(123-05-18) A Matter of Wyls
A Matter of Wyls
Summary: Lara Gargalen engages in conversation with Princess Visenya, about the case, recently brought before Prince Torren.
Date: 18/05/2016 (Date of Play)
Related: Annoyingly Dead Goodmothers

It has been relatively quiet the past few months. The Prince's household has seemed to settle easily into Starfall for the summer, and things have begun to settle into a rhythm for the first time. Visenya is sitting in her solar with Vynesa Manwoody, and both women are working on the embroidery for a tapestry. Vynesa is clearly the more talented of the pair. Visenya seems to be doing embroidery for something to occupy her time. She lets out a sigh, and sits back in her seat. "I have never been hot before in my life. Now I feel as if I am in an oven constantly." She complains to Vynesa before she puts a hand over her large belly.

Lara Gargalen seems to have thrived very nicely in the time since their return from Oldtown. Gone is the restlessness that had plagued her, the shadow of discontentment, the weight of Westerosi opinions on what is right and wrong who were not willing to appreciate the Dornish ways and manners. When she enters, she seems to be at ease, a smile curling her lips as she offers Visenya a curtsey, sand-silk in warm orange and red tones shifting about her shapely form. Her dark hair falls openly about her shoulders. "Your highness," she intones, in that silky smooth tone she often employs. "Is there anything you require?" Dark eyes cut to the belly in the last stages of pregancy, ever so briefly. "Are you feeling well…?" The Princess could go into labour any day now. Right?

Vynesa will receive a warm smile from the Cockatrice. "Hey there, little flower. I wish I had your skill. And the patience. Alas, I lack both, when it comes to needlework." And only the faintest of smirks curls her lips.

Visenya picks up her cup of lemon water and has a swallow just as Lara comes in. "Just your company." She says with a small but genuine smile. The longer Visenya is in Dorne the more she seems to pick up the customs and take them on as her own. If she had married a lord or prince from her own kingdom her high status would have demanded a confinement at this stage. However, she has married a prince of Dorne, and so she has not locked herself into a dark room like she would have. She still attends formal functions at Torren's side, and anyone at Starfall can see her in all of her rather rotund glory.

"I wish I had the patience Lady Vynesa has in general." She favors her younger lady-in-waiting with a broad smile. Visenya likes Lara, but she loves Vynesa. To Lara she says, "No. I'm fine. I just want my waistline back." She pushes herself up to start untangling embroidery thread in a shade Vynesa will soon need. "Did you hear of the Wyl's?" She asks Lara as she untangles.

Lara certainly does not mind Vynesa getting the lion share of Visenya's love for her ladies-in-waiting. She smiles to Visenya's praise of Vynesa's patience, then inclines her head in a nod. "I'm told it will return," she comments to the matter of the waistline. "I believe Lady Ynys is enough encouragement in that regard, that such is possible." The remark of company seems to be invitation enough, for the Gargalen lady to take a seat with the Princess and Lady Vynesa. It is when she has settled herself, her gown shifting as it rearranges it about her form, that she hears the question. "Ah. The Wyls. Yes." Her shapely lips curve in a smile. "I've heard of the matter. Late Lady Wyl seems to leave some discord. But the accusations brought up now against her good-daughter will be dealt with, by your husband, I am sure. What are your thoughts on the matter, your highness?"

"Hopefully I don't go fat like Princess Rhaenyra." Visenya says with a little frown. "I remember how beautiful she was when I was a little girl. She did have more curves than me, of course." She picks up a needle, and begins threading the colored string through it as she speaks. "But each time she has a child she seems to get a little fatter. She's starting to look like some pudgy blonde from the North." She hands the needle off to Vynesa, and picks up another thread bundle. "It's….interesting." She says, "The servant that claims to have seen lady Dyella smother lady Inez with a pillow is the heir's paramour. And the heir didn't think to bring him to testify. So, Torren is waiting for him to come from Wyl."

Lara inclines her head, to what Visenya says about the case of Lady Dyella. "It seems more than reasonable, that Prince Torren should summon the servant as his testimony will be needed. The question is, whether his testimony will be considered reliable evidence…", she remarks lightly, biting her lip. "Yes. I know it's a male servant, paramour to the new Lord Wyl." She looks hardly scandalized by it. To Princess Visenya's remark about getting fat from pregnancies there is little more than a shrug of Lara's shoulders. What does Lara know? With her lack of experience in these things.

"He's not Lord Wyl. Not yet, anyways. His father is still alive, although Ser Petyr, the heir, says he is too sick with gout to come see justice done himself." Visenya observes as she continues untangling string. She says off-handedly to Vynesa, "Why did we throw all of this in the basket last time?" She shrugs then before continuing on, "He may be telling the truth. She may be telling the truth. Or they may all be lying. Or the truth is that no one knows at all what happened, and so they blamed the most convenient target."

"Ser Petyr Wyl. Who comes to accuse his own wife while his father is absent? Who can tell, which is the truth? The heir wishing to rid himself of his wife? Or the wife, wishing to rid herself… of her husband?", Lara Gargalen muses thoughtfully. "You saw the both of them when Prince Torren heard them out? There seems to be little love between the two of them, doesn't it? I wonder if… the right questions asked of those involved would help, perhaps. What do the other servants say that Ser Petyr and Lady Dyella brought along? Those they did not name as potential eye witnesses?"

"It's very clear there is no love lost between them." Visenya says dryly. "If she did kill the mother she didn't do anything to place the blame on him. And yes. I did." She gives Lara a considering look at her suggestion before she nods her head, "I will suggest this to the Prince if he hasn't already thought of it himself." She presses her lips together, "But beyond the lover saying what he saw what there are no witnesses. So, there is only circumstantial proof and speculation for now."

