(121-04-09) As the Rose Turns Part 1
As the Rose Turns, Part 1
Summary: The drama never ends at Garden Isle manse!
Date: 9 April 2014
Related: continues in Part 2


Grand Hall - Garden Isle Manse

The first floor's main hall is grand, open room dominated by a massive fireplace and high-arched windows facing the street, protected by heavy iron bars. The white walls and polished white marble floors make it seem airy and bright. The starkness of the walls is softened by three long tapestries, depicting fantastical hunting scenes, while the marble floor is cushioned by rich Myrish rugs.

Down the center of the hall is a long, wide dining table, able to seat thirty comfortably. At the head of the table is an enormous chair of elaborately carved rosewood, with a door behind flanked by two high windows, giving a view of the sunlight gardens. Near the fireplace are smaller chairs, cushioned benches, and small tables for more intimate conversations.

Alcoves and doors at either side of the great hall lead to servants quarters, kitchens, and smaller sitting rooms. At the northwest and southeast corners of the building are square towers holding the stairs up to the floor above, where the bedchambers and other sitting rooms are found.

Garvin spent most of the day at the playhouse, where his company of mummers is rehearsing the new play. Now he returns, looking rather exhausted, but also cheerful. Tossing his hat and riding cloak to a page, he heads into the great hall, calling, "Wine! Someone bring me some wine, I'm about to die from thirst."

Tellur is present near the kitchens, and has, of all things, a book in his hands, and some poor quality paper in a bound notebook as well, and a quill. He has been writing away, but as Garvin enters, the Bastard stands, automatically, without even thinking about it. Pale, wolfish eyes regard the Lord thoughtfully - there is no sign of the boy's Master nearby.

Arion is sitting in the Great Hall sipping on a goblet of Arbor red. He grins when he sees Garvin enter. He pours another goblet full of wine and rises moving to offer it to the Tyrell with a warm smile. "Here you are Garvin and welcome home. I hope the rehearsal went well?" He studies the Tyrell a long moment his smile remaining firmly in place.

Garvin's eyes light up when he sees Arion, and before he has a chance to notice Tellur is in the hall, he leans in to steal a kiss. One hand takes the goblet, while the other slides around Arion's waist, pulling him closer. "Well enough. Hoping you can start…Oh." Finally spotting Tellur, Garvin releases his hold and steps back from Arion, his face reddening. "I didn't see you there, Snow. Er. How are you? Have you met Lord Arion?"

Tellur's pale eyes do not narrow or widen. He looks, by nature, as watchful as a fox, but there is no indication on his face of any emotion whatsoever "I am very well, Lord Garvin," says the Northener "Lord Carolis has arranged for me to be able to read some of the books here in the South. So I am happy. I have not." He puts down his writing implements, and then steps forward, thwapping a closed fist on the opposite shoulder as he bows "I am Tellur Snow, servant of House Stark."

Arion returns the kiss eagerly and then blinks as Garvin steps back away from him. He looks confused until he finally notices Tellur's presence in the hall. He smiles nervously a faint blush coloring his cheeks and ears. He offers Tellur an incline of his head and a warm smile before he speaks. "It is a pleasure to meet you Tellur Snow. I am Lord Arion Florent." He glances back at Garvin and smiles warmly. "Have you had anything to eat? If not perhaps we should send for some food."

Garvin continues blushing and looking sheepish. "I'm famished," he says, taking a long sip of wine, as he glances between the two men, trying to see some sign on Tellur's face. "Oh, Lord Carolis isn't here? Well, I suppose we should go ahead and start without him, and if he returns in time, he can join us. But I should change before supper." He starts toward one of the towers, but pauses to turn back. "Is anyone else here? Laurent, Keyte, Kesha, Angharad?"

Tellur has surely got to be able to show emotions on his face - that is what a face is _for_ - but there is no real sign of it right now "Lord Arion, pleased to meet you. I do not know, Lord Garvin. I've been mostly concerned with my work here. It's a pleasant opportunity for me, to have a considerable amount of time to read." He sounds so puzzled, poor Tellur does, at the good treatment.

Arion looks thoughtful at the question before he replies. "I do believe I saw Lady Angharad earlier today along with a Lady Johanna Oakheart…they may still be in the gardens as thats where they where when I left them." He looks to Garvin and gives him a soft and reassuring smile. He takes a sip of his own goblet of wine and glances to Tellur his gaze curious.

