(121-04-17) Secret Arrivals
Secret Arrivals
Summary: Hidden in plain sight, Eonn ferries Yael into Oldtown to meet the Maiden's Knight.
Date: 04/17/14
Related: Wickham's Nest Plot Logs
Players:
Daevon..Yael..Eonn..

Dragon's Door Manse - Oldtown

This is a grand and enormous manse maintained by the Targaryen family for royals and their guests when they happen to wish to stay in Oldtown.

The house faces the prestigious Starry Street. The first story is protected by narrow high windows that stop people from seeing inside, but the windows on the back wall and the four upper stories are tall and wide, making the manse bright and airy over all.

The first floor's main hall is brightly lit with lamps to make up for the shortcomings of those windows, and the walls are covered in rich tapestries depicting dragons, and the acts of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. There's a grand dining room separated from the entry hall by a great arch formed by carved stone dragons, and another such arch leads to a smaller, though still huge by most standards, sitting room. Everything is opulent, beautifully made, and as luxurious as befits the royal family.

There are other sitting rooms up in the floors above, as well as bedchambers, game rooms, and even private baths. Like almost all of the houses in Oldtown, it shares two walls with its neighbors on either side, but the servants quarters, kitchens, and servant's stairs buffer the house proper from any noise that could possibly leak through the thick stone walls.

There's a large and gracious walled garden in the back, and wide windows open to it. Those on the upper stories have balconies.

Eonn tried to feed Yael on the trip. Once they reached the road he offered her his blanket and said, "Cover your hair and cloak your face, My lady, if you will. And hide my sword if you will not return it to me, I would sooner we did not draw attention."

Yael ate only sparingly, seeing to her horse rather than to herself. "This seems like apt advice, but I will not return your sword," she answered simply, looking down her nose at the offering for a moment. Her dark hair is covered with the makeshift cowl of the blanket, linen gown dyed by the dirt of the road, and looking much like any other woman of moderate comfort atop her strong but equally well worn horse. One might almost think they were husband and wife as they approached and passed, although once through the gates of Oldetown her dark eyes darted silently over faces and streets in observation.

"As you command, my lady," says Eonn. Then: "I am sorry I've nothing better suited to your rank and station." That was surely in reference to his rough, thin wool blanket. That said, he's silent as they enter the Rose Gate, and he heads directly to the Dragon Door Manse, going round to the gate in the walled garden rather than the grand front entrance.

And as luck would have it, Daevon's out there in the gardens, or at least the practice area, firing off arrows at the target.

Eonn rides up to the solid back gate. It's barred, of course, so he turns his mare so he can thump on the oak. It's late morning, perhaps somebody's out there to admit them.

Visenya comes in from Starry Street.

"I've my gown…although not in the shape that it was. If we have a moment, I would change before meeting your Prince," Yael counters, saying nothing on the shape of his cloak. She rides quietly at his side otherwise, fingtertips stroking along her horse's mane.

There's a bored guard on the gate who on ascertaining who on recognising Eonn lets them both in without question.

Eonn nods to the woman as he rides in through the gate, but the nod comes with a little shrug, too. He says nothing and stops his mare once they've cleared the gate and it can be closed again. There, he dismounts and moves to offer the Lady his hand to help her down from her own horse.

The Lady Yael takes a moment to unbind Eonn's sword before accepting the hand to dismount in a flare of dirty skirts, moving as if it is her due. She does not give the blade back to him, not immediately. The area is scanned with her dark eyes before catching on the archer within. "A Targaryen," she notes smoothly, dessert husk catching at her voice. The hood of her cloak stays in place for now.

"Yes," says Eonn. "The Seven Kingdoms have no other princes, My Lady. It is all right." He stands at her side, though he makes no move to indicate he wants his sword back.

For all that Daevon's focussed on his archery, when the garden gate opens, and with the sound of horses he chances to look over in that direction. His eyebrows arch, his bow is put aside, and he strides over that way, a questioning look shot at Eonn before he appraises Yael. "My lady?"

Eonn looks a bit dirtier and hungrier than when he left. He offers a little smile to Daevon.

The incline of Yael's head is slow and regal, fingers slipping and allowing the cloak to fall from her dark head. Her sharp features are wreathed by dark, wild hair and scratches and dirt tell a story on her skin. It falls past her shoulders, revealing a live snake coiled around her throat in sleep, and falls to the growd. "Prince Daevon Targaryen, I presume," she greets lowly, a hook of a smile on her lips. "I understand that you've been looking for me." Her knees bend deeply, sweeping into a curtsy appropriate to their relative station, but hawk-sharp dark eyes do not leave his features.

