(Collab Vanq & Phoe)

[b]The Silver Fish, the Red Fork, on the way to Gulltown[/b]

Faedric breathed in deeply, letting the subtle tang of salt that seasoned the air fill his nose and mouth. It was a yet another pleasant morning in a long series of pleasant mornings aboard the Silver Fish, in fact for the young lordling they had quite started to blend into an indistinguishable mass. A soft lapping could be heard above the breeze as the hull of the great barge gently eased its way through the brackish water, hardly a barnacle to be found on the immaculately maintained wood.
 
The man noted sourly the tedious pace at which the trees on the banks of the Red Fork meandered by, wishing he could somehow will the sluggish craft into going faster. The Silver Fish was his mother’s boat, a vessel built for leisure rather than practical function and speed, and what should have been a short few days travel from Riverrun to Gulltown had dragged on for more than a week.
 
It had all been by Lady Tully’s design of course. The woman was not known to pass up an opportunity to put distance between herself and her lord husband, and the Tourney at Gulltown provided her with just such a chance. She had made it into a true holiday, stocking the ship with all sorts of delicacies and novelties in preparation for the extended voyage ahead. Faedric was less anxious to be so far away from Riverrun, preferring instead to dwell in the seat of House Tully where he could keep his ears and his eyes open.
 
Still, he thought, taking another deep breath, it had been nice to get to spend so many nights alone with Marsella, away from their colicky son. And the salt on the breeze was good news, hinting at the approach of open waters and eventually Gulltown itself.
 
Turning away from the prow, Faedric let his gaze slide over the barge. It was hardly a complex boat. Below decks was a kitchen, storage, and oars should the massive red and blue sails luffing about in the air prove insufficient to keep the craft in motion. It was also where the dozen or so sailors currently scurrying about the craft like ants made their beds.
 
Towards the stern was a large, wooden cabin, intricately carved with nautical imagery and divided into several luxurious apartments. The walls of the apartments could be opened outward during sunny days, as they were today, allowing for an unencumbered view, or sealed up tight in the event of inclement weather. It was here that the family slept, though it seemed most of his kin were to be found lounging on the deck at the moment.
 
Aela, Adelaide and Willa, his beautiful sisters three, were sprawled out on silken cushions, their delicate complexions protected from the heated caress of the sun by a strategically erected awning, their giggling and gossiping filling the air.
 
A bit to the side, but also in the shade, sat Sharine, the youngest Tully child. She was deeply engaged in a game of Cyvasse with Ser Leopold Greenbriar, and though the tot was but five years of age, she seemed to be trouncing the far older knight. The Minnow apparently sensed his stare and turned her own massive blue eyes towards her brother, causing Faedric to quickly look away. The girl unnerved him, unnerved most of his family, except of course for Joan. The woman had more of a hand in raising her sibling than Lady Tully did, but then again his older sister was just as unnatural in her own way, perhaps they were made for eachother.
 
After a moment’s search he found the eldest Tully girl seated on a cushion in the sun, far apart from the others, her back resting firmly against the balcony, a large book sitting in her hands. Her face was scrunched with concentration as she deciphered the contents, and it was so terribly obvious that she didn’t wish to be disturbed, that Faedric simply couldn’t resist.
 
“Careful, sister,” he purred, his feet gliding over the oiled hardwood of the deck as he approached his kin, “Sit too long in the sun and you’ll be brown as a nut. What sort of lord will want you then, hmm?” Joan raised her intense blue gaze to meet the emerald of her brother’s, a brow quirking upwards in challenge.
 
“I am nearly thirty, Faedric,” she stated simply, her attention returning to the thick tome nestled in her slender fingers, “I hardly think a bit of sun will do any more damage than the passage of time already has. But I thank you, of course, for your brotherly concern.” Faedric smirked, reaching out to toy with a long lock of her dark auburn hair only to be deflected by a well-placed swat of her hand. He winced at the contact, stroking his stinging fingers.
 
“Testy little thing, aren’t you?” he scowled, “Your future husband might not be as tolerant as I. He might beat you when you’re naughty.”
 
Joan stiffened, but did not look up from her book. “Then I’ll kill him,” she stated firmly, her voice void of jest. Faedric laughed.
 
“You seem to forget, sweet sister, that murder is a hangable offence. I doubt even the circumstances of your birth could save you from that gristly fate.”
 
“Better to hang then to suffer a lifetime in a gilded cage,” she answered, her tone a little sharp. Faedric had hit a nerve, it seemed. Good. “If you are looking for Marsella, she is taking lunch with mother,” said Joan finally, her tone impatient. Faedric nodded, turning on his heel to leave when her voice once more stopped him. “Oh, and Faedric?”
 
