The heat was unbearable. She could feel her cheeks turning a flush pink. She hated Essos! All of it, as far as Rydell Lannister was concerned could be swallowed up by the sea and she would not care less.
Unfortunately, it was unlikely to ever happen, much to her disgruntlement. She could not understand why anyone would want to come to this barren land run wild by heathens. And now to be taken from the dignity of her seat where she sat happily brooding – well as happily as one could be here – and dragged across the hot molten sand to be gawked at like a prize mare!
There was a time of course when she had enjoyed all their attentions. All eyes on her but of late it was beginning to grate on her nerves,
severely.
Nothing was going her way!
She stood stoic and indifferent; ignoring the men staring at her as her brother and Renold Arryn talked. Until Renold thought it wise to introduce his siblings to her.
Gideon, Addam and
Rylond. Rydell had no interest in any of them. In fact, she did not even spare them a glance. And of course there was that Lady Gyatha Arryn who put on false airs. Well, Rydell thought, if the woman did not acknowledge her she would not in turn return the favour. Who did she think she was?!? To ignore her, Rydell Lannister, who was no doubt her social better. Of all the insults-
Rydell, started in surprise as Lord Arryn pounced from his Throne as gracefully as a Leopard to retrieve her hand and place a delicate kiss atop her fair hand. And for the first time since Rydell had landed on Essos she found herself slightly amused.
This Lord Arryn showed no qualms at having broken all the rules of etiquette between a man and a woman of gentle breeding as he first touched her by taking her hand and then having the audacity to go further and kiss it peering up at her with a devil may care look plastered to his dark features.
“It is such a pleasure to meet yet another Lannister.” He said to her. “Especially a lovely one such as you.” He gave a sly grin and stood straight up again. “I knew the Lannister’s came in many forms but not in the forms of angels.”
Rydell's face showed no outwards signs of emotion. Although, internally, she had to admit she was smiling entertained. She was not as naive as to be taken in by his flattery. However, his words amused her more then his actions previously.
She pulled her hand out of his grasp.
It was then a Soldier rushed into the box and beseeched his Lord in an urgent matter. Rydell watched, intrigued as Rylond Arryn swept the matter over to be taken care by his brother Gideon who not at all happy went to do his brothers bidding.
There was something about the authority Rylond Arryn commanded that Rydell could not help but admire. The same as Raith's. Maybe it was a trait all the Lord's possessed. But then she doubted it.
“Would those many forms be demons?” Rydell suddenly spoke for the first time. “I must admit it is rather novel.” She went on with a small smile. “To hear praise for a Lannister from an Arryn's lips. I remember the stories of a time when Arryn's wished many a Lannister's head on a platter . . .
or a spike.”
“Forgive my sister,” Roarke interrupted, his eyes as sharp as his words as he glared at Rydell. “She does not know how to let bygones be bygones.”
She took no notice.
If he wanted to drag her along here. He must suffer the consequences of his actions.
“And my brother seems to forget his allegiances.” She replied serenely, completely unperturbed.
“My allegiance lies to my heart first and foremost.” Her brother answered vexation taxing his voice.
“Ah, now I'm sure Lord Arryn would disagree with you. Your allegiance should be to your family first. Do you not agree, my Lord?” Rydell questioned, raising enticing eyes to peer at the dark features of Rylond Arryn.
It was then that another Solider entered the Arryn box without so much as knocking. Bowing he informed all of what was going on out there. With supposed Dragon's and Dothraki heathens. There were no more Dragons. Rydell wanted to say to the foolish Soldier but kept quiet instead as he bowed once more and exited to post sentry outside with the rest of the guards surrounding the box.
“Well, sister.” Roarke abruptly spoke up moving towards the door the Soldier had just exited through. “I think I shall take your advice and see to the family's welfare. Lord Arryn,” He said suddenly turning to Rylond. “You don't mind entertaining my dear sister for a short time, do you? My many thanks.”
“Wait!” Rydell called, realising what he meant. “You cannot leave me here with these-”
But he had already slipped out the door. Damn him!
“
People.” The word was barely a whisper on her lips and she turned around to peer at the Arryn's a little dumbfounded.
However, the mystified look disappeared as quickly as it had appeared. The sight far across the distance struck out as an opportunity that could not be missed.
Over Rylond Arryn's shoulder, Rydell could see Raith staring out across at the Arryn's box. She was certain that his knuckles were turning an ashen white from his incredibly hard grip on the wooden panelling, although she was too far away to see, but she was certain.
She was tired of waiting for Raith. It was a game they played. She would give a little. He would give a little. She would hold out and he would hold out. They were both tactful players.
But it occurred to Rydell that if the pieces on the chessboard were moving backwards and forwards and she still wasn't getting anywhere . . . Then it was a game she was losing . . . And Rydell Lannister did not lose. It was time she spurred her Knight into action. By hook or crook.
An angelic smile touched her full lips.
“I'm in debt to your hospitality, my sweet Lord.” Rydell allured, brushing her hand across his finely adorned chest – more then a little surprised by the hardness that met her hand as she swept past him; and took the seat on the left to the Throne.
The heat that affected most did not penetrate his all black vestures. He was always cold. It seemed this man was forever shrouded in the shadows. In fact he preferred the shadows. The cover they provided was priceless. A man could do many things from beneath the covers of darkness.
A man like Aric Lannister . . .“What. Is she doing there?” Raith questioned, his voice low yet sharp as he continued to look out across the pit, his eyes locked on a form dressed in light blue when the door to the Lannister box opened and closed in quick succession.
