|Pride (In the Name of Love)|
|Summary:||Garett and Darek are angry. Not really at each other, but mostly about the same thing.|
|Related Logs:||Many, but most recently Every Rose Has It's Thorn|
|It's a stables. There are horses.|
|21 October, 289|
Garett is in the stables. Because there's nothing really too expensive if it ends up being broken. He's heard what happened. All he needed to hear was 'girl', 'thief', 'climbing over the wall' to know who exactly was caught and why he hadn't seen his daughter when they should've left earlier in the day. He's standing next to the ever seemingly constantly angry big black Fresian warhorse called Regret. There's a kind of calm anger about the Westerlord. The kind where you're helpless to do absolutely anything in situation where all you want to do is save someone that you care more about than yourself. And there is nothing he can do. All he can do, is wait. It's not fun. Makes him want to break something.
Darek's anger isn't calm of any sort. There might as well be a thundercloud over his head. And now he's tracking down the imprisoned girl's father. And finding him. In the stables, he's not foolish enough to slam doors or anything, not with so many warhorses around. But he's definitely foolish enough to go right up to taller, broader knight, staying out of the warhorse's biting or kicking range, "What the fuck, Ser?" The light tenor is tight with anger, but stays at a reasonable volume.
Garett was brushing Regret, a slow methodical motion, as if that would make his own tension somehow go away. It doesn't. And Darek's appearence doesn't do him or the squire any favors. "What the fuck indeed, Darek." he utters, setting the brush aside to turn to face the younger man. His scarred visage is not happy and it looks diretly at Darek's face. "What answers are you looking for? Because I'm not sure I have many answers."
Darek may not have the scars, but he doesn't look away, either, "You people," one finger points at Garett, and then gestures vaguely in the direction of the keep, "you got her into this. Got her all turned the fuck around." There's a pause, and he grits out, "Ser." He gives the warhorse another glance, struggling visibly to keep his voice under control, "There's no way in the seven hells that she'd have gone climbing around where she could get caught without all you Westerlings," that's a little clearer as to who 'you people' are, "getting into her head."
"You are dangerously close to taking a visit to the healers, squire." Garett warns, taking a step toward Darek. "'You people'? you say? I got her into -nothing-. I blame both my sister and my cousin for this. I stayed away from Sela, that's what you wanted, wasn't it? The old, interferring old man trying to 'rule her life', right? Trying to tell her what to do, yes? I stayed away from Sela for her. And for you, Darek. I wanted her to have her own life, I wanted her to be able to grow up with people she cared about. And I thought it best that if I kept distant from that. Or had you not noticed how absent I've been? Our respect to you both? I -only- came back to recover my sister's remains, not to pull my own daughter into this mess. I didn't even know there -was- a mess. You want to know why she climbed the way? -Against- my wishes. Yes, I told her not to. I told her to keep her head down. To stay out of the way and to let me handle this messy business, because -I- didn't want her involved. She went because she thought, for some reason, that she owed it to Cherise. For getting her job in Highfield. She said she owed it to her. I said to not bother, but when have you or I ever been able to stop her when she sets her mind to anything?" Then he sticks a finger at the very same keep Darek did. "Do not think for a moment that I hate them with every fiber of my being for what they did to her. Do not question that for a moment. I -never- wanted this for her, and you," he takes another step at him. "You blame -me-? When I could have thrashed you for even -touching- my daughter? When I wanted you to give her something I can't? And you blame -me-?"
Darek doesn't back down from that first advance, opening his mouth once, twice, as if to interrupt that flow of words. But he's not going to start trying to shout over someone else a few paces from a warhorse. The mention of hate directed toward the Ashwoods — or nobles in general — causes him to blink, then shake his head. The squire doesn't back away from the second step forward either, even if it brings the bigger man into lunging distance of him, "They had her beaten Ser. But they could've done a whole fuck of a lot worse. They could have turned her back into bloody ruin, Ser." There's a sickened twist to the squire's lips, and his left hand comes up to his stomach in a wholly unconscious gesture, "They could have cut off one of her hands. And she never showed any interest in getting involved, not until you got here with whatever fucking plan she couldn't talk to me about." Only then does he half-turn away, his hand dropping from his stomach to brush a thumb across the back of his belt-buckle, "Whatever there is to the plan besides never fucking seeing me again."
"Are you an idiot, or do you purposely protray one?" Garett shakes his head. "Do you know -why- she broke up with you? Have you really honestly thought about that? Or were you just so damn angry about that, that you're letting your own feelings tumble in that head of yours. Really, Darek, you're a smart boy, I would've expected you to sort it out." A knarled hand shoots out and turns him to face the older Knight. "She didn't tell you to -protect- you, numbnuts. She loves you so damn much that she's willing to keep you entirely out of this so as to keep you safe from whatever might happen. She didn't break up with you because she thought there was someone else, she was doing it because she fucking loves you." That said, he lets his hand go. "That's because she didn't know about anything until, yes, until I arrived. I went and saw Cherise, she told me what happened to her. I wanted to make sure Sela was protected. I spoke to her about what as going on, so that she knew. Because knowing was better than not. I told her what I was going to do and for her keep her nose down. Because I didn't want there to be undeclared 'open season' on Westerlings. We both know Sela is resourceful, if she knew, she'd know to keep herself out of it. But for some reason, maybe respect, maybe because she liked Cherise, I don't know, she felt the need to speak to her. I told her not to. And now there is nothing more I want to do than to kill every single person in that keep. But that wouldn't get me anywhere but dead."