“Yes, darling Joan?” he asked, pivoting back around with an almost feline grace.
 
“I noticed before I left that Maester Aerik altered the dosage of Simon’s medicine.”
 
The statement hung between them for a moment, causing Faedric’s stomach to grow a little tight, though his expression did not so much as flicker.
 
“Oh?”
 
“As I am sure you are aware, in Simon’s condition such a drastic change could have… unfortunate results.”
 
Faedric smiled easily, one of his ring-clad hands coming to rest on an elegant hip. “Aerik is an old man, half-senile, I doubt anything was meant by it. We should simply thank the Seven that you caught his mistake.”
 
“Mistake,” Joan repeated slowly, her lips thinning into a firm line, “Yes of course. I will have to make sure he doesn’t make such… mistakes in the future.” She fixed him with a long, hard look, before once again returning to the book before her. “Enjoy lunch, brother. I hear it’s roast, your favorite.”
 
Faedric smiled again, giving his elder sibling a smart half-bow before sweeping away in the direction of his mother’s apartments. It wasn’t until he was out of her sight that he allowed his hands, clenched into fists, to shake. “Meddling bitch,” he muttered under his breath, running his quaking fingers quickly through his hair. This would not do, this would not do at all. She would have to be dealt with.
 
Taking a deep breath, the Lionfish took a moment to compose himself, to quell the shaking in his manicured hands, to allow the calm, unwavering smirk to once again plant itself on his lips. Getting upset solved nothing, getting even was far more effective.
 
Straightening his posture and smoothing his fingers over his fine silk doublet, Faedric ducked into the barge’s apartments. His long, elegant legs carried him down the narrow hallway, polished wooden doors slipping by him on either side. At the end of the hall stood a particularly decorative panel, emblazoned in the middle with a golden lion on a field of red and blue enamel. His mother was not shy with regards to her Lannister heritage, not shy whatsoever.

Lifting his bejeweled fingers, he rapped sharply on the wood with his knuckles. He waited for his mother to call out “enter” before letting himself into the room. The apartment, located at the very back of the barge, was the largest and most opulent. Almost every surface was intricately carved or inlaid with silver and mother of pearl, the floors bedecked with plush carpets from exotic lands far across the sea. The apartment was opened outwards, giving its occupants a beautiful view of the water as it quietly slipped behind them and allowing a gentle breeze to cool the interior.

“Son!” called Lady Alysanne from her elegant seat across the room, “Come closer. Lady Marsella and I were just enjoying a lovely vintage, weren’t we Marsella?” Faedric’s lip quirked. His mother had not called him by name, not that she ever had within at least his memory. He was always “son” when she had to deal with him, and when she could, she simply avoided interacting with him entirely. 

Gracefully, he crossed the apartment to a series of silk-upholstered, low-lying couches. His mother, aged but still a golden beauty, lounged along the full length of one, watching her offspring approach. Faedric nodded politely to his mother, but in truth he had eyes only for his bride.

Lady Alysanne had become a fixture in the young Lady Marsella’s life, nearly from the moment she entered the Tully household as wife to Faedric. It had been surprising to her, the woman having had so many daughters of her own. It was clear though, that the woman would forever be a lion, not a trout, no matter how many years had passed or would come to pass. Marsella, quite contrarily, found herself adapting easily to the life of being a Tully wife and mother. She was always readily available for her mother-in-law or sisters-in-law should they have need of her ear or shoulder. And she had so quickly become enamored of her husband. Beautiful and handsome at once, seeing him could still make her blush crimson. 

She blushed then, as he entered the gilded room, her cool grey-blue eyes meeting his for just a moment before she ducked her head down in greeting. It did not help, perhaps, that she had just been discussing with his mother, her hopes to give him another son in the coming year. There were times when she began to question whether he could love her nearly as much as she felt in her heart for him, but there were days like this one, where all her doubts melted beneath his gaze. There would always be rumors for one such as Faedric, it would do her well to ignore them. That had been the advice given, the advice she tried to follow whenever doubts creeped in. 

“Faedric...Your mother is absolutely right. It is splendid, you will have some with us?” Her eyes dared to meet his once more before she turned her head to the golden lion, her own flaxen hair falling over her shoulders with the movement. 

Faedric smiled, a genuine smile, and folded himself down next to the young woman, the distance so intimate it was almost inappropriate, even for a wedded couple. “Perhaps I shall,” he purred, tucking a loose lock of hair behind her ear, “Would that please you little bird?” He let his finger tips linger a moment on the softness of her cheek, savoring her warmth. By the Seven she was lovely, and Faedric Tully had a renowned weakness for lovely things.

