(121-04-13) Royal Condolence
Roal Condolence
Summary: Amadys pays Visenya a visit during a dark time.
Date: (13/04/2014)
Related: Trial of the Seven etc
Players:
Amadys..Visenya..

Dragon Door Manse

When the Baratheon Acolyte arrives at the Dragon's Door Manse, and announces his attention to visit the Princess Visenya, the two servants will exchange skeptical glances before showing him to the Solar, and serving him refreshment before going off to find the Princess.

It will be some time before she shows her face.

Visenya Targaryen's appearance is unusual. Costly fabrics and jewels have been replaced by a rather utilitarian dress of blue linen. Her long straight silvery hair is unbound, and slightly messed. She looks exhausted, as if she hasn't slept in days, and her amethyst eyes are rimmed in red from crying. She is still almost heartbreakingly lovely to behold, but her loveliness holds a simplicity and sadness that is unusual.

"Lord Amadys…" She says as she approaches the acolyte, "How….kind of you. To come visit." She sinks into a chair across from Amadys, and hides her pretty face behind a curtain of silver.

Indeed, the Oldtown residence of House Targaryen is not the most cheerful place to loiter within at present. When he was first admitted, Amadys bore himself with a certain graceful, airy delight, beyond even his usual confidence. He had the look of one with joyous secrets to keep back…but one of these secrets was very much in evidence. He has just come from the Citadel's forge, and the single link at his hand is now a pair at his neck. He may never intend particularly to end up as a Maester, but it is still satisfying to have proved himself excellent at something.

But as the Princess bides her time, the dreary, doubtful atmosphere begins to infect the guest. He recalls the Trial of Seven from which he carefully lay low, the news of the ill-famed Prince Maelys's defeat and danger. He bethinks himself, too, that his House would notionally pay respects to the Hightowers and Tyrells over this matter, not to the beaten Dornish and their dragon friends. But most of all, he remembers that he is about to see a dragon princess who inspires passion, to be sure, but also fear…and that dragons are said to have the trick of reading all hearts.

In consequence, by the time the Princess deigns to appear, it is a paler, less assured looking Amadys - for all the wine with which he has rashly begun to bolster himself - whom she will now find. "My princess. Ill fortunes never so well became true grace. You look more celestial than ever," he stammers, the boldness of words not quite kept up with by their tone. "I came to…see how you were. And because I hoped it might be of some small…distraction."

Luckily for Amadys, Visenya is too absorbed in her own grief to notice the lack of confidence in the Baratheon. "Bring me something unwatered." She commands a servant, and has a deep drink of a rich red wine before finally saying, "…I would not call myself well. I am exceedingly fond of my Uncle…" Her face crumples, and she lowers her face to fight off a sob. That she grieves for the savage Targaryen Prince is evident, but one might wonder where such grief comes from. "Forgive me…" She finally says in a strained voice. "It seems all that can be done is to keep him comfortable, and see if he shall die or if he shall live."

"He could scarce be in a better place for his recovery," Amadys urges her, his own dissipated voice seeming to regain some force amidst his hostess's disarray. "Besides, is he not in Luckin's care? The Silver Archmaester is wise, kind, diligent, loyal…and I say all that as one oft wont to mock him. All that, and your uncle is a man of renown, a ferocious dragon of strength, not one to succumb to the pricking of some Reachling, no more than the first Aegon did at the Field of Fire." His eyes are wide and sincere, and bent fully upon Visenya's downcast, tear-stained, still alarmingly beautiful face. "We met upon a sunset, Princess Visenya. Now you resemble more nearly the moon, beclouded, perhaps, but no less bright."

He's keeping pace with her when it comes to the good, hearty red wine. Their sculptured faces will be properly stained ere long!

"Ser Laurent could have killed him, but he didn't." Visenya says quietly, "When I asked him why he didn't finish my Uncle he said he thought he was dead. So, I asked the servants that went with my brothers to see the Trial. They say Ser Laurent raised his weapon to brain Ser Maelys, but mere words from my cousin stopped him." She wets her lips on the wine, "I'll never refer to him as just some Reachling. He had every cause to see my Uncle dead, and he didn't. I feel strangely indebted to the man." She sniffles back more tears, "Thank you, Lord Amadys. I think I would give up a measure of the beauty you claim I possess for the certainty that he lives."

"Mayhaps it will be for the best…if this Ser Laurent feels the debt for his father and uncle is quitted now," Amadys suggests, not entirely convincingly. "Peace could, for a change, be the child of battle. At least all these southern rumblings would appear to have been settled by Princess Rhaen…" He cuts himself off, considering for the first time the new royal marriage with Dorne. It seems quite possible Visenya grieves for her brother, as well as her uncle. "Should you require any service, princess, even the barest comforts…I shall ever be at hand," he settles for declaring instead, a not entirely seamless change of subject.

"You've my thanks, Lord Amadys." Visenya says dully. "I am surprised you found me here. I've been at the Citadel, and only came home to catch a few hours rest." That said, she finishes off her cup of wine, and stands abruptly, "It was so good of you to come. You've always been so…kind."

"A strange coincidence indeed. But I hope your stay amongst us scholars will be as brief as possible, much as I enjoy seeing you in any place, my princess…though I am hardly skilled enough to attend on your uncle's wounds. Kindness costs little, and I fear I have never rendered you any real help. I pray the gods will give me another chance to do so, some day." Amadys still sounds uncharacteristically heartfelt, though his rapidity at filling his cup may, to some degree, explain that.

Visenya is distracted by Amadys words. She is too busy calling for her cloak from a servant. "Your words are very kind, my Lord." She says again, distractedly. "I'm afraid I must return to the Citadel, however. If you'd like we could walk together, even."

"Aye, I'll take you the quickest way, my princess," Amadys answers speedily, chastened but resigned. "You have a high courage, as ever. Keep your heart high too, as well you may, and dawn will come again." Rising for his own part and draining off the last of his cup, he - a little apprehensively - offers the Princess his arm.

Visenya throws the cloak on with the assistance of her maid, and places her hand lightly on the crook of Amadys' elbow. "Thank you." She murmurs quietly before she and Amadys head towards the doors leading out to the street proper.

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