Re: [Epilogue] They see you(little children) [Open]

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

As Yoren departs, he encounters an unexpected face at the door...Gwyneth Drakeson. She looks momentarily surprised to see him, but then steps back and to the side to give him space to go past her, if he so chooses.

[Loreia]

Loreia nods in farewell, and returns to bowing her head. The stone beneath her strains uncomfortably against her knee through the plain course wool of her shift, the cheapest dress she's ever worn in her life. It was a new experience to be allowed to wear a loose gown off-duty, while sleeping, before she asked for the honor of fighting for her lord. A woman has to be ready to take up arms in a moment's notice where she grew up. Can't very well be ready in a moment's notice if one has to disrobe her finery lest she trip on a hem trailing on the ground around her - not that she ever wore a gown long enough.

She looks at her breastplate, seeming as though glowing, illuminated by the light of the candles. She contemplates blowing out said candles. Then she thinks of the Crone's lantern, flickering in the dark, lighting the way for men and women lost in the night. The truth Yoren would have her believe in, if only she would take the lantern and leave the old wise woman in the dark like the pale falsehood his gentle damnation claimed she was, that they all were through omission. Eyes closed, mind as awake and active as her heart, she offers a prayer of affirmation to the Crone before the altar of the Warrior.

Lady of the Light, guide my way through the dark. My path to glory leads me through a forest where many seek to waylay those they deem unwelcome and unworthy of their fellowship. Warrior, give me the strength to hold the torch up high. Redeem my dream with the strength to brave the danger in the name of the Seven. Bless this battle waged by scorn and spite, and let it temper me and sharpen my resolve.

Footsteps again. She breathes deeply to calm her thoughts.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth walked as quietly as she could, not wishing to disturb Loreia too much...but she didn't take her shoes off either. It wouldn't do for the lady knight to be entirely unaware that she had a visitor. It struck her as she approached that she'd never really seen Loreia out of her armor before. It was funny how a little thing like that could make someone seem a bit less massive, a bit more normal. As though the armor were part of the person when worn.

She stopped at a discrete distance, though well within conversational speaking, and said, "
Congratulations, my lady knight. Forgive my interruption of your vigil."

[Loreia]

Loreia turns her gaze over her shoulder. Nodding in as much a bow as she can muster while already kneeling before the gods, she moves a hand to salute, breaking away from a gesture of prayer and worship. In place of gauntlets, one notices she's bandaged from her elbows to fingers.

"
Lady Drakeson. It's fine, milady, an' thank you. I been havin' heavy thoughts, so I don't mind a little company now an' again."

[Baelon Drakeson]

[OOC: Unless Loreia broke her vigil, she wouldn't know that Baelon was there.

Baelon made it a point to arrive at the sept after Loreia, and would make it a point to leave before her in the morning.

He... had positioned himself next to a nearby building, such that he could see people as they entered the sept, but he was hidden to them if they didn't look around too much. They would see him plain on exit, though.

For some reason he doesn't want Loreia to know he is there. Maybe they can have a scene about it if she finds out later.]

[Loreia]

[Oh, well alright, noted. I have made some edits.]

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
Heavy thoughts on a night of celebration?"
Gwyn inquires, moving closer to sit in a pew behind Loreia. "
You Northerners. But then I suppose knighthood is a lot of expectations and responsibility, and not a lot of tangible reward. At least at first."


"
And always assuming one decides to take it seriously, which I know you will."


She leans forward to rest her chin in her hands, studying the larger woman before her.

"
What are your heavy thoughts this evening? Maybe I can help lighten the load."

[Loreia]

Loreia's eyes reaffix on the candle lit for the Warrior. Her hands fold together again. "
It's just prayer, mostly. I got lots to pray for. Since I had some time alone with me thoughts, I can't help feelin' just a bit fluttery. Wantin' it was easy. Now that I'm really bein' knighted, it feels like it should be happenin' to someone else."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
I can think of only a few others that might qualify for it, among the women I know,"
Gwyn said with a warm smile. "
And none more deserving by her actions."


"
So this is something you've wanted, hm? Why is that? What does being a knight mean to you?"

[Loreia]

The question is met with ponderous silence. An earnest question deserves an earnest answer. Earnest answers come from careful thought - a Northerner's perspective introduced to the Southron temperament.

"
Well, I guess you can say I'd fell in love with the idea."
The words come softly with a bit more breath in them, hinting at suppressed amusement, before resuming a reserved quality. "
Ser Jorah's the first knight I met. I remember seein' somethin' diff'rent in 'im, the way others listened when he talked, how his title made him 'more.' I've seen wot a good man can be when given that title. When I'd heard of Lord Coldbrook's own rise to glory, I believed I could get there too - to be a knight, not a lord. In Jorah, I see the bar on the ladder I want to stand on. Back then, I didn't realize it'd be 'arder on me, but it'll be worth it. Got to be."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn was silent for a moment as she listened to what Loreia wasn't saying.

