| The Dragons At Home |
| Summary: | In which Jaremy comes to ask a question, nefarious deeds are revealed and nobody likes anybody else, anymore. |
| Date: | March 17, 2014 |
| Related: | The Sisters Targaryen |
| Players: |
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It's late afternoon, the sun stretching long and casting patterns across the marble floor as it streams in through all the various windows. It highlights Aevander's hair where the young man sits at the table, giving his face a like of pale nimbus as he deals with the mundane chore of corresponding with family. His pen scratches quietly over paper as the minutes move by.
Cerys comes back home. She is wearing the same wonderful gown as in the morning. "Dearest brother!" She beams widely slipping to sit beside. "Tell me,how was your day?" She sighs and stabs her gaze to the ceilings.
Daevon bounds down the stairs, taking them two at a time. He's dressed simply today and wearing his sword. It's the second outfit of the day for him, but he usually changes numerous times. "Cerys! Aevander! What are you two doing cooped inside on such a wonderful day?"
Coming at the right time, or so when he said he woulc be coming, another clad in the loose blues of his house arrives. Sword, left outside with his squire who is also likely minding his horse. Ser Jaremy Strickland, still does not mount to much of an impressive man, but comfortable could be said of him.
"Sers." This said to Daevon and then to Aevander as he pauses to where the servant has left him. "I hope you don't mind a bit of an interruption.."And there he cranes his head, catching sight of Cerys. And a bow given. "My Lady."
Aevander mmms? and lifts his head, blinking his thoughts away as Cerys arrives. "Afternoon, dearest, my day was fine. And yours?" Daevon gets a nod as well and a smile. "Just writing to mother and father and assuring them none of us have managed to sink Oldtown into the sea just yet." And then there is one more to the party, and Ser Jaremy gets a nod upon his arrival. "Hello, ser, come in. I hope the day treats you well."
"Aevander," Daevon tuts. "You should go outside. Do something fun. Maybe look around some book shops? Or have you climbed to the top of the tower yet and seen the view of the entire city? It's incredible up there. Or find some place they all meet and play that dratted cyvasse. Or take the lovely Lady Johanna out. There's plenty of time for writing letters when it's sdark and miserable outdoors." He offers Jaremy a nod of greeting but he's mostly focused on Aevander.
Cerys nods, "My day was just wonderful…" Daevon makes his little sister laugh, "Brother, I just came back. Let me rest! Even I need this sometimes!" And she peeks at the letter, Aevander is writting, "Please, tell mother and father how I miss them!"
When Jaremy greets her, The young lady just nods, "Ser Jaremy Strickland," she says and peeks at the letter again.
"Well enough, I suppose Ser." This given to Aevander, as Jaremy takes time to clasp his hands behind his back. A tilt of his head as eyes flick from brother to sister, and then to the other brother. Clearing his throat, he looks back towards the sitting Dragon. "If I may, I would like a moment of your time to talk, as I had requested." And there he looks over to Daevon. "If your brother would like to be present, I won't take too much time I hope." And there he nods back to Aevander as a small grin is given. "And thus allow you plenty of time to enjoy your day."
"Perhaps I like writing letters, Daevon," Aevander teases. Because, really, who would enjoy writing to their strange and demanding parents? But then he looks over at Jaremy and his smile fades into a more solemn expression as he nods. "Of course," he agrees. Looking over at Cerys, he requests, "Dearest, if you'd like a rest, why don't you go upstairs and lie down or sit a while in the gardens? Daevon and I need a moment to speak with Ser Jamrey privately."
"Brother, I am not a child anymore. I am really comfortable to rest i here and I am pretty sure, that ser Jaremy don't mind my presence." She smiles at Aevander, "I won't distueb you at all."
"Aevander, you're getting dull in your old age," Daevon teases right back. He nods at what Jaremy says, then looks at Cerys. "I think this is men's business, or private at least."
