(121-03-08) Two Dragons and a Pansy
Two Dragons and a Pansy
Summary: Lord Garvin pays a visit to the brothers Targaryen and gets insulted for his troubles.
Date: March 9, 2014
Related: Probably a few, but too lazy to find 'em.


Since the weather's so wonderfully, blissfully hot, Daevon's out in the garden. While it is drizzling he's not taking advantage of the shelter himself. His hair's better than it was, only the very slightest tinge of purple to it when the light catches it the wrong way. Garvin's been issued an invitation to the Targaryen manse.

A party of eight riders approaches the manse — six men-at-arms in purple cloaks surrounding Garvin and his squire, Nyran Redwyne. Leaving his guards and squire, Garvin dismounts and heads for the main doors. There's a light cloak over his shoulders, but that does nothing to protect his ridiculous, beplumed hat.

Aevander's out in the garden as well, though he's sitting under an awning to keep out of the sun and, when the sun goes away, to keep out of the rain. He watches his brother work as he reads from a small book. It's a peaceful moment at Chez Dragon as preparations are underway for a second attempt at finding Visenya and dragging her home by the hair, if needs be.

Garvin is shown through to the garden where the Targaryen's are there to meet him. With Daevon busy thinking, and Aevander with his reading. With Garvin comes a tray of beverages and light nibbles. Daevon offers the servant a thank you. "Ah, Lord Garvin. So good of you to come."

Garvin gives Daevon one of his brilliant smiles. "Of course, Ser Daevon. I've been very concerned about your lady sister. I understand she was last seen at an inn some distance from here. Have there been any further developments?" He glances around and spots Aevander. "Forgive me, but I don't believe I've met your brother. I saw him the other night after the play, but there was no chance to speak with either of you."

When Daevon offers his greeting, Aevander looks up and over at their guest. The book is snapped shut and tucked away as the older Targaryen brother does his best not to stare at The Hat. He manages, instead, to dip his head into a courteous nod. "Lord Garvin," he greets. "We've tracked Visenya past the inn, in the direction of the Uplands, but the dragon struck a farm and we were obliged to return to Oldtown with the injured. We plan to set out again, soon, with extra horses and better supplies. I am sure, if it were not for this business with the Cockshaws, you would be accompanying us out of concern for your betrothed."

"Lord Garvin Tyrell, this is my older brother Ser Aevander Targaryen," Daevon offers the introductions. "He has recently arrived. What is this business with the Cockshaws? I heard only a whisper of it."

Garvin offers Aevander a small bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you, Ser," he says, sounding rather formal. "I'm sure I'd be of no use to you whatsoever, in your search for Lady Visenya. I'm no knight. As to the Cockshaws, it seems Ser Viggo's elder brother was at the family's hunting lodge, somewhere in the Red Mountains near the border. He and his entire party, including Jothon Hightower, were killed by unknown forces, and the lodge itself put to torch. Dornish raiders are suspected, but nothing is known for sure yet. Ser Viggo and a small party set out for the ruins last night."

Aevander considers, his finger tapping lightly on his knee. "You do not mean to investigate the site directly, then, but to wait for Ser Viggo's report?" he queries.

Daevon's expression is filled with concern. "That is terrible news. I am certain they'll discover the culprits, and it is better not to jump to conclusions until then. If it was raiders there will be signs."

Garvin takes off his hat, then runs fingers through his hair. "Ser Laurent and Ser Quill went with Ser Viggo," he says. "My Thorn will be my eyes there, and if there are signs that this was done by Dorne, he and the Blackrood will know. I've left word with the Hightowers, but wasn't able to speak with any of them personally."

"If the lodge was razed to the ground, it's either raiders or dragons, brother," Aevander points out reasonably. "Let us hope we've not got two of those rampaging at once." Looking back over at Garvin, he nods. "Well, then. It seems you can accompany us after all, mmm?"

Daevon sighs as Aevander jumps to that conclusion too. "Perhaps, but it is best to keep an open mind until investigations are finished. If you go in with a preconceived idea you will find evidence to back up that idea, regardless of whether it's the truth or not, and you may miss evidence that points elsewhere. Even if it is Dornish Raiders, quite likely they do not act with the support of those in charge." He shakes his head. "Lord Garvin is, as he says, not a Knight. What use would taking him with us do?"

A look of horror crosses Garvin's face, and it only turns to relief when Daevon speaks. "It's true, I'm next to useless. I'd only slow down your progress and generally be in the way. I'm afraid I don't travel very well. I'm sure you have no use for me whatsoever."

"Stop calling yourself useless," Daevon chides. "You have other uses. I would be useless trying to stage a theatric production, or playing music, but that doesn't mean I am useless at all things. You won't be help on this trip, but you have other talents."

