(123-05-16) Annoyingly Dead Goodmothers
Annoyingly Dead Goodmothers
Summary: Torren presides over the case of a potentially murdered goodmother. More questions are raised than answered.
Date: Date of play (16/05/2016)
Related: Related Logs None
Players:
Torren..Visenya..

Torren may be the heir to the Martell throne, but he does not presume to conduct the rare state business that comes to him in their throne room. Instead he holds court in the junior tower provided to him for his household while he is a guest at Starfall. Here he sits with Visenya at his side while he waits to hear the case, and dispense justice.

"The woman must have committed a grave offense if Lord Wyl is unwilling to provide judgement. After all, it happened on his lands, did it not?" Visenya asks Torren softly as they wait. She has dressed in black sandsilks accented with gold that give her an effortless and yet rather stately look. "Or-" She says with a side glance to Torren, "They fear conflict from sentencing a woman who belongs to another family?"

Torren is accustomed to this sort of thing, and while he would normally not find it tedious, at the moment he is preoccupied with other things — namely, Visenya's impending delivery. So, he's not in the most listening of moods. However, needs must. He turns to his wife at the question, and replies, "More the latter, I should think." He settles back a little bit in his chair, reaching a hand to rest it on her knee.

"It is an unusual murder." Visenya observes. In contrast to Torren she seems fascinated by the whole thing. But then again things have been slow politically, and she is not one to be amused with sitting and sewing with her ladies. "Women usually kill their husbands or their lovers. Or rivals. A goodmother can be an annoyance, but generally she is not worth murder." She places her hand over Torren's when he moves it to her knee, and she squeezes gently. "Is the woman not your cousin in some manner or another?"

A little laugh escapes him, and Torren replies sardonically, "I could think of one or two who might merit something a little more than annoyance." There's amusement in his expression, though. He drops it at her next question, and nods. "Second cousin," he confirms. "Her mother is my father's cousin." There's a little pause, before he says, "Perhaps she was a rival. The relationships between some mothers and sons seem as close as one would expect from a wife." This is said with no small amount of distaste.

Visenya's lips quirk upwards at Torren's response, and she adds teasingly. "You should speak kindly of goodmothers. I shall be one someday. And I pity whoever shall wed our little Prince or Princess already." She nods her head in understanding when he explains how the web of Dornish relations is weaved, and her expression becomes thoughtful at what he says, "That is true. Some are never cut from the apron string."

"Surely you will be the most accommodating of goodmothers, my love," Torren returns with a widening smile. "You are so agreeable in every other aspect of life." It's obviously a joke, though; she already knows he enjoys her contentiousness at times, even if it's also infuriating. It is a part of her. The other vein of conversation is more serious, though, and his smile fades again. "We shall see," he says. "I will be interested to hear the facts."

"If there are facts to be heard." Visenya comments idly, "And not accusations and assumptions. She falls quiet when the doors to the tower are opened, and the heir to Wyl walks in followed by two men-at-arms that usher in a woman who is hobbled by irons. Her sandsilk gown is torn and dirtied, her long dark hair tangled, and her lip split.

"My Prince." The heir to Wyl says as he bows to Torren and follows it up with, "Princess." Visenya gets a much shallower bow. The Wyl turns to give the woman behind him a look of disgust before he says to Torren, "I have brought the Lady Dyella before you to be judged." He does not say wife, and his fist closes when he says her name. "May I proceed with the accusation?"

"True." There are certainly cases such as that. In fact, more often than not. Torren turns to the doors when they open, though, and falls silent, inclining his head slightly at the bow. He nods at the question, and replies, "Please do." His gaze shifts for a moment to regard the Lady Dyella, but his expression is impassive, before he turns back to the other man.

Visenya inclines her head when she is bowed to, but otherwise she remains silent, her violet eyes shifting from Wyl to Toland woman.

The Wyl heir sucks in a breath, as if he is trying to steady himself as he prepares to tell his tale. "This.." He lifts a hand to point his finger at lady Dyella, "This monster murdered my mother, the lady Inez. She waited until my mother was unwell, and held a pillow over her head until she could not draw breath. We would have thought mother died in her sleep if my mother's servant had not walked in just as she was taking the pillow from lady Inez's face."

Torren's face is still neutral as he listens to the accusations, and he leans forward a bit in the chair, resting his hands on his knees now. He nods once the charges have been leveled, but it's impossible to know what he thinks of them. His gaze shifts back to Lady Daella again then, and he addresses her. "Do you wish to answer these charges?" he asks, his tone about as neutral as it can be.

The men-at-arms drag Dyella forward when Torren addresses her, and her husband steps back in disgust. "The servant who saw me is Ser Petyr's lover." She charges in a voice that has reigned in hostility. "I did not kill the lady Inez. If I were going to kill anyone in that house it would have been Ser Petyr." She tosses her husband a venomous look before she looks to Torren. "You must believe me, my Prince. I do not know if my husband had a hand in his mother's fate, but it was not me, and now he is using her death as a means to get rid of me."