Garvin glances between the two men again, now unsure if he should leave them alone together. "Oh, good. Lady Harry is the Thorn's bride, you know, and Lady Johanna is married to Ser Quillian. Keyte and Kesha are probably out getting into trouble. Well…It's probably too early for supper anyway. Why don't we all sit and…er, wait?" Putting on a smile, he moves toward the benches and chairs near the fireplace, sipping again.

Tellur says, suddenly "Perhaps if there is time I can impose to ask your opinions on something simple - I don't want to cause offence, of course, Lords. So if you would prefer to be…alone…?" the Northerner makes no gesture to move, however.

Arion looks to Garvin and bites his lower lip curiousity and worry in his eyes as he studies the other lord a minute. He makes his way over and sits down on a bench near the fire gesturing to the spot next to him and looking to Garvin. An offer to sit next to him, if it is accepted. He looks to Tellur breifly and there is uncertainty in his eyes. "If Lord Garvin wishes for you to stay then you may stay." He looks to Garvin in question. But there are more questions than just the one in those eyes.

Garvin indeed sits next to Arion, his own eyes betraying desire, but also a bit of nervousness. "Of course, you should stay, Tellur! You've been here for days now, and I've barely seen you. This will be a chance to get to know you a little. So! What have you been reading? Is that a book you found in the solar, or did Carolis bring it from the Citadel?" He sips again, leaning just a touch closer to Arion.

"It's from the solar," Tellur says, and offers the book across to Arion and Garvin for them to see. The text is on the specifics of certain items of Southern Heraldry and their meanings, and Tellur has been clearly taking studious notes "Lord Carolis loves his books, but I could not bring them down by horseback - I had his hawk and ravens and his gelding and other items to care for, as well as my own horse. He may send me to go and retrieve others now that there's less snow even up there." He smiles. His face does not crack. But he, too, looks wary. Uncertain. "…Lord Garvin, are you sure I shouldn't be with the commonfolk?"

Arion smiles happily as Garvin takes the seat next to him. He too shifts a bit leaning just a little closer to Garvin and seems content now watching the other lord with a smile and growing desire in his own eyes. He looks to Tellur and smiles. "Heraldry? I could never study those books for very long…though I admire those who can of course. I prefer poetry and epic tales myself." He glances to Garvin and smirks faintly his hand brushing the Tyrell's leg lightly as he lifts his goblet for another drink of wine.

Garvin leans a little forward to glance at the book, nodding. "Ah, heraldry. I had to memorize the sigils for all my father's banner Houses, of course. Many of the others as well, especially the Great Houses. You know, Stark, Greyjoy, Baratheon, Lannister. Not hard to remember the Lannister's though, is it? Golden lions for the land of gold." He shivers a bit, glancing as Arion's hand brushes his thigh, lips curling in a small smile. "What sort of books do you prefer, Lord Arion?"

If the young man notices anything untoward, there is no sign at _all_. Nothing. Then again, he is a Bastard in the company of Lords, and apparently a reasonably well taught one. He is very, very good at Not Noticing And Forgetting things that he has to. "I should hate to make a mistake and cause Lord Carolis embarassment," Tellur says to Arion "I am here to serve him, after all." He nods to Garvin, simply "Yes, the Great Houses, then the small families…" He has paused on one of the detailed arrangements of the various Stark alterations, frowning at one in particular "And. So forth."

Arion chuckles softly his hand moving slowly higher on Garvin's thigh and then back down lower again. He takes a slow drink of wine and then speaks. "I do believe I already shared that Garvin…were you not listening to me?" His tone is gentle, teasing and amused rather than angry though and he reaches up to brush a strand of the Tyrell's dark hair out of his face. "I enjoy poetry the most…and tales and stories of great deeds or forigen lands as well. Occasionally I will read something more…useful such as history or heraldry but I can never focus on those sorts of books for very long."

Garvin shivers again, glancing once more at Arion with another blush. "Oh, yes. You did say that, didn't you?" Biting a bit at his lower lip and squirming, he looks back to Tellur and forces a smile. "Ah yes, the Stark direwolf. So large and…viscious. I don't know, I think I prefer the Florent fox though. Cagey creatures, foxes. Have you ever hunted one, Tellur? It's great fun, though I've never actually bagged one." He suddenly grins, glancing at Arion. "Well…maybe I did manage to capture one…."

"There's not a lot to do in Winter in the North," says Tellur to Arion "Reading helps pass the time, at least, for those who can read. Besides, the Maester had an excellent way of increasing attention. He used a switch." His lips twitch, a little. He still Sees Nothing Amiss. Perhaps he genuinely has no comprehension of what is before him. Then he pauses, and he says to Garvin "No, I never have. I've hunted wolves and boar - I have a bad scar from a boar. But. My nickname was 'Fox' for a while, and I am too fond of foxes." He pauses, then adds "What clothes would you recommend for here, Lords? Mine are far too heavy and hot."

