes her in silence for a moment before giving her a slow shake of his head. "-Lady Tyrell-" he begins, almost aghast. "-I'm not the one felled by a bolt to the shoulder, like our poor Prince. It is no inconvenience to me, I can assure you." Tytos presses a hand to his chest lightly, the rubies and pearls on his long fingers winking obscenely in the lamp light.

"-I shall pray for his Grace this evening-" Then he smiles at her, clipped but soft. "-and yes, for the swift resolution of this madness, like you do."

"You do not miss Highgarden?" he asks, an eyebrow arching quizzically "-or, and forgive my bluntness my lady I mean nothing by it, have you been sent away like most girls are, to call another corner of the known world home?"

[moonslost]

at the mention of the guest room locks, valarr found himself trying to remember whether he'd noticed one. he couldn't. irritating. he'd paid attention to the placement of the windows, the distance between his chamber and the nearest stairwell, even the uneven stone just outside the door that shifted beneath a man's weight. yet whether the door itself possessed a lock entirely escaped him. that, he decided, would be remedied before he slept. perhaps a chair beneath the handle as well. just in case.

"for the sake of peace..." he repeated, as though weighing the phrase. "yes, that was more or less the conclusion i reached." admittedly, not the first one.

tytos' question lingered longer than the jest before it.

with the thought of that same maester tending the prince, valarr briefly entertained the possibility that the crown prince's greatest danger was no longer the poison.

the brief amusement faded with it.

"they'll dare," valarr answered with certainty. "they've little choice. though i imagine there are a number of souls in this palace suddenly wishing they did not wear a maester's chain."

whatever fear gripped the palace, and there was plenty of it now, did not absolve a maester of his vows. the citadel had built an order upon the promise that knowledge came before all. valarr had always found the ideal...optimistic. tonight would prove whether it was also true. his fingers idly adjusted the cuff at his wrist before stilling. habit more than discomfort.

"whether they can save him is another matter." if the crown prince died beneath a maester's care, every chain in the realm would suddenly become a convenient thing to blame. poison invited panic. panic demanded answers. and when answers were slow in coming, people developed an unfortunate talent for inventing them.

"i don't envy whichever poor bastard happens to know the most about poison." the words were dry, though not entirely without sympathy. "he'll either become the most valuable man in sunspear or the first accused of failing the crown."

[lannisportfm]

He nods along, head bobbing in absolute agreement with everything Valarr had said. He was a smart boy, Tytos had come to realise through their discussions. Even on the rock, he had been impressed that a Riverlander had been so well read about southern history, and keen for wine laced debates. Not that he'd ever told Valarr that, Tytos reasoned that even a barb that cruel, said in jest, might be a step too far. Maybe in the years to come, when he's well married into the House and more used to rocks than rivers.

"Say what you will though, about those Dornishmen-" Tytos answered dryly "-but the nerve to attack a Prince of the blood at his own sisters wedding-" Tytos snorts incredulously "-they're either brave and bold, or stupid and arrogant. I'd wager a bit of both, if tonight is anything to go by."

He shakes his head and then, to himself mutters in a tone that is hard to place, says- "poisoned in the middle of a wedding feast....Gods above."

Then, he turns his head toward Valarr with a smirk, those pale eyes alight with a striking sort of mirth that juxtaposed the panic around them. Tytos seemed relaxed, like he could call for a pitcher of wine and they could discuss the crown Princes maybe murder further over a game of cards.

"Nor I-" Tytos agreed, his voice dropped then, laced through with enough sympathy as he could muster without it sounding completely false "-either way, you and I it seems, will be going no where fast."

He gives Valarr an affectionate slap on the shoulder, not too hard as to jostle him though. "-I hope you're fond of Dornish red and snakes, Valarr-" he says "-It seems we are to live on both for the foreseeable future. I doubt his majesty will allow half of Westeros to return to their seats before the Princes assailants are found."