Jaremy nods back towards the Brothers Targaryen before he is looking in Cerys' direction. "Though I enjoy your company, m'lady. I believe this may be something better suited for just men's ears." And there he agrees with the brothers, though his words remain careful. A glance back to the others. "Where should we discuss this? Here, or somewhere else?"
Aevander nods as Daevon and then Jaremy speak. "The flowers are all blooming in the garden," he encourages gently. "Perhaps you could pick a bouquet for the table?"
"Very well!" Lady Cerys stands up. However, her expression changes, turning the pure little angel into quite an evil dragon, "I will remember this…" She says and walks out haughtily.
"Here should suffice," Daevon says.
Once he is sure that Cerys has slipped out, Jaremy clears his throat and moves to find a seat, so as not to be standing over the sitting Targaryen knight. Once that is settled his hands move to rest into his lap before he is looking back to Aevander. "Ser, as you recall, when we rode, I wanted to talk to your about your sister." And there the knight clears his throat again. "And I-I would like to have that discussion. I would like your permission if you can grant such to court your sister." Bold coming from a minor Lord, but Jaremy has never been known to beat around a bush.
Daevon sighs at Jaremy's words. He looks to Aevander and will allow his brother to field this one.
Aevander leans back in his chair and nods. He's not surprised, certainly, considering the discussion had on the ride to the uplands. "Ser Jaremy," he begins, "you know well enough who we are and the sorts our family marry, and I do not consider you unobservant or a fool. Explain to me then why you believe, as the heir of a minor house, that you are worthy of our sister."
Daevon speaks up. "Aevander, don't," he says gently. "Ser Jaremy, regardless of how you reply, the answer will always be no. I'm sorry."
Visenya has connected.
There is a glance given to Daevon before he is looking back to Aevander. "I understood that coming here." He states plainly enough to the Maiden's knight. "I did. Please do not think me a fool, or simply a fool in such regards. I know I may never hold the same weight as a Baratheon, or a Tully or any other paramount house." The knight says. "But, I know I would treat her with respect. And such a request does not come with prodding from my father, or for feathers in one's cap." With that said. "Despite knowing my own place. I still sought-I will respect your answer either way." And there a gesture is given to Daevon. "If that is it, Sers?"
Aevander frowns over at Daevon for that reply, his brows lifting. "And here I thought I was the stuffy, traditional one," he muses. Looking back to Jaremy, he adds, "My parents would never stand for it, you know. They want feathers plainly enough, I'm afraid, though I find you, as a man, to be superior to any of Cerys's other would-be suitors. You said you spoke to my sister. Did she… were you led to believe she would recieve your gentlemanly affections?"
"It is not our answer to give, Ser Jaremy," Daevon says. "Nor is it Cerys'. It is our father's and he would never even entertain the idea. It is not a matter of how you would treat her." He sighs at Aevander. "Not stuffy, nor traditional but there's little point drawing out the pain, is there? No point in offering false hope." He sighs.
Jaremy nods. "I understand parents, Ser. As I still have my own who would see the same thing, I imagine. I guess that is why I do not write to them of such things." A wane smile given before he is nodding. "As to answer your question. Yes." honestly answered. "And even when I spoke to her again, and told her the same answer I expected to get- I still told her I would ask."
One of the pocket doors to the drawing room is opened, and in steps Visenya. "Aevander, have you seen my…Oh, who is this?" She gives Jaremy a curious tilt of the head, her long silvery hair falling forward to cover half of her face. "What is this about Cerys?"
Aevander looks at Daevon for a long moment, and if there are words he might say, he chooses not to say them in front of a guest. And then Visenya steps into the room and he smiles wryly. "Visenya, this is Ser Jaremy Strickland, his father's heir. He's come to ask to court Cerys, against all odds. Apparently, she returns his interest." His brows lift slightly. "And when you told her the answer you expected, what did she say in return?"
