(122-11-21) Of Cakes, Dragons, and Poisons
Of Cakes and Poisons
Summary: Dhraegon chats with Tellur and Camillo about the upcoming wedding and related topics.
Date: (21/11/122)
Related: None

Dhraegon is in the garden, lying on his back spreadeagled in elaborate robes, gazing up at the stars. He smells of lavander and vanilla rather than wine or liquor, so likely he is sober.

Tellur clears his throat, softly. He arrives with thin clothes, clean, but cut in the Northern style. The material might be thin, and a little rough, but Tellur has paid attention to his grooming. He is clean shaven, his braids neatened up. He comes with an owl on his shoulder, and his wolf at his side, the picture of some ancient, feral version of the Starks "Your Highness?" and he bows.

Dhraegon peers at him, "So. Many. Cakes! I can't move! It was a tasting to select them for… I'm glad you came, Tellur. I wanted to talk to you." Tellur's fashion choices cause him no alarm. Indeed, he doesn't seem to notice the change, at least judging my his expression.

And few surprises there, really. Tellur's owl turns its head around backwards to watch behind him, while he rises from his bow "How may I serve you?"

Dhraegon sits up, giggling at the owl in obvious delight. "Well you know how I am getting married in December? At this he lowers his lashes and blushes like a maiden.

Tellur does look puzzled by that, but he says gravely "I have heard, your Highness. Oh, that is why you were tasting cakes?" He adds "It was not just fortune?"

Dhraegon nods, smiling happily, "Any time is a good time for the tasting of cakes, but yes. There is to be a party… wel severl parties. I have sent Camillo special to make sure young carolis knows how much he is looked for at the wedding feast and there are several other formal parties and the like, but also…" he blushes to his ears, "I am… not much interested in… certain sorts of carousing and it was thought… perhaps brandy and cakes here in the garden for my send off? With my partiular friends. And I thought you might like to come."?

Tellur frowns to himself, weary, as Carolis is mentioned, and he says "I doubt he will return from the North in time, your Highness. Perhaps he is seeking the hand of a young lass there?" He shakes his head. Tellur is in light clothes, for the warm weather, but the fashion is Northern, and he is clean shaven. He has an owl on his shoulder and his pet wolf at his side "I should be honoured," he says "You should, you know, celebrate in your own way. Even if that is a little different to that of others."

Camillo has stepped away briefly to make use of the privy and also to see to something—he actually brought several other cakes with him than the ones he served to Dhraegon, serving the Prince only an amount sure not to sicken him, and now he takes the time to give servants instructions to serve the rest tomorrow. So it is a number of minutes later that he returns to the garden. And spots Tellur. He hesitates.

Dhraegon looks genuinely disappointed at the news about the Satark heir. "Oh! I was very much hoping…." He says the next as if trying to convince himself, "It will be all right. Everything is fine." He nods, "I am much more comfortable drinking here in my garden where everyone will have all there petals on." he spots camillo and smiles, "Tellur Snow! Have you met Camillo? He serves my Sweet Jasmine at the Hightower!"

Tellur has not yet noticed Camillo, but his large wolf leans forward, with canted ears, and gives a low growl. Tellur says to Dhraegon "I do hope, your Highness. Should your missive return him from the North, then I will be in your debt, most assuredly." He tilts his head at 'petals', and he says "I…oh!" Camillo. Tellur hesitates, then sweeps, of all things, a courtier's bow "We have met," he says, gravely.

Camillo seems quite flustered by this bow. He dips his head respectfully and glances between them. "Er, yes," he confirms.

Dhraegon watches the bow with open mouth and that particularly gormless look he gets, then he is smiling, "Oh! Well come sit, both of you!"

This Tellur is rather different to the mostly naked wild man running around in the forest. This one seems even more reserved, precise, well dressed. He inclines his head, and he goes to sit next to Dhraegon.

Camillo doesn't seem much different. He's wearing the same exact clothing, he's just as shy and reserved. He's just not drunk. He comes obediently to sit when bidden.

Dhraegon, being Dhraegon, gives them both a huge goofy smile and declares, "I really DID hope Carolis would be wit me on my wedding night, but at least I will have you! So what have you lads been up too? Any adventures?"

Tellur gapes, despite himself. He looks a bit surprised "Carolis…with you on your wedding night?"

Camillo tilts his head slightly at this probable misunderstanding. "Surely…His Grace means at the ceremony."

Dhraegon is innocently enthusiastic, "For moral support! I am trying to stay mostlt sober for my Gladiola!" he giggles, "I would not expect him to come to the Sept, because of the religious difference, but I should like him nearby at the feast."

Tellur is looking more than a little out of his depth. He touches his temples, and then he says "Ah. Oh. I see. Wait. The Sept? We Starks still follow the Seven. Of course." It is a lie. And he is startled enough to say 'we'. He then says "I hope he will be there." He adds to Camillo "Will you be coming to live here, at the citadel, then?"