Did it have to be worth it? She thought that even for men it sometimes wasn't. And for a woman, where the price was so much higher, it would be even harder to make it worth it. Loreia would pay and pay again, but even if she succeeded beyond anyone wildest expectations, the ones to benefit most would be the women who came after her.

And had Loreia fallen in love with the idea of knighthood...or with the ideal knight? It would explain a great many things, but Loreia kept her heart deep under that armor.

"
Is that what you're praying for?"
she asked. "
That it will be worth it?"
Gwyn paused and added, "
How will you know, I wonder? Most of the time we only know the worth of something once it's past. Being a knight doesn't end, though."

[Loreia]

"
Hmm, that's the truth, milady."
Loreia searches deep within herself for the words to help Gwyneth understand, perhaps even to discover for herself what her endless devotion and readiness is worth in achieving a status that really did nothing to mold her martially.

"
Wot I want to get out of bein' a knight is to better defend Castle Grenward than one faceless warrior in an army. I'll know, I think, when our enemies weigh the risk of opposin' us, an' I'm one of the reasons they think twice. When the Morningstar meets another army on the field of battle, an' they challenge me by name. Mainly, bein' a knight oughtta let me do things for me house that I couldn't before...sometimes just by standin' out."


For one wrapped up in meditation and deep thought, she surprises herself with how much she has to say.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth nodded at that. "
You're only seeing one element of knighthood, I think. A classic case of a carpenter using his hammer and nail for every problem he sees. You know battle and weapons and honor...and those things are part of being a knight...so that's how you see knights."


"
The whole truth is more complex though. You WILL be expected to do things for your House that you couldn't before. You will be, effectively, a kind of nobility. And correct me if I'm wrong, but you haven't got any idea what that means, do you?"


"
For example. Let's say Daveth, as Lord of House Coldbrook, answers an invitation to a rival Lord's hall to hold negotiations over some point in dispute over a fine feast. You are at his side, to carry his honor and shield his life and limb. You think you notice, during the service, a servant's hand linger a little too long over Daveth's cup before it's given to him."


"
What do you do?"

[Loreia]

Loreia becomes mildly aware of an irritating heat in her ears - as aware as one would be without having the present thought or concern for the relation to their mood - which have turned a shade of pink. She barely gets in a "
Beg your pardon, milady"
before Gwyn continues seamlessly on to the illustration of her point. Loreia can't help chafing at the tone the small young woman behind her is adopting.The quandary is followed by a flustered silence as Loreia guesses wildly, questioning her gut answer as it leaps from her tongue - half earnest, half dismissal. "
I grab the servant by the 'and an' order 'em to drink first. If there's no poison, same one pours a new cup."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
Ah ha!"
Gwyn pounces. "
But then you're accusing the Lord of craven murder, and making an unseemly spectacle. Imagine what happens if there's no poison? Why, he could send you all packing, and no one would think less of him. You're there to protect your Lord's honor as much as his life remember."


She holds up a finger, "
But of course, if you do nothing, and Daveth drinks the poison, why then you've failed the other half of that. You could be clever, and perhaps 'accidentally' knock his glass over while reaching for bread, then volunteer your own cup to replace his before anyone can pour a new one. But then you look like an oaf."


"
The answer to this is a question. The question is, if we are in the hall of our enemy, at a tense negotiation, why is a servant giving my Lord his wine? As a knight, in that situation, it would not be such a strange thing for you take the bottle and pour it yourself. It's not an accusation, it's not a fuss nor muss and it lets you protect your Lord's life and honor at once."


"
What I'm trying to say is that...what I did just now was unfair. I made sure to present the situation in terms where it was already too late. Both to make the point that you'd need to know about how knights are expected to act in order to get the best result, but also as a warning that it's not hard to be unfair. To trap a knight between oaths and force them down a path were all the choices are bad. It doesn't happen all that often, because most knights aren't worth the trouble."


Gwyn nodded.

"
But you will be. You've become more than a woman. You're now a symbol too."

[Loreia]

Loreia silently huffs when Gwyn reveals she had played her. Keeping Daveth alive holds the highest import between that and retaining dignity or ensuring no action or inaction on her part tarnishes his dealings in the court and in the great hall, but she has a point;
trapped between choosing one over the other, she or her charge would suffer harshly by the end of the week over something so small(and perhaps lethal) as a cup of wine.