"Ser Jaremy Strickland, my sister Lady Visenya Targaryen," Daevon introduces. He smiles at Visenya.
"She bid me ask again, though with her in the room. In hopes that she might convince you." And there a slight smile shows. "As you can see, I did not allow that to happen-for her sake." he states before he is glancing from Visenya and then back to Daevon. Only then does he rise. "I am sorry to have disturbed your day.." he mutters out quickly. "Please do not take my lack of fight-as unwanting. I would like to remain on good terms with you, Ser." this said to Aevander. "And I feel as if I were to raise my voice or show such passions-it would only hurt our relationship. And if we are to end it-then I would have it done quick so as to keep her from growing too attached, as the same with myself. Less hurt, for her."
To Visenya he bows, quick and careful. "My Lady."
"Ser Jaremy." Visenya gives the Knight a shallow curtsey before she shakes her head softly, "Alas, it is not my brother's decision, but our father's. Cerys only creates unneeded drama and frustration by sending you here." She gives Jaremy a gentle, apologetic smile. "If you are interested you should have your Lord father reach out to ours. Cerys' hand is not for my brothers to give, I'm afraid." She shrugs gently, "Who knows? Perhaps you will distinguish yourself within the time it takes for him to make a decision, and you will be rewarded."
The doors open widely with a heavy bump. Lady Cerys steps inside one more time. She is all burning with anger as cities burn from the flames of the dragons. She is carring some flowers in her one hand. "Here," She says, walking closer to Aevander, "The dog," she points at herself, "Brought you flowers!" And she tosses them straight into Aevander's chest. Her gaze betrays, that she heard each word and how she should feel? Like a dog, because her brothers think, that the decision of her feature is the private business of men, but not Cerys herself! And Aevander forgot his promises!.. "This is private business of men?! Since when Visenya is a man, if she is allowed to stay?!" Cerys asks Aevander, looking over Visenya with a deadly gaze. Cerys even more angry looks over Jaremy, "I could expect that from them, but not you!" And then she runs out, sarcastically adding, "Thank you for respect!"
Daevon's finding all of this uncomfortable, and when Cerys runs in and then out again he stares after her dumbfounded. He's not going to give chase, or even say anything. Instead he just sighs and stands up.
Aevander looks down at the flowers tossed at his chest and heaves a deep, exhausted sigh. "I should have sent her up to the second story," he murmurs, "or bolted the damn doors, apparently." He collects up the foliage and sets it on the table. "Ser Jaremy, if we might put this matter aside for the time being, there is another matter I would discuss with you while you're here."
There is a brief pause as he watches Cerys go by, before he drops his gaze and brings his hand up to his nose for a moment before a simple nod is given. "Of course." It's quick, but there. A glance given the two Targaryen men before Jaremy clears his throat. "I was also trying to avoid that."
Visenya's eyes roll at the sudden, explosive appearance and disappearance of Cerys. "She is such a child." She shakes her head softly before slinking over to a high table to pour herself out a cup of wine, "Would that please you, Ser Jaremy? Being two parts nursemaid and one part husband?"
Daevon's troubled by something but he's keeping quiet.
"Viseyna," Aevander murmurs with a frown at his sister, "enough." Looking at Ser jaremy he adds, "Thank you. I wanted to talk with you about the most recent news regarding the razing of Wickam's Nest. You're aware, I'm sure, that the Hightowers are doing little, some of the Tyrell men are rattling their spears and calling for blood and the dornish in the city are either under protection or being held hostage, depending on who you speak to. Have you heard much of the actual things found my the party that went to investigate?"
As Aevander speaks Jaremy falls silent for a moment before one hand is raised. "Ser." And there he flicks his gaze to Visenya. "I do know what I have heard in the streets, nothing more. But, I would be willing to talk to you about the sitation. I have been told a letter is waiting for me by a courier, and likely sheds such light onto such things. If I may, Allow me to check and then we can speak on this more, later." Likely when there is less of a chance for him to cause any trouble amongst the sisters. If given leave he will then quietly slip out, with a bow.