Camillo shakes his head slowly at Tellur's question, though he had been listening with quiet, puzzled interest to the previous exchange. "No, um…" he still has no idea what to properly call Tellur. "No. I believe His Grace…will be coming to the Hightower."

Dhraegon reponds to Tellur's protestations by gently patting his hand with one of his baby soft ones, eyes, kind. he does not comment on the lie or the we, but says instead, "I hope so too. He is wise and has a good heart." he nods enthusiastically, "Ormund has been nice enough to let me spend time in my new room. It has good windows for the plants and room for a pillow fort!"

Tellur is uncertain at the petting, but his teeth show, despite himself. He has a careful, thin shake of his head, though the wolf's growl is low, and threatening. Briefly, Tellur's own expression turns to terror. He says "Forgive him, your Highness - he does not like people touching me. And…ah, that sounds very good?" He asks, awkward, to Camillo "When will the move happen?"

Camillo looks uncertainly at this wolf, holding quite still with all this growling going on. He only glances at Tellur when a question is asked of him. "I…presume after the wedding, but I confess to not knowing for certain."

Dhraegon does not seem alarmed by the wolf, despite his terror of horses. He does withdraw his hand at Tellur's explanation, and says cheerfully, "No hugs to day, it sounds like." He nods, "Many of my things are already unpacked. I… sometimes fall asleep suddenly so I have slept there several times. Uually after talking to Ormund. The plants and my books will come after. I will spend the Wedding night over there, and after that the Hightower will be where you will most likely find me."

"No hugs," says Tellur quietly "Sometimes I do not want people to be close to me, eh?" Dogs are, evidently, different. He then tilts his head, and he asks, carefully "Is the Lady looking forward to her wedding? I hear that it can be very exciting, with the dresses, and the jewelry and so forth." He smiles, and he says "Ahh, the plants! Yes, of course, you have a very beautiful garden. And Camillo here may have a similar one?" He remembers those scents.

Camillo narrows his eyes with puzzlement when Tellur seems to think he'd have a garden. His brow furrows. "No, I… There is one His Grace had made, at the Hightower, with birds and insects. There are times when I can visit it." He doesn't understand the herbal connection Tellur's making, plainly.

Dhraegon nods, "That is a good time to hide under a bed." At Tellur's question he blushes again, "We are very excited about the dresses and the cakes. We… are a bit worried about the… the Bedding. I do not want her petals torn. We are both… people who are modest, and they can be very… very rough…. Young Ormund was kind enough to let me design My Cosmos a fine garden as a wedding gift. We share a love of flowers. camillo here helpe with some of the planting and the choice of feeders."

"Really?" says Tellur curiously, and then he says to Camillo "You had foxglove, and other herbs, you smelled like such things." He then stretches, and he says "I thought the garden was yours. Insects as well? I am very curious about bird and insect wings - bats too. I am trying to work out how they fly." And then he says to Dhraegon "Are you using the royal we? Ah. No. Well. Who can be rough? Can't you order everyone else out?"

Camillo certainly seems surprised that Tellur has a knowledge of his /smells/, let alone that he's quite right. His eyebrows shoot up, but he nods honestly. "Oh. Yes. I…sometimes collect them. Wild, usually. For…" He trails off, pausing to think, then actually smiles a little because /some/ of the pieces seem to come together. "Yes, that's right," he recalls. "You know herbs. You had remedies for the other man, Tybalt."

Dhraegon giggles and shakes his head, long white hairs sticking to clotted cream and jam sticiness on his face from the earlier cakes, "We as in my precious Honeysuckle and I. My… my future wife. I…I imagines her bright hair surrounded by bright wings and so I filled her garden with hummingbirds and butterflies and made sure the plants growing there would please them, though we use feeders as well to encourage them to stay. have you ever wathed a hummingbird fly? They seem to float." He illistrates with a big meaty hand. He sighs, "I have not the… authority to stop them doing the beding ceremony ndneither of us like being… roughly handled by big drunken men." Which is odd given how many people he has surprise hugged drunk or sober.

"For all kinds of things," says Tellur, simply, and then he nods "Yes! I am very interested in such things - bird's feathers. The way ivy berries are dangerous to us, but that birds can eat them. Is that not curious? And yet rhododendron flowers are beautiful, but a handful of those will kill a goat very quickly." He then says to Dhraegon "I have tried, but their wings move too quickly for me to even see them beat. I am not sure how they can fly - I have seen their bodies, but if…" He picks up a stick from the garden and sketches on the ground "You take a chicken? Its wings are longer in proportion, and they have a deeper breast for larger lungs. Yet they cannot fly so well. I do not understand how that works." He frowns at the marks he has made, and then he says to Camillo, awkwardly "I sometimes think of asking my Lord to speak to ask if I may become a Maester."

