The moment she saw the plains of the Riverlands near the Trident, she loved them. The sky above them was blue-grey and filled with plump clouds heavy with what would be in a storm in a few days--but for now only harmlessly dotted the plain cut with rivers and streams between spots of sunlight and shadow. The grasses were green and tall and dotted with clusters of trees. They'd run across some traps in the rivers, but otherwise few signs of life. Ser Drayton had wanted no part of the Kingsroad, and for once Ally found herself agreeing with him. If only so she could let Lightning open up and [i]go[/i]. And swim in the Forks to see which she liked best of all; at the moment she was still undecided. 

Ser Drayton joked he wasn't sure which wild thing needed the chance to cut and run more; Lightning, or it's rider. For essentially calling her a wild beast, Ser Drayton was reduced to old salted beef for the noon meal. Not that she couldn't see what he meant by it; the next ruling Princess of Dorne ran for a river plain with the same hyperactive glee as a child at the Water Gardens. And she did. But understanding didn't mean letting a chance to torture Ser Drayton go by, and so it was Ally and Lightning enjoying cheeses and fruits and the Ser with his saltbeef that sounded, and surely tasted, like old tree bark when he chewed it. And chewed it. And chewed it.

By evening time she made it up to him with a hot meal at a small Inn in a village not far from Fair Market named Silver Creek. The Innkeep, an old woman named Hanna, was more than happy to let Ally help in the kitchen, even letting Ally create a baking crust from her stocks to bake the two Trout she'd caught earlier with a little bit of peppers, onion, a touch of wildberry, and a few splashes of almond milk. Impressed, the old woman let Ally whip up a Dornish dish of onions, cheese, and chopped eggs cooked up with fiery peppers to tide them over until the fish were done. The woman never even blinked when Ally reached into a pouch and pulled out a few silver stags to 'cover the cost.' 

She didn't seem to want to know what kind of Dornish girl had silver coins at the ready. If for no other reason alone, that endeared the woman to Ally. But if anything, the Princess imagined it was simply the wisdom of a long life. [i]What she didn't know, hopefully, wouldn't come back to her.[/i] Ser Drayton had busied himself with beer, and was even in decent spirits for Ser Drayton when she arrived with the finished trout, steaming and filling the Inn's little main room so much the old woman's little hound dog looked up and all but drooled. Naturally, Ally shared a few sweet crumbles of Trout with the dog. Wild things had to look out for one another, way she saw it. 

Sleeping on a bed was a blessed thing, even the wild Princess had to admit. By the time she woke up, the sun was already high in the sky. Her body was a wreck of bruises, and getting out of the bed once she had awoken in it...it might have taken an act of the Seven, had she not heard the scream. It took her too long to get up, dress, grab her gear, and go. Though the brown leather riding trousers and near sleeveless top went on quickly, she almost broke her neck putting her boots on while trying to go down stairs. By the time she did finally make it out of the Inn, she didn't have far to look in the village before she found the crowd, hearing them before actually seeing them. 

There was an uproar. There wasn't even time to get the story the mob turned to her as she approached, then pointed and yelled "Another one!" And it wasn't until something smashed her over the head and caused her to hit the ground that, peeking through the feet of the crowd also on the ground was a girl just yards from she fell: around Ally's own age, a blue eyed, brown haired girl with fair looks. Before her world went dark, Ally realized that the girl was crying out in pain.

For a 'wild thing', waking up in a cell is one of the most disastrous scenes one can open their eyes to. Immediately panic began to seize the future ruling Princess of Dorne, her blurry vision narrowing and her heart threatening to beat right out of her body until she heard the voice of Ser Drayton: "ALLY!"

Her head snapped in the direction from which the sound came, and it was only another few moments before her dark eyes began blinking. Soon enough she saw: three cells, barely big enough for a large man like Ser Drayton to lay down in. Next to her cell was Ser Drayton's. On the other side of Ser Drayton, a man Ally did not recognize. He was dark haired with handsome, if rough edged, features. Or was it possible the rough edged look made him handsome?...Was he even handsome, or was her vision still blurry? Or was he--

"--Are you alright?" Ser Drayton's voice again came to snatch her thoughts back to the immediate state of things. A state of things that made her eyes dart around the cell like a trapped animal looking for a way out...any way out. 

