[126/2] (Hart House) Prodigal Uncle

[Ser Fendrel Bartheld]

Ser Fendrel Bartheld had not been home for almost two years now. Ever since he left after the tourney in Riverrun and failing to secure his reign over the house and its lands, he thought of it as lacking that atmosphere he had always loved about it. It did not feel like it was his home anymore, even if he had been born there, had been raised there, and for a time had even served his father as an adviser at running the house itself. In a sense, he was no longer welcome -- even though many inhabitants still respected him and his word, others felt he betrayed their trust by trying to usurp the lordship from the young heir to Hart House, his brother's son, the 19-year old Davain. Fendrel could only hope that they knew why he did all of that -- to protect the family, its lands and its traditions and not have the young lord destroy everything that Fendrel's father created. Everything that House Bartheld was known and liked for -- their extravagant revels and parties that secured so many deals, friendships and marriages and their legendary hunts of which lords and ladies could talk for months after the event itself. What harm was there in a little bit of debauchery after all? Joy should be freely given and pleasure easily achieved. That was the Barthelds' goal -- to find joy everywhere they went in everything they did, even in servitude. They provided so that others could enjoy themselves. Where's the harm in that?

But those days were over -- at least that is what Fendrel had assumed seeing that Davain was made the lord. He did not put any trust in the boy's ability to be a good steward. Nevertheless, in his adventures during the time when he was gone from Hart House, he found solace and accepted that fate. He found much more than that. All heard the name of Ser Fendrel Bartheld and his valiant deeds in the Braavosi war effort agains the Triarchy and its conquests. He might not have ever sent a raven home with any news, but he was sure that his nephew and all other residents of Hart House had already heard them -- it was not often one heard the Bartheld name repeated in this context. The last time Barthelds earned renown as brave and bold warriors was in Prince Daemon's war of the Stepstones in which almost all male members of the house participated, but only two came back alive: lord Brom and his youngest son, Fendrel himself. Thus, it was not often this history was repeated as it always brought more anguish than glory. Whenever someone talked of it, it was usually as a warning against Barthelds going off to war, preferring to stick to partying and making love, not war;
or to mouth off to the one responsible -- the would-be conqueror himself, Daemon Targaryen the Rogue Prince.

Fendrel looked up at the familiar structures of the Hart House, coming ever so closer. He smiled, a grin painted on his face as he rode with a small host of Velaryon retainers.

He was back.

He was home.

...but was he even welcome here? He wondered.

Fendrel entered the hall with his companions in tow. He greeted the servants of his house with a smile and a hand gesture. They all respected him... even if they did not necessarily like him. Seeing his nephew, he bellowed, "
What? No welcoming party for your dearest uncle, Davain?"
Ser Fendrel was even more confident than he used to be. He radiated a certain aura of certainty and charm like never before. His appearance hadn't changed much, but a careful eye could spot an extra scar here and there. "
Where's the hospitality of House Bartheld? Where's the service? Where's the joy?"
He grinned as he paraphrased the Bartheld motto, "
Bring the food, call the minstrels, let us dance, let us hunt, my dearest nephew!"
He called out and gestured to servants... some moved to accommodate him but others felt conflicted. He was not a lord, and neither was he a member of the house, more like an estranged relative of their lord.

[OOC: Every Bartheld member's welcome.]

[Davain Bartheld]

"
Construction on the mine is underway M'lord. Surveying took longer than expected, but we are still on tract with our original expectations."
Said Maester Fourthwind. The Maester and his lord were in Davain's solar reviewing some accounts and other important information before Davain took to the hall to meet with those that who seek an audience with the young lord. "
Good, this mine will help..."
Davain was cut short when the sound of shouting came threw his wind. Looking out the window he saw his guards and servants running around the courtyard, tending to the needs of a small party of new comers that had just entered threw the gates. Davain couldn't see the who the leader of this party was, but one of the party carried a shield bearing the colors and sigil of House Velaryon. "
Ser Arthur,"
Davain called to the knight station outside his solar's door. A young man, no more than two years younger than Davain, entered. "
Ser Arthur, go out and find who our new guest are."
The knight bowed and exited the room. A few minutes later the sound of footsteps was heard before the same knight burst threw the door. Panting, Ser Arthur was only able to get to get out a few words. "
M'Lord, he back."
Gripping the desk, Davain only muttered threw his teeth "
Who is back?"


Davain and Ayleth entered the hall behind the Lord's table. The hall was empty saved for the Davain's Personal guard, who were station around the hall. Taking their seats, Davain waved his hand and the doors to the hall opened, allowing the new comers to enter. Davain only glared as his uncle boosted about celebrating his return. The fool thinks he can just try and take what is mine, than just return to open arms. "
Ser Fendrel, you are right. It is wrong of a lord to deny his guest food and drink after they have traveled such great distances to see him."
At that moment servants entered the hall with bread, salt, and wine. "
Please, have your fill, but first, tell me why you have returned? Last I heard you were off in Braavos, whoring out your sword to whoever would take you. Did the Braavosi tire of your traitor's blood? Or do you still think you can take Hart House from me?"

