(121-01-28) Only The Brave Deserve The Bear
Only The Brave Deserve The Bear
Summary: Amadys has private speech with Maera and puts Baratheon talent to good use. Ulyka intervenes in the traditional Mormont style.
Date: (28/01/2014)
Related: follows on from My Dad Can Beat Your Dad

"Secluded? Dear me, lord Amadys, whyever would we need a spot so secluded?" Maera offers the Baratheon acolyte a coy little look, her lips inching upwards into one of her half-smiles. "The ale here is no good." She points out, "And most of the other occupants smell like they haven't washed since the King's last name day." She bites down on her bottom lip, and rolls her eyes upwards, "But, if it is what you want…"

"Mmm, I'm not sure many of them could even tell you who the king was," Amadys agrees cheerfully, "but I find the variation refreshing, in its way. Even if not in any obvious way. But then, of course," he smirks broadly, "that is the scholar's task. To ask new questions. To seek out new experiences." He lopes boldly closer, the odour of better wine than any here clinging to his lank black hair. "Sometimes I have dreamed of the North, my lady. Quite unlike, well, here. Vast, strange, cold, clean, fair…impenetrable…tell me…do I dream it true?"

"It is…ah, indescribable." Maera says, some inflection added to her flat voice. She doesn't protest Amadys' closeness. "It is a pity that you'll have to give up your merrymaking when you are a Maester." She gives him a tragic little smile, "You will be missed by all of your friends, and surely all of the Maidens in the Stormlands, and now the Reach." That said, she lifts a hand to twist a strand of that lank hair of his.

"Only the gods know the truth of that," Amadys replies with a light shrug. "Yours, or mine, I care but little, my lady. I live by the bright light of noon and the silver passion of starlight. A fig for the Reach, and the Stormlands, and the Citadel too. I say you are the North, my lady, and you are here, and you are passing beautiful." And, heedless of consequence, company or interruption, - and with slightly more swaying, vinous inelegance than he is entirely aware of - he swoops in for an embrace.

Maera is a firm handful. Living such a martial existence has made her hard where other women would be soft, but she does have some yield to her. She lets out a shy little laugh that would sound unnatural to those who know her. Playacting. But, Amadys does not know her well. "Amadys!" Her pale cheeks blush, and she puts a calloused hand on his chest, "…The small folk will talk."

"What need you reck of smallfolk, my lady?" Amadys declares. "You are a ruling lady, and I am of your station." Well, he is above it and below it, but obviously ignores any complications. Taken in, indeed, entirely by her ladyship's playful, coy mirth, he tightens the ardour of his grasp, leans closer to kiss her cruel mouth, and - perhaps unwisely - closes his bright blue eyes in the rapture of anticipation.

Lady Ulyka's sullen look pierces several merely sober men as she steps with heavy boots and strong steps into the veil of wine and vomit-soaked air. Heads turn, conversations quieten down, except for the one man who is too much engaged to proclaim his disagreement with taxes to notice the unusual guest at this etablissement. A protest would have raised, when Ulyka's dove-grey veil tears down a half-filled tankard as she passes a table, but the huge muscular man in Mormont colours manages to muffle it with nothing but a grunt. When Maera's eyes catch the sight of her sister all the fierceness of her repute conglomerates "You don't have to worry about that, Maera. They already talk."

"Still, it is unwise for any woman to cultivate a bad repu-" And then he kisses her. And she doesn't look like she knows what to do. Her eyes widen in shock, but luckily Amadys' are closed. She remains frozen for a moment before she puts her hands on his chest and tries shoving him away.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Maera=brawl Vs Amadys=brawl
< Maera: Failure Amadys: Success
< Net Result: Amadys wins - Marginal Victory

Still oblivious, such is his rising excitement, to the eruption of a second Mormont, Amadys kisses with fervour, evident experience, and rather too much wine-scent. When he feels the lady struggle, he at first keeps her clenched, out of the fierce Baratheon pride of his temperament, to show that he can, then relaxes a little and breaks off the kiss to murmur in her ear. "They did not lie when they called the Mormont ladies true fighters, my lady. We stags charge, too…but I myself am a tender buck, and only if you will it…but I think you do." And he returns to the 'struggle'…

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Amadys=charm Vs Maera=mind
< Amadys: Good Success Maera: Failure
< Net Result: Amadys wins - Solid Victory

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Ulyka=Brawl Vs Amadys=Brawl
< Ulyka: Good Success Amadys: Failure
< Net Result: Ulyka wins - Solid Victory

"Are you out of your mind, you dimwitted bastard of a…" Ulyka Mormont curses, her strong arms grabbing the acolythe's collar and pulling him forcefully off her sister. "Trying to rape a noble lady in public? You," she says lowering her voice into a vibrating threat, only interrupted by a rather surprised flicker as she notices the cloth in her hand tells of the citadel's origin "will regret this day. And any following."

