[color=gold][b]The Royal Pavilion, the Band of Seven parting ways[/b][/color]
Ser Aerion patiently waited for Lady Visenya to address all the others in attendance. She had a commanding aura about her. Her voice and tone, it commanded respect, all the while projecting an alluring sense of beauty, perhaps in the same way the roar of a dragon is terrifyingly beautiful. She chose to address a hedge knight first, one whose shield had five black towers within a red and black double tressure, on a white field. The man was interested in competing in the lists, and Lady Visenya enlightened him on a few recent openings within the competitor’s pool, which seemed to be good news for the hedge knight. 
Aerion found the way Visenya smiled to be oddly peaceful, perhaps reminding him of the way a sun rises after a violent storm in the Stepstones. Lady Visenya spoke to Ser Towers, [color=purple]"Certainly, ser. There are hundreds of competitors and we can find room for another, especially one who has won the king's favor. But if you wish, you may also enter the lists again if you like. A knight was injured in a duel over a maiden's favor and his spot is currently unoccupied. Another was found dreadfully drunk and could not mount his horse. It would be a trivial matter to arrange you to fill their places. I saw you ride at these Stepstone curs, and I am certain you would do well. Either way, I shall see to it you have an honored place at tonight's feast. And you may certainly accompany us in our enjoyments." [/color] Finishing with the hedge knight, she turned to the certainly blitzed Bolton, and spoke quickly to him. To Ser Aerion, it seemed that Lady Visenya was not all too thrilled to have to speak to the man, but perhaps it was his own imagination. 

Again, her voice was like a quick sharp wind breaking across the tense terrain of the Stepstones. [color=purple] "No offense taken my Lord. I am a Waters after all, but you are lucky our revered Mistress of Whispers was not in earshot. Regardless, I am confident I can assuage your requests of wine and wenches."[/color] Ser Aerion was sure that the mention to the Mistress of Whispers was a thinly veiled threat. He couldn’t help but respect that, and was once again, at a crossroads once Lady Visenya turned to address him.

Aerion looked at her startling Targaryen and Baratheon features, both bloodlines clashing to create a startlingly beautiful woman. He smiled sheepishly when she spoke to him, as she made a point of not standing formality, but Ser Aerion could not deny that no matter how much she would tell him not to, he would continue to do so. The amusement across Lady Visenya’s face almost caused Ser Aerion to break his composure, as she spoke. [color=purple] "There is no need to stand on formality ser. I am what I am, you may simply call me Visenya if you wish. But I thank you. I shall escort you to the stands. My royal cousins and many high lords and noble ladies are seated there. They will no doubt be charmed by you. Afterwards I will find your friends their amusements."[/color] As she finished speaking, Ser Aerion bowed deeply before her and retorted back in a most regal and formal manner.

“Your Highness, Princess Visenya, I will do my best to remember that you wish to be anything other than a noble woman and lady.” He smiled cheekily, and then allowed Lady Visenya to lead the way to the lists and his destination.  

[color=Tomato][b]Medical Pavilion, Royal Wedding Tournament of Prince Aemon and Princess Julianna[/b][/color]

Lady Cerenna laughed softly as she patched up her compatriots. And while she had no doubt done this hundreds of times before, these grown men still griped like little children when it came time to bandage up wounds and hurts. Her caramel colored hair was tied back behind her ears, whilst her gold-green eyes carefully closed the gash on Ser Uther’s right arm. Cerenna’s hands worked expertly, using the gut and needle provided by the medical staff. She thought to herself that the gear here was far inferior to her own, as she would have used silk and a steel needle, rather than an iron one, but she did what she could with the supplies on hand. Ser Uther let out a yelp, breaking Lady Cerenna from her reverie. 

“Can’t you be careful… that bloody hurts Cere…” Ser Uther whined. He looked at her with his solid dark brown eyes, almost begging her to stop. For such a big man, and one who was a trained soldier and knight, he had almost no tolerance to the pain of medical care after battle. His armor lay on the table next to him, still splattered in blood and grime from the fight. His helmet had an eagle upon its crest, shined to a bright golden-red. He grimaced once again, as Cerenna moved to finish stiching him up.

