[D6:MM]The Storm before the Calm before the Storm (closed)

[Baelon Drakeson]

The Drakeson pavilion was prepared - in the spacious front room was a table set for four as well as platters of ham, boiled eggs, fresh fruit, and a basket of rolls and sweetbreads. Pitchers of water, fresh pressed juice, and a teapot completed the presentation.

Contrasting to this warm and welcoming spread, a row of chests - dark and dirty - sat along a portion of the fabric wall that separated the front room from the sleeping chamber.
Similarly betraying the peacefulness is the presence of six Bloodriders stationed outside the tent - two keep watch at the entrance, one on each of the other three sides, and one making rounds. Armed and armored, their faces show the seriousness with which they take their task. None uninvited will be allowed past.

Baelon sits on a small chair in one corner, between the rack upon which his black scale-enameled plate hangs and one bearing his shield - freshly repainted with the Drakeson sigil after the repeated beatings it has taken in recent days. pin that rack are his two swords and their scabbards - his melee prize blade, remounted with a dragon-wing styled cross-guard, and the blade gifted him by Lord Dunstan, it's tooled and dyed leather scabbard displaying an artful combination of Drakeson and Marsten sigils.

Soon, he expects, their guests would arrive. He looked forward to it with anticipation and dread. No man may know what the future holds, but some things seem dark no matter how you look at it.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

Corrine, clad in black and grey, and swathed in her newly made shadowcat fur cloak, walked slowly up to the pavilion with Ben at her side.

"
Please let Lord Drakeson know that Lady and Lord Marsten have arrived,"
she told one of the bloodriders.

She was trying hard to sound neutral, though there was an inescapable chilliness to her demeanour.

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
Yes my lady."
The Bloodrider is formal and precise.
He opens the tent flap and steps inside.
"
Lady and Lord Marsten too see you, my lord."


"
Show them in, Petyr."
Baelon stands and prepares to play the welcoming host.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

The partition across the back third of the tent parts, and Gwyn pokes her head in.

"
Are they here already? Just a moment."


There's rustling from back there as she fixes whatever needs fixing, then emerges to stand beside Baelon all prim and pretty and proper in her blue-trimmed white dress with its finely embroidered sides and skirt. Servants stir from back there as well, ready to start bringing out the morning meal.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

Corrine tried not to smirk at the seemingly transparent attempt to display power. The backdrop of armour and weaponry, the guards, the chests. It was all laid out so deliberately. It could only be his way of making a statement.

Gods, how vulgar. Compensating for something, Baelon?, she thought, with a mirthless internal scoff.

"
Good morning, she greeted him, observing all politenesses, though the friendliness her eyes had once had was not present.

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
Lady Corrine, Lord Ben."
He says, bowing politely. Formally.

"
Welcome to our little piece of home away from home. Please, sit."
He gestures to the table.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

What warmth Corrine lacked in her greeting was more than made up for in Gwyn's as she came forward and beckoned the Marstens forward with her trademark sunny smile.

"
Corrine...Ben...we're so glad you came. We'll have the food out momentarily. It's madness that we've never gotten together before now, the four of us. Madness thankfully at an end."


Once Lord and Lady Marsten were seated, she returned to sit down herself as well.

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"
It's alright, Gwyn,"
Corrine replied, managing a restrained smile. "
We have all been extremely busy. There have, sadly, been more important things than socialising."


She sounded genuinely regretful.

[Benedict Marsten]

Ben simply bows when addressed and takes his seat when offered. A mummer's smile does a poor job of hiding his disquiet. At least his anger and frustration had been quelled by the pleasant evening he and Corrine had shared. He conscientiously ran his fingers through his shaggy hair again checking for straw.

[Baelon Drakeson]

Baelon takes his seat last, as is proper etiquette for a host.
"
Please, help yourselves. I have dismissed our servants for the next few hours;
we have as close to total privacy and secrecy as can be arranged, but at a cost of having to serve our own food. A small price to pay, to my mind, considering the weighty matters we have to discuss."


He waits until everyone has served themselves and begins eating before he continues.

"
You all know that I dislike talking circles around an issue, so I propose we get right to it. We have a major problem. I had hoped to stop a war, but now I think it may be inevitable."

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"
To which war are you referring?"
Corrine asked.

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
'Which war'?"
He scoffs. "
There are none currently. I'm talking a war here, Corrine. Not a mere feud between houses or peasant uprising. I'm talking about things like Blackbuckle and the Sept attack becoming unremarkable because events like them happen so frequently that all but the dead become inured to them. A war between nations, in which hundreds of thousands may die - not counting the innocent smallfolk, among whom the death toll could be in the millions."


He pauses to let the magnitude of his words weight down.

"
That coin..."
He gestures over his shoulder at the chests from the cave "
...is all Dornish. I had thought it to be a ruse, an attempt to start a war for Gods-know-what reason. I dared not let anyone see it until I could make sure lest the ruse be seen as reality, but these..."
he pulls a packet of letters from his tunic "
...turned out to be real."
He puts them down on the table so the others can peruse them.

[Benedict Marsten]

"
'Which war'?"
He scoffs. "
There are none currently...

There are many transpiring right here. Most with out drawn blade but just as dangerous. One is being fought right now in this very room. Don't seem appalled when we ask which.