Daevon's gaze flicks to Eonn, taking in that smile as if it says everything that he needs. "Lady Yael Blackmont? Yes, I am so glad that you are alive. Please, let us go inside. I will have a bath drawn for you. Are you injured? What do you wish to eat?" The last is directed at both of them. "Whom would you like word sent to of your arrival? Your husband is still in the city."

Eonn smiles a little wider and nods to Daevon. He stays quiet, though, lest Yael begin to speak, and he moves to lead the horses to the little paddock, where they might drink, and where he can remove their saddles.

"I am," Yael offers smoothly, rising in a pool of dirty skirts. She catches the exchange of looks with interest, fingers wrapping around the pommel of Eonn's sword. "I am glad to be so, Prince Daevon. It did not seem the most likely outcome for a time. A bath and food would be most pleasant." If she is injured, she does not say so immediately. "My…" She strumbles a moment, fingers pressing to her breast as she regards Daevon with wide eyes. "Truely? I am even more pleased to hear of that, send word to him immediately."

"I shall have word sent to him then," Daevon says. "Although I think it would be wisest if we do not let news of your presence here slip out. It would be extremely dangerous for you. You are safer here, under the protection of my House, than you would be residing with either your husband, or the other Dornish." He leads them both inside, and sets about asking the servants to draw two baths, and to prepare the food. "It troubles me to ask, but I must know more of your ordeal, and who it was that attacked Wickhams Nest, where you were held, and the why of it."

Daevon will ask the last once they're seated at least.

Eonn stays quiet, and sees to the horses, stepping into the stable to find brushes for them. He looks weary, now, but the job seems to come before others, to him.

There are grooms in the stables and stableboys who will offer to take care of the horses for Eonn, if he wishes, or at least to assist him to make matters go more swiftly.

"My thanks," Yael says at the promise of news. She carries Eonn's blade with her, muscles flexed and fingers securely wrapped around the hilt. It is difficult to tell if she has does not consider their agreement finished or if she has simply forgotten it for the moment. Dark eyes narrow as she regards Daevon with a slanted mouth. "Am I to be a prisoner again, then?" She questions calmly, setting the point of the sheath to the floor and wrapping her fingers around it. She waits to hear the answer to this question before answering the others. "You'll forgive me if that is rude, for it has been a trying time."

Eonn comes along soon after, having left the horses in the care of the stablemen, once he's assured that they know what is needed. He looks at his sword rather mournfully as he enters the room.

"Oh no," Daevon says. "Most certainly not. I would not hold you here against your will. My apologies, I should have asked you what it was that you wanted. However there are many within the city who would call for your blood if they know of your presence. Things have been difficult here for the Dornish. The Tyrell's had the entire manse under house arrest, until the Hightowers invited them to be guests at the Hightower, supposedly for their own protection. It is only very recently that they have been released. You may leave this very moment if you so wish. We could slip you through to the Dornish Manse if you'd be more comfortable there. However if word slips out that you are within the city I fear what might happen. I am better able to ensure you return safely to Dorne from here. But it is your choice."

The servants will soon enter with food for both Lady Blackmont and Eonn.

Smiling graciously, Yael dips her head as Daevon's explanation comes to its natural end. "Then, I will accept your kind offer until my husband may come for me," she says calmly, ignoring Eonn's longing stare at his blade. "I had no knowledge of such events as those to take Oldetown nor my countrymen abroad. Please, tell me of what has happened, so as I will tell you," she beseeches, dark eyes locking on his with uncertain regard.

Eonn sits, out of the way and behind. When food is offered, he takes it and begins to eat, hungrily. He does not wolf the food, but he's relentless, putting it away without pause, neatly and quietly.

Daevon shakes his head. "Forgive me, but first I would hear of your own experiences, as harrowing as they may be. I would not have my telling influence your own tale in any way."

"I understand," Yael says, taking a seat if there are any to be found. She does not pick at the food immediately, gesturing for a goblet of wine and wetting her lips. "My recount may be somewhat scattered… there was much that I was blinded for and can offer you no judgement to the location or appearance of my captor."

