(122-07-25) Clarifications
Summary: Visenya gets a little more information about her marriage.
Date: Date of play (25/07/2015)
Related: Seeds of Peace

It is possible that Torren doesn't exactly have to carry her the whole way. Part of it was, of course, for show, though Visenya is still weakened by her ordeal. But maybe he wants to. Either way, though, he doesn't put her down until they have arrived at their chambers. "Thank you for indulging me," he says as they enter, and then he does set her on her feet, but carefully, to make sure she's steady. "Somehow I was in no mood for idle talk tonight." Of course, a lot of the talk was not idle. That may have also been part of the problem.

Visenya is able to stand once she gains her footing, and she makes her way over slowly to the vanity with it's beaten metal mirror to take off her jewelry one-handed. "I am tired." She admits while she watches him in the mirror. Her hand fumbles with the clasp of her necklace until she lets out a little frustrated sound and asks, "Can you help me?" She looks into the mirror at herself then before asking, "You said we would speak of what has troubled you."

"Of course." Torren comes over to stand behind her, and begins to undo the clasp. His fingers brush against her neck as he does, but it's only a little bit more than would be incidental. He doesn't seem as though he's trying to take them anywhere else; he just enjoys touching her. He doesn't respond to her last words right away, but after a moment or two, he continues very bluntly, "My sister and Ser Arrick have eloped."

There will be no complaints from Visenya; her heart may still beyond to another, but when she is with Torren that is not so obvious. What is obvious is that she enjoys her husband physically as much as he does her. She rubs her neck with her good hand once the jewelry is removed. His blunt words cause her hand to stop at her throat, and she says in a lethal tone, "What?"

"They have eloped," Torren repeats, though it isn't like he actually thinks that Visenya hadn't heard. "That is a part of the breaking of my sister's and your brother's betrothal. Not the whole of it. Had he not dragged his feet for so long, it may not have happened. But he does not bear all the blame." He lets out a sigh and turns away, shaking his head. "I certainly did not expect Ser Arrick to throw it in my face quite how he did just now, though."

"But Daevon did not refuse her?" Visenya asks, and a horrible feeling sinks into the pit of her stomach. "He did not do this intentionally?" She sucks in a little breath, and her eyes begin to water. There is a slight tremble in her voice before she asks, "I have spent all of this time despising my brother- More than my brother. My twin. And…" She falls silent before saying in a tight, angry voice, "You should make an example out of him."

"Not in so many words, no," Torren acknowledges. "Had the betrothal been shorter, it may not have happened; she was amenable to the match at the beginning. Or at least, she knew her duty. But once Ser Arrick entered the picture…" He trails off, as though Visenya should understand very well what he means. "If I could, I would. I told the Princess Amarei as much." It's probably notable that he does not say, 'my mother.' "But she has a fondness for her youngest that precludes that. Apparently."

Visenya stares in the mirror for several heartbeats after Torren speaks before she picks up her wooden comb and hurls it at the metal mirror with enough force to splinter the wood. It does not have that nice shattering sound that a more expensive glass mirror might give her, but it is enough to expend some energy. She then puts her right hand over her face and her shoulders begin to shake slightly. It's too much. The poisoning and now this.

Torren hadn't expected her to take it well, but maybe he hadn't quite expected her to do that, either. Why he hadn't, when she'd just said that she'd thrown a cup at the very culprit's head, is anybody's guess. Maybe since he didn't see it happen, it had not quite stuck in his mind.

And then the tears start. For perhaps the first time, he really looks to be at a loss. He wants to comfort her, that much is clear, yet at the same time, he knows that his comfort is not necessarily what she wants at the moment. Or now, perhaps, ever. He stands there for a long moment, before he finally reaches out to touch her shoulder, and again, it's the first time that any touch he has given her has been hesitant, not sure of how it will be received.

"I thought I would never see him again." Visenya says in a broken voice, and it is clear she is not speaking of Arrick. "I have spent all of this time hardening my heart to him because I thought he had failed me again…" When Torren touches her shoulder she turns her head to look up at him, and her eyes hold no malice for him. She understands, perhaps, why he did not tell her. "Did Rhaegor know?"

"I'm sorry, sweet." At least she doesn't pull away, which is more than he was expecting, so Torren doesn't move his hand away, though neither does he try to touch her any more than that. At this point, he would probably answer her anything, and though when she asks about Rhaegor, it does give him pause. He could lie. He could deliver a blow so devastating that, even if Visenya retained some shred of love for the other man, it would be so far buried in anger that she would probably never reach it again.

However, he does not. That pause might have given away what he was thinking, but in the end, he tells the truth. "I do not know," he says, honestly. "But if I had to guess, I would say that he did not. My mother bid no one to speak of it. Outside the family and a few trusted advisors, no one knew. At least, that is my belief. They are to have a proper wedding within a few months. And I shall have to sit and smile and watch him mock me with his jabs and smiles, and do nothing about it."

"He couldn't have known." Visenya says with a certainty that seems to break her heart a little more. Rhaegor is honorable and good. Rhaegor would never actively hurt her. She doesn't express this with her words, but her tone reflects this belief. What she says instead is, "Princess Rhaenys was conciliatory. If she had known she would not have been so accommodating. And Rhaegor would have told her or she him."

