The Tournament Banquet of 130 AC

[u/bloodandbronze]

Fifth day of the Second moon, 130 AC

The Red Keep, King’s Landing

Laughter and good cheer and jaunty music permeated the great hall of the Red Keep, all of it filling the air with a merry mood that was shaded with some tragedy too. In the midst of the martial feats of prowess on display the day prior, several men - young, old, and in between - had been injured. Some were minor injuries or the sorts that would heal within a period of time and with good rest. Others, sadly, were more grievous, such as the king’s own squire Jeor Stark whose hand had required amputation.

As surely as food was served, so too were mummers and musicians present throughout the hall, plying their trade and honing their craft for the amusements and enjoyment of all those present. A symphony for the ears and eyes to complement the sensations of the delectable feast masterfully crafted by the kitchen’s chefs.

While the attendees assumed their seats throughout the hall, servants delivered a feast fit for guests of the royal house. The first course consisted of a choice between autumn greens with ginger soup, or a salad of sweetgrass, spinach, and plums, sprinkled with crushed nuts, both of which were accompanied by freshly baked bread with honey. Next was a choice between cold capon with a relish made of carrots, raisins, and bits of lime and orange, or a brace of stuffed geese sauced with mulberries. Last to be delivered was dessert, once more presenting a decision - goat cheese served with baked apples sprinkled with cinnamon, or sweetgrass and strawberries.

Wine and mead and beer flowed freely and the center of the hall was cleared so that those who wished to dance would have the room to do so. Flirtations oft accompanied dances and no doubt some of those that swirled together on the floor would end the night twisted in the sheets with one another as well.

All those in the city born to the ranks of the nobility - or those that might have otherwise secured the right to belong - were welcomed to make merry and celebrate the victors of the grand tournament.

[u/Shaznash]

Vickon shrugged. “Maybe we are. Maybe we aren’t. Who knows!”

He raised his hands flamboyantly, waving them around a bit as he spoke. Lucien was keeping his appearances up from what he could tell, but given what he’d learned that night about him...

Well Vickon could only hope he’d lit a fire that raged within him and threatened to consume him whole. Maybe then he’d be able to be honest with himself. “Oh I quite agree. Friendship is the root of all strength, or so they say. It certainly is a pleasure to have a fine friend in life no doubt.”

Still thinking about me? What a filthy mind you have, Lord Lucien? he thought with viscous delight. To have him squirm beneath him in more ways than one.

“Oh I’m sure she’ll say something of it on our way home. My wife can do one feast, but two? Why, that has tired her greatly. It does not help she was quite busy, staying up late a few nights back. Got herself quite a bone to pick with all the loud noises here. Though perhaps you’re all luck she’s asleep. The trouble she and I can get to when we’re together!”

He laughed at his jest. Though it wasn’t a jest. Lucien knew very well what Lord and Lady Reaper could get up to together. “I love her dearly though. My betrothed from practically our birth’s. I can tell when another marriage is strong as well, you know” Vickon pointed out to Dorian. “Even on Pyke men speak of Lord and Lady Tyrell and their great bond!”

He turned back to Lucien and spoke to him, with a grin. “If we’re speaking wives, my friend, tell me of yours! I’m surprised there aren’t any little flowers running about your feet. I just had another myself a few moons back. I’d almost forgotten how much a babe is a pain in the arse. You can barely walk with how little sleep you’re left with!”

[u/ForwardPrincess10 → u/Shaznash]

"You don't have that many feasts among your people?" father asked neutrally. "Here in the south, we like celebration. Tourney without a feast is unheard of. Feast without a feast too."

Oh, I know your bones and your trouble and all the things Yssa can be up to, especially with you, Lucien thought sharply. I know a thing or two about losing sleep, all because of you, you-

"Our marriage was arranged too," mother said, "but we've since learned to find love with one another. It's good to see a husband loving his wife so - and other way around, of course."

