Member
sly13
Interactions: Leyla Tyrell & Ryon Dayne
Mentions: Oak | Garrett Tyrell | Lady Dyanna | Ashton Hightower | Loreon Lannister | Redwynes
Mentions: Oak | Garrett Tyrell | Lady Dyanna | Ashton Hightower | Loreon Lannister | Redwynes
The gardens of Summerhall were like none she had ever seen before. Smaller than the ones that flourished about her home but styled after the Dornish water gardens, they were undeniably beautiful. Leyla had wept after she was told of the marriage but eventually she had forced herself to take one step after another, to leave the tent, to not go running after Garrett. It would not do to make a scene and that had never been her way. And somehow she had found herself here, sitting on a low wall, the pleats of her dress lying softly against the skin of her thighs and calves. The clear water next to her lay still, every now and then a passing breeze causing ripples to flow across its surface. It was peaceful. Surprising given how near the tents and crowds were. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend she was back home. In the days when she would sit atop her fathers knee, pointing out every flower and animal and tree that she saw.
Her brother's words passed through her mind, frustration and anguish gripping her heart. She was mad at Garrett for his heartlessness, mad at her grandmother for allowing him to be so, even mad at Leyton for leaving her to face this alone. A tear fell, warm against her flushed cheeks. She brushed it away. How desperately her heart hurt for her house. How desperately she feared marriage. If a boy had been so unkind to her...what could a man do? Looking down, she suddenly became aware of pain in the palms of her hands. She willed herself to loosen her grip, small wells of blood appearing where her fingernails had dug into her skin. No good. It was a habit that started after her father died but she'd thought it had stopped. Wincing, she leaned over to cup some water in her hands, managing to wash off the worst of it. You must stop this Leyla. After a while and ignoring the sting of the open wounds, she stood up. She had come here to calm herself not weep tears like a small child. She would not be so weak.
Leyla still wore the daisy crown Oak had made for her and she brought a hand to it with a small smile as she began to walk the gardens. The bard was a brother to her in all but name and she as much wished to protect him as she did the rest of her family. Hopefully he would watch out for Garrett. Pondering on this, she walked by flowers of such brilliant colors and scents that she couldn't help but stop by each one. There stood near the center a pomegranate tree, flowers fragile and of the brightest red, its scent sweetly delicate. She stood for a moment, looking up at its limbs stretching towards the sun, wondering about its slow but peaceful life.
Ryon had hoped that sparring would release the tension he had felt building since that conversation with his squire. He had yet to decide what exactly to do about it. His time in the practice field had given him no clarity, only sore muscles. He had only grim choices. Though Maekar would surely not be surprised that noble houses were hedging their bets - damnable Aegon had all but ensured it - it was something else entirely to approach Ryon in such a way. He had no desire to trouble Dyanna with his plight, neither did he want to see young Ash drawn further into the conflict. Yet…yet he could not sit on this information much longer without being complicit in some manner.
He was not ready to admit defeat in finding a solution. If violence would not shake loose a plan, perhaps the quiet of the gardens would be of assistance. Ryon had barely paused after his match to splash some water across his face. As he entered the Dornish gardens, his practice tunic still clung to him from sweat, his hair pulled back by a thin leather cord. The gardens were thankfully quiet, he mused as he slowed his gait to appreciate the beauty that grown here. So many people had descended here and yet they largely seemed more inclined to food and drink rather than quiet reflection.
He rounded a corner to briefly lived disappointment at seeing another to disturb his thoughts; a woman, her back turned to him. Ryon chided himself silently for his immediate appreciation of her form and long locks. He paused in the walkway and ran a hand over his chin. He had been silent enough that she had not yet noticed him and for a moment he considered turning back. Yet regardless of the internal chastisement, he found his legs softly carrying him forward.
It was, perhaps, rude of him to sneak up on an unaccompanied woman. Ruder still to reach over her from behind and pluck a flower from the tree she was admiring. It was, however, a more pleasant distraction than the sparring had been and his hesitation melted completely. "I see you already have a crown of flowers, my lady. Allow me to add just one more to it." His lips spread into a disarming smile and though he had drawn close to her, he immediately took a step back to extend the flower to her. As pretty a thing up close as she had been at a distance. "If any accuse you of poaching from a royal palace, please tell them to call for Ryon Dayne to bear witness of your innocence." He gave a small nod by means of introduction.
Leyla instinctively shied away at the sudden intrusion, her eyebrows narrowing into a wary frown. She had thought herself alone. Yet before the shock had even begun to fade, she found it replaced by warm amusement. "My thanks, it is very beautiful." She paused, taking the flower gently in her hand so not as to disturb the thin petals. "You would take the blame for someone you do not know? I think I would feel awful if I let you do such a thing." A smile finally found her lips and she twirled the flowers stem absentmindedly between her fingers. The knight was not known to her personally but by her mothers instruction she had learnt to be well acquainted with all members of the important houses.