Daevon can actually answer these questions. "They found the body of a Dornishman in the well, wearing Blackmont armor. The trail itself was difficult to track, they were able to trace it to the Red Mountains before the raiders split up and the trail was lost. Everyone was killed, there were no witnesses. They took what valuables they could grab and then it was razed. I had intended to go visit the Dornish today."
Visenya waits until Jaremy leaves before she takes a good swallow of the wine, "What? He ought to know that the little harpy is rotten in the core." She says rather defensively to Aevander. Another swallow of the wine follows, "From what Ser…uh, whathisface told Aevander and I, they found an earring of Dornish design, and believe one of the Cockshaws was entertaining a Dornishwoman, possibly one of the Blackmont daughters or wives."
"We can't speak ill of our sister, it looks bad," Daevon says to Visenya. "And it would hurt him to know that she's been singing the praises of another suitor while also encouraging his attentions." Visenya's news does surprise him. "That's more information than I had heard. Was she being held there willingly?"
"That was what I wished to speak to Ser Jaremy about," Aevander pipes in, "His family guards the border. I wanted to know if it might be possible for them to try and learn the truth of the woman that was supposedly at the Nest. If she exists, who she is and how she came to be at Wickham's Nest." His brows lift as Daevon speaks of visiting the Dornish. "Will they admit you? I had thought the guards outside the manse were permitting no visitors." To Visenya, he replies, "Cerys is not a harpy, and I agree with Daevon. You certainly shouldn't be talking foul of her in front of guests.
"Perhaps I ought to hire servants to speak ill of her, then? Would that be better?" Visenya snaps at Daevon, her eyes darkening in rage. "That little bitch isn't my sister, and I shall speak as ill of her as I'd like. She's lucky I don't tie her to her bed and begin her funeral rites before she draws her first breath!"
"We are Targaryens," Daevon points out. "Their rules do not apply to us. If I wish to visit the Dornish then I shall visit them." He sighs as Visenya begins to rage. "The sooner she's married then, Visenya, the sooner you don't have to deal with her anymore. She will become her husband's family's problem. She seems quite taken with Ser Thadeus Tully. He is something of a womaniser but he claims that Cerys' beauty has made him turn over a new leaf and he will remain true and faithful to her."
"Mmm, fair enough," Aevander agrees of the guards outside the Sand manse (o whatever it's called. Something Dronish.) "I had thought she was fond of Ser Thadeus, but Ser Jaremy seems to think her affections point towards him." He frowns as he plucks a stray petal from his shirt. "I grant you Cerys can still be immature at times, Visenya, but you are not going to turn this house into a battlefield. There's enough of that going around, already."
SMASH! Visenya flings her half-full glass of wine at the wall. "I AM TURNING THIS HOUSE INTO A BATTLEFIELD?!" She shouts, "Yes! Go ahead and ignore /everything/ she does it me! I'm the villain! I'm the bad one!"
Daevon ducks as the wine goes flying. "No one said you were bad, Visenya."
"You are both ridiculous when it comes to the other," Aevander replies, watching as the wine glass goes flying, "and I think you're more capable of being the bigger person than she is, so I am asking you to try and do that."
Visenya reaches for the closest thing to her hand. A book. She reaches for a book, and pulls her arm back to fling it at Aevander. Her hand quakes a bit in rage, and she lets out a, "Uggghhhhhhh!" before dropping it. "Why do you both keep refusing to acknowledge what she's done to me? It makes me so angry!" She begins speaking quickly and angrily, and the faster she speaks the more high-pitched and intelligible she becomes. "You just let her do whatever she'd like to me and you both just pamper her and kiss her arse and nobody is ever on my side and it makes me want to /murder her/!"