"I do not say it was Dornish raiders, Daevon," Aevander corrects gently, "but this was clearly an act of planned hostility by someone." His violet eyes regard Garvin and his jaw tightens briefly before he asks, "Tell me, my lord. Were it your Ser Thorn that had gone missing, should you leave the search to others, then?"

Garvin lifts his chin somewhat defiantly. "If I wanted him found and returned alive? Yes, absolutely. I'd do nothing to endanger his life, just as I would do nothing to endanger your dear sister's. And that is what I would be, if I came with you, a danger and a hinderance." He nods to Daevon then. "If writing plays or playing music would somehow help you find Lady Visenya, I would gladly do it."

"You are right, brother," Daevon says. "Too oft I have heard those two words together. And I do know the brutality that exists along the border. I have fought there." He nods at Garvin. "If you could do something about the rumours being spread about her. If you could try and put a more positive spin on things, that would be a great help. There is clearly someone who hates her to spread such things. And who do not respect those with the Targaryen name."

"To be unable to help the ones you cherish is a failing, my lord, and one I would strive to improve, were I in your shoes," Aevander says, leaning forward and resting his arms on his knees. "We cannot all be Maiden's Knights, but any man who can ride and handle a weapon can be of use in a search, if they wish it." As Daevon mentions those rumors, one of Aevander's hands clenches into a tight fist before it's forced lax again. "We'll find the source of such vile rubbish and they'll be dealt with accordingly."

Garvin frowns deeply at Aevander. "Tell me, Ser, is your younger sister, Lady Cerys, riding forth with you? I am not a knight nor a warrior, and even Ser Daevon agrees, I would be of no help to you on this quest. Would you truly put your sister's life in danger by dragging me along behind you? I know my strengths and my weaknesses better than you, and I tell you now, I would only be a hinderance. If that makes me less a man in your eyes, so be it. You are not the first to call me such, nor do I think you shall be the last." He turns to Daevon again. "I'm sorry, I haven't heard these rumors you're speaking of. What are they?"

"Aevander," Daevon says. "We are not all warriors, and Lord Garvin's style of fighting is not fitted for on horseback. It is not fair to ask him to travel with us when he would be of far more use here, quenching the fires of rumours, and ensuring that people do not worry. Also, with this current incident with the Cockshaws, it is imperative that there's someone that makes sure we don't rush to war and to accusing the Dornish and retaliating against those in the city." He shakes his head at Garvin. "I will not repeat them. Perhaps they are not as widespread as I feared."

"Lady Cerys is a woman and barely more than a child. You, my lord, are neither," Aevander replies tersely, "and if I do think less of you, it has little to do with you skill with a blade and far more with your willingness to leave the rescue of your betrothed in the hands of others. You dishonor her." As Daevon speaks in Garvin's defense, Aevander 'tsks' in open irritation, though he lets the disagreement slide in favor of the rest. "I have heard the rumors, and I've been in Oldtown all of a week. They are widespread enough."

Garvin turns cold eyes on Aevander again, his voice rather tense. "I am not her husband yet. Until I am, it is you, her brother, who should be concerned with her rescue. You dishonor me, Ser, with your ill-chosen words. But if you truly feel that my actions dishonor your sister, then I suggest you beg your lord father to put an end to our betrothal. I can assure you, I want this marriage no more than you do." With a sniff, he looks back to Daevon. "I shall ask Nyran, my squire. He hears much, but speaks little. If there are rumors about Visenya, he'll report them to me, and I shall see what I may do about them."

Daevon nods at what Garvin says but he doesn't seem inclined to say anything more.

"From what I have heard, Lord Garvin," Aevander mutters dryly, "you could use a little more dishonor and a little less coddling. Our father would see you wed to one of our sisters, and if Visenya has offered herself, she is an intelligent woman and, I presume, aware of what she is offering and the sort of man to whom she has consented to tie herself for life. You will wed my sister, Lord Garvin, and so help me, you will grow into a man she can stand beside proudly. I will see it done."

Garvin's eyes flash with sudden fury, as he turns back to Aevander, but he manages to hold his tongue for a long moment. He simply stands there, nostrils flared and eyes narrowed, until he finally says in a tight voice, "You are certainly welcome to try, Ser."

Daevon's keeping well out of this. He remains quiet.

Aevander holds Garvin's angry regard with his own violet gaze which remains cool and level. His expression is bland and his words as calm as they are certain. "I shall succeed, my lord."

Garvin gives a small snort, then turns back to Daevon again. "Ser Dae, I wish you good fortune in the search for your sister, and I pray for her safe return. Please keep me informed of any new developments, and if there is anything in my power I may do to be of help, please don't hesitate to ask. I know Ser Laurent is anxious to help as well, and when he returns from the Red Mountains, he will want to speak with you, I'm sure."

Daevon nods once in response. "As you say," he replies to Garvin. "I take it you wish to leave now?"