“For such a fierce knight, you’re a real big softy, you know that? But… I will keep it our little secret, less the women find out, and you will be flooded with suitors who wish to be with you, Ser Uther of House Tattershall.” Smiling as she spoke, Cerenna moved away, setting down the gut and hook and moving to grab nice clean linen bandages. At least they were clean, if not freshly laundered. Though, as she moved back, she stiffened up with embarrassment when Ser Uther and Ser Oswell responded back at her with smiles on both their faces. 

“You are certainly one to talk, Lady Cerenna.” Ser Oswell chided, looking at Ser Uther with a sly grin. “Yes, did you see your face when our proud Aerion almost took that blade to his chest?” Ser Uther spoke up, grimacing as Cerenna placed the linen bandages about his body. She looked up, already starting to blush, when Ser Oswell spoke again. “Or perhaps how your face was when the Lady Visenya looked at proud Ser Aerion, oh how she found him to look rather attractive. She even smiled at him…” Both men now laughing boisterously, and then trying to apologize whilst laughing at the same time as Lady Cerenna stormed out. 

“Pig headed children, the both of you…” Her face flush with embarrassment, her hands clenched in tight fists as she headed outside. Cerenna promptly sat down on a bench outside, taking all the time in the world that she needed to calm down. ‘Childish asses, the both. So what if I like Ser Aerion… he is a great man, and a honorable man.’ She thought to herself. Cerenna looked down at her feet, fighting back tears at this moment. ‘He certainly has never made any advances towards me though… never shown any interest… but maybe that is because he is such a noble gentleman, a knight without equal. I… I just wish there was a way I could know if he had feelings for me, as I have for him. Damn both of those men, making me seem like some foolish little girl, startled by her crush in the hallway. If only things were so simple.’ Cerenna unconsciously was playing with her hair, twirling it about, and braiding it to boot. 

She finally looked up to see Ser Uther and Ser Oswell standing before her. The two men certainly seemed apologetic, looking at her with concern. A long tense moment passed before Ser Oswell finally spoke. “Lady Cerenna, it is not right for us to speak to you in such a way. It was rude and uncouth of us, let alone very knightly. We… we just can tell you like Ser Aerion. All of us can, except perhaps Aerion himself. He is a good man, an honorable man. We care for you as a sister, your brother having saved us many a time, and you having made sure we always can get back into the fight. If you want, we can go talk to him… I am sure that…” Ser Oswell was cut off as Cerenna quickly stood up, a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance across her face. 

“Don’t you dare… don’t tell Aerion… I… I couldn’t let such a thing distract him… no, please, don’t tell him, just let it be for right now. He has so much on his plate right now, having to worry about all of us, making sure we all get our homes back, our lives back. Please… Ser Oswell, Ser Uther, just keep this between us. For now, at least.” She spoke softly, in a tone that pleaded acceptance from the two men. She looked them both over with her gold-green eyes, trying to smooth her dress out.

“As you command my lady. We will keep quiet.” Both knights responded in unison. The three would head back into the tent, to continue patching up the two knights, and then see to cleaning the armor and arms, before they would even begin to make their way to another location. 

[color=red][b]The Stands of Honor, Royal Jousting Lists[/b][/color]

Ser Aerion followed Lady Visenya to the stands… and was the sight something to behold. The numberless banners, the bright vibrant colors, the sigils, they went on for hundreds of yards, knights and lords, hedge knights and even squires, all trying to make a name for themselves. But, the greatest thing about this gathering, was the central stands, the places of honor, for the greatest of the Lords and Ladies. Those men and women who held great power and influence, and could change Aerion’s and his friend’s fortunes. He took a deep breath, composing himself for the endless formality to come. 

Lady Visenya led the party to the stairs leading to the stands themselves. Aerion’s friends smiled and nodded, patiently waiting for him and Lady Visenya to complete their business, before going onwards to their own destination. He waved at them, mouthing to them, ‘Have fun.’ Before winking. Aerion turned back around, to watch Lady Visenya lead the way up the stairs. He took a few looks at her form, before composing himself, and looking onward, it’d do no go to look like some greasy lecher. As Aerion cleared the final steps, the attendees came into view. Lady Visenya was greeted by the Kingsguard, such formidable knights of renown. They inclined their heads to her and her charge, Ser Aerion. 

