(121-04-12) Welcome Home
Welcome Home
Summary: Arion returns home to threats and injured pride. Abram is much to cheerful about this.
Date: 12/04/2014
Related: The morning after Giving Gifts and a Shopping Trip

Its morning and the sun isn't even fully up yet when the doors to the Foxearth manse creak open to reval Arion. The young man stumbles in with a wince clearly in some form of pain. He gently and quietly shuts the door behind him and then starts for the stairs with slow pained steps. He is limping as he walks and the hand that gingerly rubs his butt may reveal the reason. He mumbles softly under his breath. "Now I know what Garvin ment by pleasurable pain…but by the Seven does it hurt now." He continues his slow limping strides for the stairs his green gaze glancing around carefully to make sure he isn't caught.

And smiling back at him from a seat near the hearth is Abram. "Cousin," the knight greets jovially. "You look like you've had quite a night. Have a seat over here a moment, would you?" Early though the hour is, the elder Florent is swirling wine in a goblet hanging from the fingers of his right hand.

Eyes wide Arion turns to spots Abram and gulps looking decidedly nervous. Slowly he starts in the direction smiling nervously. "Cousin! Good morning I hope you won't be offended if I remain standing I think I'm a bit…bruised." He eyes then wine glass longingly. "Can I have some wine as well cousin?" He stands behind the offered chair but does not sit in it.

"Sit your aching ass in the chair before I kick it," Abram instructs, with the air of laughter. Despite the jolly threat, he does reach aside and re-fill his wine glass, offering it to Arion. "I hope you'll be over that limp by this afternoon, as we'll both look quite foolish if my banner bearer can't walk straight for the Trial's opening ceremony."

Arion pouts but complies settling in the chair with a wince of pain. He shifts about uncomfortably with a few more winces and accepts the glass of wine with a grateful smile. He takes a long drink from it before he speaks. "I hope so too cousin…it hurts but it was very much worth the pain." He shifts again and another gulp of wine is taken.

"Do you know why I told you what I did some nights past? That so long as you were the sword and not the sheath, I'd not care whether you carry on with Garvin Tyrell?" Abram wonders, leaning back in the chair, and turning his eye briefly toward the cold and long-since burned out fireplace.

Arion looks up at Abram with wide eyes. Then he frowns and takes another sip of wine. "No…I do not know why you said that. But I intend to keep seeing him all the same." He smiles fondly his eyes getting a faraway look before he shakes his head trying to focus once agian. "Why did you say such a thing anyway?"

Abram half grins, letting his head fall back to rest against the tall padded back of his chair. "Because our family is a fucking laughingstock, Arion. I don't know whether you care at all for reputation, but outside Brightwater Keep, we don't have much of one. The funny thing about reputation is… it goes before you into every room in Westeros. It can protect you against mistakes and murderers, or it can get you killed." A lazy breath is drawn in through the nose and let out, as Abram languidly rolls his neck to regard Arion. "The reputation that has dogged our family ever since I was a boy is that we have been fucked over by the Tyrells for so long we'd started liking it. I long ago lost count of how many fights I'd been in over that." A wry chuckle at the memory.

Arion seems to consider these words and then he smirks. "Well I do like being fucked by my Tyrell…but I assure you it goes both ways." He sips his wine and eyes Abram. "If what you say is true then I'm already the lowest of the low. I'm a constant dissapointment to father no matter how hard I try to please him….at least now I have fond happiness and someone who appreciates me. Would you deny me that cousin over something so little as my imagined worth?"

Abram shouts harshly back at Arion, "Would you shut up about your fucking father?" in a sudden flash of vitriol, eyes narrowed to slits, and muscles in his neck standing out with the instant of fury. He settles back down almost immediately, and the familiar smile creases his battered face again. "Whether you understand it or not, your actions reflect on us too, cousin. When Sera begins entertaining suitors, they will know of you and your dalliances before they ever meet her. I've been a warrior all my adult life, but in a week the commons won't be whispering of my valour in the Trial of the Seven, they'll be whispering about how Arion the Catamite limped back home with a bleeding asshole in the wee hours. I truly don't care what has gone before between you and your father; I am not him. I am your cousin and your knight, for as much life as I have left in me. After all I've done, if I continue to risk my life for this house, it will damn well be a House worth dying for."

Arion's cheeks flush and his eyes narrow in anger. His tone is both angry and mocking as he speaks "You act just like him though….always demanding things of me and never giving me more than a disgusted look in return! I have tried cousin….but everyone in this blasted family despises me! Why should I care about them when they do not care for me?!" He takes a deep breath trying to calm himself down. He finishes off the wine and eyes the glass ruefully. "What would you have me do anyway? I am already a disgrace.."

"I would have you be something more than a disgrace," Abram returns plainly, to what he expects. "I will teach you respect and pride if I can. If that fails, then I'll teach you to fear. I tell you honestly cousin, should you continue to defy me, I will beat you so badly that you will be useless to Garvin. If that fails, I will kill you." The words are spoken with his familiar easy tone and smile.

Arion pales and rises from his chair on shaky feet setting the wine glass aside. "I see…well now I know where I stand. Forgive me you are not my father…you are much worse than he. But I will not stop seeing Garvin…I will be as discrete as I can but you will not take him from me. If that happens then I suppose I deserve death or whatever punishment you inflict upon me. I will even accept it gladly if such a day should come." His expression is stubborn and defiant as he starts for the stairs once more still limping.

Arion's defiant and dramatic exit is spoiled by a firm hand that shoves him in the chest, carrying him back onto his sore backside in the cushioned chair. "You're right, I'm far worse. I can teach you discretion and much more besides, but if you won't learn, I will do more than take him away from you; I will cut off his cock and bring it to you in a box, so that you finally understand that your stubbornness brings pain to others. I will take your sins out on Garvin Tyrell if that is what you need to learn."

Arion hits the chair with a wimper but Abram's words about Garvin have him going pale and wide eyed. He ignores his pain and cries out. "No! I won't let you hurt him!" He seems to realize the danger now and he sighs sadly. "You…you are a bastard cousin. What do you want from me…I'll do anything to keep him safe. Though I wish you would just disown me instead." He glares at Abram his eyes full of pain and anger.

"I am a bigger bastard than any man you've ever met in your selfish little life," Abram admits with an easy smile. "Here is what I want from you, today: you will clean yourself up and join me at the tournament field. Bring the Florent pennant when you come. You will help me into armor for the Trial, and I will even permit you to pray that I die in the contest, if you like. You will speak only politely to Garvin Tyrell in public, and you will not kiss him save when you are alone together. Do you understand me thus far?"

Arion lowers his head and nods slowly. He looks sad now bordering on depressed and he keeps his eyes on the floor not looking to Abram as he speaks. "As you wish cousin. I will do this." He glances up and when he does his eye are moist and filled with hate as he looks at his cousin. "May I go now? I need to bathe and make myself presentable."

"Please do," Abram answers. "Glad we had this talk, cousin," he notes, visibly unaffected by the anger and injury in Arion's eyes. "And for the record, when you mean to play the sheath, a reasonable first precaution would be using your own house, so that you need not limp down Starry Street. I'll expect you on the field when you're ready." with that, the knight turns to leave.

"And bring Garvin into this nest of vipers desguised as foxes? I think not." Arion declares angrily and rises to his feet. He heads for the stairs wincing with each step as he retreats up to his room for a long bath.

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