Page 277: Goodbrothers
Summary: Jarod and Rowenna Rose Rivers/Nayland/Something are paid a visit by their respective brothers.
Date: 21/04/289
Related Logs: The Jarod/Rowan saga in general
Jarod Justin Rafferdy Rowan 
Rockcliff Inn — Terrick's Roost
The Rockcliff Inn is one of the better inns within the town and it shows with the well-lit interior and the relative cleanliness to the other locations in Terrick's Roost. The tables are polished with oils and the floor regularly swept. A set of booths towards a darker rear of the Inn's bottom floor, just beneath the staircase, are where whores generally socialize and eye prospects from when not waiting tables. Signs over the undersized bar area advertise prices for ales and wines as well as several different choices of food to be served at the small eating area by the bar or in the main open area in its comfortable seating. A door behind the bar leads to the kitchen and cellar while another near the staircase leads to a private room that would appear to be off-limits to the 'wait staff' except for food and drink service.
Sat Apr 21, 289

Late morning at the Rockcliff, where Ser Jarod rather fled last night along. With the former squire, who he knighted on the Pyke, who has up until now called himself - herself? - Rowan Nayland. The common room isn't as crowded as it was in better days for the Roost, which Jarod probably considers a boon, though he still draws a good many looks and whispers. Lord Jerold's lucky bastard is a well-known face around town, so he can't precisely hide. He's at a corner table, rather desperately talking up someone dressed as a merchant.

Justin arrives, dressed more or less as he was before (because I haven't written other outfits yet) and glances around once inside the door. The whores of course notice Justin right off and start cooing after him for his attention but he only glances aside to them and gives them a polite nod. He walks on into the inn and to the bar to lean against it. Grey eyes have settled upon Jarod and he frowns yet the other man is also already engaged with someone else. Rather than interrupt, Justin waits for the barhelp to come to take his order, "Mead."

"I've still my sword, Master, and with the roads as they are now…" Jarod seems to be repeating an argument he's made before, to little avail. Finally, after a shake of head from the merchant, he deflates and nods. "Aye. Right. Thanks for your time." He's left alone as his table, on that note. He watches the tradesman go, and spots Justin at the bar while his eyes are ticked up. He doesn't immediately approach him, taking in a deep breath and bracing his arms on the table. He just sits there for a moment, deflated, like he's collecting himself.

Justin makes no attempt to disguise his interest in Jarod's goings on. His mead is placed on the bar. The Terrick thanks the barhelp and pays the man before he picks it up and sips of it. Yes, it's too sweet and not nearly aged enough, but it's better than nothing. He sips of it, pale eyes studying Jarod, then follow after the departing and disgusted merchant. Justin makes no move to leave the bar but waits to see what Jarod would do next. It is, after all, perhaps not wise to go and sit with the man when the disgraced former favorite of his father's might instead come to him.

Jarod eyes Justin back for a moment, but finally he squares his shoulders and stands, approaching. The whores - what of them remain to work the Roost - eye his approach and laugh amongst themselves. One of them starts whistling what sounds like a drinking song, which Jarod seems to recognize. It makes him frown, deeply. But he just ignores them best he can and bellies up to the bar. "How goes the day, little brother?"

Justin lowers his tankard of mead, "It was in truth going a good deal better until I had today's news of you." He blows out a long, slow breath and adds low, "Whatever were you thinking? Or, was something else thinking for you?" He glances downwards at Jarod's pants, then flicks his pale grey eyes back up to meet Jarod's. Justin takes another drink of his mead, waiting.

"Ser Jarod Rivers, led to disgrace by his cock." He says it with a touch of theatricality, like he's trying out the sound of it. "Well. That'll be something folk can believe, if nothing else." He sighs deep, slumping onto a stool. He does meet the younger man's eyes without flinching too much. "It's…seven hells. It's rather a long story. Not sure where to start it. But I swear it, Lord Jerold knew naught of this until last night. I will do all I can - all he asks me to, and more besides - to see this falls as much on me and not the Terricks as I can. It was my intention to go to Seagard, put myself upon Lord Patrek Mallister's mercy. I still shall…soon as I can." He grimaces. "Our lord father figures I should remain here until the Naylands are informed and…do whatever they'll do."

Rafferdy arrives from the Town Square.