Pursing her lips, Yael takes another draught of her wine before beginning her gaze lowered in recollection. "That night, the one on which the slaughter occured, I had been a guest at Wickham's Nest. They came swiftly, I knew not what had happened until the door of the chamber was pulled back and… he entered. I was shortly informed that I," she pauses, thinning her lips, "Was not expected but he, this man who must certainly have planned it, would make a…trophy of me." She shakes her head, gaze bleak as she meets Daeon's and then Eonn's. "I believe that only I and this little one," her fingertips brush lightly over the snake, "Escaped that slaughter. They were setting fires as I was hooded and bound to a horse."

The wine is brought to Yael. Nothing but the finest in the Targaryen house. Daevon listens as she speaks, his surprise evident as she says she was not expected. He nods for her to continue, saving his questions for the end it would seem.

Eonn stays silent, though he meets Yael's gaze when she looks at him, his own sad.

The stroke of Yael's fingers on the snake is meditative, matching the slow turn of her quiet words as she speaks. A comfort of some sort. "We road for… I could not say, nor could I tell you where we went." The edge of her mouth curls in a rueful smile. "I threw one earring along the route, a gold thing, not doubt blown away like sand." The snake slighters slowly along her brown skin, slipping beneath her fingers. "I was taken to some cabin, set in place with guards. He, my captor, only visited on occaision… always with I or he hooded or masked. He liked to play little guessing games," she recalls with her scarred lip curling in a snarl. The it smoothes, her dark eyes swinging to meet Daevon's. "In one…I named him a Reachman and he said that was the truth. So far as I could tell it, it was. He had not skin, nor tongue, nor dress, nor attitude of a Dornishman. I know not well the games you play here, only that he played with most sinister intent."

Daevon listens to all that Yael has to say. "Would you be willing to speak with Ser Bastion Stark? He is better suited to this sort of investigation than I, if truth be told, and I would not plague you with questions only to have another ask you much the same things and with more use. Were the raiders themselves Dornishmen? The earring was of great assistance."

Eonn eats, quiet.

"Dornishmen?" Yael's brow furrows in perturbence, fingers flitting dismissively through the air. "None that I saw." Her snake hisses softly, in warning. "Why ought I speak to the Stark? Are they not caught in their Northern ice, near at the tip of the world."

"Ser Bastion Stark is one of the Watch," Daevon says. "But he has an interest in cartography and an insight into matters of geography that I do not. He may be able to aid in discovering where you were held in ways that I cannot. I find him an honorable and trustworthy man. He is also a Stark, not a Tyrell or one of their bannermen. I would not ask you to speak with them knowing their prejudices. If you would rather, perhaps you could speak of one of the Dornish Knights." Which reminds me. "Should I let them know of your presence here?"

"Very well. I know not and the knowledge of others is to be welcome," Yael says softly, tiredness slipping into her tone. "If by your word he is to be trusted." Her mouth quirks at the corner at his assessment of the Tyrells, before dipping in a nod of agreement. "I would have my countrymen know. You must also relate to me what I have missed," she bids, finally reaching for food and then pausing. "But first, I too made a promise. Eonn, your blade. You have done as your word and I return this to you." The weapon is extended, pommel first, towards the man.

Eonn smiles a little, a gentle, somewhat morose sort of smile, and he stands to accept his sword. "Thank you, my Lady," he says.

"Your husband has been searching for you," Daevon says. "As have I. You were the only one who survived. The Dornish were blamed, and some within the city were killed. They were first placed under house arrest, and then imprisoned in the Hightower. In retaliation for the massacre at Wickhams Nest, a group of Knights from the Reach attacked the Red Rookery. Your husband issued a challenge over the matter. Ser Osric Dayne, Sword of the Morning, died during that trial of the seven."

Eonn looks at Daevon and frowns. It's clear this is news to him, and he doesn't seem pleased about it. He doesn't buckle his swordbelt again.

The edge of a smile touches Yael's mouth at the mention of her husband's search, head bowing in thanks at Daecon's acknowledgement that he searched as well. It is swiftly wiped from her face at the darker news. "So that was the challenge…My, the, captor mentioned the blood that was to come. Bitter news to hear such of Ser Osric, I knew him some." The news seems take some of the blood from her features, the pressure of days passed weighing in. "I think…I must rest, may we talk more soon?"

Daevon nods. "There is a bath if you wish it and a room has been prepared for you. If there is anything else that you need just ask."

Eonn gives Yael a gentle look, then turns his gaze to Daevon.

Setting aside her plate and wine, Yael rises with a cool smile. "I will take leave of both then. My thanks, to you both," she offers, meeting the gaze of each of the men. It is only then she turns, following the servant to the bath and then the quarters which have been prepared.

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