(121-03-04) Comings and Goings
Comings and Goings
Summary: In which Aevander arrives in Oldtown and Cerys wants a pony stallion.
Date: 04/03/2014
Related: None

Daevon is not wearing black. In fact nothing he's dressed in is the typical mourning attire for one who has just lost his sister, let alone his twin. He has been busy, barely visiting the manse even to sleep or eat, although he has dropped by now to grab a few hour's rest.

Cerys slowly opens the doors of the manse and carefully steps inside.Something similar to the kitten, who is studying a new place to her. However, these home is not new to her, but… When someone is gone, things changes.
She is wearing black, indeed, and there are many ribbons entwined in her silver hair. The pale girl's skin just radiates the warmth and brightness, just radiates somekind of the holy light and obviously wants to get free from the dark dress,which presses petite gilr's shoulders, but… She looks around the room (more at the ceilings) and sighs, smoothing the fabric of long skirt.

"Cerys," Daevon greets with a slight frown. "Why are you wearing so much black?"

The girl looks at Daevon and blinkbilnks a few times, as it would be really hard for her to believe, that her brother can ask this, "Why?.." Her soft voice whispers, "Because black is sad. I /am/ sad as you should be too. Don'twe lost a sibling? Don't we lost our sister? The Seven brought the justice for all the bad things she done…" Cerys sighs, "Oh, brother! Never leave me!" And she grabs the fabric of her long skirt, raising it slightly andruning closer near Daevon. Then she just clasps her hands around him, to hug Daevon tightly, if he won't withdraw or something.

"She's not dead," Daevon says. "I will not mourn her when she is not dead." He lets Cerys have her dramatics, but he is a sea of calm, and the hug at least is returned. "I do not know whose body was found but it is not hers. I would know if she were dead. I would have dreamed of it. She has gone in search of the dragon."

The smile, which decorated the girl's features, when she felt the hug of her brother, fades. She withdraws from him and turns away. "Aaaah… Really?" It is hard to say if her tone is angry or even more sad, that it is not truth, "So, no any dreams? She is after the dragon?.. You dreamed that?"

Cerys chews on her lip for a moment, before turning back to her brother and beaming widely, "I love you, brother! You bring good news! We are still all together. But… Shouldn't /someone/ disturb her? She has no idea, where she is dragging herself in, then." The girl flops on one of the chairs and pouts, "I fear, we,actually, can get the ashes of her…" She shivers and quickly adds, "Oh! By the way… Today I've seen the most woderful stud ever! He was so purely white as… as I am…" She slightly blushes, "Did I mentioned, I love you?" She chuckles, covering her lips with pale fingers, just to muffle the sound.

Daevon and Cerys are in the dining room. Cerys is clad all in black, whereas Daevon has no signs of mourning about his clothes. They are talking.

Daevon shakes his head. "I have dreamed nothing. This is her journey, not mine. I cannot feel this dragon." He shakes his head. "If anyone can tame a dragon it is Visenya." He blinks. "A stallion? Well, we'll have to go look at him, won't we? Are you sure you want a stallion? They are more spirited than geldings and mares. There is more to horses than their appearance."

Cerys, who is,likely, first time in her life dressedall black and even has black ribbons in her silver hair, crosses her arms on abdomen, "Why you say, that just Visenya can tame the dragon? You are way more better to do that! You or Aevander! I think, to tame someone, you needto have a heart, you know…"

She shakes her tress locks and beams one more time, "Anyway, about the stallion, I am sure,I want him. I mean… I lookedinto his eyes, he lookedinto mine. I felt something. Like… We must be together! Please, please, please! He is wonderful! We will look so… white, silver!"

Daevon shakes his head. "I have never had any desire for a dragon. It is not my path, not my calling. Visenya does have heart, too much in some cases." He smiles though. "Okay, we shall look at this stallion, and if he's a good horse, and you can actually control him we'll add him to the stables." There's Daevon, so free with the family money.