"
Symbol this, symbol that"
with these people. But she can't remain ignorant that knights are often a nobility on their own pedestal, and soon she'll be sworn to uphold the secret law of avoiding offending the wrong people, while sworn to spoken oaths written on parchment. To best serve the oaths she cared about, she'll remain at Daveth's side in diplomacy and intrigue, and to keep her place, she'll have to abide the games of the highborn, think like they do. As a knight, the risk she faces on the battlefield are now equaled in the court.

"
Lady Gwyn...I've been a fool, haven' I? I truly 'ad no idea. Per'aps I oughtta be kneelin' at the Crone instead."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn smiled and shook her head.

"
You're not a fool yet. Whether or not this is foolish remains to be seen, and depends entirely on you. Ser Jorah will be happy to help you on matters knightly, though his time will be in short supply I expect. Daveth can educate you in some ways. But despite all appearances, Daveth isn't a lady. There are rules he's never had to worry about, and will not be able to warn you of."


She stood up and walked over to Loreia, studying her.

"
We're going to have to make a proper lady of you."


Her tone was musing, but there was an impish gleam in her eyes that wasn't entirely comforting.

[Loreia]

The mood within the sept suppresses giggling, when Loreia would otherwise have had to stifle the impulse - provided other circumstances demanding it, albeit with less potency than a place of worship.

When Gwyn comes around to her, she lifts her gaze and arches her back to look her in the eye. Good, facing a stone idol when talking to someone behind me wasn't getting any less odd. And then she hears a solution to her vacuous understanding of proper conduct in highborn company.

"
A lady? Me?"
Her eyes in turn match Gwyn's subtle roguish tenor with equivalent aversion. "
No we're not."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn smiled evilly.

"
You're not afraid, are you? Is this the challenge that undoes you? Ah, and so soon after your knighting. The tragedy of it all."


"
I am serious though. Your honor will be under constant attack, and the armor you need to protect it is courtly graces. How you walk, how you talk, how you dress...and perhaps most importantly, how you listen and what you listen for. All these things must be as polished and as sharp as the blade of your sword."

[Loreia]

First the eyes, now that smile, as though she can't wait to get her hands on some hapless boy(what, me?) to jerk around and play with his heart...or, mayhaps, to play dress-up with - mainland maids are different than where she grew up, more like to wear gowns, paint nails and powder their noses if they were well-to-do(or mayhaps do these things to another).

"
'Ow to act, wot to listen for...'avin' a presence of mind for small, dangerous things;
these 'courtly graces', I yield that much is needed. The rest o' me need no polishin'. I'll be a knight."
The last part is spoken with a fine point to it, the premise to everything before it, requiring no elaboration. For what does one see when they think of a knight?

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
You will be,"
agrees Gwyn, "
But you will also be a lady."
The flash of glee in her eyes faded to something more somber.

"
This isn't going to be fair. Knights who are men can be as grotesque and as dirty and as ill mannered as they please, and while some might look askance at it, it will cost them nothing they care about. You are different, because you must be two things. A knight, and a lady. You must be both, or neither will matter. Because you are the first, you see. You're the one breaking the ground, showing it can be done. Fail in one, and it gives your enemies an avenue of attack;
a vulnerability that can wreck what you're trying to do."


"
They'd like to kill you, but they don't HAVE to. Discrediting you will work as well, at least as far as your value as a symbol goes."


Gwyneth sits back and studies Loreia.

"
I feel like I've intruded too much on your vigil. Please forgive me. Give some thought to what I've said. Perhaps discuss it with Daveth as well. Come see me if you want my help."


She reached out and put her dainty little hand on Loreia's shoulder, then got back to her feet.

[Loreia]

Loreia takes note of the change in Gwyn's tone, shifting her underlying earnest attitude to the surface and showing her personal interest to be at the exclusion of the amusement she apparently finds in training her personal peasant girl up in the way of courtly eloquence. It's no game to her. No harm done.

"
Thank you, Gwyn. I'll think on it."


The polite smile on her face fades as the lady of House Drakeson takes her leave. She bows her head once more before the shrine, and Gwyn's words begin leaping back and forth across her mind. More symbol talk. Am I ill-mannered? Dirty? No, I am not, thank you. Am I... I am no wild thing, better than the dogs in plate they churn out like Ser Benjen Frey and Ser Addam Tarly. I have seen "
grotesque"
, if it means what I think it does, and I am not that. What they see is what they get, whatever they might think of my breeding, my home. Former home - where she grew up. She considers the error she made in her thoughts. No, Castle Grenward is my home now. Everything she does, she does for her lord. Lord Coldbrook, Daveth, Garret. Jorah. With him gone, House Coldbrook may have new expectations for her. Mayhaps I ought to step up.

[OOC Paragraph is for when you leave, if you have anything else to say before you do.]

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