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Snippet #2416433

located in Westeros and Essos, a part of A Game of Thrones: Battle for Westeros, one of the many universes on RPG.

Westeros and Essos

None

Setting

Characters Present

Character Portrait: House Lannister Character Portrait: House Stark Character Portrait: House Martell Character Portrait: House of Arryn Character Portrait: House Tyrell Character Portrait: House Baratheon Character Portrait: House Bolton
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“Oh! My Lord!” The wench shrieked and then giggled.

“Please, I think you've earned the right to call me Roarke, Lydia.” He replied sounding quite pleased with himself as the blonde serving maid collapsed on top of him and they both tried to catch their breath.

“I'm not Lydia!” She complained

“I'm Lydia.” Came the coy voice of the red haired wench crawling up from his feet to rest on his other side; stirring the straw and hay below them all.

He wasn't good with names; they came and went as fast as the women.

“Yes and I'm Hailena.” Added the one he had mistaken for Lydia at first. “And she's Letticia.”

Roarke lifted his head to peer down at the third wench still at his feet. She looked up at him demurely. Huffing out a laugh, he sat up much to the protest of the three ladies. Dear Gods! His depravities only seemed to get worse the older he got. But he couldn't help himself, he thought with a smirk.

“Ladies,” Roarke sighed dubiously, lacing up his doublet. “I fear I must love you and leave you.”

“But we haven't even gotten around to healing your wound yet.” Complained the red head holding on tighter to Roarke's arm while the other two women agreed.

Shrugging out of her grip, Roarke got to his feet. The wound was hardly worth mentioning. He barely even noticed it now. He had suffered much worse before. But damn his folly! He had been distracted by a pretty face in the crowd. Raith had called her a ghost. Maybe she had been and he was finally losing his wits. But he was certain. Either a Tyrell or a Baratheon.

“My Lord!” Whinned Letticia at his feet, making no effort to cover up her nakedness.

“Ah but you've healed and soothed my most throbbing wound greatly.” He smirked down at them as he buttoned up his breeches.

A harem of giggles erupted and Roarke began to back away out of the makeshift barn before they could grab him again.

“Wait! When will we see you again?”

“Soon.” He replied roguishly blowing a kiss as he stepped out and breathed a sigh of relief.

Those succubuses intended to drain him dry! Who had seduced who? Roarke pondered as he made his way around the back to the Lannister's box. He certainly felt like the victim after they had finished with him. But he was sure it hadn't started out that way. The Seducer had become the seduced, he realised as he jumped up the steps to the Lannister's bench box.

“Roarke!”

The impact of the body almost knocked the Knight off his feet.

“Are you all right?! Where were you?!” An urgent voice demanded.

However, not everyone was greatly concerned. His father simply nodded in acknowledgement of his sons presence. Krea smirked. How he hated that woman. And Wyekham simply patted him on the back, commenting he had done well.

“Roarke! Where were you? Are you okay?” Roarke looked down into the pretty face full of concern.

“Ah, no. I'm in great pain.” His face contorted into a fictitious grimace as he raised one shaking arm with a hand to her face. “My-my arm, it's about to fall off!” And burst out into laughter at her horrified complexion.

“You're a beast!” Raashee slapped his hand away as she realized the truth. “Where were you? The joust finished long ago. We were all so worried.”

Raorke looked around the box filled to the brim with people. He doubted if even half of them even noticed that he had not returned right away . . . or cared. Except Raashee.

“I'm quite fine Raash.” He smiled as he rested his arm around her waist and they moved to the corner of the box away from the others. “I was just having my wound tended to.” He winked roguishly as he half sat on the barrier and looked out onto the sun heated pit below; across to the other boxes.

“I wished you'd be more careful.”

“It's a joust.” He smiled back at her. “How careful do you think I can be?”

“You can't fool me. It was a stupid risk. As always.

She knew his tricks all too well.

“I can't help it if women wish to comment on my bravery and want to help tend my wounds after a great battle.” He jested nonplussed.

“Foolish.” Raashee shook he head. “As if they wouldn't be swarming you either way.”

Roarke simply shrugged still grinning.

“Raashee.”

“Ah the witch calls.” Roarke commented as Krea called her away.

“I wish you wouldn't call her that.” Raashee chided with a smile before she walked away.

Roarke sighed. The Lannister bench box was a large room draped in finery from walls to floors and a large table at the far end was over flowing with food, wine and fresh exotic fruit. Yet the room still felt constricting to the Lannister Knight. He was used to the open air and being constantly on the move. This being stuck in one place was too depressing, Roarke thought to himself.

He was just about to make a move to leave when he saw his sister sitting on the throne that Raith had sat in. All by herself. The blue silk of her gown and the golden blonde curls that framed her face flowed in the breeze as she peered out across the playing field.

His brows drew together. He had not missed that scene between Raith and Rydell as he sat on horse back waiting for the joust to begin. Roarke did not like it. Not one bit. It wasn't right. Rydell did not see that what she desired could not be. Raith would eventually come to that conclusion but Roarke knew his sister would never accept it. He would have to do something . . . Soon.

“Sister.” Roarke greeted as he came to a stop before her. “Come, walk with me.”

“I don't feel like walking and burning under this unbearable sun.” She replied.

“It wasn't a request.”

Their eyes locked in a silent battle for a long moment.

Roarke would not relent.

Argh! Fine!” Rydell spat throwing her hands up in defeat as Roarke smirked.

“I knew you'd see things my way sis.” He commented as he slipped her arm through his and led her out of the box.

“Where are we going anyway?” She questioned haughtily.

“To see a friend of mine.” Roarke answered simply.

“That's funny. I didn't think you had any friends.” Rydell commented; satire lacing her voice.

“I have more friends then you sis. I assure you. Ah, here we are.” Roarke quickly led his sister up the stairs before she could reply to the truthful remark.

But he couldn't resist a grin at the fear striking scowl she bestowed upon him as he knocked on the door, opened and entered before he was bid.

“Renold!” He greeted jollily as the man approached him. “It has been too long friend.” Roarke smiled as he shook Renold Arryns hand. “May I present my sister, Rydell Lannister.”

Rydell did not appear in the least bit impressed as she gave the slightest nod of her head in greeting. Not even bothering to smile let alone curtsy as a well bred young Lady should.

She took haughtiness to a new level thought Roarke displeased at his sisters manners as he turned his attention back to Renold Arryn.

A good man, Renold.