Aevander steps quietly into the dining room, a satchel over one shoulder, though perhaps that's more of effect. After all, the servants will have seen to his actual cases (which were a bit more numerous than a single, humble satchel). "Sister mine, are you putting me up for a dragon taming?" he asks, a faint smile lifting his lips. "You know, it's considered courteous if you ask the person in question before offering them for such things." He lingers in the doorway, leaning a shoulder up against the frame. He, too, is all in black, though Aevander often wears that color, whether or not an evil sibling has died/run away to make a pet out of a large, toothsome beast.

"Oh! I love you, brother!" She jumps from her seat up,again, just to hug Daevon one more time. Though, if allowed, this time, she will peck his cheek, "You are the best! Can we do that as soon as possible? I mean… What if someone will take it before we do?" She shrugs a bit and releases her brother, "But,enough about me. How things are going for you? Am I disturbing? What have you been doing?" She blinkblinks.

"Aevander!" The girl claps joyfully, forgetting about her questions to Daevon. She curtsies, politely,at first, blsuhing brightly, "I was more putting you on the hunt of our sister. I am just… Really worried." She paces closer and tiptoes to peck his cheek, if allowed. Then she touches one of these honey curls of her brother, just to toss it back playfully, and chuckles. She just loves his curls.

Daevon stares at the brother who he's not seen for years. Daevon's grown since they last spoke, filled out with lithe muscle instead of being so scrawny, and taller too, for all that he's still much shorter than most Knights. "Aevander?" He might have been less surprised if he actually read his mail, or perhaps not. And eventually he's smiling, bright as the sun itself. "What are you doing here?"

Aevander laughs softly, his smile coming as easily as their father's does not, and he even leans down to make his cheek easier for Cerys to peck. As a curl gets tugged, his hand rests lightly on Cerys's arm and offers a gentle squeeze. Next, his gaze shifts over to Daevon and he allows himself a long moment simply to look the other man over, consider how he's grown and changed in the years they've been apart. Then he huffs a soft sigh and shakes his head, though he's smiling in kind, his own soft and fond. "Little brother, sometimes I truly fear the last time you ever considered the written word was when we were both little boys. I wrote, did you not get my letter?"

"Ah, I have been quite distracted with Visenya's absence," Daevon admits. Surely it's always one excuse or another. "Have you heard? She took off to find a dragon and she's not been seen since. A body was found, but I am certain that it was not hers."

Cerys sighs a bit disappointed, when the speach goes about her sister again. She wraps her one arm around Aevander's, if he will allow. Standing beside him, she will whisper, "You should eat. And drink! You must be tired after your journey… How is our parents? Oh! And I will have a new stallion. Perfectly white!" She chuckles.

"I… yes," Aevander replies with a small nod. He guides Cerys a few steps further into the room to set his satchel down on the table (careful of any food that might be atop it). "That is, I had heard she had died. She's not…" his brows lift and he blinks those wide, violet eyes, "How can you be so sure?" To Cerys he asks, "Will you? Perfectly white," he repeats. "Our parents are as you last found them, I am quite sure, and I would like a moment to sit and something to eat. Sit with me, Cerys. Tell me about your stallion." He glances over the girl's head and at Daevon, brows lifting. Perfectly white stallions, after all, tend to be rather costly.

"She is my twin," Daevon says. "The other half of myself. If she were dead then I would know. If she were hurt I would know. I would surely have dreamed it. She could not die without me feeling it. So she is alive. I have spoken with another, Amadys Baratheon, who says she'd been investigating the dragon. She also told me herself, although I'd expected to go with her, or for her to at least say goodbye. She was upset though." He sighs, looking guilty, his heart almost always on his sleeve. He sinks back in his chair. "Sorry, my manners, you must be tired. I'm sure the servants are already sorting out rooms for you and bringing food. They like to feed us up."

Cerys tries not to give too much attention for the speech of Visenya. So, she very gently,politely, just slightly tugs the sleeve of Aevander, "Yes…" She whispers, "Daevon promised me, that he will buy that stallion. He looks like royal one. To have such stallion in our stables would raise our prestige! Plus, I saw him… He was like… the dragon…" The girl'seyes sparkles with passion and amusment, "I mean… So strong, so wild, when he taped with his hooves over the ground it was like the dragon, who bumps with his tail," she getsures with her hand imagining that it is the tale, "over the ground raising all the dusts!" And she sighs dreamily.