Darek is on-edge enough to circle his right hand up and out in an attempt to twist the bigger man's hand off his shoulder with his forearm, even if he does turn back to face Garett again. The man's words cause him to blink again, and he reaches up to scrub back his hair out of his face. "That'd be great, Ser, if it weren't total bullshit." Ahh, the assurance of a teenage boy, undaunted by reason, "If she felt anything for me, she wouldn't have broken it off. You don't do that to someone you care about." Okay, so maybe he hasn't quite gotten to the L-word yet. "You try to work through it. I mean… fuck a duck, Ser, we handled it just fine when I was down Stonebridge way and she was at The Roost." He shakes his head, his anger draining out of him as he steps back and moves to drop down onto a convenient saddle-bench. "No reason to kill 'em all. Like I said, they went light on her. Only cut her back up a little. Even if that was enough to make me want to slug someone. Could've been a whole fuck-ton worse."
"Am I going to have to beat sense into you, Darek?" It should be noted, that Garett has to actually refer to him as 'boy' or any other derogatory term that nobles tend to use for commoners. But now, he's angry after Darek says that, and there's a flash in his eyes. He bodily shoves him back, in an attempt to pin him against the wall, that scarred face just inches away from his. "Everything she's done has been for you, Darek!" he all but roars at the boy. "-Everything-. She left me to be with you, she left the Roost, again, for -you-. She sacraficed herself for -you-. She -waited- for you when you went to war. She got me to like and -respect- you. Even after you started fucking her. Don't you -DARE- fucking tell me what she's done isn't out of love for you. You disrespect that woman lying in cell, my -daughter-, for it. She broke it off because it was her only choice. Because you being alive and angry at her was preferable to you being getting involved and possibly ending up worse. Do you think Danae's death was an accident? Do you think Cherise's son's death was an accident? And do you how it sickens me to even consider the possibilities of that? Breaking it off with was the -only way- for you to not be invovled. Because she gave up -everything- for -YOU-." There's a pause. "Am I going to have to beat some sense into before you realize that, or is your pride going to continue to get in the way?"
Darek tumbles over the saddle-bench at the shove, but he's quick to his feet again, bringing his hands up in front of him, curled tightly into fists. By the look in his eye, he'd like nothing more than to take a swing at the bigger knight, but he restrains himself by main force, looking his hands and dropping them to his sides, "You want to hit me, Ser," there's a bit of a sneer to the title now, "You go ahead and hit me. I've taken shots from nobles that I ain't allowed to hit back before." Tossing back his hair, he lifts his narrow chin a little, as if offering it out for a blow. "I'm I'm not disrespecting anyone. I gave her plenty of chances to make up. I damned well begged her for it down in that cell." At least that's how it went from his point of view. "But yeah. I think the baby's death was an accident. Babies die Ser. It's what they do." Especially common babies, but plenty of noble children don't make it through their first year of life either. "Lady Tordane, well… there's plenty of people who could've killed her, but it wouldn't've been no Ashwoods, Ser. We were supporting her claim."
"No, I don't want to hit you, Darek. You just frustrate the hell out of me." Garett growls. "Believe it or not, I like you. I respect you. But I don't like how you refuse to see reason in a case like this. She's stubborn. She thinks what she's doing it right, and you're being just as bullheaded as she is." He looks him over. "You want to hit, Darek, you do it, if it'll make you feel any better about this." And there's some unsettling honesty from the grizzled knight. Then again, he's not like most nobles, never had. "Old Ones know I more than deserve that for my failings as a father to her. I couldn't protect her then, and I can't protect her now. And you, have no idea the shame that I feel about that." Another bout of unadulterated honesty, a kind of honesty that he wouldn't normally share with anyone, especially a commonor, but all accounts. "She won't go back to you until this whole mess has been resolved. But you've done yourself no favors in your attitude. Because you don't understand -why- she's doing it. All you see is that happened." Everything else, he waves a hand. "Cherise isn't dying by falling down a few steps. Steps don't give knife wounds. As for my sister, more often than not, ally or otherwise, people become too much trouble than their worth if they become a liability to other allies goals. And Danae, rest her, reached a bit too far. A nasty little habit of the nobility. Another reason I can't stand them." Which really, means he can't stand himself, hpyocrisy or not." He backs away, but he'll obviously still let the squire hit him if that's what he really wants. "I tried talking to her. She said you were with other girls, but I know you better than that. I respect you more than that. And Sela, she's a horrible liar when it comes to lying to me."