"Aye," Lara nods, tilting her head then a little to the side as she considers. "In any case, there is little hope for them to… remain as they were, no?" A thought forms in her mind, her gaze darkening before her lips curl in a wry grin. "Ser Petyr has a manservant for a paramour. What if… he despises females in general? His mother? And his wife? This would be his opportunity to rid himself of Lady Daella… Do they have any children, I wonder?" Speculation is obviously a game this Gargalen seems to enjoy.

"Men who love other men romantically or carnally do not hate women as a rule." Visenya says with a slightly appalled look at Lara. "You don't have to want to bed someone to love them." She releases a little sigh before she shakes her head a touch. "I've known Knights in the North who did not…prefer women in bed, but who were the epitome of chivalry. No. There is no proof of that at all." She drops the thread in her lap, and reaches for her water, "Beyond that Ser Petyr looked as if he truly grieved for his mother." As for children she shakes her head. "I don't know."

"I know!", Lara counters with a chuckle. "I've… I know some that have a preference for both. But. There are others. Those that do not feel delight in bedding a woman. And with the need to marry and produce heirs comes a demand that makes them loathe the unfortunate bride that has been singled out for them. I am not saying, they /hate/ women in general, just the one that has been forced upon them." Her dark eyes skim the table for a flagon of wine, and finding one, she pours herself a goblet of it. "I believe you," she states then, after hearing Visenya's observations. "If he truly grieves for his mother, he wouldn't use it as a means to get rid of his wife." A pause. After which her eyes lift to meet Visenya's gaze. "Has there been a maester who testified as to the official cause of death, your highness?"

"Yes. And of course." Visenya takes a swallow of her water before she says, "Yes. We are asking for a report from him, but we won't be requesting his presence. If Lord Wyl is ill we cannot deprive him of a maester lest he join his wife with the Stranger." She shrugs then, "But the claim is that the woman was smothered with a pillow. How much does that mark the body?" She presses her lips together thoughtfully before she shakes her head. "I have my thoughts on it, but it is not me to judge in this. All I can do is share my thoughts regarding it with Prince Torren."

"Indeed," Lara agrees, her gaze flitting downward in acknowledgement Lord Wyl's needing his maester. "It is for Prince Torren to place his judgement." Taking a sip of Dornish Red she considers the princess over the rim of the goblet. "Even if… the pillow, if used to kill, does leave little evidence… The proof brought against Daella consists of the testimony of the manservant, who perhaps had his own motives." A sigh then. Her shoulders lift in a light shrug. "So many possibilities. In fact, it could be the servant's doing after all. Killing Lady Wyl. And accusing the one woman he detests most, because she is a rival in vying for Ser Petyr's attention. All in the urge to serve Ser Petyr, and to rid their relationship of any obstacles." A faint smirk blossoms on her features. "This, too, is merely speculation on my part. But the longer I think of it, the more I am convinced, this must be the most likely reply to the question of who killed Lady Wyl."

"I had the same thoughts regarding it." Visenya admits once Lara finishes with her speculation. "And I am sure the thought has occurred to Prince Torren as well. But it could have been someone else who no one has even considered. Or it could be that the old woman died in her sleep, as old women often do, and the scenario is being used to someone's advantage." She sits up a little bit before she makes a small face. "I feel a bit guilty puzzling over it, but I'm bored." She lets out a dramatic sigh before she adds, "This child needs to be born so I can amuse myself with planning the tourney for it."

"Oh!" Lara Gargalen seems to be pleased with this remark of Visenya. "But yes. I can totally understand." She shifts in her seat, giving Vynesa a glance and a smile as to keep her included in the interaction, before her attention shifts back to the princess. "We don't know what happened, but this game of 'what' and 'what if' is an intriguing pastime. "You should be due soon," she offers, her gaze lowered. "What does the midwife say? Apart from that… a tourney and a feast shall be a more than appropriate occasion to celebrate." Her smile deepens. "And this I do look forward to."

"The maester says it could come next week or a month from now." Visenya makes a face as she says this, "Some women go a little earlier, and sometimes the child comes late. He said if three weeks pass there are things he can do to make it come, but he is reluctant because he thinks women who have them done are more likely to get childbed fever. But he sounded like that's what he'll do because he made a comment on how a large babe would not do my small hips any favors." She puts a hand over her belly with her fingers pressing in gently. "So they have to come soon. Because they are getting too damn big."

"They will come, eventually. They all do." Or so she has been told. Lara Gargalen offers this comment with ane ncouraging smile, even if the faint glint in her eyes betrays her slight discomfort of even contemplating such topics as 'childbirth', 'regaining of waist' and 'unborn chldren getting too big'. "If that will be all, your highness? There is a letter that I need to write. If you would excuse me?", she says straightening in her seat, with an apologetic smile curling her lips.

"Mmm. Of course." Visenya gives up all pretense of helping Vynesa with the tapestry, and lies back in her chair lazily. If she has noticed the discomfort in Lara she refuses to acknowledge it. Instead she looks down at her nails before she asks, before Lara can go, "Will you be a darling and send one of my handmaids upstairs if you see one of them on your way down?" That request made she turns a little as if she may doze off.

"Of course, your highness," Lara intones as she moves to stand, sand-silk in orange and red re-settling about her form. A faint smile curls her lips. And then she turns and leaves the princess to her nap and the other lady-in-waiting to her needlework.

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