"He does not, I hope, breathe fire," Aevander says of the stallion Cerys is so set on. He tugs out a chair, sinking down into it with a soft sigh as he offers Daevon a nod for his explanation. "And you think she's gone off to make herself a dragonlord? Dragonlady?" He tsks and his hand waves, "Dragon tamer? And here, I thought she'd already caused enough trouble for one month."

Daevon can't argue with Cerys, or say no to what she says, even if he didn't actually promise the stallion. Still money is meaningless to him, he lets it flow like water through his fingertips and always assumes there will be more. His family are ridiculously rich after all. He does laugh at Aevander's joke. "Well if he does, surely he's a stallion worth having even if keeping him in the stables would be a terrible idea." He shakes his head. "What sort of trouble?"

"Don't be silly!" The girl nudges Aevander, "He does not breathe fire, but he is amazing… I feel, like I am in love!" She laughs and leans back in her seat, mannerly placing her hands on her lap, "Also, I think, we should make a contribution for the Seven. Well, that our sister is, actually, not dead. And a small donation for the poor ones, would be nice, don't you think? Today, I've seen a little girl in the city. She was so muddy and all alone with extended hand… It just… Who could toss her into street?" Cerys sighs, trying to speak about random things, but /not/ Visenya.

What sort of trouble? Aevander's brows, already raised a little, hitch higher at the question. "Well, before her disappearance and subsequent not-death, I was led to believe she was about to marry someone who firstly, wasn't you, brother, and secondly, was betrothed to Cerys. That bit of trouble." And speaking of Cerys and love,Aevander looks back at his younger sister with a small frown on his pretty, pink lips. "Dearest, I'm not sure one should be so effusive when talking about a horse. Besides which, you know ladies shouldn't ride stallions. Stallions are for knights and lords."

Daevon colours slightly at Aevander's words. "Ah, she did that to save Cerys from a loveless marriage." Oh! Stallions, change of subject. "Cerys has the blood of the dragon, if any woman were meant to ride a stallion, especially one which has claimed her heart so, surely it would be this one?"

The petite girl pouts, sighing ruefully, "That is kind of unfair. Visenya gets my husband, who I finally loved or could fall in love a little bit later. Don't call that saving. It was just her ambitions and self-love. Also, she is free to arrange her own death, can tame the dragon, and all I ask is stallion! And that is a problem?.." Cerys bites her bottom lip and stabs the gaze at the goblet of wine on the table. Then she speaks in less angry and more motherly tone: "Is she not a lady? Is she a different one? I don't think so… Everyone is just talking about her, but doing nothing to teach her the manners of a true lady!" Smiles comes back to the girl's features and she straightens proudly, "And yes, what Daevon said," she turns to Aevander, "I have the blood of the dragon in my veins. I could ride a dragon, if I would want. And I found mine. That white stallion, who I will call Dragon."

"If Visenya were here, I would surely have a thing or two to teach her," Aevander assures, his arms crossing lightly over his chest. "Cerys, did you not just chastise her for her selfishness and ambition? You cannot condemn someone in one breath and use them as an example for why you should get what you want in the next. Visenya is not behaving like a lady at present, and she is certainly not thinking of her family. I should think twice before you decide to emulate her, dearest." He puffs out a slow breath, tipping his head back until it thumps softly against the back of the chair. "I can see I've my work cut out for me, here. The pair of you, alone…" he breathes out another soft sigh.

"Cerys," Daevon says. "When Lord Garvin heard of Visenya's absence, and possible death, he was not concerned. He did not even offer the aid of the Tyrell household to find her, yet I had strangers offering their assistance in the search. I would not wish a marriage to Lord Garvin on anyone, especially not either of my sisters. He does not deserve you He is driven by base lusts and his own pleasures first and foremost." A perfect man to be changed by the love of a good woman surely. He nods. "We'd better ensure that no one else purchases Dragon. We could send a servant for now to place a hold on him and then take a look later. Or did you want to go now? Of course we'll also need to find a leatherworker to ensure both you, and he are appropriately attired." He looks at Aevander. "You should rest, brother, and eat. You must be tired from your journey."