Her posture relaxed as she took in the knight, he was undeniably handsome, even in such simple attire. But still, she was unable to feel completely at ease when alone with a man. "I was just admiring the garden here. It is so very different from the ones we have at home..." The failure to introduce herself was not an accidental oversight. She just could not bear to think of her house in this moment, it was easier to pretend she was someone else. Someone with no cares or woes. "But if I may ask, what is the Sword of the Morning doing here? I would think you'd be drinking with your fellow knights. It seems the Redwynes have brought enough wine to happily occupy the entirety of the Stormlands." She questioned, glancing up at him.
Ryon gave a small shrug, a roll of his shoulders as he took to reclining against a small stone hedge along the path. She had not shared who she was, it was not lost on him, but he would not press. She was clearly from one of the noble houses, perhaps one of the endless ladies that had been in and out to see his cousin. A bit strange for one to be alone, his curiosity peaked. “Ah so you know who I am.” He cocked his head with the same easy smile. “Well then you must understand the greater care I take to maintain such a lofty title, aren’t all knights called to defend and protect?”
He leaned back to his side, his weight propped to one arm, his legs kicked out and pulled one over the other in a misguided effort to soothe his muscles that still screamed at him. For all his effort to be smooth in his leisurely repose, he knew he had winced. “Not all of us want to drink with such abandon before a tourney start. Though the Redwynes have certainly lived up to their family name.” His cousins had certainly taken his advice to heart, he’d not be surprised if the duo were sick still. “But I prefer the quiet moments in preparation. And this garden reminds me of home as much as it was built to remind her of home.” He spoke plainly, it was the truth if not the full truth. He leaned his head back to the side again. “Do you need an escort anywhere, or would you like my protection from any others who would intrude on your contemplation?” He spoke softly, he would take no for an answer and be sent on his way, intrigued as he may have found himself.
"I think maybe I am not proper..." Leyla said with a smile, still strolling back and forth, "For I often forget that propriety calls for me to have an escort. I do so enjoy walking alone though." It was difficult to keep still at such times of unease and particularly now with the aching pain in her palms. The wounds would need a balm applying and though it was likely they would have the herbs in their supplies, she did not wish to show the maester. It would be too quick to get back to her grandmother.
"But no, please stay if you are inclined to." Leyla shook her head emphatically, surprised by her own eagerness for him to stay. It was unusual for one of his kind to shun the frivolities that came with such a tournament and she could not help but feel a hint of curiosity. "Now that we are speaking it seems preferable to standing alone. And you do not seem so frightening..." She reflected honestly, clasping her hands behind her back as she finally stopped moving, halting beside the knight. "I feel a distraction from my thoughts would be welcome. And maybe you a distraction from your pain?" The young tyrell noticed how he moved gingerly, not seeming in serious agony but enough to provide discomfort. "Though knights must often be in pain I suppose?"
How curious. Ryon attempted to pull his eyes away from watching the woman, but the combination of certainty, honesty, and concern kept his attention too well. He pat at the ledge next to him for her to join him. “I am only ever too happy to be a distraction.” A quick grin passed his lips, and he leaned forward, “I’ve pushed myself too hard today in vain hopes it would help me make a decision. I’m afraid it failed me in that endeavor, giving nothing but a few new bruises.” He shrugged, preferring to avoid thinking of it for a while longer. “You, though, have already proved to be a balm to the pain. Tell me what is it you seek a distraction from, or perhaps you would prefer wine and gossip? I’ve heard of a knight from Sow’s Horn causing no small amount of scandal among high and low born.”
A soft laugh escaped from her lips. Tempting as it was to gossip and hear of the frivolities of others, Leyla shook her head. "I may have heard of Ser Hoggs exploits. Many a lady seem enamoured by him." She said with a smile. "But as for myself, it is duty, I suppose, which distracts me. I..." Leyla hesitated for a moment before taking a seat beside him, hands resting neatly in her lap. They sat close but she was careful to make sure they did not touch. "I think I am very selfish." Her brows furrowed as she turned to face him, a look of earnest seriousness flashing across her features. "Do you think it is possible to marry someone you do not love and be happy? I have thought about this again and again, and everytime I come to the same conclusion...that the two are incompatible."
Duty, yes everyone had their duty, he thought to himself as his grin softened. She was rather proper and that combined with the sadness in her eyes and voice pulled at him. Had he not had a similar conversation with Dyanna years ago? "My family is large and there are few love matches I can think of in their marriages." It was a hard truth, but lies were a disservice. "Still, many of them found happiness together, in the life their marriage gave them or in their children." Not that he would know, but that was a privilege few would share. "It isn't selfish to want happiness. In Dorne, we just take lovers for that." He chuckled softly, "though that is not viewed so equitably here, is it. A great disservice to you northerners."
His eyes glanced down to where her hands were neatly held in her lap. It was likely nothing she wanted to hear. His cousin had not been happy with such truths either. She had been lucky though. As he fumbled to find some kinder advice, he caught sight of markings on her palms. In a thoughtless moment, he gently grabbed her hand and turned it over in his palm. He softly traced the markings. As if on a delay, his mind caught up to his actions, and he froze, her hand awkwardly cupped in his.