Daevon's not really able to deal with this. Not the shouting, not the throwing of things, definitely not the mediating. He looks at Aevander instead, then back to Visenya and sighs. "I've been trying to fix things."
"You both do whatever you lie so far as I can see," Aevander replies, exhaling softly as that book is dropped rather than flung at his head. "She buys stallions and flirts excessively and weeps when she doesn't get her way. You vanish off chasing dragons and let your family think you've died."
"It's not comparable, is it?" Daevon asks. "Visenya seeks out the dragon in order to save the city. Yet you're painting her with the same brush."
"Still not going to acknowledge that she said I was going to burn the city down, are you?" Visenya smiles in a feral manner, "That she said I was a traitor." She nods her head towards Daevon, "I sought out a dragon for the glory of the family. Now my father has a child who possesses two dragon's eggs, and Daevon keeps the dragon fed and less likely to kill or burn the countryside. But you're right, Aevander." Her lip curls up into a faint sneer, "I should let Cerys drag my name through the mud. I should let her call me a traitor and a villain and a murderer."
Visenya adds, hotly, "You do nothing about it, but you scowl me when I speak the truth of her in our own home!"
"Oh for heaven's…" Aevander rolls his eyes. "She can throw whatever tantrums she likes, it's not as if anyone can possibly take her seriously when she's worked up to such a state. Of course I don't like when she says such things, and I wish I knew why the two of you are forever at odds. It's exhausting for me, I don't know how either of you manage to keep up the strength for the amount of vitriol you spew. But one of you needs to take the first step towards reconciliation, and I swear, the next time either one of you says 'it's not my fault, it's hers' or some variation of the same, I will haul that sister over my lap and tan her! If you're going to behave like children, I'm going to start treating you as such!"
"You will not lay a hand on my sister," Daevon's eyes glint ice cold.
"She paid servants to say that, Aevander!" Visenya cries out. "She paid our servants to say such things, and you act as if she's done nothing wrong!" She points a finger to Aevander, "I swear to the Seven that if you ever lay a hand on me you will lose it. You are not so fierce compared to a dragon, brother."
Aevander blinks, his brows lifting. "She… what?" His eyes narrow. "She what? Are you certain? How do you know that?" He shakes his head. "And you are not to toothsome as one, for all you growl."
"Aevander, the servants are loyal to us, all of them," Daevon says. "They know it would mean their lives to betray us. Who in the city hates Visenya enough to spread such lies about her and only her? Who has the money to pay them? Who could command them to do such a thing and they could not refuse?"
Visenya is silent. Her hands clench and unclench.
"And you… the both of you knew this and didn't think to tell me?" Aevander asks. "Didn't think it might be worth mentioning? I would rather have believed a servant had betrayed us than Cerys." He lifts a hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I would like a drink."
"Ask the servants," Daevon says. "Then ask Cerys." He shakes his head at Aevander. "Strong suspicions, but not known for certain. The nature of the rumours seem to align with some of the things Cerys has said. That they could be traced to our servants. They know at the very best they'll lose their tongues for gossiping, and far more likely their lives. I was dealing with other matters, and I had thought you'd intended to speak with the servants yourself."
"I thought you knew already." Visenya admits, her tone softening slightly. "I thought you knew and you were just ignoring it."
"By what the servants said, it seemed that two handmaidens had, indeed, disappeared after overhearing Cerys shrieking in her room," Aevander replies, "and it seemed they were the source of the rumors. But, there were rumors that those in the town to accused Visenya most loudly had been paid, and richly, to do so." He sighs softly, stands and walks tot he sideboard to pour himself a splash of biting amber liquid.
"Aevander, the servants know far, far worse secrets than Cerys' fantasies about how evil Visenya is," Daevon sighs. "If someone had paid our servants, I would expect, at the very least to have received some blackmail letters, or heard rumours about myself. But there's nothing."
"I told you she was crazy." Visenya states tighty, "And no one believed me. Now look at what she's done."