"I love you, Aevander, but my brother is right. You might be too tired, so, not thinking clearly." She leans to play with his curl again, beaming, "You do not think, that I should emulate her, but at the same time,I am the one to get lectures, not she. I was speaking about unfairness…" Her silver eyes sparkles with some mischief. Oh, she has something on her mind, "So, go, get rest. Tomorrow, I will show you my dragon! And I am really happy you are here now. I missed you soo much! You and your curls!" She tosses one of them back from his face an chuckles, turning to Daevon, "Thank you. I do not want to look unpatient as a child. After all, I am a lady! So, I can clearly wait. We can all go tomorrow and you will see him, my dragon." She stands up and smoothes her skirts, "There is no rush, after all, if the servant will place a hold on him."

"And I love you, dearest, but Daevon is not right so much as saying things you prefer to hear," Aevander counters as his curl gets another tug. "And you don't get lectures, you get charming conversations with your brothers, while Visenya gets none at all." He glances over at Daevon and frowns a touch at this news of Lord Gavin's lack of assistance. "I would prefer," he notes tot he both of them, "not to eat and recuperate all alone, my first hours in Oldtown."

"Just tell them where you saw this horse," Daevon says. "And they surely will." He smiles, oh so fondly at Aevander's words. "Then we shall keep you company. Are there lighter things you'd like to discuss?"

"I will definitely tell them, then, Daevon!" The girl giggles and comes to stand behind Aevander, who is sitting. She leans a bit closer to him, letting her silver hair fall down on his shoulder. Cerys whispers, "And that is the reason, my dearest, why Daevon might find his true love way more easier and more quickly than you." Her pale fingers are dancing on Aevander's shoulder, if allowed, "He knows, what ladys like to hear. We love with our ears, after all! But don't worry," she pats the man, "Now, that you are here, I will help you and will teach you!"

"I am perfectly happy as a bachelor, dearest," Aevander assures, his arms unfolding so one hand can lift and softly card through the silver spill of hair that drapes down his shoulder. "When you do find true love, you may keep it all for yourself." Blinking over at Daevon, his stern expression cannot help but soften. "You don't write me, little Davey," the older Targaryen teases, calling up the name he used for the Maiden's Knight when Daevon was but a little child toddling about with a wooden sword and a stick horse, "So now I'm here, you must tell me. Tell me of yourself. Tell me what I've missed."

Daevon decides it best to keep quiet when Cerys starts speaking of true love, least she set her attentions upon him. He is the Maiden's Knight, famed for his way with women young and old. There's a sadness there, just for a moment. "I'm sorry. You're right. I should have written." His voice softer now. "What do you wish to know? And brother, you must tell in return of yourself."

Cerys slowly withdraws from Aevander, "I feel, that the moment of brothers came." She chuckles, "I will leave you two to speak about whatever two men are speaking, when they are alone…" She giggles one more time, whirling the silver tress around her finger. She curtsies, "I need to speak with servants," she staes, still walking backwards near the exit, "See you a bit later! Be good boys!" Cerys laughs, before disappearing behind the door.

"Farewell Cerys," Daevon calls after her. He then looks back at Aevander.

Aevander watches as Cerys hurries off on her mission of catching a dragon of her very own, more or less, and he shakes his head as she departs. "If we carry the Blood of the Dragon, I think that girl must be the wind under the sails, for all she hurries about," he muses. Finally, he straightens up from his slouch and pours himself, and then his brother, each a cup of tea. "Tell me about when you were knighted, to start. I heard the stories, but they grew less likely with each telling. A knight at sixteen." He whistles softly. "Now that's something."

"The Maiden's Knight is not what I expected," Daevon says. "She granted me my health, and I promised to serve her in return." He was a sickly child. "But it was the path of Knighthood, not that of a Septon that called. Do you ever see what the others do, how they take advantage of their power and wish that you could change it? To right all the wrongs. There's a lot of stories, but this Maiden's Knight, he's not really me. He's this figure that's grown to inspire others, to provide them with a hero, someone to look up to. So, I try my best to embody that. And it means I keep failing Visenya." He sighs. "I know father was furious when I left to become a Squire, more so when I left the noble households, and served a hedge knight. Ser Jemerry's a good man." A fool knighted as a joke most of them say. "And he taught me a lot. And, we were helping root out some bandits, only one of my headaches came on." He sighs. "It was not by design that I remained behind, and I'm sure the others thought me craven. The castle was attacked during the absence of all the warriors. Those of us left behind fought them off. It was easier to proclaim the squire a hero and knight him, than admit that the women were capable of fighting off an enemy that had outsmarted the warriors. It made for a better story."