[Ayleth Bartheld]

Ayleth sat near her husband, wearing the house colors. "
Ser Fendrel!"
Ayleth greeted the knight with a smile as he arrived. She remembered Fendrel well;
of course she did, she might have been his wife. He was dancer and a jouster. He had rode in a tournament wearing her favor once. It took her back, to Theomore and her romantic youth. Was it really only two years ago? How life has changed "
I am glad to see you are safe after your adventures, ser."
she said to Fendrel. It was interesting to see him, thought it would have been nicer to see him without House Velaryon forces. That could mean all sorts of things in light of the struggle between the Greens and the Blacks, all of them trouble. The Velaryons were powerful supporters of the princess, for the most part... but some of the Velaryons believed Rhaenyra's children were bastards and therefore were against her. Which are these? Fendrel is either openly taking sides against us or for us, but I have no way to know yet.
She liked Fendrel... but she didn't trust him. He'd tried to take everything from the man she loved, and he might try the same against her child. She crossed her arm over her belly protectively;
four months in, her pregnancy was showing. If Fendrel's long time away from home had changed him he could be a very valuable part of House Bartheld, but there was no way she could know right away if it did. Still, her courteous demeanor doesn't change.
She was a bit rattled by her husband's anger against Fendrel. It was earned, but it was strange from a man she felt to be trusting and forgiving. He took my advice and went one step beyond. She gives Davain a calming look. He had every reason to be angry, but little good would come of showing it so publicly.

[Ser Fendrel Bartheld]

Ser Fendrel's smile never faded -- even when the lord of House Bartheld spoke the way he did -- contempt crystal clear and audible in his words. In truth, he wasn't surprised that Davain harbored those feelings towards him. He had that right. What surprised him though was the openness of the insult and the unhidden aggressiveness he displayed. If anything, it made him appear... petty and unaccustomed to the courtly life at the least, and resentful and scared at worst. In the grand world of lords and ladies, courtiers and schemers, your words were your sword -- and your reputation. In a sense, this honesty was... refreshing. That was indeed one thing he always remembered Davain as. Honest and straight to the point. He hadn't changed then -- not in that matter at least. Fendrel wondered whether the boy was even capable of changing... his father certainly wasn't. As stubborn as an ox, they'd say. Fendrel was always the more flexible of his brothers.

Fortunately for Davain, his lady wife was much more capable when it came to dealing with courtly matters. Fendrel remembered her very well -- if things had been different, she could have been his wife instead. He remembered how graceful she was at dancing, how beautiful her face was when adorned with the ruby necklace he had given her, how keen her observation skills were, and, most of all, how striking she could be. She was a formidable woman -- in more than one sense. Fendrel respected her and bowed to her in reverence. "
Lady Ayleth, looking radiant as ever. It is a great pleasure to see your face again."
Charming as ever, Fendrel gave her a warm smile. Her growing curves didn't escape his notice -- so, it seemed, the heir to his ancestral home was already on its way. They hadn't wasted any time then... but then again, two years of an absence was a long time. A lot could have changed -- and, he was sure, a lot did. "
No danger could ever hope to bar me from returning home, my lady."
He then turned to his nephew. "
Oh no, in fact, I was invited to several feasts by the Sealord of Braavos himself as they value knightly prowess and valiant deeds done in their name and in their wars. But it was not their name I have carried -- but the Bartheld's. So, to reply to your question, my dearest nephew, I have been bringing fame and glory to my father's name, my name, your name -- and to House Bartheld. I realise that the Free Cities are famous for their courtesans, and some raise very highly, to positions of power even, but I sincerely doubt that any whore has ever brought such recognition to House Bartheld."
His tone was affectionate, even friendly as he spoke, his face a mask of perfect courtly courtesy.

"
As for the immediate reason for my return, however... Let me present..."
Ser Fendrel turned to a hooded slender figure hidden among the Velaryon retainers. "
...lady Vaelia Velaryon, my betrothed."
His smile widened, showing his perfectly white teeth. He let everyone have a look at the beautiful woman behind him. She was a true picture of a Valyrian seductress -- with deep purple eyes and silver-gold long flowing hair. She was a woman almost all men dreamt of.

And she was his.

"
I suppose you haven't heard the news of the betrothal then? I would imagine a house like ours, with such deep traditions and history of arranging feasts and weddings, would not refuse its own blood that joy and that service?"