Glaring at the guard behind her but still not letting go of her firm grip, she orders "Bring Maera to our manse and this poor one to the next juryman."

"Whaaa…" Baratheon pride has most certainly encountered a…bear pit…of a fall on this occasion, as young Amadys struggles unavailingly in the even younger Ulyka's iron grasp. "What…who…I…my lady, tell this fearsome guardian of yours how it was, and who I am! I could hardly have tried to ravish you by force main, when your…sister, is it? …would appear to be able to hold me captive herself. What passed here was by both our wills. Tell her to unhand me, by any affection you bear me," he coughs hoarsely, "…and my House."

Something strange happens between the first shove, and Amadys Baratheon's continued affections. Maera begins to move her lips against his! She moves her hands from his chest to grip the man's robes, and even swoons slightly from his talented mouth. Who knew it was so easy to tame a Bear? And then the man is pulled away suddenly, leaving her with a rather befuddled expression. "What…? No. Ulyka. It's…" She shakes her head to clear out the clouds. "It's fine. Amadys /Baratheon/." She adds emphasis to the name, "Has just drank too much."

"Baratheon?" Ulyka snorts "I thought once one of you is assigned to the Citadel, they rid themselves of names and allegiances and are not to court a woman anymore."
Turning to her sister the emers of her eyes remain alight "And you. If you want to taste stag, I thought you'd have at least the decency to rip the meat of one's chest. Or to find a chamber where nobody would witness this."
Slowly the collar is released, Ulyka's heavy breathing and fury-reddened cheeks shiver as she notices all eyes rest on her. Sneakily, slily and completely unvoluntarily a hint of despair creeps up on her addition. "What will people at court think about us, now?"

"I am an acolyte of the Citadel, yes, but I retain my name until I swear maester's vows," the now-liberated young Baratheon explains in a rather…stiff…tone. "As for your laudable concern for your family's honour, set your mind at ease, my lady of Mormont. No one of note witnessed anything, and…I myself am not without influential friends, in the Hightower and the undercity alike." It's a reassurance that could possibly also be construed as a threat…

"They already think we are a backwater joke, and that we mate with bears." Maera points out in her monotone voice to Ulyka. "Do you really think my kissing a Baratheon will make that any different? Don't look so horrified. They all think they are better than us as it is." That said, she looks back to Amadys, "I am not afraid of rumors, Amadys. I apologize for my little sister." She twists one of her braids between her fingers. Another behavior not typical to the Mormont lady. "She is protective."

"So I can tell," Amadys comments in an uncharacteristically sullen tone. "My ladies of Mormont, you have had to put up with this vile excuse for a freehouse quite long enough. Let me show you the way to the higher city, and we shall part at the Hightower, unless my young lady of Mormont here would like to retain me for further questioning." He shrugs as he strolls over to the 'door', and shows the bearkin pair the way forth…

"I won't hear another slanderous word of yours." Ulyka states. "And I can assure you, I myself am not without capable allies of my own." She rubs her hands, showing the strength of years of sedulous lute-practicing as well as training with more martial instruments on the field, nevertheless there are signs of relief beneath her stubborn pride. "Get lost in whatever filthy corner you may fit in," she huffs at the Baratheon, reluctantly following.

"Rumors can kill more effectly than any ally at times. Being a joke is different from being a…" she struggles to say the word right into her sisters face. "No, Maera, I won't calm down. If father had seen you…"

"A whore? Are you suggesting that I, your elder sister and Mistress of Bear Island, am a whore?" There is some force to Maera's words. Some sting. "Ah no. I think not. I am still your elder sister, and you are still my pupil. Do not presume to do the teaching." That said, she looks back to Amadys, "Again…I'm sorry." She sounds sincere.

Now looking embarrassed as well as uncomfortable - neither the ruddiness of his blush nor the blue of fresh bruises from Ulyka are usual adornments to his pale colouring - Amadys leads the ladies and their guardsmen off in silence, only now and again shooting an unavailing glance at Lady Mormont, as words fail to form and opportunities to materialise. As yet!

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License