[center][h1][color=256F5C]Lucan Gully[/color][/h1]
[img]https://31.media.tumblr.com/bcd5c907444660086a0ae44b8d7c072e/tumblr_inline_nq1yhz8GKa1tpfg2f_500.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=256F5C][b]Location:[/b][/color]His Room -> Outside the Princess' Room[/center][hr]

Lucan had grown used to life in the capital, and more or less to the company of the Ainsworth family. He spent so much time among them that it would have been impossible for him not to. Fitted into his armour properly, he took a moment to look over it. For the most part it was as traditional as any other member of the kingsguard's, golden plate with scale mail, the royal crest on the pauldrons and a golden cloak over the back. The only particular difference was the crown engraved into Lucan's chestplate, the only mark identifying him as the lord-commander. Stepping toward the desk in his room, he picked up the small shark pin, the sigil of the Gully family. 

He did not often demonstrate his allegiance to his house, kingsguard were not supposed to. Though he still believed himself as much a member of the family as any of his siblings, he was in the kingsguard to represent them, and partly to avoid a few of his more regal responsibilities. Reaching up to his neck, he carefully pinned the sigil on his red collar, the golden sigil had been a gift from his father, a parting one when Lucan first left for the kingsguard. It had been supposed to remind him who he was, so that he would never forget his true family. With his father, he figured that'd never be possible.

Ensuring the sigil sat neatly on his collar, he reached down again to pick up his sword. Carefully ensuring the sheathe was harnessed to his belt, he look over his sword briefly. It was clean as it'd ever been, sharp as well. The blade itself had been another gift, from the Ainsworth's themselves when he had been appointed as lord-commander. He cherished the blade, although he'd yet to give it a name. Sighing, he slid the blade into his sheathe, moving to the door and heading out. He'd been appointed to serve as the Princess' guard that day, it wasn't uncommon, King Samson liked to ensure that his daughter had the best protection available, and on this day, protection was paramount.

Lucan had grown to have a love-hate relationship with days like this. On one hand, they were dangerous. Feasts required a great deal of security, and the fact that so many people were allowed into the castle so casually meant it was easy for an assassin to slip in unnoticed, all it took was a drop of poison or a quick blade, and that was the end of the royals. On the other hand, he loved the feasts themselves, the feel of the festivities, and particularly the tournament. It disappointed Lucan somewhat that he could not partake, under different circumstances he may have, but this was a special tournament, and the winner would be chosen as the princess' intended. Lucan had forfeited his titles, and his inheritance, he could not represent the house Gully even if he desired to. It was a shame, but Lucan understood his duty.

It was a brief walk through the castle to the Princess' room. He moved to knock, but paused as he heard the handmaiden's speaking on the other side of the door. Lips spreading into an amused smirk as he heard the princess' response, he took a step back from the door and rested his hand idly on the pommel of his blade. He knew better than to interrupt the handmaidens while they dressed the princess, he'd wait patiently until they were done and she was ready to go.

[center][h1][color=AA8839]Arthur Gully[/color][/h1]
[img]http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/36700000/Game-of-Thrones-image-game-of-thrones-36773529-500-250.gif[/img][/center]
[hr][center][color=AA8839][b]Location:[/b][/color] Entering the Castle[/center][hr]

Arthur [i]loathed[/i] events such as this. So many took these events as an opportunity to grovel, to suck up to the high-born and the royals in an attempt to get into their good graces. Not Arthur, Arthur was a Gully, no, he was [i]the Lord Gully[/i]. His displeasure was evident on his face as it usually was. If one were to ask anyone at court what Arthur Gully was like, they'd probably answer with many words starting with "f" - formidable, forbidding, fearsome, and most importantly - frowning. There were few events that could ever bring a smile to Arthur's face, not his children, not his capture of Serpent's Roost so many years ago, and certainly not the princess' birthday.

Arthur was only there for the purpose of the tournament. he didn't care for the other nobles, hardly even for the Ainsworth's. While many of the other houses conversed with each other as they waited, Arthur did no such thing. He stood, a few paces away from any of his guards as they stood around him, cleared space between himself and them as he kept his hands clasped behind his back. He was dressed in a fine crimson tunic, his golden shark sigil pinned over his heart as he kept his head turned upward, glancing over the other nobility as his children conversed.

He was looking for his son, Ithobal. Arthur had only been graced with two sons. Well, only two he held any remote care for, unfortunately in Arthur's eyes, neither son held anywhere near the amount of care for their family that he himself had. His eldest, Lucan, whom he figured was best fit for the tournament, could not compete due to the fact he'd renounced his claim as heir, and joined the kingsguard. And so, Arthur had to rely on his second son Ithobal, who seemed in Arthur's mind to have far greater an interest in sailing and peddling wares like a common merchant, rather than being the lord he should have been.

He could not see Ithobal, no doubt the boy was late, but he did see Tybalt, his nephew. Out of all the men in his family, Tybalt held perhaps the least contempt from Arthur, if either of his own sons had half the sense of duty that Tybalt did, he'd have secured a thousand-year dynasty by now. [color=AA8839][b]"Tybalt."[/b][/color] Arthur greeted his nephew plainly as he approached and began to speak. He shook his head to the man's query. [color=AA8839][b]"Unfortunately, I am aware that he is my heir, and no, I have not seen him."[/b][/color] He shifted his gaze past Tybalt again, drifting his gaze back to the crowd in the vain hope that he would see his boy come up the path.

Nodding his head to Tybalt, he cleared his throat. If worse came to worst, he'd have Tybalt fight, he might not have been his son but he was a Gully, and the name Gully was all that mattered. Arthur turned, and began to move toward the entrance of the castle, that was until he heard the voice of his son behind him. Stopping where he was, he turned to Ithobal, what had been an average frown on his face before had shifted, far more critical and loathsome now. [color=AA8839][b]"Ithobal, so good of you to make it."[/b][/color] While the words were kind, the tone carried a great deal of weight, and his meaning was clear - [i]you're late.[/i]

Shifting his gaze to the other men Ithobal was with, he sized them up. He figured they were members of Ithobal's crew, and he at least appreciated that the boy had not shown up with men looking like cheap sellswords, or worse, pirates. [color=AA8839][b]"Your mother and sister were speaking with some of the Moors, last I saw, they will meet us inside."[/b][/color] He spoke plainly, turning about once more and moving in through the gate properly, he hoped at the very least that things would go smoothly, and that there would be no more disappointments in the day.