"It is," Camillo agrees with Tellur, perhaps the least shyly of anything he's ever said to him. "I think…you have observed more than me. But…do you know that the pits of some fruits that we eat, when many are taken together, become dangerous?" He pauses to think. "Likely you /do/ know. But the apricot…" He trails off again, looking thoughtful. "You seem…as if you would be a good Maester." He seems perfectly earnest, only hesitating at saying those words because they are a judgment of Tellur, however positive. "If I may say. To think so…deeply, about plants and animals."

Dhraegon looks momentarily blank at foolish at the talk of goats and rhodadendrons, but the last question fascinates im, "You…are frightened of planting seeds in a… a wife also? Did they show you a picture?" He nods agreemednt to Camillo's judgement.

Tellur says "Not so much about fruits. I know a lot more about flowers and herbs in the forest. My sense of smell is…very good. It has been so since I was a child. And I watch my hounds - and some pigs - and use them to find the rare ones. It is easier done that way." He smiles, and he says "I do not know about fruit - you can tell me more, please. It's a southern thing, to have so much access to autumn fruit all the time." And then he looks flattered "Thankyou." As Dhraegon speaks, Tellur manages to look faintly strangled, before he says "I am a bastard, your highness. Recognised, but of a minor house. There will be no wife for me. I am not frightened. I am content to serve my Lord forever."

Camillo looks as if he hadn't thought much about the lack of access to fruit in the North, but he's considering it now. "We should…discuss it sometime," he says, but he stays /far/ out of the conversation about bastardy and wives.

Dhraegon studies Tellur, "Then you don't mind the vows?" He tudies the owl, "I bet you are good with Ravens… Oh! I forgot to offer you reshment and meat for your beasts!" All this talk of poisons seem to o over his head.

"I would be interested to hear what you said," Tellur says "And write it down - if you do not object? Some men do - their learning stays close to their breast. I have quite a few books." And one hidden one from that Maester that Tellur dare not let anyone else see "Most of my herbal woodlore is far Northern - and oriented towards the beasts in my care." He then admits to Dhraegon "I have never been to a wedding. I do not know what vows there are. And I am. I am very good with Ravens." Another flicker of something else "I had the best bird one could ever want - her name was Magwyn. But I was a fool, and rode into battle with her for carrying messages and some blood-thick fool shot my poor lass with an arorw."

"I don't know much that any man of the country here could not tell you," Camillo lies. "You may not find it worth writing." He still so obviously wants to say 'my lord' after that, but bites his tongue since Dhraegon pointed out to him earlier that that would be wrong.

Dhraegon leans in and drops his voice, "Neither have I, tellur. Camillo has given be advie as to what I am to do. The overing with the mantle and… and the kissing." More blushes, "I know it is a very shocking thing that they do something so… so more suited to the… the bedroom in front of everybody. My Hibiscus says it will be just like kissing on the cheek and I shouldn't be worried even though it is a.. a private part of her." He looks genuinely distressed at the loss of the raven, "I am so sorry, Tellur! You must have been heart broken that she die for you!" He looks between camillo and Tellur, "how wise of you both to know of such things."?

Tellur says "…I do not speak that often with others, my adoptive 'father' and Ser Malcolm notwithstanding. In truth, I was sent to be Lord Carolis' aide - but without him close, I…have." Less people to kill and spy on. "Er." He frowns, now worried, and then he finally says to Dhraegon "But you are Prince, can't you just do something like cover the floor in burrs and tell them that if they want to watch they can ruddy stand on flaming caltrops." He is mildly horrified at the lack of decorum, apparently, and then he says "…Lord Carolis had his men give her a funeral." And there is the sudden adoration of his Lord again.

Camillo chews a little on his lower lip, listening to Dhraegon and Tellur.

Dhraegon's tone is all gentle understanding, "You are adrift without a clear duty. no wonder you think of books to fill your time." He looks startled, "flaming caltrops in the Sept?" He looks as if he is going to pat tellur's hand again, but manages to keep his hands to himself, "That is kind of them."

"Well," says Tellur "It would be hard to put them on fire. But if the law says you must have observers, the law, I am sure, does not say you have to make those observers comfortable. Maybe borrow the Princesses' dragons and have them chained by the door. Let them peer into your privacy while someone is biting them."

"A dragon may not be a poor diversion," Camillo ventures.

Dhraegon giggles that rising unhinged sounding titter of his, "It is ashame Visenya does not aprove of the match. I should suggest my sweet Lily ask her as they are friends.

"Visenya does not approve of things that -" Tellur starts to say, then stops himself, a bit appalled. He does say to Camillo "It would be a good idea. And very royal! One could hardly fault the Targaryens for wanting to show their blood in the truest sense!" He adds gravely "Dragons live a long time, do they not? They could be witnesses."