Aevander is quiet and he swallows down his drink with a slight grimace and splashes another. "And what if she is?" he asks. "That makes her no less our sister and no less my responsibility." He exhales softly, closing his eyes. "This will have to be remedied, and there will have to be a scapegoat."
Daevon shakes his head. "I think there would be no need for a scapegoat. Just ensure the rumours stop. Battle them with some good ones of our own and people will forget soon enough."
"I want to see her punished for it." Visenya says.
"And let everyone think they are free to spread gossip about us and our families?" Aevander asks, brows lifting. "No, brother, that is not acceptable." He looks over at Visenya and one brow lifts. "I will find these missing girls and they will be killed, all for following Cerys's demands. Is that not punishment enough?"
"Killed? No." Visenya gasps lightly, "Whipped. Not killed. But that does not punish Cerys."
"You will do no such thing," Daevon replies.
"Killed," Aevander replies before draining his glass again, "and if you want to wash your hands of it and cast me the villain for doing so, so be it." He sets the cup down and scrubs a hand over his face. "And what should you like, Visenya, dear? Hot pokers to the feet? Putting her in the stocks so you can fling rotten vegetables at her?"
"Aevander, don't be dense. If you whip them but let them know you are sparing them a worse fate than it will be a lesson to the other servants to come to us before such things happen again. Whipped." Visenya asserts. "You cannot harm her. She is blood of the dragon. I want to burn her wardrobe, and I would like to see her allowance suspended for a time."
"No," Daevon repeats again. "I will not allow you to kill two innocents to protect our sister. Not if the crimes were hers not theirs." He nods at what Visenya says. "Yes, whipped but reinstated. Show mercy to them." He sighs. "Visenya, you burn her wardrobe then she will just get new clothes and it will make her and us look bad. You take her allowance, she will have her suitors bring her gifts. Make the punishment fit the crime. Have her reverse what damages she did."
"I think I would rather the staff feared us than admired our compassion," Aevander replies, fingers drumming on the side table. "And if they're whipped, they're free enough to whisper that it was all Cerys's fault, which is exactly what we are trying to avoid." Glances to Daevon he asks, "How can she reverse what she's done without it becoming clear that she started the original rumors in the first place?"
"Yes. Continue to protect her." Visenya's eyes roll in disgust. "Typical."
"So you will butcher two loyal servants, who were only doing what they told?" Daevon asks. "You will place her reputation above their very lives? This isn't open for negotiation. You will not be killing these girls. How many people have you killed, Aevander? How many girls?" He sighs. "They're just rumours. There's a new set every day. People have likely forgotten them. We just use similar methods to spread good things about Visenya. If Lord Garvin can take an array of male lovers to bed, if he can fuck a man in the pillory, then try and employ the man, and it's forgotten only weeks later, why would anyone pay the slightest bit of heed to the stories of Visenya? Everyone's got bigger concerns. We pay the rumours as much due as they deserve, which is none at all. They're insignificant and forgotten."
"Then what is the point of her spreading fresh ones?" Aevander asks with a shake of his head. "Do not dictate to me how to best protect this family, brother. Not when you have been gone six years seeing to yourself. Chivalry is well and good on a battlefield, but politics and reputation rarely allow for such niceties. The rumors may be forgotten, but the fact that the Targaryens did nothing to address them will not be, I promise you that."
"You know what she will say when you execute these maids, Aevander? She shall run out and say it is my doing. That I had them killed for revealing my secrets." Visenya scoffs, "But I know you just do it to protect her from an actual punishment. You care nothing for the fact that she did something to me. But by all means go ahead and continue to pamper and spoil the treacherous little bitch. We all know who you truly value."
Daevon's eyes flash, angrily. His anger's a cold, burning thing, not the burning rage of some. "Aevander, you are being a fool. If you think to murder our servants then you are a monster. I am the Maiden's Knight, and I battle monsters wherever I find them. Even in my own family. Am I going to have to fight you, Aevander? I will not lose. Are you the one who needs some sense beaten into you? I thought you better than this."