Descending from the rooms above comes a tall, slender lady — dark haired and dark eyed, her hair cropped short, a blade girded over her gown. She walks with care, as though she has to think about it, and glances sharply at the tittering whores. Her jaw sets. They don't laugh quite so much at the woman and her sword — rather view her with narrow-eyed disdain, or look elsewhere. She waits on the stair until each one of them has chosen to sneer or look away, then continues her descent.

The young Terrick lord certainly doesn't look amused by any of this. Justin hears Jarod out and frowns over his mead, "I'd be interested in hearing your side of it. Certainly … father has had a great deal of … unpleasantness heaped upon him already. This is dissapointing to say the least." Justin infact seems a bit disgusted by it, leaning against the bar. The sound the other girls make with their tittering draws his eyes to glance their way. Only it's not a new arrival in through the door but some woman coming down the stairs. Justin does a double take - is she wearing a sword with a gown? Surely not! He drawls very low to Jarod, "I rather expect to find a few folk getting set into the stocks if this keeps up."

Rafferdy enters the Inn. He's dressed like a commoner, a brown leather pant outfit with a brown leather, sleeveless doublet. He's dirty, his hair isn't terribly clean. To nearly everyone, when he enters, he's just another peasant. A peasant that looks unhappy. He looks around as soon as he enters, his eyes finally settling on Rowan. Or Rowanna. Or whatever. He stares at her for a long moment, his face nearly expressionless.

"I'll tell you it all but…do you think we could get a table? Feel like I'm on a gods-damned stage right now." Jarod notes the whores stopping their tittering before he notices Rowan. Rowenna Rose. Whomever. He summons up a slight smile for her. Though it's very rueful. He stands, walking over to stand with her. And that's when he spots Rafferdy. "Oh, seven hells…" Though he looks more resigned than panicked.

If it were possible for the woman with the sword to look more uncomfortable, Rafferdy's entrance is her cue. She blows out a breath and folds her arms, though the gesture is likely more defensive than defiant. The flashes the Fun Nayland a wry, unhappy smile. "'Hoy, Raff," she says softly. "You get that letter already?"

Rafferdy shakes his head, "No." He swallows, "I prefer the company of peasants. I heard it rumbling through the commoners gossip." He slowly looks over towards Jarod, and then returns his look to Rowan. "I'm here to find out just what's really going on before Father goes completely ape shit." His tone is perhaps surprisingly flat. He's not yelling.

Justin half lids his eyes at Jarod, "You are the one who chose to come here. We could have a chat elsewhere. The woods, behind a tree, if you like." Yes, some sarcasm dripping there. Justin mutters, "Seven give you some sense, man."

She takes a breath, turning her head slightly and looking toward Jarod. She frowns slightly at the man sharing the table, puzzlement, then looks askance at the Rafferdy. "I'm a girl," she states the now completely bloody fucking obvious. "What else do you want to know?"

"That'll be happening soon. Lord Jerold sent him a letter telling him…well, much as he can to explain it." Jarod winces some at Justin's words, though the main of his attention is on Rafferdy. "We can explain, Lord Rafferdy. Well. Sort of. It's…seven hells." He still doesn't know where to start. So he doesn't quite yet and just steps forward a little toward Rafferdy, arching his chin. "All right. She's your little sister, so I figure you deserve one free shot. Wherever you like. Come on. Have at it."

Rafferdy furrows his brow just a little at Rowenna, "I'd like to know why? Lots of 'why's'. Why did you do that? Why did you come clean now, of all times? Why didn't you tell me?" He sighs, and looks at Jarod, "Knock it off. I imagine our fathers have, or will, do enough. I have no desire to add to—" Then he looks back at Rowenna, and interrupts himself, "Where is my brother if you're here?"

Even though he has no idea who Rafferdy is, Justin half turns where he stands at the bar as Jarod steps away to speak to the latest arrival. The young Terrick lord keeps his place and does not join them, only watching and listening as bits unfold.

"Knock it off," says Rowenna — at precisely the same moment as he brother. Then, with a gentle, affectionate smirk, "Seriously, aren't we over quota for dramatic gestures, this week?" She touches Jarod's elbow, then says to Rafferdy, "He's in King's Landing — and doing well. I'm sure he'd send his love, if he knew any of this were happening."