"He does seem to be a creature of great stories, this Maiden's Knight," Aevander agrees, picking up his cup of tea and taking a small swallow, "but I think you sell yourself a little short to say your actions did nothing to save the day, if you and the women all survived. And are you content, then?" He cants his head a little to the side, quizzical like a spaniel, "to submit to being a legend and deny the part of yourself that's yet flesh and blood?"

Daevon flushes at that observation. "It is good to help others. I do wish I were more like this Maiden's Knight though. But, i would not say my actions served no purpose. I serve the Maiden, and she in turn looks out for me. I have little doubt that she was looking down on all of us that day. But what of you, my brother. Surely you've had many an adventure? Why are you not married yet?" That last is said with a teasing smile, he's well aware that it must be an oft asked question.

"Not due to any pledge to the Maiden, I assure you," Aevander laughs, "and no grand adventures. I gained my knighthood by managing not to make a fool of myself at a few tourneys, and then it was back to Dragonstone. Nobody makes parables of my accomplishments. I suppose I just haven't found a girl I want to be tied to, yet, and Father's busy enough with you, Cerys and Visenya, he hasn't yet decided to bother with me. I thank any and all of the seven for that little mercy."

Daevon smiles. "And Mother has not found a girl worthy of her beloved Aevy? If you managed not to make a fool of yourself at any tournaments, then that's more than I have. Why even at the last one I ended up unhorsed and almost trampled by my own destrier. I was very fortunate that my friend, Ser Arros, was not only the one who bested me, but also an extremely skilled horseman. Not to mention the other sword contests where I was soundly thrashed." He smiles, happy with those memories. "We should test our skills against eachother, some time." A pause. "Are you happy with your life? To be sent here?"

Aevander smirks, "She has tried to broach the subject a time or two, but there's something about it…" he drags a deep, sudden inhalation through his nose, "that just makes me…" another, and a hand lifts to fan the air in front of his face, "…terribly short of breath." His hand drops back to his lap, and he draws in air as normal, "So it hasn't been discussed much." He laughs for Daevon's tourney tales. "Funny, that's not a story of the Maiden Knight that I recall hearing. But I am. Happy to be sent here. I think I may even be pleased to see Visenya again, once we find her." For the suggestion of a sword contest, his grin tips wry. "If you like, brother mine, though I think 'contest' may be too generous a word for what such a playfight would be."

Daevon laughs at Aevander's words. "I missed you. I am glad that you are here." He smiles. "It will be fun to test our skills against eachother." He then looks thoughtful. "You will hear the gossip of Lord Garvin soon enough. Would you like for it to be from me, or would you rather make up your own mind on him? Not that I think much of gossip, mind you."

"As I missed you, little brother," Aevander replies, leaning forward to set his teacup down (unless he did that already, in which case, nevermind). As for this gossip, Aevander's left brow twitches upwards. "I like to credit myself that I can judge a man on what I see, despite whatever gossip is flying about concerning him. Still, best to know what wagging tongues are saying. Tell me."

Daevon tries to find a delicate way of phrasing things. "Lord Garvin has certain… ah tastes, and he lacks discretion in regards to whetting those appetites without anyone discovering them. He has in fact endangered those who live at the Tyrell manse within the city by instructing the guards to allow certain intruders to prowl about without being questioned." He's frowning as he speaks. "He's thrown tantrums in public. I once considered him a friend, but I now find him rather infuriating. He cannot see beyond his own little world. He's very young, I believe this is his first taste of true freedom, and he's been going rather wild with it."

"Certain tastes," Aevander repeats, trying the worlds out carefully as if the syllables might be poisoned. He listens to the rest in silence, one hand rubbing over his mouth. "And do you think, then, that we should look to helping the young Tyrell… mature, or would be we better severing ties with this boychap?"

