(122-01-06) Warlocks And Dragons
Warlocks and Dragons
Summary: Visenya and Rhaegor stumble on Daevon and Bryn having a discussion. Rhaegor relates the fate of his mount to Bryn, and learns of potential enemies.
Date: Date of play (06/01/2015)
Related: http://gobmush.wikidot.com/log:121-01-01-a-dream-of-dragons

Dragon Door Manse Starry Street
Tue Jan 06, 122 ((Tue Jan 06 14:50:30 2015))
It is a summer day. The weather is hot and fair.

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.

Note: Bryn and Daevon are already having a discussion when Visenya and Rhaegor enter.

Daevon's sitting in the sitting room with Bryn, snacking on fruit, and talking.

Bryn thinks a moment, "Well, it was hard to see in the dark, I only saw the silhouettes and some colour when they breathed fire. One had black scales, and the other had green, I could see that when they breathed. They were small, too."

"Oh, not Visenya's dragons then," Daevon says. "I wonder what it means."

Speak and she, or rather they, shall appear. Visenya walks out of one of the receiving rooms accompanied by Prince Rhaegor, and the two little hatchlings perched on her shoulders, one on each side. "…He tried breathing fire at him." Visenya says to Rhaegor as they walk into the main hall. "I've never seen Maelys so horrified by anything." She lets out a small laugh, "I used to admire him." She glances to Rhaegor as she says this, "I wish I could say it was because I was young and foolish, but I think it was only a year ago that I held him in such esteem."

Daevon and Bryn are noticed, and Visenya smiles lightly. "Little cousin." She says, addressing Bryn, "How is the Citadel?"

"It was a cunning gambit, on Prince Maelys's part, to attempt to bait them to their first fire with the meat. Soon enough, you will wonder that there was ever a time before they were capable of it." Rhaegor converses idly with the Princess Visenya as they approach the main hall of the manse, he by her side, watching both the woman and her dragons.

Rhaegor's attention shifts to Daevon for a courteous, "Prince Daevon," by way of greeting.

Daevon's relief is evident as Visenya's words. Although he's also looking somewhat disgusted by her story. "Sister." He greets. "Prince Rhaegor, may I introduce Bryn Flowers, of the Citadel. He's recently had a dream of two dragons that we were just speaking of." He's frowning with disapproval as Rhaegor claims Maelys is cunning though.

Bryn looks up to Visenya and Rhaegor at their arrival, and smiles, before nodding at the question, "Good, now, but busy. We lost enough people during the plague that there's a lot of extra work for everybody." He then stands up quickly to bow to Rhaegor at the introduction.

"Perhaps." Visenya says with Rhaegor with a vague smile. She approaches Daevon and Bryn, and settles down in a seat so Bryn may more easily see her dragons. "A dream, you say?" She gives Bryn a thoughtful look, "What sort of dream?"

"Flowers, is it?" Rhaegor asks, dubious but polite, as he casts a considering glance over Bryn, no doubt inspired by the boy's particular coloring. Mention of dreams of dragons piques his interest; evidently he had not overheard the conversation the pair were engaged in as he and Visenya made their entrance. He glances sidelong at Visenya, as if to concur with her question, and then returns his studying gaze to Bryn.

Daevon's quiet, nibbling on grapes as he waits for Bryn to repeat the dream.

Bryn's eyes are drawn to the dragons, fascinated, but he looks back quickly to Visenya's face at the question. "Well, I dreamed two dragons… not those dragons, one was green and one was black. They flew around between the Sept and the Citadel, one dropped a chest on the Sept and the other dropped a book about dragons on the Citadel. The book was in High Valyrian, I remembered part of it and had it translated when I woke up. 'In the season of whispers, the dragon root blooms.' I don't know High Valyrian except a few words, and I hadn't even heard of dragon root before, so I think the dream must mean something special."

"Balerion the Black Dread had black scales." Visenya says with a quizzical little frown, "But Meraxes was silver in color, and I do not recall what color Vhagar is. So, perhaps it is only coincidence." She mouths the words in Valyrian Bryn says. "You must learn High Valyrian." She says to the Dragonseed, "If you are going to continue to have dreams such as this. I would offer to teach you myself, but surely they are already instructing you at the Citadel."

Rhaegor watches the boychild rather intently while he recounts his dream, his expression neutral but contemplative. He says nothing of it, beyond quietly repeating the words Bryn recites back in High Valyrian, more or less to himself, as if weighing their particular meaning.

Bryn nods quickly and says, "He's a lot bigger, too. These were small, only about the size of horses. Maybe they were just young." Then he nods seriously, sitting up straighter. "I haven't taken those lessons yet, but I can. I will, I promise. I'll learn it as fast as I can."

"You are Blood of the Dragon, even if you are natural born." Visenya says to Bryn. "You have the dreams. This means you could be useful to the crown. When you are a maester the circumstances of your birth will be practically forgotten. You have potential, but you must know how to make yourself useful."

"Indeed," Rhaegor confirms, with a nod and sidelong glance in Visenya's direction, when she speaks of the boy's potential service to the Crown. "There is no question." And then, to Bryn himself, "Princess Visenya is right. Apply yourself to your studies, and most especially heed the call of your blood. There can be no truer compass by which to chart your course than that."

Bryn smiles again and nods quickly, "I'll always try my best to be of help. However I can be of use." He nods again to Rhaegor's advice, still smiling, "I'll do my best. Thank you."

"Good." Visenya says, and offers Bryn the sort of well-meaning smile that adults often give to children. "If you have any more dreams I want you to come directly to me, Bryn. Especially if they pertain to dragons. Prince Rhaegor will undoubtably want to know of them as well." She exchanges glances with Rhaegor before rising from her seat. "The Prince has more experience as a rider than perhaps anyone in the region."