[Lady Vaelia Velaryon]

Vaelia listened carefully to every word that was spoken, but at the same time she looked the hall up and down. The Hart House was much smaller than the High Tide, yet still in some way it reminded her home. She was absolutely delighted seeing the dragon imagery all around the place. She was true Valyrian inside, so it was no creature more dear to her than the fire-spewing monster. Although the tapestries, painting and sculptures were fascinating, the surprisingly aggressive reaction of lord Davain caught her interest. She started to weigh the pair up. The Lord's face was like a thunder. He reminds her about sailors she had known in Driftmark. They were all good men, brave and hard-working, but they often forgot to think before speaking. Nevertheless, such recklessness did not suit the lord of the house. He wouldn't survive a day at the court. His wife, on the other hand, seemed to be much more clever and self-possessed. Her smile was lovely and welcoming, and the only sign of her unease was the protective gesture over her unborn child. That told Vaelia more about lady Ayleth's character than any words or stories. She had heard the gossips that her betrothed used to be one of Ayleth's suitors and now she understood why.

Ser Fendrel's answer to the insult did not disappoint her. He raised above it, as the true lord and knight should do. Every single time when he was using his charm in such a refined way, she confirmed herself in the opinion that he was indeed a perfect match.

Vaelia felt the eyes of the people gathered in the hall, when she took the hood off. They were surprised, that was for sure. If it was because of ser Fendrel's information about their future wedding or because of her Valyrian hair and eyes, it did not really matter. The shock on lord Davain’s face, when he realized that Fendrel was not joking, was nothing but amusing. It almost made her laugh, but instead of acting like a child delighted with a new toy, she blushed and dip down into a deep curtsy like the lady and the happy bride that she was. She knew well that she did not look her eighteen years, but she had a lot of time to learn how to take an advantage of her innocent appearance. She planned to act a girl as sweet as a spring wind, no matter what.

“My Lord Davain, Lady Ayleth, it is such a pleasure to finally meet you. I have heard so many stories about House Bartheld and its hospitality.” Indeed, ser Fendrel told her a lot about the history and traditions of his House. Lord Davain wouldn’t be pleased about some of them. “Lord Corlys sends greetings to you and your household and wants to assure you about his friendship.” She made a pause here, giving everybody time to consider the words. Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, was not a man to ignore or to mess with.

Vaelia made three steps forward, still standing tall, and smiled courteously to Davain.

“Forgive me, my lord, I know we should have sent a raven with a message about us coming, but I did not want to trouble you. I assumed that ser Fendrel as the member of the family will be always welcomed in his home, am I right? Besides, we wanted to leave Driftmark before the weather got worse. The sea can be really treacherous and you have never known when the storm might come.”

[Ayleth Bartheld]

Ayleth was not surprised so much as irritated by the news What is Corlys playing at? The Velaryons were a powerful house, directly connected to the royal line. Fendrel was a skilled knight, but compared to the Velaryons he was of no real significance. Unless he was preparing to make an immediate power play for the lordship, he had little to offer House Velaryon except his sword, and he could have done so from High Tide. Vaelia was only a niece of Corlys, but still...
Three possibilities present themselves. All of them are bad and most of them are dangerous to House Bartheld. This should be interesting.

"
Kind of you to say, Ser Fendrel."
she said courteously when the knight complimented her appearance. He certainly hadn't changed. He always did like to make an impression.
For most of what Frendrel said, Ayleth waited on her husband's response. She could advise, but Davain was in charge and the last thing she wanted was a public disagreement in front a guest like Vaelia. There would be time to tell him her thoughts later, in private.

"
There is no need for us to forgive you, dear lady Vaelia. It was Fendrel's responsibility to inform the head of his House of his betrothal, not your responsibility."
she said warmly to Vaelia. Whatever the situation with Fendrel, she wanted the young Lady to feel welcome. She knew how difficult it could be to leave your home and marry someone far away, even when you had been prepared for it. She sympathized with Vaelia. "
It is a great pleasure to meet you. I hope the long journey from High Tide has been comfortable.

[Davain Bartheld]

Davain merely smirked as Fendral talked about winning glory for House Bartheld. It was no surprise that his Uncle would return to gloat about supposed triumphs. The true surprise came when Fendral revealed his true reasons for return to Hart House. Davain shifted in his chair ever so slightly. He did his best to hide the surprise since this was a unlikely turn of events. "
Lady Vaelia, I am deeply honored that Lord Corlys would view House Bartheld as friends. You are, of course, welcomed here at anytime, along with any members of Lord Corlys's household. As for my uncle, that is a different story. If he has truly told you of my family's history, than he has without doubt told you of how he tried to take my birthright and my lady wife from me, which make my relationship with him a precarious one at best."


Davain sat in silence for a few moments, staring at the table while he thought about what do next. Finally, Davain rose from his seat and stared at his uncle. "
It is my right as lord to have the final say in all marriages, and to marry without a lord's leave is a grave crime. With that right comes the lord's responsibility to find suitors for those that wish to have them and assist in hosting the ceremony. When you stormed off two years ago, you left the service of House Bartheld. While you might be of my blood, as far as I'm concerned it is not my responsibility to assist you with this ceremony since I am not your liege lord. So I say to you, bend the knee. Bend the knee and your pass transgression will be forgiven, form there we can talk about this wedding."

[Sponsored content]