The rough treatment of the woman gets a sharp look from Torren, and he says, in a tone that's deceptively mild, "I do not believe such zeal is necessary. Or do you doubt your ability to catch her should she attempt to run?" That said, he turns back to the woman when she makes her counterclaim. "This is most distressing," he says, looking between the two. "Is there anyone else who can corroborate either side of this most disagreeable tale?"

Visenya shifts on her chair, and breaks her silence by adding in after Torren speaks, "Such as this servant? Undoubtably the Prince should want to hear from her."

"She is lying!" Ser Petyr says in a defensive tone. "And no. I did not…"

Lady Dyella's full lips curve upwards into a smirk, and then she interrupts Petyr, "HE." She spits out in contempt. "My husband's paramour is a man. And my husband did not think to bring him. He assumed you are a fool, my Prince, and that you would condemn me on his word alone!"

Ser Petyr shouts, "Silence, you wretched woman! May the Stranger have you!"

"Enough!" It is not often that Torren raises his voice in proceedings such as this, but apparently even he has his limits. "Ser Petyr, your outburst does not become you and does not help your case!" His face is set into a hard frown, more emotion than he generally shows at these sorts of things, as well. "I shall hear from the servant, whatever gender they may be. I believe that men and women both generally have working tongues." There's not even any innuendo there, as there might be otherwise. "You shall both be kept comfortably while I determine the proper course of action."

Petyr's look of outrage changes into one of embarrassment after Torren chastises him. "Forgive me, my Prince." He says in a softer voice. "I grieve for my mother." In this he does sound sincere. Lady Dyella continues to stare at her husband with contempt in her eyes. And no one laughs at Torren's comment about working tongues. "Am I to be held prisoner, my Prince?" Petyr asks in an astonished voice.

"You are to be shown every courtesy while you are awaiting my decision," Torren corrects, still with the frown. "Surely while you are here, you would wish to be kept safe? Since it is quite clear that if your wife did murder your mother, she would not hesitate to do the same to you, were she given the chance." His voice fairly drips with sarcasm as he says this, and he turns to the Lady Daella. "You shall be accommodated separately. I trust this will not be a hardship for you?"

Lady Dyella inclines her head to Torren in thanks. "It is no hardship, my Prince." Two Martell men-at-arms come forward to escort the lady out of the small hall then. See Petyr seems to calm down somewhat when Torren assures him that he is a guest. He follows it up with, "I will send for the servant, but it will be some time before he arrives, if I may make use of your maester to send raven, My Prince?"

Visenya interjects again to ask Ser Petyr, "May I ask why you come and not your father, Ser Petyr? Lady Inez was his wife. Surely he should want justice?" Petyr looks at Visenya a moment before he says, "My father has gout, Princess. It prevents him from traveling outside of Wyl."

"Please do. I would prefer this settled as soon as we can, as I am sure that you would as well." Torren's voice has modulated back to how it usually sounds now that there is no one yelling at anyone else right in front of them anymore. At the mention of Petyr's father, he continues, "How unfortunate. Please send him our condolences, as well as our wishes for some relief for him."

Ser Petyr says, "Yes, my Prince." He bows to both Torren and Visenya before he turns to leave. His two men follow him.

Once the doors are closed Visenya's expression, mostly neutral like Torren's was, fades into one of puzzlement. "A tangled web, indeed." She says before she puts both of her hands on the arms of her chair to hoist herself up as the advanced state of her pregnancy makes such movement more difficult than usual. "Who do you think actually did it?" She asks once she's on her feet.

"Mm." Torren reaches to help steady her, an automatic gesture now, but his mind is obviously on what they had just heard. He frowns again, standing up as well and offering Visenya his arm. "I have nowhere near sufficient information to make any sort of judgment," he says. "Perhaps the servant did it in a fit of jealousy." This statement is said a little bit dryly.

Visenya places her hand on Torren's forearm when he offers it, and she lets him lead her towards the stairway to go up into their private rooms at the top of the tower. "I suppose speculation at this point would not be prudent." She says, and at his last statement she turns her head to look at him before she lets out an amused laugh. "Oh yes. Surely there was an abundance of love between those two. I could see how the paramour was jealous." There is some dryness in her voice as well.

Torren smiles as her reply to his 'speculation,' and squeezes her hand. "I could believe either one of them did it," he says more seriously. "Or neither. Perhaps she just died of natural causes. She was quite old, if I am remembering correctly." He shrugs, frowning thoughtfully. "Any scenario is not one I would like to deal with at this point."

"These matters are always very clear or very muddled." Visenya observes as they begin making their way up the steps. "If neither of them killed her it must have been natural?" Her brow furrows ever so slightly. "Who would want an old woman dead, anyways? Surely not her husband. Not when he is too sick to have another woman on his mind." But so far all they have to go on is hearsay and speculation. So, she lets it drop as they ascend the steps.

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