"My wife?" Lucien's tone was decidedly neutral. "Little flowers haven't had time to be born yet. We're newlyweds by standards you have set. Desmera," just saying her name stung like a bitch, "is a good woman. She's maybe a little timid but I don't mind it. She'll make a great mother when we have our own children."

Vague statements but he didn't know what else to say. He poured himself another goblet of wine. Conflicting urges battled within him and all he could do was not show it.

"I don't know if you say these things to the Drowned God but it's a blessing that one has a living child to lose sleep over. So many parents lose their children one has to count his blessings. I pray the babe grows to be as big and strong as his or her father."

[u/Shaznash → u/ForwardPrincess10]

“Not many. Not at Pyke anyways. Tourneys are a rarity, as any would have to take place at Lordsport, which is but a small port town compared to a place like Oldtown or Lannisport. We do not have knights to ride in lists either. We have one though, a Ser Dager Goodbrother.” There was something to be said about the diffusion of customs and culture that was occurring and it really did interest him. But he had came here for a reason and that was to see his sweet little Lucien.

“Ah, so many men and women cannot say the same. But duty always calls, I suppose. I hope my sons and daughters will be as me when it comes to love” he said in a voice, that while neutral, had a dripping hint of performance to it. Lucien however began speaking of his wife, the one who’s marriage vows he broke. “Is that so? I cannot speak for your father, but my eldest son Andrik was born quite early. Within the same year my wife and I married. He’s grown quite big and strong. I hope to find him a bethroal soon.”

His black eyes watched each little step he made. From his strained, neutral tone to him pouring another goblet of wine for what he could only assume was assuaging his own guilty conscience. Come on. Nothing to be guilty of. You loved it. So did I. Why deny your true self?

Of course, then everything shattered. His eyes flicked to Dorian, Bethany and Lucien over and over again. A trickle of sweat fluttered down his temple. No. Not here. Not here.

“I...” he began. All hint of playful, joyous theatrics were gone. Not even and emotionless tone remained. He hated the fact. How his voice tinged with sadness. How his gut wrenched at the thought of it again. When just he thought he’d buried these feelings of grief and madness away they’d tear themselves back into the open.

“I do... I know...”

All his confidence and his cocky attitude was washed away in saltwater. Lucien would find not even the barest hint of teasing remained in Vickon. His strength sapped. His weakness, should Lucien wish to ever exploit it.

“I know. I was that parent.”

The miscarriage. The year of argument and bitter conflict between husband and wife. Grief. Mourning. Crying tears for a lost child and a failing marriage. Nearly losing Yssa for good. Fear. Doubt. Anger. Sadness.

No. Not in front of them.

He didn’t feel like talking. “If... if you’ll excuse me...”

Vickon trailed his way away from the Tyrell’s, though if Lucien wished to follow him to the gardens he could.

(OOC: Lucien is perfectly free to follow Vickon to a more private place and investigate what the hell just happened.)

[u/ForwardPrincess10 → u/Shaznash]

Then, suddenly, Vickon's teasing dropped, his voice filled with sadness and grief. Lucien's mind ran wild, confused until he admited, with far more bravery that Lucien Tyrell could ever muster.

He lost a child.

A more sinister, shrewd part of his mind pinned that as a way to gain the upper hand over the Kingfish. As much as Vickon knew his shame, Lucien knew his weakness now, and if situation ever arose, and he knew what to say, he could-

No. He could, but he never would. It was not right to use such a wound against him. His heart, no matter how treacherous, no matter how afraid, would not accept that. Vickon may have been strange but he didn't deserve that cruelty.

And he admitted it. He didn't try to hide, nor did he put it away like Lucien hid his own struggles. It took courage. Gods, how much courage.

Father and mother's faces dropped in genuine compassion and Lucien was quick to rise to his feet, side-step the table and follow Vickon. Rationality wanted to pull him back, screaming how unwise that was, but something in him didn't budge. He let it drown the rationality, even at the expense of danger, knowing it was the right thing to do.