Arion chuckles but does not move his hand. He continues that gentle caress of Garvin's thigh squeezing slightly when Garvin mentions he may have cuaght a fox. His head turns to look at the Tyrell and he smirks wickedly. "Perhaps…you have managed to catch a fox…or perhaps the fox has you caught instead?" He licks his bottom lip his eyes hungry before he takes a deep breath and looks to Tellur. "Clothes…hmm perhaps you need to find a tailor as well? I know I do…most of my clothes got left behind when I moved here. What do you think Garvin…what would be best suited for Tellur to wear while he is here in the south? Personally I think light colors and equally light fabrics would be best. I am very fond of silk myself…so soft."

Garvin blushes a touch, his little grin widening. "Perhaps we caught one another," he says softly, and he almost leans closer, until he remembers there's another man in the room. Reddening further, he looks toward Tellur. "Oh, definitely, yes. Silks are much better than…you know, furs and whatnot. And you certainly want to wear Southern fashions. Yes, I must have my tailor over for both of you. Lord Carolis as well, of course. I did send for him today, but the page returned with word that the tailor was busy at the Hightower, but perhaps he'll have time to be here after supper."
Long distance to Arion and Abram: Garvin will still likely be here. :)

"I am a…I serve House Stark, perhaps not light colours," Tellur says, with an odd smile "As for silk, it is expensive, Lord. My purse is not depthless. But perhaps a shirt would be good, or something to allow more air in. It feels heavy, here, the sky does." He merely blinks, slowly, at the flirting. And then he says "I'm not…certain about Southern fashions. They would seem…silly on someone like me, surely?" His beard is now short, neatly trimmed, his moustache too. At some point, Tellur has been groomed. He still looks like some sort of wary Northern animal stuck in a bath and prettied up. "Lord Carolis is enjoying his new clothes - I think he would like more of them. He likes some of the formality here in the South."

Arion smiles softly at Garvin. "Indeed." He sips his wine once again finishing off the goblet as he listens to Garvin and Tellur discuss clothing. "If not silk then cotton will do. It is not as soft as silk but it is light and comfortable Perhaps a dark blue or green will suffice if you do not think light colors approriate? No black! Black is so…dull." He nods to Garvin at the suggestion. "Yes hopefully the tailor will have time to see us soon. I need…well at least twenty more doublets and trousers, shirts too and…boots. You can never have too many pairs of boots." He nods his head once glancing to Garvin once more. "You shall help me pick colors and styles yes Garvin?"

Garvin's brows draw together as he blinks in confusion at Tellur. "Expensive? I hadn't really thought of it, I guess. But I'm sure Lord Carolis wants you to be as presentable as possible. He won't mind the expense, whatever it turns out to be." He finishes off his goblet as well, then looks around for a page to refill it. There isn't one at the moment, so he simply shrugs and turns to Arion, wetting his lips. "I'd be delighted to help you with colors and styles and…anything you need help with." He grins and gives his eyebrows a quick waggle, eyes sparking.

"_Twenty_!" poor Tellur cannot help himself "…twenty!" His mouth is open in surprise "Wh…what do you do with so many? But a good pair of boots is, of course a…a lifesaver…frostbite…I have a pair of riding boots, and a good pair of boots for the street, and a pair of shoes for formal affairs." And that is it - and still one more pair than most commoners "Twenty!" As Garvin speaks, Tellur says, a little strangled "Lord Carolis will…ah. I mean. Of course I defer…" And he uneasily swallows, and says quickly "We are not the best of. Companions. Lord Carolis and I. It would be, er. I can't assume he…yes."

Arion grins at Garvin eyes flashing with desire. "And I would welcome your help. You always seem so…eager to help me and I like this a great deal. I only hope I can be of some use to you as well." He looks to Tellur at his outburst and pouts. "Twenty is hardly alot….I have over forty outfits back home all color cordinated too. Here I am down to the barest bones of my wardrobe….you truly don't have at least twenty pairs of trousers?" He looks both shocked and horrified by this. He looks to Garvin with wide eyes. "Please tell me he is jesting with me…"

Garvin wets his lips again, looking into Arion's eyes as he speaks. But by the end, he's simply shrugging. "I can't imagine having less than twenty pairs of trousers. And shoes, of course, and boots. Doublets, jerkins with full skirts, blouses with ruffles, blouses without ruffles, hose with clocking, hose without clocking, simarres, cloaks, hats…." He looks to Tellur again in his rather simple clothes. "We really do need to get you together with a tailor."