"What happened?"

The Knight snorted. It was rare to see Drayton angry, but the man was certainly displeased at the moment. "I don't know. I went to see if I could find any supplies, and ran into village girl--"

"--oh, no," The Princess groaned. Of COURSE he ran into a girl. When didn't Ser Drayton run into a girl? Though Ally didn't see it, everyone from high born Ladies to common whores told her Ser Drayton was very handsome. Ally used to blush when he went bare chested, but that was years ago, before ever leaving Dorne together. Now he was just stupid ol' Ser Drayton. Or Dray, if she wanted to irritate him. But why girls swooned over him? It was lost on her. He didn't even have the pretty violet eyes of his House.

"Nothing happened. I talked to her for a while, I helped her move some things, and I even made sure her saddle was cinched tight on her horse. Some village men took exception, and so the conversation ended there. When she goes to ride away, the horse goes crazy and tosses her, breaking her legs. When they looked at the animal after, they found a spur under the saddle."

The image of the girl on the ground crying out in pain flashed, and suddenly everything began to make a little more sense. "So the village men, having seen you cinch the saddle..." Then she trailed off, not wanting to finish the recount, frowning as her eyes looked past Ser Drayton. "Who is he?"

"Byron. Unlucky soul was just passing through. They don't believe he's not with us." It made Ally laugh, even for just a beat. She was just about to ask where their weapons were until she saw them on the other end of the small building hanging on pegs. Before the question could come out of her mouth, Ser Drayton answered it. "They took it out, and asked about us. I told them we were mummers." Drayton grinned, with the busted lip he'd received for that answer.

'It' was the sword called Dawn. Drayton abandoned it's traditional scabbard for a solid if ugly and weather worn brown leather thing. You wouldn't think much of it until you pulled the sword, and witnessed the stars above forged into steel. Even her bow was strange; as she doubted any of the villagers would know what dragonbone looked and felt like.

It only made the day go from a nightmare to unbearable. Suddenly it wasn't just villagers out to kill them, but questions being asked about a glowing sword and a strange bow. Nevermind the questions those questions raised about the people who'd come to the village with those strange weapons. Brushing her fingers across the back of her head left her wincing at the discovery of what had to be a new trophy bruise to add to her growing collection. Her mother did always say she was hard headed...she just never expected to count it as a blessing. 

[i]Think[/i] quickly became the only thought in her mind as she pulled herself to her feet and began moving around the small cell. Every few moments she'd pause, grab the bars, and test before disappointment and moving on. "Did they search you?"

"Extensively. The sword scared them, wouldn't let me take off my own armor." Something that seemed to make the dark haired, fair eyed, Knight chuckle. "They didn't search you very hard." 

[i]At last[/i], the Princess thought to herself in relief, [i]finally a bit of good news.[/i] It didn't take Allyria very long to retrieve either thin throwing dagger from the secret compartment inside her leather boots. And it was just mere heartbeats until she connected both at their bases, and twisted hard--locking them into place together. "Who put us in here?"

"Some blockhead named Hobert." Instead of respond, she stared. Long and hard enough for the Knight to finally notice the Princess was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head. "...what?"

"Blockhead?"

Irritated, Ser Drayton ignored her--likely thanking his stars for having bars between them so she couldn't further irritate him. That was fine. She'd just go back to..."There's a gap from the bars on the door to the wooden floor."

"Not even you could fit through that."

"Maybe if I pulled up the floor and got naked." She wasn't joking, and Ser Drayton knew it, coming quickly to his feet. 

Unable to help herself, Allyria smirked. "All I had to say was 'naked' and right up you--"

"--shut up. Get the floor up, girl. See if there's any room there."

"Yes, my Lord." Sarcasm she enjoyed, even as she gritted her teeth and took the long, thin, dagger to the floorboards. Luckily she still had her gloves as she realized more and more force would be needed just to slip the thin tip of the dagger into and under the crack between boards. Once it was achieved, she used her booted foot to push down on the free end of the dagger until the board snapped--or the steel dagger did. The weakest point would be where they connected at their bases, a fact that made her use a gradual increase of force instead of starting with full force. 