She was stunned by his words and by his actions. A deep blush flared onto her cheeks; this was a kind of closeness that she was unused to. The rough but gentle feel of his palms and fingers was surprisingly pleasant. She couldn't help but wonder how many hours had gone into making them what they were. "I-" Leyla found her own words were lost to her, carried off by the winds to be scattered elsewhere. Perhaps for someone more bold and brave to catch. She felt the tears that she had pushed back drawing once more to her eyes, spilling over and down her cheeks. Her free hand came up to wipe them away, in a manner that was entirely lacking in decorum. It was awful but she could not stop them, could not prevent what was unbidden.
"I'm sorry! I'm certain this was not what you intended when you came here." She finally managed to blurt out, ashamed by her overflowing emotions. She glanced up at him, wondering why he had not fled already. So far she had not been a very good companion at all. It made that well of curiosity ever deeper and she could not help but smile in spite of her tears.
"Though…" She started hesitantly, staring at her own unmoved hand, "I think you are maybe very lucky in Dorne. It seems like such a…a free way to be." The blush came rushing back again as she spoke of things she knew she should not.
You fool. He chastised himself silently as he watched her tears overflow. The poor thing in front of him, how many more were there like her - just tokens bartered by fathers or brothers in exchange for alliances and wealth. It was the way of things and it was unfair; a burden normally carried in silence or perhaps among a woman’s circle of friends. “I chose to intrude on you and then made you cry. I think that makes me the villain here, certainly not you.” He teased lightly, hoping to at least elicit a small grin.
He brought his other hand to cover hers, rough and calloused over her delicate yet broken skin. “It is a freer way of life, perhaps more genuine.” But there were cages still, duty and responsibilities he had no desire for and that he had refused to participate in. “Not for the faint of heart, maybe.” He teased again, though there was truth beneath the jest. Marriages and alliances had not swept away centuries of distrust or wariness, he knew too well. “Would you like to run away to Dorne? Perhaps my cousin, Arron, would strike your fancy. He is of an age to you I think.” He felt his own age at odds with the flights and fancies of a young woman, but the boy would strike a compelling image with her; and he was considerate albeit reckless. “Everyone deserves a bit of young love before having to bear the duty of their family.”
Leyla smiled but shook her head. She found herself disappointed by his offering of a younger brother. That she had expected anything else, or even that, was ridiculous. You truly are hopeless Leyla.. "Thank you but you would not offer me such a thing if you knew my family." She laughed lightly, "I could not hurt my grandmother so. I do love her dearly." She would do anything for her family, she supposed including marrying someone not of her choosing. A Lannister was an extremely good match though she knew little of Loreon himself. Yes, I would do it for them. The young Tyrell paused in thought, absentmindedly brushing away some lingering tears that were beginning to cool on her cheeks. "But we have spoken too much of me and too little of you. May I return your kindness by helping with this decision of yours? If I can at least..."
The knight smiled softly and lifted his hand off of hers to cup her cheek lightly before tucking a tendril of dark hair behind her ear. “You are too sweet, my lady. You must make your family proud.” His caress had been brief and he withdrew his hand quickly. Habits were hard to break, but he couldn’t help but feel it was a friend the girl needed. “My decision…ah. Perhaps not so different from yours.” His smile faltered briefly, there was no way to actually lay his burden at her feet; innocent and eager though she seemed to help. “Not marriage, I’ve avoided that for years.” Ryon gave a short but rough chuckle. “I know what I must do, but it will hurt someone I do not wish to hurt.” His smile broke completely, his lips pressed tight. “I had hoped to think of some other way but it is family and duty before all else, isn’t it?”
"Well…" Leyla pondered quietly, "Yes I do think that's true. Though mine is not really a decision I have much sway over, I am sure you have more say in yours." She frowned at the sudden serious expression that he bore, so different from the lighthearted smiles and graces he had so far donned. "But if you save someone from hurt forever then they are living a life of pretense and I do not think that is of any help to anyone…at least, that's how I see it." She stood, letting out a deep breath as she did. Leyla felt better, still terrified, still unsure, but better nonetheless. The young Tyrell smiled down at Ryon and for the first time in their conversation it managed to reach her eyes. "I will give you my favour in the tourney tomorrow. Whether you want it or not." She jested, "It is the only way I can think of thanking you. That and perhaps my bard can play for you sometime, he is extremely skilled with his fingers."
If only that were true. But Ryon had little say over what to do, he would try to spare the messenger as much as possible. The decision still rested uneasily, but he was resolved with what he would do. The girl had been more of a balm than he had any right to expect. How curious. He met her eyes, her warm smile a crack of sunlight. The knight could not help but to return it. “Only a fool would turn down your favor, and I am no fool, my lady.”
He stood slow, ready to give her a small bow, but it was mention of a bard that caught him. The warm smile turned a wry grin that he tried to smooth away. He felt a surprising heat creep across his cheeks. “Perhaps you can bring him to play for Lady Dyanna and I” Ryon bit back the chuckle that tickled the back of his throat when it was clear that she had stated her bard’s skill with total innocence. “Until the morrow, then.”