"Of course he does," Aevander replies, straightening up and taking out his book an anticipation of being able to resume reading it. "His pride has been pricked."

Garvin sweeps his ridiculous hat back onto his head, sniffing again as he glances at Aevander. He looks like he's about to bite off some scathing comment, but stops himself at the last moment. Instead, he bows to the two Targaryen knights. "Good evening, Sers," he manages, "and good hunting." And with that, he turns back toward the door to the manse.

Daevon doesn't stop Garvin from going, instead he turns and looks at his brother, waiting for something it would seem. The servants will show Garvin out.

And Aevander waits until Garvin is departed before opening his book, licking a finger and using it to find his spot. "Well," he says without looking up, "that was two searing insults he choked down. I'd call that progress of a sorts."

Daevon shakes his head. "Aevander." He says. "You think that will help at all? Although I cannot say I know what will help." He pauses. "Actually no, that's a lie, I can imagine what would help, but it's not a thing either of us would arrange I'm sure."

"I think it will, yes," Aevander replies, turning another page. He sighs and looks up at his brother. "I think Lord Pansy is far too used to being fluffed up and protected and covered for. It's about damn time he learned to take a few on the chin and clean up his own mistakes. Not to mention make fewer of them."

Daevon shakes his head at Aevander. "You don't know him. He has been coddled, yes. But he's also been subject to abuse for who he is. He has a very thin skin, he takes offense extremely easy. We were friends, briefly. I'm not sure if we are anymore. I find him infuriating, and pitiful, and I just wish that I could knock some sense into him. I suspect he'd have been much happier if he were born a woman."

"We'd all have been happier if we'd been born somehow different from what we are," Aevander replies, "He's not unique in that respect. The world is cruel to us all, Garvin is no more preyed upon than any other man. And he is a man, brother, one who will be marrying our sister and tied to our name. So let him take offense. Let him learn to grow a thicker skin. I don't mean to break the boy, but I do intend to temper him into something better than what he's become."

"Well good luck with that," Daevon says. He nods. "Indeed. Most of us just handle what life offered us though. He instead carries it as a chip upon his shoulder, and fails to see the burdens other carry."

"Why thank you, Davey, for your well-wishes," Aevander chides with a half smile. "I think if those scales were shaken from his eyes, he would be a much wiser person."

"Perhaps," Daevon says. "I hope you can succeed where I failed. Perhaps the two of you and your common interest in the arts would help. I must say, that for a waterdancer, that play lacked any degree of action. Maybe see if you can get him to actually put the fights in."

"Gods, it was atrocious," Aevander groans, his eyes closing briefly in recollection of The Whimsey's first production. "The characters flat as the paper their lines were writ on, the choreography abysmal, the monologues long, tedious and unnecessary. Indeed, I think the only thing tolerable about the production was the Lady Janei's backdrop."

Daevon laughs. "I had thought it was just me. Still perhaps they will get better with time. Or you can advise him. People did seem to enjoy themselves."

"Ah, I'm not…" Aevander replies with a small shake of his head, "perhaps they will. Brother, I will take you to see a play, someday soon. A real play. When a tale is told well on stage…" he sighs softly, shaking his head with a small, hazy half-smile, "Even you would be drawn in, I'd wager."

"Perhaps if it were about me," Daevon jests. "I've little desire to see any plays. You at least have some experience of watching them. You couldn't advise him to make it any worse, could you?"

"Not unless I advised him to replace the actors with hounds," Aevander replies dryly. "A play about you, mmm? I'll suggest it to him, but I will wager you this, brother mine. Let me take you to see a proper play, and if you don't enjoy yourself, why I'll…" he considers, fingers tapping against his knee, "I'll polish your armor for you."

"I think that could be amusing," Daevon says. "Would you put them in costumes?" He shakes his head. "No, don't suggest a play about me to him. I have heard there are some, well at least about the Maiden's Knight. Hardly based in reality." He laughs. "All of my armour? Have you seen how many suits I have? No, we should make it something better."

"You make it a point to remove yourself from reality as much as possible, I've noticed. How could anyone actually write a play about you, who knows you, brother?" Aevander's brows lift and he grins. "Oh? Well then, what would you suggest we wager?"

"My friends know me," Daevon says with a smile. "The Maiden's Knight is like the armour I wear. It is so much bigger." He looks thoughtful. "Oh I'm not sure. I'll think of something fun."

"Mmm," Aevander muses, looking his brother over from head to toe. "Sometimes I fear you wear that armor too often and for too long."

"I am a Knight," Daevon says. "The armour comes as part of the whole deal." He stands up, soaked right through. "I'm going to go inside. Don't stay up all night reading."

"Don't stay up all night… staying up!" Aevander calls back. Because after so many years apart, he may not be entirely sure what Daevon's hobbies are, anymore. He leans back in his seat, lets his attention fall back to the page and reads on.

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