The man, Byron, as he had referred to himself earlier found his neighboring cellmates conversation at the very least fairly interesting. As the back-and-forth conversation came to a pause with a quip from the girl a smirk rose on Byron’s lips as he remained in his position on the floor—his eyes still shot towards the empty room past their cells looking for any sign of activity. It wasn’t very cautious of them to throw three individuals in cells and not to keep a watch on them, especially if they viewed them as troublesome. But then again it was much like commoners to not be very wise with such things.

Though it bent her dagger, the floorboard popped up. The rest was a matter of pulling up and ripping out, a task the Princess of Dorne went upon with a ferocious intent. After kneeling to get a close inspection, she was grinning, and already pulling off her boots like she was about to jump back into one of the Forks. Ser Drayton cleared his throat, and turned, his pale eyes locking on the man Byron. "Turn around, give the girl her privacy."

Girl, Ser Drayton said, as if he didn't realize he, and her mother, were probably the last treating her like a little girl instead of a young Dornish woman. Her mother's attitude doubtlessly a result from the soft, Red Keep breeding of her past. And Ser Drayton...just a son taking up where his father had left off. As she pulled her pants down and off, the image of Ser Dalton waist deep in the ocean, pushing the little row boat out so the smuggler paid to get them out of the city could start rowing. All she remembered about his face was it's grave determination...and the blood.

Upon hearing the pop of the floorboard, Byron’s view snapped and looked over to what the girl was doing which was probably fairly ingenious of the girl. It was then his eyes caught Ser Drayton’s own and the comment about the girl’s privacy was spoken blankly to Byron. Whilst Byron didn’t particularly care much for seeing a glimpse—as he had not been one of those boys to drool over thoughts of simple perversions. But if it could benefit him, Byron would do much that they would ask. It wasn’t a very good situation for himself.
 
“Of course.” He stated as he adverted his eyes.

Getting under would left scratches and splinters down the right side of her body, from ribs to upper thigh. But outside of unleashing a whispered barrages of curses at the pain, Ally could do little but bleed, and keep moving. Once out, she was putting her clothes back on, starting with the very painful task of pulling her pants back on. Next her top, then her boots and gloves. Without a word she went for her bow and quiver, tossing both onto her and making quickly to move a black iron pot from the unlit fireplace. "I'm decent."

The Knight turned, and blinked. She knew what he wanted to say, but if Ser Drayton had learned anything about his Princess...it's that escape was one of her great talents. She had a sense for it; for when to try something, and when not to. Like when to get out, and when to try to open his and Bryon's cells. "Can you fit?"

After a long look, Allyria was sighing. "Yes," the dread of being covered in black soot and just how painful a squeeze it was going to be...so much so, she took off her bow and quivers, even removed her belt. The only she took with her as she began to jam her body into and up the little chimney was the now bent long, thin, dagger that she'd used to take up the first floorboard. 

She was shaking out her hair as she reached the top, pulling herself out and over the chimey. The roof of the single story uncovered stone building was straight and square, allowing her to get good, quick, footing until she was at the edge--and shot back away from the edge at the sight of a large, fat bellied, man walking up to door. The man was just reaching for the ring of keys on his belt when he heard a 'thud' behind him.

By the time he turned, one of the two ends of the bent, long, dagger was sticking through his throat and out the other side a few inches higher than it's entry. Shock causing him to bobble and sway, the painful sensation of choking on his own blood forcing his hands to his throat--lot of good it would do him. She removed the keys off his belt before he even hit the ground, unlocking the door, as if he didn't exist at all.

She was in and unlocking Ser Drayton's cell immediately, "Go get the horses."

"And Byron?"

"Go get the horses." They didn't have time. Not now. Deep in the pit of her stomach, she knew that. And Drayton just seemed to trust her to know that, as he moved to leave after grabbing his sword belt and sword before running out the door. Once gone, Allyria just smiled at the man. Still trying to decide if he was cute, or if she'd been on the road with Ser Drayton for too long. "Hi," Her tone was honey, her smile sweet as sugar. "Who are you, again?"

