A friendly collab with [@AtomicNut][@kingkonrad] [color=red][b][h2]Duels in and out of the Arena of Combat[/h2][/b][/color] Lord Aerion idly sat in the stands, mildly interested in the fights that were taking place on the field below. He rolled his eyes at the pompous braggart Ser Ellion, the knight looking more like a castle decoration than a formidable foe to be feared. Aerion nodded to Lady Seronna, his friend and Castellan. She smiled and gripped Aerion's shoulder in a friendly manner, before returning to watch the current duel taking place. "That little idiot looks like a mirror frame. Does he plan to blind his enemies with his shiny armor? What a tosh." Seronna spoke in a playful tone to Aerion. She shook her head and returned to eating some roasted nuts. "Let him strut around like a peacock, his personality is black and foul, no amount of rose water can hide that. Besides, I say lets see what the Grand Melee holds in store. These little duels are fine and dandy, but they are no true test of a man." Aerion replied happily, letting out a sigh before stretching his back. He scratched absent mindedly at his collar, pulling the fabric away from his neck to readjust it. Aerion reached down to straighten his attire, the embroidered Gold Dragon upon his chest looked rather dashing in contrast with the deep white color of the sorrounding fabric. These clothes suited his role as a Lord, yet they still would take time to get used to. Odd, he thought, to have gotten used to leathers and common linen clothing that such finery seemed foreign. As the current duelists clashed below, Aerion cast a gazing glance towards Lady Amber Redwyne, marveling at her beauty. To be so close yet still so far away. Apparently, Lady Amber had been traded away to some prick lord, another lickspittle of the Tyrell's looking for favour. No doubt it had been Lady Alerie who arranged the pairing to gain power over that twit Lord. Aerion tore his gaze away, gritting his teeth before taking a deep calming breath. He would find a way to win the hand of Lady Amber, come Dragonfyre or high water. Aerion shook his head, banishing such thoughts to the corners of his mind. Instead, he undid his braided hair letting it fall loose about the shaved sides of his head, before meticuliously rebraiding the now shoulder length hair. The sides of his head were shorn clean, his skin well tanned before being hidden by a fiercesome beard, another thing he had kept since the war. The running joke was he looked like a wildling, one Aerion seemed to amused by himself. "Seronna, what say you to the idea of me joining these festivities upon the field?" Aerion quietly asked the former mercenary. "If you are bored, go ahead... My lord" she replied in a mocking tone. "It'd be good to see something exciting rather than these strutting cocks in heat." Seronna flashed a toothy grin before beckoning back to the field. A man-at-arms spoke aloud, one of Aerions retinue of guards, "Ten silver on the Black Fox to win the tourney by days end. And another five on the Lannister to trample that flower knight." The man grinned, starting a flurry of betting from the other guards and even Seronna. Aerion rolled his eyes and focused on the fight. He took a swig of water from his water skin, before focusing on the Tyrell and Lannister combatants. It was then when Aerion's lips were denied from any further sipping, as a pair of deft hands extracted the wineskin from his hands. Draped in fine Essosi silks and long flowing silver-gold hair, the voluptuous figure of Lysara snuck from behind the Goldfyre. "That won't do my Lord... Such a person will not drink mere peasant fare in my presence." She said, while procuring a familiar Lysene red wine, mulled with spices and chilled. "I recall this one was one of your favorites. Either or Seran a liar..." The singsong accent of the younger of the Lyseni struck in Aerion's ears like a gentle breeze, as she made her way to sit next to Aerion. "I hope you do not mind that I sit here my lord. I've had enough of Valyrian...strutting cocks, as your castellan wisely indicated." It appeared that the year at court had been gentle on Lysara. Besides the scar of the incident, she had grown healthier, as she now did sleep among ladies and not in a mercenary camp. Aerion smirked as his water skin was so deftly pulled from his hands. The front of his clothes became lightly damp from the scattering water. He cast his eyes upwards and to the side from where Lysara stood. Her form was exceptionally pleasing, her clothing adding to her overall beauty. Aerion bowed his head and smiled as he spoke to Seran's lovely sister. "Now how did you manage to get your hands on a drink this fine, that even the nobles of Lys covet it? My Lady Lysara, your brother told no lie, and I find myself now in your debt for such a fine and exceedingly special gift of not only thos drink, but your presence as well." Aerion's voice sounded out in reply, deeply masculaine hinted with the exotic accents of the disputed lands. He enjoyed listening to Lysara speak, her voice seeming to have an otherworldly nature to it, almost like magic. Aerion stood up, properly bowing to