The Fish & The Spear
Posted on Wed Sep 1st, 2021 @ 10:54am by Lord Jonah Tully
Edited on on Wed Sep 1st, 2021 @ 3:33pm
Mission:
The Iron Price
Location: Snakestone Manor
Timeline: 8th Day of the 12th Moon, 404AC
Snakestone Manor was filled with the smell of meats and spices, wines, cakes, and flowers as the Martel and Tully servants worked to prepare the great feast that would follow this wedding. Lord Jonah and Lady Ashara would no doubt make a beautiful couple as the stood in the garden before the Seven and pledged their love and their lives to one another. The place was abuzz with energy, and though it was a private affair, most of the Lords of Dorne and the Riverlands were there.
In her sitting room, Princess Tyene was directing the work of several maids as grooms as they came to her asking questions. The mother of the bride wore a glittering yellow dress the color of Golden Dragons and she shined with radiance. She always spoke with soft words and with a kind face, and she never needed more than that to get her point across. In that way, she was unlike many a Dornish woman. Her second step son, Aaron entered to help her with her tasks as well, and he served as a quality tester for the entire event.
"Mother, the Septon comes." he said with the same strange and haunted look in his eyes he always had.
Behind him emerged a large man with a black beard wearing long grey robes. He looked at the Princess with beady eyes and knelt to kiss her hand.
"Your Grace." he said in gruff tones. "What a momentous day."
"Indeed, your eminence. And I'm pleased you were willing to be a part of it. Dorne sends her love." The Princess said peacefully.
"The tales of your beauty do you no justice, Your Grace." the man responded, standing up straight again. "Now, I shall go to the gardens to prepare the place of the vows."
She bid him leave with a simple, silent nod, her large brown eyes communicating kindness.
Lady Ashara stood in her underclothes looking out of the veiled window which provided a view to the gardens. She never imagined her wedding day would be in King's Landing, and she found herself a bit meloncholic because of it. She noticed the faces of many Dornish nobles gathered around her father. Her grandfather, Lord Santagar, Lady Vaith, Lord Jordayne, Lord Quorgyle, Lord Yronwood, and many others. Her father, the Prince, had been gathering so often with his angry lords that she hadn't had time to even speak with him since the Great Council. Something troublesome was brewing over the treatment that Dorne had received, she just knew it. But did they have to do this on her wedding day?
She sighed heavily and looked at her friend and handmaid, Mara Sand as she approached with the gorgeous white dress.
"You are so bothered by what these Lords do, Ashara." she said with a pitying expression.
"Something bad is going to happen, Mara. I can feel it in my soul." the bride responded as she placed her arms up in preparation for the dress.
"And yet, you will be just as beautiful and your husband just as enthralled. Remember what I've taught you, Ashara, and you will not fail."
A few chambers had been set aside for Jon and his men. He was wearing fresh clothes. A silken tunic of dark blue and dark red. A fish was embroidered on his chest, jumping over a twin set of castles. Breeches, newly made and freshly washed clung to his legs, white stockings under them. From the back one would say he looked like a dapper lord, properly dressed for the occasion of his marriage. But one look in his eyes would tell you that this was a man exhausted. The call from Aethan to serve still hung over him, an offer he couldn't refuse but dearly wanted to. A monumental failure to become king that would hang over him for years to come, and knowing he was to rule the Riverlands when his uncle Samwise would finally pass.
Even knowing the beauty of his bride, the loveliness of his character, Jon was not looking forward to the ceremony, not truly. But he was a Riverlord, a man of duty and honour. He sighed deeply, straightened his back. He looked upon himself in the mirror again. His hand fell on his sword, Crossroads. The familiar pommel in his hand gave him that last bit of strength needed.
Then there was knocking on the door, Jevan poking his head through.
The younger man wore the same tunic colours as Jon, though his gear was a little less fancy. Trousers dark, boots clean and freshly polished and the Darry sigil set alongside Tully's at his chest. He tried to gauge his lord's mood as he looked into the room and failed. Jon's back to the door didn't help, the lack of visible facial expression denying Jevan any clues, so he settled for a simple, unrushed question. He kept it formal, unsure who else might hear.
"Ready to go, my Lord?"
"It's but the two of us Jevan. No need to address me so formally." Jon said as he turned from the looking glass at the dapper young knight. "How's it looking out there?"