[i]Yes, what about Byron?[/i] He had almost said the words, but the man was still behind cold iron bars in a dank cell so perhaps sarcastic quips would be unfitting—he held his tongue. As the dornish girl looked at him and inquired about his identity a knot in his stomach rose. Who he [i]was[/i] happened to be the [i]Kinslayer of Riverspring[/i], who he happened to be was just another talented sword with a checkered past. A pleasant smile rose to his lips.

“As your ‘friend’ said my name is Byron, and not to sound out of place but I feel like since I was not involved in the…uh… troubles perhaps being freed from this cell would be nice.” His tone was polite. 
 
“But since you are the one controlling my fate I suppose I should tell you this—I will be very very grateful to not rot in a common jail for the rest of my years. I am way too [i]talented[/i] to die in this capacity.” Perhaps he was being a little too witty, but at times he couldn’t help but deflecting bad situations with his tongue even though at this point it might get him in trouble. Perhaps dropping his talent was a good indication of him being of some value? He motioned with his hand to a sword behind the girl.
 
“That [i]steel[/i] blade? That’s mine. I’m very [i]good[/i] with it.”

[i]By-ron[/i], she sounded the name out in her thoughts, her brown eyes almost looking dark purple in the strange mix of light in shadow of the little stone building with the open door. Blood of the Dragon. Between blood of the Dragon, blood of Nymeria, and blood of the Dornish...Allyria didn't have a prayer. Not a single prayer--and she loved every day of it. "Do you have a horse, Byron?"

“I think the villagers took it, but yes I believe I do.”

The Princess decided his fate by reaching for the door to his cell, and unlocking it with a quick twist of her wrist, leaving the key in the door as she turned to go for her bow and other gear. "We're headed to Gulltown. You're welcome to come with us. Roads are getting dangerous...villages too, it seems."

Byron didn’t have much of a clue of where he was going nor had he ever planned to be in this situation ever. The miscalculation with his father was something that had set him back years and years so maybe traveling in a competent group was for his benefit. He nodded as he left his cell and hastily retrieved his gear that had been taken from him by the jailer beforehand. 
 
“Wouldn’t hurt to travel in numbers.” He replied, echoing the sentiment of safe travel with the group. 

Outside the door came the sound of hooves. When Ser Drayton looked in, he jerked back from the door--the sight of the Princess with her bow notched and trained to end whoever came through the door enough to send him back. At his sight, she grinned, stood down. A beat later, the Knight was back in the doorway, staring at her hard for a moment before moving on to Byron. "They had your horse with ours at the Inn. Also, I think they're coming."

Allyria was outside and onto Lightning in seconds, taking the reins of the sand steed and wheeling it around to face the sight: a mass of smallfolk, headed their way as the daylight above began to darken and grow gold with the sun sinking fast in the sky, a silverish ghostly crescent moon sneaking into sight just above the tree tops nearby. 

The first arrow landed at the foot of a tall, lanky, man at the head of the mob. He stopped, and in reaction so did each person behind him. When Ser Drayton was on his own horse and pulling Dawn high into the air to glow in the darker tints of light that came with the coming twilight, Allyria thought the mob might stop and count it's blessing.

They did no such thing, instead deciding to charge at the same time as if the decision was made by some great collective mind pulling all their strings. "Uh, Dray..."

"Yep. Time to go."

"Welcome to the group, Byron," The Princess laughed, high on the rush of adrenaline and danger, as she turned Lightning once more, and put her heels into his sides. Her upper body turning so she could look back, and wave. "Thanks! Hope never to see your village again!"

Byron completely agreed with the sentiment about the village though apparently he was for now attached to this group led by a dornish girl. It wasn’t common in a routine to be saved by a girl with the wit to escape a jail in course of several minutes. 
 
“You don’t have to wave you know, in fact I think that’ll just make them angrier.” Byron stated as his horse steadied pace with the other two. He paused for a moment in his thoughts before adding to the comment he had just made, “Not that they can do anything about it, though.”

Princess Allyria Martell found herself laughing harder, and giving Lightning the okay to bolt, her laughter dying only with distance from the two. Even Ser Drayton was laughing, even if he was also shaking his head. "Trust me. She knows."

[i](Gowi and Ruby collaboration.)[/i]