Their white and gold armor was impressive, and these knights were far more honorable and renowned than many in the order’s recent past. Past them, and on the royal dais, sat Queen Daenerys Targaryen herself, the Stormborn. Even twenty years his senior, she was a sight to behold. Gathered about her were her loyal cadre of guards and retinues. Close by was Princess Arianne Martell and Ser Aegon, the famed rulers of Dorne. The newlyweds Prince Aemon and Princess Julianna sat happily conversing to one another, and certainly looked the lovely pair. Aerion scanned the nearby nobility around the dais, noticing the Highlords of all the realm. The Starks, Tyrells, Lannisters, Tullys, and Arryns, with the only powerful family missing being the Greyjoys… though who could blame them. They followers of the Drowned God seldom bothered themselves with these types of events. No doubt they were around, but probably with the more common folk and their type of fun.

Aerion stole a glance to the jousting fields, suppressing a laugh and a smile. He thought little of those who partook in the merriment of jousting, as skill here seldom carried to the battlefield. A big man on a big horse could easily be taken down by an untrained farmer with a pitch fork, let alone skilled men at arms or archers. The sound of a shattered shield reminded him of a particullary bloody campaign on one of the Stepstone isles. He’d seen proud knights fall off their horses and drown in the mud, armored men being pulled from their mounts, and knifed to death by angry farmers, fishermen, and pirates… he shook his head and looked back to Lady Visenya, studying her once more. 

He watched as a stunningly beautiful Tyrell maiden was approached by a pair of Targaryens. He listened in to their conversation, and rolled his eyes at the male. He certainly had a decent charm to him, but it was too… contrived and overused, and certainly had an ingrating feel to it for Aerion. He’d seen his type too much during his travels, in taverns, inns, hospitals, anywhere an attractive woman was, there was a man who would use the same old song and dance in the hopes of impressing said woman. Sure, Aerion had thought about such ploys, but to him, they seemed… dishonorable and untrue of the true words that wished to be spoken and heard. But the male had a point, in that the Tyrell, Lady Alerie, was bewitchingly alluring. Ser Aerion looked away, and back to Lady Visenya, who had now led him to the Queen herself.

Lady Visenya spoke softly, indicating towards Prince Viserys. [color=purple] "My cousin may be a braggart, but not without good reason."[/color] Ser Aerion shrugged his shoulders, looking down at the prince and his gaudy armor. He retorted in a hushed tone to Visenya, “Perhaps… but I put stock in those truly tested by war. May he do well if the time ever comes.” Now, finally before the Queen, he bowed deeply, letting himself hold it for the truly proper time, before rising once again. He let Visenya speak her parting words, [color=purple] "You may sit where you like, and approach whomever you wish. Even the Queen, she is the friendly sort. Just take care to keep your hands where the guards can see them. Best of luck Ser Aerion, I have no taste for this game myself. I shall find more simple pleasures."[/color] 

“Lady Visenya, your Highness, thank you for taking the time to do this. Even if you were asked to, I am still grateful for the help in this. You have been a kind host, and perhaps you would honor me with a drink or two, and share stories of our travels. Peace be with you, your Highness.” Ser Aerion bowed low, smiling as he did so. She was an honorable and honest woman, and who could blame her, the air of formality here could be stifling at times. He met her gazes, their eyes exchanging who knew what, before they broke eye contact, and each went about their own specific tasks. Aerion watched Lady Visenya leave, sighing, before turning to begin his task of seeking out a potential patron and learn what afflicted the lands of Westeros, both big and small. 