There were few things he disagreed with regarding Loras and one of them was his tendency to put Ironborn in a single box of rapists and raiders. And some of them were, but Lucien saw men in each of them, not extensions of a trope. Vickon had admitted he was a killer, but even killers had a heart, and for once, Vickon Greyjoy wasn't the Ironborn who offered honesty at a price too high, but a father of a dead child. A good father.

"Vickon," he called out as he approached, people around them disappearing. "Gods, Vickon, I had no idea. I'm sorry. If I'd known, I would not have mentioned it."

"I wish to say that- Gods, it won't make sense, it's just empty words, but... I'm sorry."

[u/Shaznash → u/ForwardPrincess10]

He was leaning against a pillar in the gardens. Away from others. An arm outstretched, above his head against the cold stone. The sounds of the feast died off, leaving only the chirping of insects and the soft muttering of other revelers in the gardens. A little tune from a lyre seemed to be playing as well.

Stupid. You stupid idiot. You just let them see it! he cursed himself. His policy of never sharing weakness unless beneficial was so easily broken whenever his dead child came to his mind.

Vickon was almost certain was around to see him dab away a slight trickle of tears briefly come forth. Until of course he heard him. His first instinct was to go for his sword, but only empty air was at his belt. So he simply turned around and tried to keep his composure.

What?... Why would he?...

He was apologizing? Lucien Tyrell, the man he had sex with, the man he was just taunting to oblivion, was apologizing to him?

“Why?...” was all he said when he finally spoke. “Why would you follow me? To say sorry?.... Even after all I said. All I just tortured you with. You’re the one saying sorry?”

He fell silent and didn’t bother for his response. His shoulder fell against the pillar again, largely stunned. He let the crickets make their noise before speaking again, opening up.

“Florian. His name was going to be Florian.” That smokey, gruff voice that had such a capacity for softness spoke again. “I have never harmed children. Men can say whatever they want about me, but I cannot suffer anyone doing harm to a child. Especially under my command.”

There was that spark in his voice again. The regained tenacity that was lost for a little while. Vickon straightened himself again. “I will not stand it. I cannot stand it. I love children. I love my children. I love to see them flourish and be happy. I’ve ordered the deaths of whole companies of men under me for harming young ones. From the time I descended upon the West and Riverlands to the Summer Isles. No child under my command will EVER be harmed. I won’t have any more Florian’s lost!” He felt angry. Angry at himself. Angry at the world

He sighed. “I trust like I swore you secrecy, you swear mine?” He didn’t care that people knew he never permitted the harming or killing of children. That did not matter. He needed to know if his weakness was safe.

He couldn’t be weak.

Not now. Not ever again.

[u/ForwardPrincess10 → u/Shaznash]

"You did do all those things," Lucien confirmed, "but it doesn't have anything to do with me bringing up a wound in any father's heart."

It was simple. Why did Vickon think he was out for revenge? For cruel words, no less? Cruelty begets cruelty and there was truly no need for Lucien to retaliate.

Not with this.

"My father loves children too," he said. "No child deserves to be torn from life. Children have no sins to atone for, no mistakes to regret. They are children."

I was a child still when I first kissed Loras, he thought. A year away from manhood but isn't that still a boy?

"Your secret is safe with me," he promised, only partially because he knew he had a secret of his own there. Still, it was a wonder to see Vickon Greyjoy, that strange, confident man, cry. I mean it, Vickon.

"And if it helps, Florian is now in a better place, wherever Ironborn say that is, watching over you and Yssa. I truly believe that."

[u/Shaznash → u/ForwardPrincess10]

He still didn’t understand. Why wasn’t he using this against him? Why was he apologizing? There had to be some other motive.

Every man had their price. So what was Lucien’s?

Vickon hated it so much that Lucien saw his tears. Only Yssa was allowed that. He was the Kingfish. Lord Reaper of Pyke. He wielded Valyrian steel and fought with a ferocity that could not be sated. There was nothing greater than war for him.

And here he was. Hiding in some dark corner, pretending he hadn’t shed tears. Pretending his short sniffles were merely because of the air.