“Come now!” snapped Lady Alysanne, clearly made uncomfortable by the exchange, “Give the girl some room to breathe. It’s unseemly.” Faedric chuckled, shifting a bit away from his wife and reaching for a goblet of wine in the same motion.

“As you wish, Lady Mother,” he murmured, watching his mother over the rim of his cup as he drank, his other arm extending to rest along the back of the couch, the limb encircling his bride without quite touching her. 

Lady Alysanne bristled but said nothing, instead snapping her fingers to summon a serving girl to pour her another glass. “I spoke to the captain earlier,” she said finally, breaking the still that had come to rest over the room. Alysanne had never been good with silences, of any duration. “He says we will arrive in Gulltown sometime this evening, just in time to see the events tomorrow.” She swirled the red liquid about in her glass, her lips curving a tad cruelly. “A pity you didn’t enter,” she said pointedly, a manicured finger running the length of her shapely lips, “I can’t think of any other House that won’t have even one participant.”

Faedric chuckled. “If there are already so many knights beating each other into bloody sweaty pulps for the rest of the noble class’s amusement,” he mused, “What need is there for me to join them? Besides, I would much rather watch.” This was not a lie. The Lionfish was a very visual creature, attracted like a magpie to the shiny and spectacular, and the tourney to celebrate Lord Jasper Arryn’s coming of age was certain to be quite the spectacle.

Lady Alysanne huffed. “Perhaps it is better,” she said finally, “You can keep an eye on the girls.” Faedric laughed. He was certain there would already be many eyes fixed on the beautiful Tully girls, regardless of where he chose to direct his own. “You too, Marsella,” Lady Alysanne added, “The girls are young. You’ll have to guide them.”

The Lionfish stiffened. He often disliked the tone his mother took when speaking to his wife, like she was a simpler woman than Faedric knew her to be. “Lady Marsella will have her hands quite full taking care of herself, mother,” he replied, his tone holding an edge of warning. He intended to spend the majority of the tourney in her company and feared being separated from her for too long. It was far easier to remain true in the direct presence of his wife, when there was distance between them… now that was when his affections began to wander.

“Ah,” bit out Alysanne, her eyes narrowing a bit, “I see, how foolish of me, Marsella. Of course you will be busy. You haven’t seen your brother in quite a while, you must be rather looking forward to spending time with him.”

There had always been tension in the Tully household, this latest battle between mother and son was not something she was unaccustomed to, but it never failed to make her uncomfortable. Her own family had shared tensions, particularly after her father’s death and the return of her great-uncle. Her opinion had not been asked in those situations though, her thoughts only her own. It often felt like they wanted her to take sides in these matters, and she had had to learn quickly how to sidestep them or find a way to make both parties feel as though she understood them. 

She had tensed, and was grateful that Faedric’s arm was no longer about her so as to feel it. Marsella was secretly grateful that her husband had not entered the tourney, should he have been injured or worse, she did not know what she would do. But she did care for her new sisters, particularly Adelaide, and wished them the best in finding suitable husbands. Though Faedric sought to keep her all to himself, surely he would understand a woman’s need to care for her sisters’ futures. 

“You are too kind, Lady Alsyanne.” She would undoubtedly need to meet with her brother, though she doubted that it would be a joyous reunion. He had not hid his distaste for her marriage to a man outside of the Vale. “I cannot say that I will be pleased to see him now a man grown, for he has been a man from such a young age.” Even after all these years, it still brought pain to her, to think of how the fever that had ravaged and killed their father had nearly done the same to the small boy. He had been so different afterwards, so very different. Her lips smiled pleasantly, though a bit of sorrow could be seen in her eyes. “It will be good to see them all again, of course, your daughters must meet my sisters as well. I’m sure we can find one night to ourselves. Leonella is married, and wise. Your girls will be in good hands.” 

Marsella turned her head to Faedric, praying that there would be approval and acceptance in his eyes. One night could not be too much to ask for, she may have hungered for him as much as he for her, but it seemed a fair compromise. 

Faedric smirked, his wife was ever the diplomat, and as if he would ever be capable of denying those immense gray eyes anything, even if it led to his ruin. “As you wish then, my pet,” he replied with a soft smile, placing an affectionate kiss to the woman’s forehead as foreboding settled in the pit of his stomach. He had been true to his wife since their vows, though he had been tempted many a time, but if all of the eyes on Gulltown were to be watching the Tully girls, who then would be watching to keep the terrible lust that burned as bright as flame within him locked inside? 

Faedric took a slow sip of wine.

[i]Seven help me[/i].