[color=springgreen][b]The Fairgrounds, a short while later[/b][/color]

Lady Lyvia, Ser Lorimer, and Ser Harwin followed Lady Visenya to the fairgrounds, enjoying small talk along the way. This was a place of merriment and fun, of simpler down to earth entertainment. A pity Ser Aerion and the others could not be here, but such was the cost of one’s duty. Lady Visenya spoke to Lady Lyvia specifically as she pointed to a wrestling ring, comprised solely of men. [color=purple] "The young lords are having their own wrestling tournament. The reigning champion so far is Jeor Mormont, one of the She-Bear's sons."[/color] Lyvia’s dark brown hair hung loosely about her head, coming down to the middle of her back. Her brown eyes brightened with amusement as she tied her hair back, and nodded to her friends and Lady Visenya.

“Reigning champion… ha, just wait till I get in the ring, I will make the pup squeal like a newborn cub. Visenya, don’t let these two half-wits get into too much trouble, I don’t want to have to carry them home again.” She bowed slightly, and then sauntered off, making her way to the ring of wrestlers. It’d been too damn long since she last tussled, and it was certainly time for a good bout of physical prowess. She waved goodbye to Black Visenya, Ser Lorimer, and Ser Harwin, watching them leave, before returning her attention to the wrestlers. 

Of course, without a moments delay, already she heard a few whispers from those in attendance. No one could ever forget the three dogs on a yellow field of House Clegane. ‘It’s the she hound…’ ‘More like the she bitch…’ ‘She bitch? Nah, she’s the she mountain, likes white stuff on her…’ ‘Heard her mother liked big dog cock… no doubt she does too.’ Lyvia ignored them, they were cowards, saying it away from her, hiding behind others. Though, as usual, there were a few foolhardly bastards who thought they could say what they want. As she slowly took off her armor, setting it aside so that she could wrestle, three particularly dumb idiots made a point to approach her.

“Clegane bitch… what are you doing showing your face around here?” Said a House Haigh knight. He had a shit eating grin, as he sauntered closer. Beside him stood a House Darry knight, sneering as well. “As the Pitchfork man said, bitch, what are you doing here? You lost… a lost puppy?” He laughed, before being joined in by a third knight, a man sworn to House Mallister. “Daughter to the fuckin Mountain himself… must have had a real whore of a mother to lay with that beast… though maybe she liked big ol’ dog cock…” He laughed, looking to his friends, jeering each other on. Lady Lyvia set her sword down on top of the rest of her gear, clenching her hands, before turning around to face them.

The Haigh knight was a small vile looking man, and she smiled at them all. The Darry knight was middle aged man, and the Mallister was by the looks a newly minted knight. ‘Fools, all of them,’ she thought, as Lyvia went through a series of stretches. She’d ignore them, Lyvia told herself, it wasn’t worth it. They were but small men trying to pick a fight, to make themselves look good by attacking Lyvia’s family and heritage. 

“Did you hear me bitch… you aint welcome here. No whores sired by the Clegane filth are welcome here. You don’t have that bitch Cersei to protect you anymore…” The Haigh knight said, stepping right up in Lyvia’s face. She continued to ignore him, as she leaned down to stretch. The Mallister and Darry knights laughed, getting closer, baiting off of one another. “Whore… that’s what your mother was.” “Bet she enjoyed it… a mountains worth of girth.” The Haigh knight joined in, “I bet your mother would have sex with us… wouldn’t she boys?” He laughed, running his hand through Lyvia’s hair. “A pretty thing you are… being sired by a monster and a whore… bet you’re a whore too. How about it she bitch… wanna ride me and my friends?” The Haigh knight  propositioned. 

She stood back up, glaring at all the men. “Don’t you have something better to do? Leave me be, I want no part of your uncouth games. Act like knights.” She returned to her stretching, doing all she could to ignore them. Lyvia was one who would not stand for insulting her mother, Layna of the Goldroad. Her mother was a young girl, a brewer’s daughter who had been brutally raped by Ser Gregor… and lead to her own birth. When her mother went to the lands of House Clegane to find her rapist… he was dead, having fallen in combat against the Red Viper, Oberyn Martell. To make matters worse, the remaining Mountains Men, ran her mother off after having their way with her. So no, her mother was not a whore.