"I want to help him," Daevon says. "I do not think he is beyond redemption. He drinks far too much, and seems to be of the opinion he must get others drunk when they are around him in order to have a good time. He is not a good loser. He is prone to being overly dramatic, although now he has his theatre to channel his energies into perhaps he will mature. He is not good at dealing with, or even recognising, his own mistakes. I fear he requires far more patience than I have. I find him infuriating. He has so much potential, but it's being drowned in drink and satiating his desires. But he is well meaning at least, and…" he sighs. "Well, you will see him and make up your own mind on him I'm sure. He needs guidance."

Aevander draws in a slow, thoughtful breath. "I didn't come to Oldtown to herd Tyrells, you know," he points out gently. He came, after all, to herd Targaryens, and perhaps that's enough of a job to keep anyone busy. "But, if this fellow matters to you and is making a mess of our name besides, I suppose it falls to me to have an eye on young Garvin." And then another item Daevon mentioned snags Aevander's attention and he blinks. "Sorry… did you say theater?"

Daevon nods. "I know, Aevander. I would not ask such a thing of you, especially not when he will try anyone's patience." He nods. "Yes. He tried his hand at politics, somewhat disastrously. It would seem his father gifted him a theatre so that he could focus his ambitions in that direction instead. He is a very creative and artistic sort. There is to be a play tonight, if you wish to go."

"Huh," Aevander muses, and though his posture and expression don't change, there is a sudden, bright interest in his eyes at the idea of a play. "Well, I suppose if I'm to try and repair Lord Garvin, the first step would be meeting him. If he's putting on a play, that might be just the thing."

Daevon's torn between mentioning something else and not, but in the end discretion wins out and he remains silent on whatever is bothering him. Instead he offers another nod. "I've heard it is to be about the recent events of the festival. I do not know anything other than that. It will certainly be entertaining."

Daevon gets a long, thoughtful look for that beat of hesitation, but Aevander doesn't push. Instead he asks, "Recent events? Why, what happened at the festival, besides a festival?"

"Oh nothing bad," Daevon smiles. "I'm sure it will just be entertaining. It was just a rumour I heard."

"Ah," Aevander replies with a small nod. "Well, if you are so sure, then we ought to go see it, oughtn't we." He sighs, expression sobering a little. "Little brother, what really happened here between Garvin, Cerys and Visenya?"

"Cerys would not stop crying," Daevon says. "She wept day and night and had taken to drowning her sorrows in drink. She did not want to marry Lord Garvin and she was terribly upset that she had been forced to come here to wed against her wishes. There was little consoling her. Visenya had one of her fits and was extremely unpleasant to Cerys." He sighs. "To make amends, she decided that she, not Cerys should marry Lord Garvin. Then neither I, nor Cerys, would be forced into marriages against our wishes. She did not consult with Cerys over this, but it seemed a wiser plan. Visenya has a strength that Cerys does not."

"All right," Aevander allows with a small nod as he listens to the story, "then that was nobly done. And yet, here is Cerys crying foul and Visenya gone missing in pursuit of a dragon. How did that come about from such good intentions?

"I do not know of Cerys," Daevon admits. "Perhaps because Visenya did not consult with her, instead she just declared things so." He sighs. "I should have spoken to Cerys. I have little doubt Visenya was the one to inform her. I am not certain for the reasons that Visenya left. She argued with a friend of mine, in my sitting room, just after the tournament. I had stepped out of the room for a short time, and when I returned I found it empty, with glass shattered, and my sister gone. She has not returned since."

"And who has been sent to find her?" Aevander asks. "She has no knight's training, she cannot hunt or track or build a proper fire. Whatever your dreams tell you now, I say the wilds are no place for a girl who has no notion of a life beyond the comforts to which she's accustomed."

"I have been looking," Daevon says. "The watch has been informed. There's a number of nobles who've pledged their assistance. There is the Inn, where the body was discovered that we need to travel to. I had just discovered where it was, but I will ride out when it's light."

"I'll come with you," Aevander replies. "I know you're the stronger tracker, but she's my sister, as well, and I believed too easily that just because father declared her dead, she was gone."

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