“Who is where?” Roarke replied innocently unperturbed by the cold voice that many would have shaken in fear to as he entered to see his cousins back.
“How dare you!” Raith roared as he turned blazing eyes on his cousin.
This was what they're relationship was like. One moment as thick as thieves and the next two enemies stood at opposite ends of the vanguard.
“How dare I what? Introduce her to my friends?” Roarke answered calmly. “She's my sister.”
“She's my-”
“Your what?” Roarke prodded, his handsome features as emotionless as Rydell's just earlier with the Arryn's.
Aric watched the scene play out before him with the eyes of a cat. He stood in a corner of the now rather quiet box. No one had noticed when he had arrived. He was as quiet and deadly as a wind blown storm. At least, that's what they said about him.
He silently applauded Roarke. For once he showed signs of the Lannister cunning. Besides his undeniable good looks and the Lannister blonde manes, Aric often wondered whether the boy was truly Lannister. He was too kind by a half. But then again he was Ivan's boy.
Aric watched his two nephews with an intelligent indifference.
“Cousin. She's your cousin. I'll remind you
cousin seeing as you seem to forget it so often.”
When Raith just glowered and growled low in his throat with barely contained rage; Roarke pressed on.
“I think it would be a fine match. Indeed.” He added moving forward a smile playing on his lips. “It is time, as father says, that Rydell find a
decent husband.”
“Enough!” Aric interceded stepping out of the shadows when he felt the tension between the two boys reach breaking point.
“Uncle.” Roarke greeted with a gallant bow.
“The Arryn's are not good enough for her!” Raith continued on furiously, in the full swing of his violent temper. Little could control it.
“Then who is? . . .” Roarke questioned calmly, with a stronger leash on his anger. “You?” He dared to venture.
Aric, for the first time felt something of awe looking upon his younger nephew. He always knew of the defiance Roarke showed towards Raith. But never had the man been quite sure of Roarke's Lannister spirit until this very moment.
Two Lions, Aric mused with a bemused internal smirk, baring their teeth.
“Ah, but that cannot be can it?” Roarke smirked.
“Enough! I said.” Aric boomed. His arm the sole thing standing between Raith's lunge and Roarke. “That. Is. Quite Enough.”
There was no time for such folly now.
“Roarke. Go join your father and Lord Wyekham with the Guardsmen.” Aric commanded.
It hadn't been long since the Stark bitches had arrived back from their wonderings that the whole tourney had been informed of the arrival of the Dothraki . . . and . . .
The Targaryens.
Foolish Dogs of the North! Aric Lannister tried not to spit. Yes, only a foolish Stark would rouse chaos and anarchy amongst all. Instead of informing the important people of all the important Households, they had allowed for
all that were present to know. It became almost impossible to organise people in a state of hysterics. And that's what the spectators of the Jousting had become. Hysteric. Though, the jousting continued at Aric's instructions. No need to frighten the fools more than they already were.
“We are to stand together with the other families against the Dragons?” Roarke asked.
“Don't be a fool boy!” Aric spat.
“The men are at the ready but they shall stand down,
indefinitely.” Raith interceded having found a modicum of calm. “Let the other's lose their men in their stupidity thinking they can defeat fire breathing Dragons and a clan of naked heathens who number more then double all of us here. Let them do our work for us.”
Aric's lips curled up at the corner. And this is why he put so much effort into this nephew.
Roarke frowned.
“Go to your father.” Aric commanded again.
It was as Roarke left that Aric felt eyes on him. He turned his head slowly to peer behind him to find Keeleb Storm standing in a far corner with crossed arms peering at him with eyes filled with . . .
something. Eyes that disturbed Aric Lannister.
“You too Storm. Be gone.”
Storm gazed held Aric's for a long moment before he departed not saying a single word.
“The Targaryens must be dealt with.” Raith's words brought Aric back from the wake of Keeleb Storm's knowing gaze.
“Delicately, nephew. Delicately.”
“They are half-breed's now. Nothing more then mongrels. And mongrels must be irradiated before they affect the populace.”
Aric smiled at the thought of irradiation and bloodshed. Blood of Targaryens. How sweet it would taste. But now was not the time to get lost in the fantasy of the wicked warm substance. Yet, he could feel it glide across his tongue and trickle down his throat. He swallowed hard.
“But powerful mongrels.” He managed to add. “A knife should come with a smile nephew.”
Both men stood in silence for sometime as heat floated on the air in actual physical waves.
“The Arryn's are not good enough to be joined with the name Lannister.” Raith's casual but deeply emotive sentence brought Aric back from the dark reverie lulled by the thought of the life giving liquid that filled his dreams.
Aric said naught for a long time. He was beginning to realise that Roarke's words held more truth then Aric had first given them credence.
'Then who is?' . . . Good enough for Rydell . . .
'You' . . . Raith Lannister.
It would put a sword in all of his great plans for the boy, Aric thought. He must bite this infatuation in the bud. It could not be . . . for many reasons. Family the least of them.
Aric's eyes followed his nephews insistent gaze across to the Arryn's box to his niece. For a moment his unmoving heart began to beat frantically. For a moment he was pulled back to that night all those years ago. Of merriment, claret, dancing and laughing.
So much. So much she resembled that long dead mother of hers . . . And he could all but understand his nephews desires.
“The Arryn's are as good as any.” Aric suddenly said with a curtness he rarely used with this nephew. “Alliances are bought, dear nephew. Not by coin but by blood. Everything and
everyone at your disposal you must use to get what you want . . . And if I have taught you anything Raith and if you are to remember anything, then remember this my boy. Nobody, owes you
anything because of your noble blood . . .”