Lysara. "Please, I would be thrilled to enjoy your company and the fine gift of drink and talk." He offered his right hand to help Lysara to a seat, while responding to her final statement, "Yes, the select few seem to behave like they are in some sort of pagent, glittering like birds in rut." He smiled once more, noticing the scar on Lysara's neck, and then paying no more attention to the band of pale scar tissue. Lysara smirked, as she took Aerion's hand. "Wine merchant daughters have their ways, my Lord. I mulled the wine myself. Purchasing the base ingredients was easier." The Lyseni said, as she took a seat. "Consider it a present. For letting a certain someone arrive with all four limbs and his head intact from the Stepstones." She said in a rare moment of sincerity. Her head coyly tilted as she smiled. "Yes...stale and drole. Not even my brother and his oddities can make up for that." She added as she leant forward. <<"Now you have wine and fine company... what's cracking a few skulls to you now? Do you think... you could fight flame against flame? I bet you and Aemon would be entertaining, after you trample that Flower Knight addicted to taking maidenheads.">> Lysara whispered in Valyrian, her eyes staring intently with an inkling of impish delight. Raising his eyebrows in surprise, Aerion grinned softly before listrning intently to Lysara. She certainly was rather unique, singularly so, in a way that could be considered intoxicating. Her words floated across the distance softly yet with careful determination. "I would have been remiss in my duty as a friend if I had let Seran get into more trouble than he could handle. I'm glad he made it back too, hell of an amusement to watch him fight." Aerion leaned back a little as Lysara tilted her head, looking at her with an inquisitive gaze. <<"Wine and fine company indeed, yet you long for something more? You are very intriguing Lady Seastar." He paused, looking to the field and the current duel. "I think you are trying to bribe me to fight these knights and show them the pride of Lys? If I agree, might I fight with your favour, so that our two Houses may rise above all these other... How did you put it, stale and drole cocks. Lady Lysara, consider me properly bribed.">> Aerion smiled back, before winking mischeviously. <<"The Prince Rhaegar could get jealous should he find me giving my favor to another man. But on the other hand, if you vye for Shaena's favour... I think you might get it. In any case...">> Lysara added, then stared at the floor, her voice eerily calm. <<"Sooner or later the Dragons will Dance again">> She added. Aerion stretched in a carefree manner, the way a cat might stretch when wakingnup from a nap. Smiling he leaned in a smidge closer to Lysara before responding. <<"Prince, Lord, King, titles of men. Let him be jealous, perhaps if you seek him, it will only serve to fan the flames of his desire for you. For the princess, I am but a newly minted lord. I aim not for the unobtainable...">> Aerion stood upright casting an amused look at Lysara, <<"Let us hope that such dances are for the ballroom floor and not the skies above our homes. My lady.">> "I have to go enter myself on the roster." Aerion said with a flourish. As Aerion exited the stands, making his way through the milling crowds towards the tents for the tourney combatants, there stood Ser Ellion Tyrell readying for his own fight on the fields of glory. Aerion cursed silently to himself, 'Of all the luck, I run into this idiot.' "Ser Ellion..." Aerion spoke aloud in a cold tone, "Always a privelige to cross paths with you." The Bravethorn finished polishing the blade, smirking as he saw Aerion, nodding. He had his hair brushed aback, ready to place a helm on his head, "Aerion. Good to see you again. Long time since the Stepstones." He added, as he twirled the blade, keeping it on the barrel by his side, as he stood. "You seem like you're readying yourself for the roster. Going to take a shot?" Inside his head, Aerion thought darkly of Ellion, before responding in turn to Ellion. "Yes, that it has been, you were among the many to leave once the main hostilities ended." Aerion edged about a squire running by. "Ever astute though, I find myself growing bored of watching, so I will join alongside in theses tests of skill. I see you look decorative as ever, quite different from real combat not so long ago." Aerion's tone borderlined on a mixture of disdain and thinly vieled courtesy. Ellion smiled, nodding, as he looked to the rest of the Knights, then back at Aerion. "I'm a Master at Arms in King's Landing. I did my part, killed a fair few, earned my name. And besides, it's not all just about pure martial abillity today, perhaps something more. We are merely actors, dancers in a very impressive spectacle. A Great House does not go unrepresented and in a poor fashion. Not one of my father's prowess in the realm. The people want to know that there is chivalry in this world. And none better than a Knight of the Reach in all Seven Kingdoms as the trope." He mused, looking over the blonde-haired bastard, respecting the man but being acutely aware there was a little beef