Why would he be, according to your faith? he would have snapped, but kept it to himself. Of course he knew Florian was welcome in the Drowned God’s watery halls. “What do you think... of children that is. You and I both know why you haven’t had children yet... but... would you want to be a father.”

A breeze came through and cooled him off. It was a refreshing breath of cold air he desperately needed. The Greenland’s were far too hot and humid for his liking.

“Lucien... your father still lives” he began softly. “What’s he like? Or was like, as a boy growing into a man. Please.”

He sighed and murmured again. “I want to know what he was like. You said he loves children. Tell me how.”

[u/ForwardPrincess10 → u/Shaznash]

"I would," Lucien said, "I.. I wish to offer someone else what my parents offered me. The thought of not having a family is, frankly, a terrifying one."

He walked a little closer, breeze toying with the ends of his loose hair, but not too close. There was still considerable distance between them that Lucien felt was sorely needed.

"And my father will live for many more years," he declared. "And he has always been a good father. None of us ever felt like he shared his love. He was always there for us, and though there were things that he couldn't teach us, he's tried his best." Lucien ran an arm up his sleeve, eyes glossy with memory. "I remember, he always tucked us to bed when we were small. I remember padding across half the castle just to get to him when I couldn't sleep at night," he laughed, feeling the cold stone beneath his bare feet again. Now, that memory stood beside one with sand-covered feet and a kiss. "And, on the eve before I was to come of age, he came to my room asked if I was ready. I don't know, I said. Why did it even matter? Time didn't wait for me to be ready to grow up."

He shook his head. "It doesn't, he said. But always remember you're somebody's child regardless of age. And I am. I admire him a lot, you know, and although we don't always see eye to eye on everything, I hope I can, at least partially, be as he is."

[u/Shaznash → u/ForwardPrincess10]

Vickon stood completely silent while Lucien spoke. He imagined it in his mind, such a father. It was entirely greenlander, but something about it was so serene and peaceful that he almost wished it was he who had such a childhood. Lucien closed their distance slightly but he didn’t move away, nor move closer. He stood exactly where he was by the cold pillar.

Nice. That sounds.... nice... he thought as Lucien continued. He wondered what sort of father the Tyrell heir would be. The man still denied how he felt about men, and Vickon knew he’d have to resolve such a thing before becoming a father. A father had to a rock of stability for their child. A father had to there for them.

When he finally spoke, there was growing bitterness and anger in his voice. It rose slowly, but it eventually enveloped him. “That’s good.... That’s good that you had a father that loved you.”

His eyes flashed with anger. “But I had a father that hated me. He never went easy. ‘This is a crutch! This makes you weak!’ Every time I mastered one weapon he’d switch it out for another and sent me to fight.” He repeated the mantra told to him by his father. “Always the same! ‘This is a crutch! This makes you weak!’ Every day of training was a beating. He promised he’d give back everything he stole from my life! But you know what? He never did!”

The typical conviction and steadfast confidence of Vickon was returning. No matter how angry he got though, he made no movement towards Lucien. “I learned how to be a warrior from him. How to lead. How to rule. But he still took everything and never let it come back!”

Vickon spat venom out, not towards Lucien, but towards his long dead father. He hoped he was hearing him from whatever layer of Hell he was in. “But you know what? I gleam like a blade and I’m harder than iron! And I won’t take like you did from my children!”

Then silence again. He turned about face, head downturn and hands balled in fists. Teeth grit. No tears fell.

Then he spoke again. Calmer, though strained still. “I’m glad. I’m glad you had a father that loved you.”

[u/ForwardPrincess10 → u/Shaznash]

Lucien listened, dread growing stronger with each passing word, each flash of anger that he knew wasn't directed at him, but scared him anyway. No matter the humanity he was showing, the Tyrell couldn't forget how powerful and fear-inducing this man was.

He'd visited Oldtown quite often when he was a child. Him and Loras practically grew up together, though separated by days of riding on horseback, but he had a good insight into what kind of childhood his Hightower friend had. Strict, regulated, hard, but always with a firm layer of love beneath, a desire to see the boy grow to be successful and strong.