"It's all right! Really! Hit me!" Jarod says to Rafferdy, rather earnest about being knocked around by the Nayland. Though when that fails, he just gestures to a table that's at least a little away from the gallery of whores and other slack-jawed gawkers. Motioning for the lord Terrick and Nayland and she who was Rowan Nayland to join. "I'll start at the beginning, best I can. Or rather, she will, since I only know the broad strokes of how this came to be when she and her brother, the true Rowan Nayland, left the Mire."

Rafferdy smiles a little at his sister saying the same thing as well. He looks back to Jarod, "I'm the okay Nayland, remember. Relax, and let's just figure this all out." He takes the seat he's offered.

Rafferdy certainly doesn't /look/ like a nobleman. Justin lifts a dark brow, watching all of them and still listening. Yet he makes no move to go and sit down with them all either. He simply keeps his place and tastes his mead once more, grey eyes watchful.

The girl Nayland sighs as Jarod insists on being beaten. "Stop — " she looks at Rafferdy and assures him, "He never touched me while I was his squire. Either time. And believe me, I tried to make it otherwise." She sits as well, frowning as her skirt gets bunched up beneath her. She stands and sits again, this time smoothing her skirts beneath her and rolling her eyes. "Maiden fuck me twice, what a bother."

"The true Rowan Nayland knew she was doing this, so far as I know," Jarod says, though, he looks to she who's been calling herself Rowan for elaboration on that point. "And I swear, my lord, my lords…" A glance over Justin, where he leans. "None in Lord Jerold's household ever knew she wasn't a boy, save myself, and I thought her a boy who was naught but my squire for more than four years. I only learned the truth of it myself not quite a year ago, when she told me herself not long after the tourney at Stonebridge. I mean, I know it seems mad now but…come on I wasn't the only one stupid enough to believe it." He's rather defensive on the point that his stupidity is, at least, inclusive.

Rafferdy sighs, "To be honest," and he looks at her, "There were a few times I thought you looked different than I remembered from when we were younger." He looks back at Jarod, "And of your father? The rumors, are they true? You've been disowned?"

Rowenna rests her chin in her hands, elbows on the table. "Really?" she sighs. "I find everyone scourging themselves for their stupidity irksome. I made a better boy than a lot of boys do. Our little brother being an excellent case in point." She tugs sullenly at the laces of her bodice. "And he probably wears a goat sodding dress better, so I guess that makes us even." She looks to Jarod when the question is raised about his status in the Terrick family, all mirth — wry and pained as it's been — leaving her. She reaches across the table for Jarod's hand.

"I'm a bastard already, not like he can cut me out of an inheritance," Jarod says. "There's little to disown. But I have been dismissed from my position as a knight of the Roost, and Lord Jerold has stripped me of all honors and trappings of knightly rank. My horse, my armor, my spurs…all of it, save my sword. You can't unmake a man a knight once he's been dubbed, but he's come as close as he can. He did it himself, by his own hand." He can't help but wince a little as he admits that. He does take Rowan's hand, getting from it what comfort he can, though this is plainly a part that wounds him. "And I have gone from Four Eagles Tower. We have. I cannot make my home there, after lying to my father as I did. I assure you, my lords, Lord Jerold is not taking this light, nor shall he shelter me from any other dishonor I am due. The only thing I pray for now is that my disgrace does not fall hard back on the Terricks, and I will pay whatever price I can to save them from that."

Justin huffs a breath softly at Jarod's apt reply, when started. He listens to the rest of it and continues to keep his opinions to himself, whatever they might be. Finishing his mead, he turns at the bar to gesture for a refill when the barhelp can get to it.

Rafferdy looks at Rowenna. "What are your plans? Where will you go from here?" He glances at Jarod, then back at his sister. "What about OUR family?"

"I don't know," says Rowenna, honestly. "There's Lord Patrek to face yet — and our family," she acknowledges Raff's question with a bleak nod. "I guess we'll make plans when the dust settles and we see what's left." She shakes her head folding her arms on the table, lashes sweeping low. "The plan was never to shame or disgrace… anyone. Not our family, certainly not the Terricks. Not Jarod." She glances up at her brother. "But plans made when you're a child occasionally have unforseen consequences. I wanted to protect my little brother and I — didn't want to marry one of Walder Frey's boil-ridden get and be passed around like a brood mare." She smiles faintly, pained and brittle rue. "It worked out well for Rowan, at least."