Jevan scrunched up his face, but didn't argue. This place, this situation, it had him a little on edge, but all that really mattered right now was the man standing before him. He stepped properly into the room. "You look tired, Jon," Jevan noted with an honesty that spoke openly of a true caring for his elder. "Out there? It looks like everyone's expecting a fancy wedding. They're all geared up to cheer and eat at the Martells expense. But I don't care about that." The frown deepened on Jevan's face. "How's it looking in here?" he asked, with a slap to Jon's shoulder.
"It has been a tiring several weeks. And the weeks will drag on. I'm afraid we will not be returning to the Twins for a while longer." Jon looked at himself again, straightening his back and rising to his full height. "But my shoulders are strong still, I will carry this too." He stepped away and next to his former ward, placing a hand on the man's shoulder. "Let us not tarry any more."
"Yes," agreed Jevan, simply. It had, though he imagined for Jon the last few weeks had been way worse than for himself. He'd never been really sure if he wanted Jon to be King, though the younger man had been absolutely certain that whatever Jon wanted, he supported. Here, now, in the aftermath of the whole process, Jevan only cared about his adoptive father, a man who had always been there for him and taught him almost everything he knew. "Those strong shoulders better be up to lifting your new and supremely gorgeous wife over the threshold and upstairs," he added with a grin. "Lot of worse ways this could have all played out."
Another knock came at the groom's door. This time it was the powerful Edric in a tunic of gold coupled with a sword whose hilt was of burnished bronze. He was well groomed, as always, and offered a stern expression when the the door was opened.
The gardens were gorgeous. Snakestone Manor was renowned for the loveliness of its garden, and the gardeners had truly outdone themselves. There was a long path from the house to a timber platform on which bride and groom could say their vows. Friends and family standing along the path to it. Off to the side were large trestle tables set up, and another timber platform. Upon that platform the high table. The table clothes were blue and red, Tully colours. The flowers set every ten feet in vases on the table were tiny sunflowers to represent House Martell.
Prince Nymor eyed the gathering of Rivermen within his walls, a stone cold scowl on his face. They were soon to be his allies when Lord Jonnah inherited the Trident, but his lords had noticed how difficult it was for them to stifle their laughter when Dorne was being insulted during the Great Council. How could he trust men like this? And how far would this alliance go?
The Prince popped a grape into his mouth, plucked from a vine in the Reach, no doubt. He felt the rage of his men course through his veins as he thought of the betrayal of Garth Blackwater. He would see that old man bloated and purple, gasping for breath. Dorne would remember these slights forever. His daughter, on the other hand, might only remember a mess as far as her wedding was concerned if he did not order things rightly. The Prince walked over to the gathering of Dornish Lords with which he had just been speaking, immediately attracting their attention.
"My Lords, hear men." the man said in his booming voice. His Lords gave way, looking to their Prince with respect. "Today is the day of my daughter's wedding. All discussion of politics, all discussion of conflict, all discussion of betrayal will stop here. Any man I hear dirtiying this event with talk of war will have their Prince to contend with."
His words fell heavy, and all knew what he meant. They nodded their understanding and began to disperse.
"The Septon is ready to begin the ceremony if you are, my Lord. "Edric began, "If you are accepting, I would walk you to the door."
"We're to be brothers by marriage Edric. No need to be overly formal." Jon said as Jevan had opened the door. "If you wish, you may join us. But I better not feel a dagger to convince me not to run away at the last moment." The latter was said with a grin, one Jevan might have noticed was more forced.
Edric smiled broadly. He was the member of the family least affected by the Council and most dismayed by the direction things were now going. Through it all, however, he still had his sense of humor.
“A man is too lucky, in marrying my lovely sister, to run away.” He said, grinning as he spoke. “I only mean to show you my support as a brother and, hopefully, as a friend.”
"Then come, little brother, and have me say my vows." He said to Edric, turning to Jevan and clamping the youngest knight on the shoulder. "In front of family and friends."
All the little signs and underlying signals certainly didn't escape Jevan's notice, but there was nothing he could say in front of Edric right now that would help the Lord of the Riverlands. This deed was done, Jonah was signed, sealed and delivered and - Jevan hoped - happy at least on some level. He'd wanted so much more over the last few weeks, and for a while there it had almost seemed that more might happen. But here they were, and every moment spent tarrying in this room only delayed the inevitable.
Things were about to change again. More time in King's Landing, Master of Coin and now a wife.
Edric and Jonah walked slowly together, their resplendent garments making them look, as they were , wealthy and powerful in their own separate ways.