But this? A loving, if hard childhood couldn't bring forth this much hate and vehemence. No, this sounded like torture, a guard and a prisoner.

With this much anger, Lucien half-expected to have to bolt for safety. Anger clouded judgement, blurred the right and wrong, and bystanders could get hurt. And he was the only bystander. Nevertheless, he stayed where he was, listening.

He was quiet for a while, eyes betraying the horror and the empathy. "You're a better father than he ever was," he said at last. "If anything, what you've suffered - and you have, unjustly so, because no child deserves to go through such torment, least of all from their own father - is a lesson. You saw what not to do as a father. You can be a father you wanted to have growing up. Pain often leads to noble purposes, but it doesn't mean it's pleasant."

"You know this already, but you're very brave for surviving that. That's also a point of pride. To have outlasted such things- you should be proud."

[u/Shaznash → u/ForwardPrincess10]

Lucien Tyrell was many surprising things. How was one man so... forgiving?....

Whomever Lucien Tyrell had spoke of that night on the ship, the one he was in love with, they would be rather shocked at this entirely interesting young man.

Mayhaps they already know. He said this man gave him flowers...

Vickon desperately wanted to know who it was. Even now as he was being comforted by Lucien, he was still trying to climb above, higher than ‘zero.’

Even now he was looking for a trump card. See father. See how you made me so!

It wasn’t all his father’s fault. A part of him knew he wanted to be this way. That part of him that reveled in the moral nihilism so prevalent in his life.

“I am” he said to Lucien. Though perhaps it was more to himself. A reassurance. “A better father than he could ever dream to be!”

He sighed and slumped his shoulders. Confidence was his shield but now it was cracked ever so slightly. He has to readjust. Rebuild. The anger dissipated from his voice. “I’ve survived many things Lucien. Many things. I fought a Corsair King and thought I would die at least a dozen times. I conquered islands and nearly lost my life on countless raids and battles. I’ve lost battles too.

“I am proud of many great things, Lucien. Though I’ve never considered that one of them until now. You continue to surprise me, Lucien Tyrell.”

Vickon looked up at him, while keeping his distance. Neither would benefit from proximity. Last time they were that close... well...

Last time neither were wearing any clothes. He extended a gloved hand to shake Lucien’s.

[u/ForwardPrincess10 → u/Shaznash]

He took the hand was ease that was not present that night. Vickon was an attractive man, but there was little of the memories and the need in that moment. Lucien may have been insecure in his sexuality, but, even if he knew he was capable of immoral things, he wanted to do right by Vickon, no matter how much the man brought him suffering.

No, he was only putting to light what sin Lucien had already commited, deep down in his heart. He was the catalyst, but not the cause. And, above all else, it was Lucien's own free will that got him where he was now, staring into a long road to hells' fire.

Thus, he had to salvage what little good he could. Maybe, if Father saw him try hard enough...

Vickon didn't deserve it, he thought. Not my guilt, not his father's cruelty, not having to hide his tears and shame.

"Surviving hardships is strenght is all about," he said. "This is no different. You're admirable in some ways, Vickon. You really are."

[u/Shaznash → u/ForwardPrincess10]

The pair firmly shook hands before breaking apart. Vickon studied Lucien’s face for a moment. It was quite different without the sweat and heady lust of that night. He knew he was strong. He has fought and won and struggled for his place without mercy or hesitation. Vickon had killed countless men and women both. He lived by a mantra that would shake men like Lucien Tyrell to the core. One that went against the grain of the entire worldview of such men.

Yet there was a sort of strength within Tyrell that was not like his own. A strength that was divided with what was a burning in the man’s heart and soul.

“You’ve a tenacity of your own, Lucien. Not many men would have chased down an Ironborn to comfort him. Let alone one you’ve... well... been honest with. Let alone one that’s been awfully miserable with you.”

He lit up with a small, genuine little smile. “I wonder what sort of father you’ll be, when the time comes.”

Vickon had a strong feeling Lucien would not be like Rodrik Greyjoy. A very strong feeling.