"I have three pairs," Tellur says to Arion "Because I am a…because…" He seems entirely baffled on _how_ to explain the situation "…everything I own came on horseback with me. It fitted into a single bag, Lord Arion. And I am not poor. None of my clothes are secondhand, and my shortbow is very fine indeed. I have my own horse. My entire childhood, I had meat every week, because my mother is as cunning as she is intelligent, and bargained for a good position. I just. Could not afford ever, in my life, to own so many outfits, even one after the other, all my years. My best clothes, for dinner, are those I have repaired after they are…" He is so unable to even communicate this, that he finally startles himself upright "I will go and wash for the repast. Excuse me." And Tellur skedaddles away.

Garvin and Arion are sitting together on a cushioned bench near the fireplace in the great hall, both with empty wine goblets, and Tellur has just scurried off to one of the towers to climb upstairs. Once he thinks they're alone, Garvin turns toward Arion, leans in, and kisses him soundly on the lips, letting his free hand fall upon the man's thigh.

"Three pairs? Three pairs of trousers?!" Arion looks dumbfounded and glances to Garvin in disbelief. Then he blinks and realizes Tellur left them and they are alone. Before he can fully process this Garvin's lips are on his and Arion returns the kiss eagerly letting out a soft moan as he deepens the kiss further. His free hand still rests on Garvin's thigh and slowly strokes back and forth.

Abram has been to the Garden Isle before, but still wanders the manse's halls with a degree of admiration each time he visits. The door is opened anew, the sound of the latch providing an instant's warning before a page announces, "Ser Abram Florent." The knight's steps are unhurried as he lazily wanders into the room, and his tone is light drawn over a subtle edge as he voices, "Cousin," with a smile on his face. "And Lord Garvin, if I'm not mistaken."

Garvin pulls away from Arion with a start, his face flushing darkly, as he turns wide eyes on the visitor. "S-ser Abram?" he says, leaping to his feet. "Yes, I am Lord Garvin Tyrell. It's a p-pleasure to meet you, Ser. I have heard a thing or two, of course. You went with my cousins on their…er…hunting trip." He glances quickly to Arion to see how he's handling being caught kissing twice in so many hours, then just as quickly looks to the page. "Armand, bring Ser Abram some wine." He peeks into his empty goblet, then adds, "And more for us as well." The page gives a quick bow, then hurries of to the kitchen.

Arion pulls away from Garvin at the name of one of his cousins. He rises to his feet his face going pale, even his ears seem to drain of all color as he looks upon Abram. He opens his mouth to speak but then closes it quickly glancing quickly to Garvin with worry in his eyes. He looks back to Abram and inclines his head in a nervous gesture of politeness. "Cousin…a pleasure to see you. May I ask what brings you here?" He keeps his tone even and polite but he is tense and there is a caution to his eyes as he watches his cousin. He steps forward to stand beside Garvin.

"I've a taste for Arbor red," Abram asides helpfully to the page as the lad bows and hurries out. The Florent kngiht does not immediately answer Arion, his smiling eye returning first to Garvin, giving the lord a dip of the chin and noting on the 'hunting trip', "I did, yes. And shall stand with your cousin again in a few days, as it happens." His appraising eye then turns to his kinsman. "Which is the first of some business I need to broach with you, Arion." A one-beat pause and lift of one brow. "Have I come at a bad time?"

Garvin gives an uncomfortable cough, glancing at Arion again, then moving as casually as he can mange to a nearby chair, nodding toward another. "Not at all, we were simply waiting for supper. Won't you sit with us? I'm very anxious to hear what you think will happen as a result of…er, your hunting trip. Of course, I've heard the rumors, but I'm not one to believe Dornish lies. And they are lies, which I'm certain will be proven in the trial. I understand the Sept is to be trying you and the others?" His eyes flash toward Arion again, the question plain in them: How much does Abram know?

"Business? What sort of business do you speak of cousin?" Arion takes a chair of his own looking to Abram cusiously but still with caution. His head turn and he meet Garvin's eyes he shakes his head slowly his eyes hard and yet also nervous as if to reply to the silent question: I didn't tell him anything. He gazes at Garvin a moment trying to get his unspoken point across as best as he can. He did not tell anyone. Then he looks to Abram and raises a brow waiting for the other to speak.
Long distance to Valnod: Garvin will try to answeR! But without a capitalized r. :)

"Yes, I will," Abram accepts the invitation to join them lightly, setting a hand to the hilt of his longsword, in order to ensure it does not foul as he sits down. As to the Sept trying them: "Only by formality. It is to be a Trial of the Seven, which means seven champions on each side seek to kill each other until one side has either given up by word, or given up their ghosts." The elder Florent's manner is remarkably casual as he describes the mortal contest. Again, his head turns to regard Arion. "Two sorts of business. The first: I understand you seek a knight for squiring, cousin. Until you find another to serve, or I die, I'd see you carry the Florent banner for me at the Trial. It's more fit for blood to stand with blood on days such as that."