Camillo doesn't say anything about Visenya, but he looks curious about what Tellur would have said. He has to satisfy himself with what Tellur /does/ say. But he nods quietly in agreement. About having a dragon show up suddenly, not necessarily about dragon witnesses.

Dhraegon also looks very curious as to the rest of Tellur's cooment on Visenya. "Centuries if they are lucky, yes. It is a shame those of their blood do not, though the Old King lived long for a man." The Old King still being on his mind from his little chat with camillo.

Tellur lifts his hand up to his owl, and the creature rests there - it is a barn owl, so one of the beasts that can hunt during the day should hse wish. He strokes the soft, white head "What kills dragons, Prince?"

Camillo keeps his peace, but he nevertheless seems more involved in the conversation and less closed-off when he last joined Tellur with Malcolm for that impromptu chicken-cooking.

Dhraegon narrows his eyes at Tellur, "I hope you re not planning harm to Visenya's dragons."

"No, but…" Oh dear. Tellur has the stick, and he moves to allow Camillo to see as well. He begins to draw "Ser Malcolm has told me of these big reptiles - like this." He sketches a squat lizard - a crocodile, perhaps - "And I do not think anything natural could kill them. If dragons do not age, and they are so much stronger - and bigger! And they can fly! - then what could possibly hunt them? They are armoured. Men could not. I can think of no beast - unless they fought a sea serpent. I should like to see one of those."

Camillo looks curiously at Tellur, leaning forward to see the picture he is drawing. He doesn't seem to divine where Tellur is going with this, but he is curious.

Dhraegon stares at Tellur with that empty, mouth open look that makes him look extra foolish. Finally he says, "Other dragons, mostly, when they are adult, but they are more delicate when they are young."

Tellur appears just to be completely distracted - Tellur-ing on about things that can fly, as he so often does "Ah! That explains it - like dire wolves?" He looks up "A snow bear might threaten one, but there is no chance that it would come out on top of such a fight!" His own wolf is quite normal - and dozing now on the ground. Tellur seems enthused, enough that he says to Dhraegon "So, a new garden! Will it be like your old one?"

Dhraegon seems amused by Tellur's babble and his expression is fond enough. "It is bigger and better and there is a large foutain for the boats and songbirds. I've made cuttings and transferred whole plants and the most delicate ones will stay in their globes and go up to my room. It is a very fine garden with blooms in season by night and day.

"Nocotiana?" wonders Tellur, who then says "But you cannot transfer too many - so many of the ones here - and here - are deadly!"

Camillo doesn't seem to know what 'nocotiana' means. But he listens.

Dhraegon giggles, "I did it slowly over the course of half a year." And then he goes blank and foolish looking, "how can they hurt anyone, being so pretty?"?

Tellur says "They can, though…most plants are not suitable for us to eat, and, why, a human's belly is much stronger than Dog here's - and he is a wolf." He reaches out to stroke the animal "We are hard to poison, as far as many beasts go. But all manner of things can bring on cramps, fevers, and such illnesses." He adds "The roses and so forth - anything you can make a good drink from, those are fine. But something as simple as a green potato - or many things from that family. Rotted wheat brings madness…" He is just going on, lightly, as if he were amongst friends "Why, yew itself."

Camillo still seems a little puzzled, or perhaps that's concentration. Maybe he's not sure whether this conversation is all building to one large point, or moving casually from topic to topic. Or maybe he's just always terrible at conversation.

Dhraegon does not seemed surprised by the revaletion of Dog's true identity, not being even a quarter of the fool he often looks. he listens to the lecture doing an excellent imitation of someone who has no clue what tellur is on about.

It is at this point a messanger in stark livery arives out of breath and read of face, "Master Snow! I was sent to tell you lord carolis is home and your horse is in labour and they can't find Ser Malcolm and could you come home and sort it?"

Tellur is sort of puzzled, because _clearly_ these people know about plants and should know that a lot of these things are poisonous. Never mind - as the messenger comes in, he blinks, and then finds himself rising. His owl squarks, startled, as Tellur says "…your Highness, I should love to attend your party, but I must go." To the horse or Carolis? Who knows which is higher in Tellur's mind "May I have your leave?"

Camillo's eyebrows pop up at this sudden multi-faceted news from the messenger. He stands, too. "Do you need help?" he finds himself offering. Just in case.

Dhraegon looks alarmed, "Go! Go! Do send young carolis my reguards and ask him to the wedding for me. Borrow a horse to ride home on if you like!"

Tellur shakes his head a little "My thanks for your kindness - I shall remember it, Camillo, but I should go immediately." And there is an answer there too - simply 'Master Snow', not 'Lord' or anything similar. He nods to Dhraegon "I shall, thankyou!" But? He is already skidding off, as fast as his feet can take him.

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