"I don't know," Jarod says to Rafferdy, shoulders slumping. "I have kin in Fairmarket. My mother's father." He can't quite seem to call this distant figure his grandfather. "He's a merchant and he's said before there's a living for me there if I were to ever depart the Roost. That's an option, I suppose. Or we to could go to King's Landing to…" A look across the table at Rowan, and he stops himself. "…I've friends there who might help us to find a place for ourselves." Not that he sounds particularly enthusiastic about any of these options. "I knew this might happen me when I took her on as my squire again, knowing she was a woman. But that was before the war, and the reaving of the Roost, and I'd not…I don't want to just run off from it when it's in this state." As for the Naylands. He tries to square his shoulders a notch. "Lord Jerold's written to Lord Rickart. So…I suppose we'll see." His jaw sets a little as Rowan speaks, frown settling on his face. Particularly at the 'the plan was never to disgrace anyone' part. But he doesn't let go of her hand. And still looks more resigned than anything else.

Rafferdy shakes his head at his sister's note about it working out for Rowan, "Did it?" He purses his lips, and sighs. "When father finds out, he'll want to know where his son is, as I did. When he finds out…" He shakes his head, "I don't know." He scratches the back of his head, and leans back in his chair. "I spent the last month in the Islands trying to convince father to speak to you. I finally managed." He looks at his sister, "I was to bring you, but now…." He looks down at the table, furrowing his brow, as if he isn't sure what to do now either. Instead, he just says quietly, "I wish you had trusted me enough…"

The barman comes over to refill the tankerd but Justin changes his mind and waves him off, refusing it. He hears the others continuing on, his own gaze roams idly over this place and it is possible that his thoughts drift as well, to the many current problems of the town and tower.

Rowenna pales for a moment, then shakes her head. "You're not going to tell him," she says. "Where Rowan is. And I'm not. Anyways, I doubt he'd bother." She sighs, reaching for her brother's hand, as well. "Raff… I've only got to know you in these past few months. Anyhow, what good would it have done?"

"I'm sorry we didn't, my lord. It might've made things easier now," Jarod mutters to Rafferdy. He clears his throat. "Anyhow. As I was saying. For four years she served me without me knowing she was anyone but Lord Rowan Nayland, my squire. And…we got to be friends. I felt like a brother to…who I thought was your brother." A shrug to Raff. "But finally, last year, she couldn't stand lying any longer and told me the truth of it. And I didn't go to Lord Jerold. And lying to him for all this time is the one thing I truly do feel my dishonor for." He looks down at the table. "…but I knew he'd do what was the right thing and send her back to the Naylands and…gods, my lord, I couldn't be the cause of the ruin and Lord Rickart's punishments and entrapment in a life she could not bear and…gods only know what else to someone I'd come to care for that much. I did dismiss her then…" Which clearly didn't stick. "…to try and distance the Terricks from what might come of this but…I couldn't do more than that, and perhaps I'm a weaker man for it, but I can't make myself wish I'd done different."

Rafferdy nods again, and he sighs for the hundredth time this evening. He chews his lip, his chin low, his eyes up looking across at Jarod as he speaks. Finally, he taps his fingers on the table once, and then looks at Rowenna. "The two of you should return to Stonebridge with me." He glances at Jarod, then back at his sister.

"Can't," says Rowenna, simply enough. She shrugs. "We're to stay put until Lord Jerold hears from the Old Man. Well, Jarod is, anyhow." She glances at Jarod, giving his hand a squeeze. "And I'm not leaving him. So."

Jarod shakes his head some at Rafferdy. "Your offer is a kindness, my lord, and you don't know how much I - we - appreciate it. But Lord Jerold requested I stay here until I faced your family, and I will not go back on my word to him in that, after all I owe him." He hesitates a moment, before looking to Rowan. "They might go easier on you if you return to Stonebridge with your brother. That…I would not stop you from it…" He sets his jaw, trying to keep his green eyes guarded, but he sort of fails. Though her saying she will not before he asks buoys him a bit. "I would ask you, if you are willing, to please tell your lord father that Lord Jerold knew not of this, that I lied to him for months and that he would never have taken part in such a thing. And that…" He swallows. "…that I have tried to protect and honor your sister as best I can. I am not sure that was very well. But I have tried, and I will keep trying my best. Before she showed what she was to the world…we were wed. In secret from my family, but by a septon, vows to the Seven proper."