These three were not wise men though, and they continued, much to their own doom. The Haigh spoke up again, his beady eyes practically undressing Lyvia as he spoke. “Come now whore, a daughter of a who…” Was all he could say before a closed fist connected with his face. The Haigh knight crumpled down to the ground, blood oozing from his mouth. Lyvia turned to catch a punch from the Mallister knight, before elbowing him in the throat, and then stomping with all her might on his left knee, hearing the satisfying break in it as he screamed in pain, falling to the ground. “Feckin whore… I am going to make you pay…” The Tully knight snarled, moving in to grapple with Lyvia. 

He grabbed her, fighting against her rather surprising strength. She was no Brienne of Tarth, but Lyvia could certainly outmatch many a man. By now, a new ring of folks were gathering around the fight, to include a few more hungry for vengeance against House Clegane. Another two men ran in, a House Charlton knight and a House Piper knight, trying to help the Darry knight subdue Lyvia. Foolishly, they did not expect what was to come next. Lady Lyvia jumped upwards, lifting the Darry knight with her, and savagely kicked both the Piper and Charlton knights in the chest as she fell upon the Darry knight. She heard a dulled crack, and capitalized upon it. As the Darry knight gasped for air, she slammed her right elbow into his ribs, hearing the final breaking of those ribs. Fighting to get up, she took on the House Charlton and House Piper knights as they scrambled to get up. 

“MY MOTHER WAS NOT A WHORE!!!!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. Her fists connected one after another as she would pummel the closest opponent to her. He cried out, his face a bloody mess, as she turned to face another three men. The Haigh, and this time, a Wylde and a Mallery. “Shut that whore’s mouth up… she is a Clegane… a whor…” the Haigh knight tried to speak as he was rising to stand. A swift kick to his face not only silence him, it broke his jaw. Just then, Lyvia was tackled to the ground by the other three men. There they fought, much to the amusement of the onlookers. They shouted and jeered, laughing as each man who tried to face Lyvia ended up knocked out cold. The last one to finally be defeated was none other than the late Beric Dondarrion’s son, Harmen Dondarrion. 

Young Harmen fought like a man possessed, and not without good reason. Lady Lyvia’s father had killed Lord Beric twice during the war of the Five Kings. He said no words, not caring to insult Lyvia, he simply wanted to defeat her, before everyone to see. She was tired by now, with small cuts and scrapes across her face and hands. She spat blood out onto the ground, and fought with all her pent up furry as well. ‘Let them all see… let the whole bloody world see.’ She thought, as her and young Harmen Dondarrion battle one another. House Clegane may have had a dark past, with evil men at its head, but she was not those men, nor was she going to lay down and let these men insult her mother.

Both combatants fought with a fury perhaps unseen for many years, but when the dust had settled, Lady Lyvia was standing tall, breathing heaving and with her right eye swollen shut. She spat blood onto Harmen Dondarrion’s tabard, before falling backwards, utterly exhausted. Rather than falling to the ground, she was caught by none other than the champion himself, Jeor Mormont. He moved in and held up his right hand, putting a stop to anymore senseless violence. His friends quickly mopped up the fallen idiots, helping them to their own friends to be carried off to the medical pavilion. Lyvia looked up and smiled a bloody grin, “I showed them… a pity, since I won’t be able to fight you now.” Jeor chuckled, shaking his head, before personally escorting Lyvia to the medical pavilion, with his squire it tow carrying Lady Lyvia’s gear. 

‘Serves those bastards right for calling my mother a whore. I hope they all rot in hell. Damn… Aerion is going to be pissed as hell though. Screw it, he will understand, and will no doubt personally seek redress for those idiots actions… too bad he couldn’t of seen me, he would of laughed and been so proud. Those purple eyes of his… so dreamy.’ Lyvia closed her eyes, nursing a pulsing headache. Her thoughts were muddled, and she would quickly push away her feelings for Aerion. Better to focus on walking and not falling, then to daydream about a noble man. She laughed, too quiet for anyone to hear, when she thought about the stern lecture she was going to get from Cerenna…

[color=pink][b]At another part of the Fairgrounds… the Silk-House and the Winesink[/b][/color]