She turns slowly on her chair then, "To strike out at him would hurt Mariya. I always thought he loved her more than she loved him, but perhaps I was wrong. She loved Daevon so much once." Speaking her brother's name brings a fresh crop of tears to her eyes.

With those first words, said precisely in that way, the hope that Torren had for their marriage breaks, too. Maybe it's not quite his heart, as he has not given her that yet. But now even if he does, it won't matter.

He turns away, and his voice is quiet, and just a little bit forced. "Yes," he says. "It would. And I love her, too. Not as you love your brother. We are not close. But I love her. I do not wish to hurt her." Even though she has now ruined him. But he doesn't say that.

Visenya weeps quietly for a few minutes. She weeps mostly for Daevon, who she thought she would never see again, but also because of the pain radiating from her left arm and spreading out over her body. It is still not enough to distract her from him, and eventually she stands and puts her hand on his shoulder. "What is it, Torren?"

The question makes him turn back to her, and he looks at her for a long moment. He looks like he might say something; he almost begins. But after a second, it's like he changes his mind. "Nothing, sweet," he says, and he even smiles. He even manages to make it sound like it's the truth. He is good at that. But she knows that by now, and probably would not be fooled. She could pretend, though. Or not. "I just know that I hurt you, and I wish that I had not. That is all." He looks toward the bed, "You should rest. You are still unwell."

Visenya stares up at him and watches as he speaks. Finally she says, "Please don't." Her words are not angry; they are a plea. "Please don't do that. You've been the only person who has been honest and kind to me just because you wanted to be since I came here." She shakes her head, "I don't blame you for this. You did as you were told. Sometimes all we can do is what we are told."

The plea makes the facade crack, and as she goes on, the crack widens, until he's looking a little bit raw. "Yes," he concedes, "I did." There's a long silence, before he answers her previous question with the truth. "I know you will never feel about me the way you do about him. But I did not know I minded until just now." The smile is sadder now, but perhaps more genuine, too.

"No." Visenya says says, "I won't feel the same about you that I do him." She tips her head back to stare up at him before she says, "You are my husband. You are who I share a bed with. You are who makes love to me. You are who holds me when I am sad. You are reality." She reaches up to touch his cheek, "He was just a hope, and I adore him for the time I had with him, and I think very highly of him…" She rubs her thumb over his cheek, "But you are my destiny, and I would lay my life down for you." Something she has proven already, even. "And every moment I spend with you I feel myself softening more to you."

Torren leans his head a little bit into her hand, savoring it as though it's the last touch she will give him, though of course, it isn't, and her words confirm that. They are lovely to hear, and though he is certainly a grown man, jaded and more than a little cynical, at this moment they touch him in a way that is obvious. His hand comes up to her cheek, too, his palm resting against it. "I do not want your life," he murmurs. "I want you." And while probably on some level he means sex — he's shown that more than once by now — that is not foremost in his mind.

Visenya's fingers curl around his cheek as he leans into it. When he touches hers she does likewise, and her eyes close briefly as she pushes against his hand before they open to stare up at him. "You have me." She says. "I'm right here."

"Yes," Torren acknowledges, "here you are." He leans down then to kiss her very gently; it's not a short kiss, but he doesn't lean into it quite how he usually would, still mindful that she is likely to be in pain from her ordeal. When he pulls back, he says, "Forgive me. When we started out I did not intend to play the part of the jealous husband." He smiles, a little bit self-deprecatingly this time.

Visenya's eyes close and she tips her chin back slightly when he leans down to kiss her. Her hand moves from his cheek to grip his sleeve as they kiss, and when he pulls away she looks up at him. "I would rather have you jealous than indifferent. Besides, it is I who cannot tolerate other women looking at you." She releases him to walk to the bed then, and she lies down with an exhausted groan.

Her last words get a little bit of a laugh, genuinely amused, though Torren makes no reply to that save a little nod. When she goes to lie down, he starts to undress, and it's not long before he's joining her. "Let me help you," he says, probably meaning with her own clothes. "You do need rest, if you are to be able to attend your uncle's wedding tomorrow."

Visenya sits up when he offers his help and moves both arms, her left far more slowly and gingerly than her right, to assist in slipping the loose and wide-sleeved gown over her head. Once this has been taken off she slowly climbs into bed, still favoring her right side over her left, and lies down on her back. It is cooler in the mountains at night. Cool enough that the blanket is needed. She glances him before asking, "Hold me?"

Once she has been taken care of, Torren settles into bed as well, pulling the blanket over them both. He lies on his back as well, looking up at the ceiling, though when she speaks, he looks over at her, meeting her eyes. There is not much hesitation; he isn't about to refuse her. He just nods, and wraps an arm around her to pull her to him carefully, his other arm sliding under her so that he can settle her head against his shoulder. "Good night, Visenya," he says, and he kisses the top of her head, but he doesn't close his own eyes yet, as though he could will her not to dream as long as he stays awake.

Visenya settles into him; careful not to jostle her left arm as she does so. "Good night, Torren." She says in response, and then she closes her eyes. Soon enough she drifts off, and there are no terrifying dreams to draw a scream from her lips. She is peaceful all night.

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