between the two. His tone, his general mannerisms just suggested that to Ellion, so he didn't want to make an ass of himself. "What would the people think if we didn't have something up our sleeves. It's the romance, the thrill of the chase, Aerion." Ellion chuckled, leaning on the barrel, shaking his head, standing close to him, looking into his purple eyes with a distinct beam. "We give them what they desire, their fantasies of nobility. But the fighting is real, and it'll be an opportunity to prove myself. It'll be an honor to face you, if it comes to it, Ser Aerion. I imagine me and you will have a rather good bout." Ellion replied, as he took the blade once more, gently lifting it by the pommel, gathering his helm in his left hand, awaiting Aerion's reply. Aerion stood gazing at Ser Ellion with his dark amethyst colored eyes. He fought the urge to roll his eyes, knowing deep down the gilded knight of the Reachbtruly believed such fanciful things. 'No doubt the result of growing up pampered and away from any real danger... ' Aerion thought to himself. He clenched his jaw for a moment, before speaking in return. "Master of Arms? Congratulations on your new station. No small feat indeed. I can only hope those you train will be as skilled with a blade as you are with the art of personal appearances. Killing, maiming, and the like, a word of caution, dont grow to enjoy it Ser Ellion, I hate for such an esteemed performer to become little more than a mad dog, or in your particular case, a wilted and blighted rose. At least that is what certain women say." Aerion smiled in a disdainful manner,bfor he heard much of Ellion's indiscretions. "These hard working men and women want to see us batter each other to pieces, not some pagentry show. To them, this is a break from the everday lives they toil away at, romance is a fanciful thing that the powerful toy with, stealing it away as it pleases them, Ser Ellion. You should be more than aware of that. If we cross blades, I wont fight you out of honor or romance, bah, it'll be out of spite for what your..." Aerion venemously spat, before stopping, taking a breath, and smiling. "May the Seven watch over you." Aerion end cooly. "Its Lord now, Lord of the Aegonfort." Ellion chuckled lightly, shaking his head, as he looked to the crowd, and then back at Aerion. "Well, Lord Aerion. You seem to believe rumours an awful lot. Almost like you'd like to know what that would be like to live that life. I mean, you speak from a....wanting perspective. Like you like the thing you hate." Ellion span the sword, picking a piece of dirt off the end, chuckling, not even taken aback, merely letting it flow into his stride. He respected Aerion, but that was a little...harsh. The man was well travelled, and a weathered soldier, but he never seemed to disenage, it seemed. "You've clearly never been to a melee or a tourney of Westeros, if you don't know the reason why a Reachman espouses that value, nor any Knight. I'll batter a man with a blade, or a woman, no lesser for it. You say they don't want it, but I know they relish it. Listen to them. You give them what they want. I've not seen the world the way you have, and I agree. It is fanciful, silly to an outsider. But in demand no less, much like a phallic end would be to a Qarthian merchant, a thing of culture. What lays beneath this plate has earnt that right to hold my family's honour, and did not earn my name by pure idiocy. I don't think I shall stop any time soon, and I am learning more of this business, seeing more things, doing more. I've seen what it's like to stalk in something that isn't shiny and murder in cold blood for the greater good. I know how it is to keep a heart and keep a soft, bodily touch with someone close to you after you've turned a man inside out like a fucking animal. Don't think that I don't understand that this life is troubled. I serve my House, just as like how you served coin once, and now both of us, the realm. I have a brother who sits at home and will rule a Kingdom with his wife and children, and I desire no Lordship, Lord Aerion. I have nothing to lose if I die because I'm nigh twice removed from the line of succession, nearly thrice." Standing tall, as he placed his sword down gently, placing his helmet on, screwing it tightly into the mount of the curiass, visor up. "I imagine we will batter each other to pieces, as you say. Let's agree on that. But I know right know, exactly what I'm going to do. Best of luck, Lord Aerion." "Glad you are making friends, Ellion." Alester deadpanned after rising from his seated position, checking what was the ruffling of feathers he was seeing. To his surprise it was not the usual drole droning of the lion cub with way too much manhood to prove, but one of the dragonseed retainers of the Crown. He wondered if these people came in bulk like the birds. And why did it seemed like he wouldn't be surprised if this one knew Seran too?. "Don't you have to fight right now?" He tried his best to defuse the situation and avoid more pandering and ruffling. While he disliked Ellion, Alester was a man of curt words and unusual for a Reachman, was an advocate of simpler