Rhaegor doesn't quite smile, but then he is not the sort to whom they come easy. Still, his manner toward young Bryn is open and encouraging, and when Visenya glances to him, he nods. "And if you should have any questions I might answer, that would be more than fine, too." When she speaks to the boy of his credentials, he owns her recommendation modestly, but confidently, as if assured of his own ability and experience.

Bryn's eyes widen a little again as he looks to Rhaegor, "You were a rider? What hap…" He only catches himself at the last moment, only then realizing that particular question would likely be uncomfortable. He switches gears quickly, "Thank you, Prince Rhaegor. I've been studying dragons in my free time for months, I might have a lot of questions." Then adds, "And I promise, I'll come to you both if I have a dream like that again."

Visenya is standing as if ready to stroll out of the room. When Bryn asks if Rhaegor was a rider she defers to him, choosing to remain and let Rhaegor respond or leave the room if he so chooses.

Rhaegor nods, and indeed the question half formed on the child's lips prompts him to palpably tense where he stands. Still, excepting a tightening of his jaw, there are no further signs of discomfort, and the prince speaks plainly enough in reply. "She was slain and harvested for her organs." The words are stony, perhaps, but do not discourage further discourse. "But she was avenged well. I can either be found here or at the Hightower, and would be pleased to answer any questions you might have."

Bryn's eyes widen again and he says, "Who would do that?" There's horror there in his face and voice, but also anger at the very idea of that happening to a dragon, which comes out clearer when Rhaegor says she's been avenged, and he says, "Good."

"Qarthian warlocks," Rhaegor replies, the flicker of anger in Bryn's voice mirrored in his own, but more intensely. A ripple of rage. "I have since learned that some of their black magicks call for draconic components." His tone is cool, and for all that he is the blood of the dragon, he has learned to keep the fire in check, on a very short lead.

All that anger and horror in Bryn's face? It turns to fear, if only for a moment before he does his best to hide it. He knows the warlocks. "They were near here last year, attacked some of Lord Stark's bannermen who were coming here, just outside the city. I think they were behind the plague, too, but I don't have proof. The magic they used last year made people affected have the same symptoms as the plague."

"Pathetic filth." Visenya hisses out softly, "That they would steal the life and power from such a majestic creature." She places a light reassuring hand on Rhaegor's bicep. "May the sands surrounding Qarth rise and consume them." She gives Bryn a horrified look, "I had heard rumors that the sickness happened here on a smaller scale last year, but warlocks?"
"For all that they inspire fear with their dark craft, they bleed as any man bleeds, and die as any man dies." Rhaegor attempts to assure the boy with this remark, it being an effort to inspire confidence and allay fear that may or may not reach its mark. "Who might I speak to, if I were to investigate the attack on the Stark bannermen further?"

Bryn nods to Visenya, and says, "It was them, last year. And the plague hit the same, all the same except last year it came in a fog, anybody in the fog got sick." He looks up to Rhaegor, a little reassured but not much. "Archmaester Thane knows about it the most. Outside the Citadel, I think Lady Maera Mormont knows all about it too."

"I do not know the Mormont woman." Visenya says to Rhaegor, "But Archmaster Thane has attended to me before. I believe he is credible, and he is the Valyrian Archmaester. His specialty is in weird magicks to begin with." A pause, "Archmaester Luckin may know something as well. Was he not the first to catch the plague?"

Rhaegor nods, grimly. "I see. I thank you both for your insight. It would seem the list of matters that bear investigation has tripled since my arrival in Oldtown, when the Crown had rather expected it would decrease with my labor." It's an effort at lightening the atmosphere, even though it bears truth.

"What will you do?" Visenya asks in a soft voice to Rhaegor. Her expression softens slightly as she asks him, an intimacy in her tone and expression. "If you find there are Warlocks plaguing Oldtown?"

Bryn nods quickly to Visenya and says, "He was the first to get sick this year. And he helped look after those who were sick last year, as well. I'm not sure he believes in warlocks, though." He looks back to Rhaegor and says, "There's also Eonn, too. He was there for most of it too." Then he nods again, smiling at the thanks but keeping quiet as Visenya asks her question.

"Does he not? I ought show him the saddle I had made from the hide of one of the warlocks I slew." Rhaegor makes this off-color remark when Bryn suggests someone, somewhere, may not 'believe' in warlocks, and his tone is tight with disdain as he says it. Not for Bryn or for the unbeliever; for the warlocks themselves.

Prince Rhaegor turns to Visenya, his gaze lingering on the hand she places upon his arm. The look he offers her suggests that his intentions are better left unstated in the presence of the boy.

Visenya drops the subject of warlocks at that look. She takes her hand off of Rhaegor's arm, and forces up a small smile for Bryn as she turns her head to look at him. "Thank you, Novice Bryn."

Bryn answers, "Well, it's more the magic Archmaester Luckin doesn't believe in. Well, if he doesn't, but I don't think he does. But you won't find anybody who knows more about sickness." Then he smiles and bows again to both, "You're welcome, Princess Visenya. Prince Rhaegor."

Rhaegor looks back to the novice, and inclines his head to the boy in return to his bow.

Bryn has left.

"That is…troubling." Visenya concludes once Bryn leaves the room. She absently strokes the hatchling on her left shoulder's head as she says this. "It is unusual. The sickness, I mean. It should have spread to the villages outside of the city. Possibly bigger towns surrounding holdfasts."

Rhaegor is disquieted by the myriad topics of conversation they have visited, and he seems distracted by his own thoughts, as well as Visenya's observation on the contained nature of the illness. "Shall we take a turn of the garden?" he asks her, once the novice has departed. "I find my mind muddled, and would like to clear it with fresh air." He offers her his arm to take.

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