“What are your thoughts on our treatment at the Great Council, brother?” Edric asked, confidently. He was not a political man, but a fighter, an adventurer, and a lover. His question seemed conversational.
"My name has been damaged by the Blackwater turn, but your father was slighted more. But it is not something we cannot come back from." Jon answered.
“Is it your feeling, then, that we must stand together in this, brother?”
Jon put his arm across Edric's chest stopped them both. "I will stand with House Martell in the damage we received, and I will aid in the effort to grow beyond it. But such words as you just spoke Edric could be the seed of dangerous activities I might not be part of."
They arrived at the open garden doors together which led directly down the central aisle between the different wedding parties and to the altar where stood the bearded septon, waiting for Jon.
“Well, there you go then.” Edric said, and then walked to the door and toward his seat.
As Edric stepped to the side, Jevan's stalwart and silent presence remained besides his adoptive paternal influence. The young man's gaze subtly encompassed their audience, seeing no sign of threat or challenge but being nevertheless attentive to the slightest chance of either. It was a great honour for the young knight and one he took extremely seriously. As serious as that look ahead to what awaited Jon. Committment in marriage. Jevan walked as far as they had previously agreed, then gave the merest of gentle acknowledging nods before taking his place to maintain an overwatch vigil.
Hand on his sword, Jon walked up to the altar. Jevan had drifted to his own seat by then. "My love." Jon greeted his wife-to-be with a smile before facing the bearded man, "Septon, shall we start?"
With a look of familiar joy, the bearded Septon opened the tome in front of him and began to read from the Seven Pointed Star. His choice was from the romantic poetry which expressed the love the Father bears the Mother and the love the Warrior bears the Maiden. He read with passion and practice, putting emphasis on the words and phrases which held the most power. The wedding gathering listened patiently as the Septon read from two readings, and then closed the tome and looked up at them again.
“Now, Prince Nymor will remove his cloak of Martell from his daughter’s shoulders and you, Lord Jonah, shall replace it with the cloak of Tully. This symbolizes that she is no longer under her father’s protection, but under yours.”
Nymor walked over to his daughter and placed his great hairy hands on her dainty bronze shoulders. They sat there for a while as the Dournishman clearly wrestled with some powerful emotions. With a grunt and a sniffle then, he grabbed the orange, red, and gold cloak in his fingers and guided them from her body, exposing the smooth and supple skin beneath. Now she stood in her white dress without a cloak; without a house. He looked to Lord Jon and met his eyes. The Prince gave a silent nod of understanding and then moved away.
From the hands of Jevan, Jon accepted a gorgeous red and blue cloak, the fish and gates embroidered in silver thread on the back. The heavy garment rested on the gorgeous young woman's shoulders, and he clasped the locket closed. He smiled at his new bride, then his father in law and nodded back.
Ashara felt the weight of the new cloak on her shoulders and felt, in that moment, that she might cry. There was so much uncertainty, yet she had still waited for this day her entire life. She fought back the tears and a smile crossed her face. Her thoughts were interrupted by the Septon.
"My lords, my ladies, we stand here in the sight of gods and men to witness the union of man and wife. One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever."
The couple held hands as they stood side by side. The septon proceeded to tie a blue ribbon in a knot around their joined hands, which symbolizes their union. While tying the ribbon the septon said, "Let it be known that Ashara of House Martell and Jonah of House Tully are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who would seek to tear them asunder." The septon then announces, "In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity." After he said this he unraveled the ribbon, yet they remain metaphorically joined for the rest of their lives.
Then septon commanded them, "Look upon each other and say the words.”
Ashara turned to look at Jonnah, the tears she had been holding back stuck in her eyes and a look of wonder on her face. All of her anxiety was now gone. They would speak the words together.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger..." they said, their voices calm but united, "I am hers/his and she/he is mine. From this day, until the end of my days,"
"With this kiss, I pledge my love." he said, quietly so only the septon and his new wife heard his words. He moved his head forward slowly, meeting her lips in a kiss, gentle and exploratory in nature.
Ashara kissed back, a hint of the passion she was always holding at bay in those full lips. Conscious that they were being watched, she pulled back and looked to those gathered with a youthful smile as they all cheered and clapped.
Jon allowed himself a moment longer to admire the lady at his side before turning to the crowd with her. "My lords and ladies, inside there is a feast waiting for us! Let us enjoy it!"