Ser Lorimer and Ser Harwin looked at one another, and then back to Visenya, as she said something that certainly made their day. After seeing the scores of beautiful scantily clad women, ranging from the far-flung corners of the realm and beyond, they were excited to choose their preferred woman. Both knights smiled giddily as Black Visenya beckoned a thin lithe man over and spoke to him, gesturing to Ser Lorimer and Ser Harwin behind her. [color=purple] "Bird, my friends are looking for entertainment. On me."[/color] The thin man took the coin Black Visenya offered him, before assembling quite the plethora of women to choose from. Ser Lorimer and Ser Harwin were busily figuring out who they would take with them, when Black Visenya spoke again. 

[color=purple] "Pick whichever one, or two, whomever you like. Then I'll take you to my favorite winesink."[/color] She must have smiled when she said that, but Ser Harwin paid no mind, choosing a pair of red-headed women, while Ser Lorimer chose only one youthful looking blonde with green eyes… perhaps a spitting image of a young Cersei Lannister, if anyone dared to say so. Both knights quickly followed Visenya, stopping to let their “partners” put some suitable clothes on. Ser Harwin laughed, looking at Ser Lorimer as he helped his chosen concubine into a stunning red gown. “Ever the noble lord, eh Ser Lorimer.” Harwin laughed, and hurried his two ladies out the tent flaps. 

Ser Lorimer stopped his choice, and spoke to her for a moment. “Sorry… But, I wanted to know your name before we go off and have our fun. And, well, if you will forgive me, offer you my friendship for the duration of our time together. Anyhow, the dress looks very suiting on you, it… you look beautiful.” Ser Lorimer finally finished, blushing slightly. “My name is Myrielle Hill, Ser Lorimer… and thank you. I am honored to be spending today with you. Now come, let us go enjoy the day, and I promise you will not regret later tonight.” She leaned in, kissing Lorimer softly on his cheek, before following him out of the tent. Reunited with Ser Harwin, they followed Black Visenya to her favorite Winesink.

Black Visenya would leave them to their own devices, herself moving off to greet a few friends. Ser Harwin would laugh, drink, and eat, enjoying his time with the two red-heads. Ser Lorimer chose a more private corner of the Winesink, enjoying private conversation with Myrielle Hill, the two laughing and jesting, sharing a small game hen and a bottle of wine. Nevertheless, they all cheered when Black Visenya paid for an entire round of drinks for all those within the tent. [color=purple] "Another round on me!"[/color] She was certainly generous, and Ser Lorimer made a mental note to thank her once he got the chance.

[color=gold][b]Ser Aerion, The Stands of Honor, making the rounds[/b][/color]

Ser Aerion had taken the time to properly introduce himself to the Queen, wishing her a long reign and thanking her for her own generosity. He wished the newlyweds a joyous marriage, full of love and healthy children. Now having finished the important matters of protocol, he made his way to begin talking to the Highlords of the realm, to see what favor he may be able to gain, to learn how a man like him could find a place to fit in here in Westeros. He would approach Lord Arryn first, politely introducing himself, and seeing if there were any troubles in the Vale, nothing too pushy or prying, but rather if there were any contracts out that could be taken. Aerion would say his thanks, bowing before the Lord Arryn, before moving on. 

Lord Stark was next, followed by Lord Tully, Lord Baratheon, Lady Martell, then Lord Lannister. Each conversation was the same. Introductions, well wishes, small talk, inquiries into any troubles, bandits, missing townsfolk, witches, the usual things that could plague a region that an ambitious knight could perhaps solve. Ser Aerion was all formality and respect, knowing that he was but a knight, and all those that he spoke to were Lords and Ladies, or their children. When he could, he would ask about the state of any unclaimed lands, usually along the lines that such areas could be havens for bandits and other criminal scum, though to be honest, because such unoccupied settlements and fortifications could one day become a home that he so longed for. A true home for House Goldfyre. Still, Aerion continued with his duties, allowing those he spoke to be left alone once they signaled that they were done with the conversation. At long last, he made his way over to Lord Tyrell, and joined him in conversation.