Ben remains still, his eyes only glancing at the papers and chest. He says nothing. His jaw clinching momentarily pushing frustration back into gut.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

(OOC - lol...I have been informed that I am a colossal goober, and my sleep-addled brain has mistaken the conjecture we've been bandying about in PMs for what was actually in the letters. Please disregard my last couple of posts. My abject apologies for being such a knob. )

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

Corrine sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of her nose for a moment, eyes closed.

Here we go.

"
Baelon, there is no need to be derisory. I was asking a genuine question. I can think of at least two wars that threaten the horizon, and I wanted to know to which you referred. And can we dispense with the melodrama? I understand on my own that there are darker matters afoot than our original summons led us to believe, but you have a tendency for the hyperbolic which is making matters difficult. Now, am I correct in thinking that you suspect that someone is trying to start a war between The Realm and Dorne?"

[Baelon Drakeson]

Baelon rolls his eyes.

"
There is nothing on the horizon that has nearly as much potential for destruction as this. Bracken and Blackwood, or Prince Aemond's retribution? Paltry in comparison. Resumption of war against the Triarchy? Much more limited in scope. Greens and Blacks? At worst, half the country against the other half. Terrible, to be sure. All of the Seven Kingdoms against all of Dorne... even Aegon the conqueror couldn't win that war. The Dornish even killed Queen Rhaenys and the mighty Meraxes. Could any of our current dragons do better? Vhagar, perhaps. Caraxes, possibly. The rest, no. Melodrama? No. Fact."
His face goes distant, remembering. "
I lived until the age of nine on Bloodstone, in the midst of the war against the Triarchy. Nothing you have ever seen compares. Nothing. It's... horrible."
He shakes his head, returning to the current day. "
...and war with Dorne could eclipse that war by far."


"
No, as I said initially I thought that someone was trying to create such a war. However, those letters indicate that someone in Dorne was trying to instigate the uprising here, presumably hoping it would spread into a popular uprising across the Seven Kingdoms."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn puts a hand on Baelon's arm and leans forward.

"
We're not trying to downplay what's happened here, Corrine. The opposite, really. You and I...we look at the Blackwoods and Brackens and we think 'what a terrible war.' Like the 'war' with the Clans. But Baelon's right. A real war, fought between nations, would be far worse."


She looks at her husband and adds to him, chidingly, "
Tact though. We're here to make peace and inform. Now more than ever, it's vital we work together and respect one another."

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"
I am not so naive as to think a war with Dorne would not be catastrophic, Baelon, but you need not act as though the sky is falling on our heads as we speak. I came here to discuss things with you for Gwyn's sake, so please don't make me regret it. It's fine to bring up these findings, encouraged even, but you had a messenger come running to me the other day with accusations of treason against Ser Theomore that were based solely on conjecture and citcumstance that you had inflated to a frenzied pitch. Had I not good, level-headed advisors with me, I might have acted wrongly, based on your exaggeration and jumping to conclusions, dressed up as fact. Just because you think something is true does not necessarily make it so. I don't want to be made a fool of any more than I already have been, so forgive me if I'm not leaping up to your tune on this Dorne matter. War with Dorne must certainly be avoided, but it should be done as calmly as possible."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
It may not be as simple as avoiding war with Dorne,"
Gwyn says heavily. "
That may be out of our hands."

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"
Then there is even less need for theatrics,"
Corrine shrugged. "
If it is inevitable, then we should try to protect ourselves and all we value against the fallout, and try to stay alive."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn nods at that, relieved.

"
Good. Good. Baelon and I have discussed this quite a bit."
She looks at him and smiles fondly. "
I don't think we need to impress on them the seriousness anymore. Lets focus on our path forward."

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

Corrine gives her cousin a grateful smile.

It's so much easier talking to you. So much less stress.

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
Yes,"
Baelon's voice is low in both pitch and volume. "
You might have acted wrongly with Ser Theomore... but we'll probably never know, now that several of our informants have been killed. Perhaps you didn't take me seriously enough... and perhaps the sky isn't falling on our heads, but a misstep here could have dire consequences. If you wish to consider my words mere theatrics, I cannot help you. You and Ben have rejected my aid time and time again, and people have paid the price with their lives. That is on you, not on me."


He shakes his head.

"
You have been acting like your mother - treating those who try to help you with disdain. That is disappointing. When I backed you in taking control of House Marsten, I did so believing that you would be a better leader, and not drive away your allies the way your mother drove away Lord Krieger. Apparently I was wrong."
He smirks. "
I may be lacking in tact, but I also thought you preferred truth over honeyed words. Apparently I was wrong about that, too."


He sighs.

"
Take the coin, and the letters. Do with them as you will. I have suggestions, but I doubt you are interested in hearing them."

[Lady Corrine Marsten]

"
Patronising me in front of everyone was not helping me, you arrogant oaf!"
Corrine snapped. "
Stop acting like you haven't done anything wrong! I didn't drive you away! You left!"

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
We left with your blessing! And it was never meant to end our friendship! And I wasn't being patronizing, I was giving you way out from the trap! The Old King, the Great Conciliator got a mere fifty years out of these blockhead houses. I pointed out that it was a farce to expect more from anyone! Stop assuming that everything I say is an attack! It's insulting, and I have worked to hard to get where I am to be insulted by someone who was practically handed their position on a silver platter, especially when I was one of the ones handing it to you!

[OOC: please forgive any typos, this is a post from a phone on a bus in stop-and-go traffic. Editting is not feasible.]

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