Garvin lets out a breath of relief, giving Arion a small smile, before turning back to Abram again. "I don't like this," he says, frowning deeply. "Why should you have to take part in such a trial? No one believes the word of a Dornishman, nor should they. This whole business is just distasteful. Someone should put a stop to it." He brightens a little, however, when Abram mentions taking Arion as his squire, and he turns his smile on the younger Florent. "Oh, that's a marvellous idea! I squired for my older brother…for about a day. He had little patience for me. But I'm sure you'll do much better by Ser Abram than I did with Matrim."

Arion returns that small smile and then looks back to Abram with a smile. "Thank you for the generous offer Cousin. I would be glad to be your squire but this trial…I agree with Lord Garvin that it seems quite distasteful and a waste of our efforts. Perhaps another solution could be found if we looked for one?" He looks thoughtful a moment and then shakes his head slowly. "But you said there where two matters you wished to discuss with me…what is the second?"

Abram smiles, and laughs quietly in the back of his throat at the talk of avoiding the trial. "I wish you both luck in that, but pardon me if I don't hold my breath." The second issue? "Ah, yes. The second. It is this: I am not a… particularly clever man. I feel safe in saying that by the time I've figured something out, half the city or more already knows about it. And would you believe what I have heard about the two of you?" he wonders aloud, with a fox's smile turned between his cousin and their host.

Garvin's face drains of color, his eyes bugging wide, but before he can say anything, Armand has finally returned with a tray holding a flagon and three goblets, which he places on a low table. As the page fills the goblets, Garvin glances at Arion, gulping audibly. Armand brings a goblet first to Abram, another quick bow, then exchanges Arion's empty with the fresh, full goblet. Finally, he does the same for Garvin, before retreating again to the kitchen with the empties. Finally, Garvin lets out the breath he'd been holding, looking to the knight. "Why, I've no idea what you might have heard. When I met Arion a couple nights ago at the cake shop, he mentioned being new in Oldtown and needing a place to say, so naturally, I offered him a room here at Garden Isle. I'd have done the same for you, of course. My father's bannermen are always welcome at Garden Isle."

Arion goes still his eyes flashing as he looks at Abram. He takes a long drink from his goblet of wine eye narrowing as he watches his Cousin. "You obviously have heard tales of Lord Garvin's generousity and kindness that have been twisted around to suit someone else's purpose cousin. Surely you know how rumors can become distorted and not all of them are true to start with." He is tense and his whole posture screams offended lord. "I assure you there is nothing for you to be concerned about." He says this in a dismissive tone and those pale green eyes blaze daring Abram to argue back.

Abram turns away and genially thanks the page for his goblet of wine, "Just in time." A taste of the stuff is drawn with visible appreciation. His lip curls in dry humor at Garvin's protests, scoffing with a laugh and merry smile, "Oh, spare me the story. Your plays are entertaining enough, but you are a shit actor, my lord." His smile and regard turn then to his cousin, "Hear me, Arion: so long as you're the sword and not the sheath, I don't care what scabbard you choose. Frankly, I find humor in the notion of a Tyrell taking it up the ass from a Florent after the last century, but I'll not have you staying under his roof. It invites too much embarrassment. With our cousin Sera's arrival in town, we shall have a house together. You are free to visit here or elsewhere at your whim, but you'll not be remaining in residence."

Garvin had just been taking a long guzzle of wine when Abram cuts to the heart of the matter, and he begins coughing and choking, his face nearly as red as the Florent fox. "I protest!" he protests, once he manages to swallow. "There is nothing untoward…." But he can't finish it, his shoulders slumping as he sighs. "Oh, what's the use? You're right, I'm not a very good actor. Nor liar, it seems." Drawing a deep breath, he straightens his shoulders again, meeting Abram's gaze. "Yes, Arion and I are…sheathing swords, as you put it. And if you really must now, I have been the sheath to his sword, though I hardly see that it's your business." He reaches over to take Arion's hand, an affectionate smile on his lips as he gazes at the squire. A moment later, he turns defiant eyes on Abram again, daring him to say something.

Continues in Part 2.

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