being better. Ellion didn't respond to either, with only a nod to Alester to indicate he didn't care for his sarcasm. It was a fair point to make nonetheless as the Tyrell had his longsword in hand once more, gently tilting his visor down, twirling the blade in his hand elgantly. He exhaled as he stood tall, a couple inches taller than the other two Knights, walking out into the field with a strong step in his feet, the golden-green scarf wrapped tight around the cuirass and the silvery plate shining in the light, a little dulled to make it not overbearing but nonetheless, bright. Words weren't needed now to reply to the other two. There was a fight to have. Facing across from him was Petyr Hill, the bastard of the Hound, a man of formidable stature, taller than even himself. Ellion knew the man was taught by his bastard father, which meant that he had a lot of fucking violence to give with the two-hander in his hands, a tool he'd no doubt use to his advantage. Looking across, he swung his own sword, almost as to taunt, opening himself to Petyr. The signal was given, as Ellion only took a few steps forward, letting Petyr take the initative. And that he did, with a fast and hard-hitting sideswipe, Ellion having to almost duck and parry the blade, moving himself out of the way, given the amount of strength behind the blade, rolling out. This wasn't gonna be easy, that much he could tell. But it had taken a nice bite out of Petyr's endurance. "Come on then!" Ellion yelled, as Petyr charged once again. His old man didn't teach him discipline, and many did see Ellion as being too young, too cocky and too fervent in a fight. He knew what to watch, and no doubt, he imagined Petyr saw him as someone too lanky to hold himself together in a fight against a two-hander. Yet Ellion saw this differently. The man was big, and tiring every time he went in, despite his youth, and each hit felt like being hit by a sledgehammer, as Ellion parried. Swords clanged ,as he righted himself, pivoting on his foot as he pushed the sword away with a glance, pushing forward and directly at Petyr, aware he'd just made a very good attempt, and it had nearly pushed him over. He was fatigued himself from this onslaught, but every time Petyr had struck, he'd held more energy than his opponent. Now, he could punish him for it. The longsword was far more versatile and pivotal than the two-hander, as Ellion pushed forwards,chuckling under his visor, going low as he smashed Petyr's lower plate on his cuirass, knocking the wind from his gut as he almost effortlessly glided into the man, sword now slamming into the top of his plate. It knocked him aback, as Ellion didn't stop, landing hit after hit with the blade, capitalising on the confusion, and managing to finally expose his guard with the two hander, blade to his neck. It had been a tough fight, and he was seeing colours, knowing it had been only his technical abillity that had saved him there. If Petyr wanted to kill him, and was better in a melee, Ellion knew he'd be better running. He knew what worked and what didn't if an opponent didn't need to be knocked down, not killed, and Petyr, with that zweihander and more rage than a melee, would be someone that would need a very long time to draw down. For now at least, Ellion had won the fight, as he exhaled hard, nodding. "Yield." Petyr nodded ,as he muttered, swearing, Ellion nodding as the crowd cheered, Ellion taking a moment to stand right by him, close enough to speak without the crowd drowning out. "You're a good opponent, Ser. I wouldn't want to face you in a battlefield. You'd kill me if you did, you're relentless." Ellion said, close to Petyr, breathing hard from fatigue, tired and glad to make it through the onslaught. Petyr, young and brash, but newly knighted managed to bite down on the famous Clegane anger for a moment, "Aye ser. You're no prancing fop either. This just means I have to train harder." Petyr inclined his head to Ellion. In his black plate, standing next to Ellion, many were reminded of the Knight of Flowers and the Hound shoulder to shoulder a generation past. Many cheered on the young knights equally for the display. Even Petyr's father could be seen cracking a small smile as the Pup shook Ellion's hand and marched off of the field. Ellion shook his hand, keeping humble, as he nodded with a smile to him. Visor up, he headed off the field, no longer swinging the sword in his hand, as it felt like his hand was seized almost solid, the adrenalin now dropping away as he felt heavier, direly in need of a drink, direly in need of a seat, and a breather. And that was what he found, as Duncan, his squire ran up, bringing a pale of water, Ellion taking his helm off and dunking his head in. The boy knew exactly what he'd seen, the Tyrell had trained his squire well to understand that some fights were not always pleasurable, or easy. That wasn't. "Seven Hells...." Ellion mumbled, breathing out, his face and hair soaked, Duncan bringing a cloth to bear as he passed it to his teacher. "Ser Clegane was tough. That man is younger than me, but he's still tough as nails." He said, as Duncan nodded, agreeing with no