Rafferdy furrows his brow and folds his thick arms over his chest. "Really? We're going to allow this to get worse?" He just stares at her, mostly ignoring Jarod.

Justin has heard enough and finished his drink both. He turns, watches the others for a moment and then leaves the bar, walking quietly across the room to the door and on out into the street without saying anything.

Justin leaves, heading towards the Town Square [Town Square].

"Worse?" Rowenna actually laughs at that, though Jarod's hand is given another reassuring squeeze. "I'm don't think it can — oh, fuck me, never mind." She raps on the wooden table, looking up to briefly address the Seven. "I didn't say it. Nothing to see here." Then, looking at Rafferdy again, "I don't want things to get worse, of course… but. Raff. Jarod's my husband now."

Jarod winces some more as he watches Justin depart without a word. But he nods a little to himself, sad but not surprised. Focusing back on the Naylands. "We're in no danger from Lord Jerold. He's allowing us to stay in town." Now that Justin's gone, he deflates a little and admits, "He actually said we'd have a place in Four Eagles Tower if we truly needed it, though I can never be his sworn again. I can't ask him to do that but…he won't harm us, and will allow us to try and find a life for ourselves. In Stonebridge, under the Naylands…" He looks to Rafferdy. "…I cannot believe we'd find better."

Rafferdy tilts his head and looks at Jarod. "What if you could? What if I could make a better offer. Would you consider it?"

Rowenna's dark eyebrows climb. She blinks a few times at her brother, but says nothing, glancing instead at her husband.

"What have you in mind, my lord?" Jarod asks simply. He's curious to hear it, at least, though his expression doesn't hold any interest beyond that.

Rafferdy furrows his brow a little, shaking his head, "I don't know… But…" He leans forward once again. "Maybe sworn sword to the Naylands? Rowenna with her name." He shakes his head once more, "I don't know for sure, but… If I can get you something, would you consider it?" His eyes bounce between them.

"Raff," Rowenna says, softly. She releases Jarod's hand so she can take up both her brother's. "You have to understand that, to Jarod's family at least, our name is anathema. It would hurt Lord Jerold beyond measure for his son, however disgraced, to be Jarod Nayland. I know what my blood is and who I am… but I have no desire for a name that would bring my husband further grief." She shakes her head again. "Could you ever swear your sword to the Terricks, even if the Old Man cast you out?"

"No." Jarod says it soft, and half-apologetic to Rowan, but he sounds certain enough about it. "No, my lord, I'm sorry but…that would wound my lord father so much. I could not. I'm sorry, Rowenna but…it would hurt him so much, even more than I already have. I will make what amends to your family I can, I do not wish to be enemies of my wife's kin but…I just can't."

Rafferdy sighs, "You may have to choose. One family being okay the other being pissed, or both families being pissed. It's not an envious spot, but…" He shakes his head, "Ro. Please. Come back with me and talk to Father. At least try to save a bit of face before it goes too long."

Rowenna shakes her head, giving Rafferdy's hands a squeeze before releasing them and reclaiming Jarod's. "It won't go on any longer than it takes Lord Jerold's letter to reach the Mire, Raff. He might have it even now."

"Both will be pretty pissed off, however it falls," Jarod says wryly. "At least…well. I'm a bastard. She's already disowned. We're of little value to them." He smirks, though it's a self-mocking expression more than anything else. This is embarrassing. I know that. But our families had no part in it, it was all our own folly, and I hope they've bigger concerns than their stupid off-spring who they don't quite own. We can manage my lord and…I promise, I will take care of your sister as best I can. And I'll try and make that worth all this, in some measure."

Rafferdy sits in silence a long moment. Finally, he stands. "I'm your brother," he says to Rowenna. Then he looks at Jarod, "Your brother in law." Back to Rowenna. "I wish you'd quite being stubborn and let me try to help you." He tosses his hands at his hips. "I should go." And he turns to leave.

"Raff…" Rowenna stands as well, looking concerned. "It's not that we're averse to help — but surely you see what I'm saying. Word's already on its way to father, Jarod can't be a Nayland. Let's just all… sleep on it. And if we think of any way you can help, Raff, I promise we'll tell you."

"The Fun Nayland, my goodbrother…" Jarod says it with a chuckle. Though it's a softer one, and there's gratitude in it. He doesn't seem to mind the idea at all. He stands. "Lord Rafferdy…thank you. Thank you for trying. And for that last, especially."