"You know, Visenya, for all you dislike Cerys so, you and she seem to sing the same tune about each other," Aevander replies, "Everything that is done is done purely to show favor for Cerys. I hate to disappoint, but my actions are not shaped by the constant and burning need to show my love for one sister over the other, much as the pair of you refuse to see that." Looking over at Daevon, his arms cross. "If I am a monster, brother, it is to protect you from ever having to be such. If you will both excuse me, I need some air." And with that, he turns to walk for the door.
"If you do not punish her I will." Visenya states cooly to Aevander's back. "And you do not want me to punish her."
Daevon's at the angry enough to start throwing things stage. He doesn't though, he stares frostily at Aevander. "No. I will not let you murder two innocents, brother. I will not let you turn yourself into a monster. You are not our father. You think I have not done monstrous things? I served on the border. I've seen so many atrocities committed. And I'm not letting you become one of them. Not you, Aevander, the brightest, the boldest, the best of us. So you'd better forget about it. You're smart. Come up with a better punishment. Take away Cerys' horses. Give her guards instructions not to follow hers."
Aevander pauses at the door to look back over his shoulder at his siblings. "You are the bold one, Daevon," he replies, sounding nothing so much as exhausted, "Cerys is the one who shines when she's happy. Visenya is the clever one. I'm just the one that fills in the cracks before they make the mountain come down."
"Don't you dare leave because I'm going to give you a hug," Daevon says, and he strides over to do just that. "And don't be ridiculous. For someone so smart you're also so stupid, sometimes. You're my big brother, okay? And you're every bit as special as the rest of us, like it or not."
"Aevander. I'm angry. You know I do not think right when I am angry." Visenya sucks in a breath, "Cerys has betrayed me. She has betrayed the family. This is no simple offense." There's a pause, "I will be satisfied if she is betrothed to Lord Garvin again. That is my concession. Otherwise, I do not think I will be able to restrain my rage." She does not look like she's in the hugging mood.
Aevander grunts softly as he gets hugged, holding rather still for a moment before his arms come around Daevon and offer a pat-pat to his brother's back. "Visenya," he murmurs, "Tying this family to Lord Garvin when we've just pulled free isn't punishment for Cerys. It's punishment for all of us. You know as well as I do that she could never manage him. He will be as flagrant as he is now, she will be forever in tears and I will be condemned to chase the pair of them around fixing their perpetual disasters before the rest of the world finds out about them. And if that is going to be my lot, I would rather it was for the majority of my family and not for one primping pansy."
Daevon gives Aevander a nice, warm hug. "You're my brother and I love you, even when we argue, so you remember that." "Visenya, give Aevander some time to think on things. It's not fair to punish him for this. He looks like he needs to go for a swim in a bath of wine, with a good book. Or a bath of books and a good wine."
Visenya shakes her head. "That is what I want. I want her to be perpetually in tears for her betrayal. And no. She will no longer be our problem. She will be the Tyrell's problem." She shrugs. "Then I will punish her. I will make her rue the day she ever crossed me. Is that what you both want?"
"No, Visenya," Aevander replies, "I will not condemn one sister to satisfy the other, as I would not hurt you on her request. Do not make yourself so small and cruel. I know you are better than that, I have seen it. If you act while I am gone, you will lose my trust. If that means nothing to you," he sighs softly, "then I suppose I will clean up the mess you will make with your vendetta when I return in the morning. Goodnight, Visenya. Daevon." He pushes his brother gently away from him before slipping out of the room and then out of the manse.
Daevon watches Aevander go and sighs. "I'm going to hit things."
"I'm going to make plans." Visenya declares. There's a pause. "Who is this Tully that is besotted with Cerys?"
Daevon shakes his head in response to Visenya's question. He sighs and walks out.