doubt as Ellion exhaled, now coming back to his senses. "Aye, Ser Ellion. You fought well with him. Do you think you will be feeling well for the next round?" Duncan asked, as Ellion nodded, a little stream of water running still from his hair down his face, as he brushed it all back out of his sight. "I think I'll be fine. Thank you, Duncan. Get my blade polished again, please." He added, passing him the sword, still panting a little as he chuckled. "Okay....focus, Ellion." He mumbled to himself, looking back on at the tourney field in a gaze. -------------- Aerion let his breath out slowly, the air hissing out from between his teeth quietly. Tensing up, Aerion slowed his breathing before working to calm down. It was clear that the two men would not agree, and Aerion chose to let it go. His anger and distaste for Ellion, and the hidden burning hate for Allerie could wait. "May the Seven allow us to meet on the field of battle and test one another... Allow me to hinder your pagentry no more, Ser Ellion, enjoy your theatrical production." Aerion dipped his head, now turning to gaze upon the newcomer. He watched the man talk down to Ser Ellion, idly amused that another appeared to find Ellion in the same vein of distaste as he did. Aerion inclined his head to the man, who seemed to carry the air of a lord himself. "Honored to meet you, My lord?" Aerion ended the statement with a questioning tone. "Just call me Les." Alester Florent stated bluntly. "It's faster, and you probably know my titles and whatnot, Lord Aerion." He paused. "Likewise." Sighing he took a deep breath. "We ought to try and hide it better, don't we? Specially when that...person is going to be my goodbrother. Don't really dislike my fiancee tho, Alys is unlike him or her...sister." He said, almost tempted to draw out the pause more than he did. "Wait a second, you're the one chasing the Redwyne girl, aren't you My Lord?" He added, a comment springing on the back on his mind. "That or Seran's sister. But you don't look like a lady. Unlike him." He smirked. "HEY! Now you're doing it on purpose!" Seran's voice could be heard from a distance. Aerion made a formal half bow, before speaking in an amused manner. "Les? Fair enough then, for the sake of brevity. As for our shared distaste, agreed, at least in the public eye. I am glad that not all Roses are alike, the Seven must have blessed your betrothed." Aerion finished, offering a friendly smile. Aerion sighed, nodding his head and rubbing his eyes. "Seems that everyone knows of my plight and unsuccessful quest for Lady Amber's hand." Aerion then switched to Lyseni Valyrian, mumbling lowly, <<"No thanks to that scheming bitch.">> Aerion shook his head. "Lady Lysara has her heart set for a higher station and place at the table. I seek not to try and interfere in her heart's desire. She is a beautiful woman, but I am not the 'Dragon' she fancies." Aerion smiled, looking towards the direction of Seran's voice. "Ser Seran's looks are not the measure of his character. He is more a man than a certain rose prone to blight upon its thorn. You fought well, Les, Seran can be a tricky foe." "That one...she may be a pretty dragonseed, but I pity the man she sets her sights on." Alester sighed too. "I may be young but I also know a little about that kind of thing." He paused. Did he really hear that he wanted a ham sandwich in Valyrian? It didn't sound really nice. "I tried to chase the eldest sister. And after she laughed me, i tried to beat the brother. A 15 year old would not have much chances." "And let's be honest, my chances are better now, but I don't think they are enough." He waved his hand. "On the other hand, you seem, fresh and roused, and definitely someone who could give the Crown Prince a run for his dragons." The Fox Lord pondered. "So here is a suggestion. We speak with the tourney manager, you replace the knight that forfeited on me and you don't have to fight the rabble to get to the important bits." "Problem being, you would have to fight me." He shrugged. "We are but servants to the yearning of our hearts. Be glad you have found the younger sister to be a better match. Yet, this is today, and your offer at hand. A bold man, an overly confident fighter would jump at this chance. I must refuse normally, Les. Honor has its place, but time is short and pressing. We both yearn to put that pompous rose in his place. I'll bite. I assume you'll give me a fight to remember?" Aerion smiled through his beard, offering his right hand to shake on it. Alester smirked, as he shook Aerion's vigorously. "It'd do you a disservice as warrior otherwise. We only grow by testing our limits. And a tourney is one of the few places recklessness won't get you killed. Be sure to bring your Valyrian steel." He finished before letting know. "The jousts can help me to recover face, anyway. I wish to see a certain someone crowned Queen of Beauty. Now, let us arrange this with the Tourney Master, aye?" "Please, lead the way Les. I'll see to it that you will have no push over opponent. If fate favors one or the other, I still wish you luck in the lists." Aerion stepped back, to allow Alester lead the way.