Darek shakes out his hands, as if to shake the need to form fists out of them. "Yeah well, she's being fucking dumb right now, Ser." Pot, kettle, black. "I heard she was gonna get lashed, and I tried to get down there." He looks down at his hands a moment, "I was gonna take the lashes for her." The words are quiet, little more than mumbled. "But they'd already gone and done it. Except it was less than some squires get from their knights." Scrubbing one hand then the other back through his hair, he straightens up a bit more fully, tugging his livery back into place from his tumble, "I haven't done more than kiss another girl since I kissed her, Ser." Something in his tone suggests that he doesn't consider kissing other girls anything to be ashamed of in the slightest, "Haven't wanted to. But when I went down there, she didn't even want to see me. Couldn't go more than a minute without yelling at me." He shakes his head, "No ser… she's done. She's already outta town in her head. Gone and done."
"She is. I could've told you that and I'm sure as hell not arguing it.. She was dumb for thinking that she should've gone to Cherise when I knew it would do no good. Either way, you're both being young and stupid, which is, par for the couse. I was young and stupid once too." Garett replies. The evidence of that is sitting in a cell somewhere. "I would have taken the lashes for her too, but honestly, I can't argue against a punishment that didn't even fit the crime. She should have gotten worse, but she didn't. And as angry as I am that it was my daughter that it happened to, I should be grateful it wasn't worse. We both should be."
Regret looks as grumpy as ever, but he doesn't move when Garett pulls a wineskin out of his pack. "Because she a young woman, Darek. A stubborn one at that. She's going to think she's right in what she did until she doesn't. And while I do believe she did it for you. When you're older, you may have to do something to protect someone, something that person may never understand and look at it like an insult. It's what Sela is doing now, even if she's taken the matter too far. And about her leaving…she's leaving because she doesn't want to be another target. Westerlings are not looked very highly here right now. And because she's my daughter, that puts in association. I wish that wasn't the case. She'll come back, though. And she will come back to you. Just.." he drinks out of the wineskin, then tosses it to the squire. "…don't write her off. And don't stay angry at her. Don't let resentment build up over this."
Darek gives Garett a very world-weary look for someone so young at the mention of doing something for someone they don't appreciate, "Ser… I'm the bastard of a barmaid and a traveling minstrel who couldn't keep his cock where it belonged. Nothing I do to protect someone is taken well." He catches the wineskin, hefting it a moment before shrugging to himself and taking a long pull, swishing the wine around, swallowing, and tossing the skin back, "With all due respect, Ser, I didn't even know what the fuck a Westerling was until I came to Highfield. I don't think most people on the Cape think about 'em much except the particular ones, like Lady Tordane and Lady Cherise."
"Does the fact that you're a bastard of a barmaid and minstrel sum up who you are, Darek?" Garett moves to take a on a hay bale. "Or do you, like I do, believe you to be more worth than just a title?" A one-handed grab plucks the wineskin out of the air, setting it next to him. "Maybe not, but does it ever stop you from trying anyways? To me, that's more the measure of a man than one who gives up. Drop the 'Ser' shit while you're at it. Garett's fine." Leaning forward, elbows on knees, he chuckles. "Can't blame you there. We're relatively forgettable, so far away, with little money, little influence here, and less respect. Danae and Cherise did us no favors, at all. Now it's likely we're looked on as breeders of madwomen and upstart whores. And yes, my sister was a whore. Love as I do, I won't forgive her for what she did. And that said, there's no point in speaking ill of the dead. She received the punishment she deserved, I just hope she can rest, now that worldy possessions are pointless."
Darek snorts softly at the question, "I'm gonna be a knight, Ser. Then it won't matter so much who my Ma was or what a shit my Da was. But right now, I'm just some common bastard of a squire." The suggestion that he call the man by his first name draws a shrug from the youth, and the squire's discomfort grows as the big man rants about his dead sister, "She had the rightful claim, Ser. Or rather, her child did, once it was born." That's the value of propaganda right there, because the only discomfort audible in the squire's tenor is at having to contradict the other man. There's no doubt there in his mind, "I'm proud of what I did down at Stonebridge, and I don't know there's anything that can be said to make me less so."
"That wasn't Gedeon's child." Garett says flatly. "Look, I get it, you're loyal to who you serve. We're just not going to agree on what either of us believe. That's just how it is. I think the war was wrong. I think it was a bunch of idiots on both sides grabbing for something that had no reason to be fought for. Riordan was an idiot who not was only fucking Danae, but a few others too and pissed off a lot people in the process of. Personally I think he should've been hung, but that's just me. War is dumb, Darek. And it's hardly ever fought for the right reasons, and this wasn't one of them. Wether or not you learn to question why people do the things that they do isn't up to me, that's up to you. I don't like your politics, and I don't like your opinions. I think you too easily believe what you're told. That said," he shrugs. "You're good for Sela. Beyond all that, doesn't matter what I think. You can believe whatever you like and you disagree with me freely, but you treated her with respect. That's all I care about. Anything else…well, you're young. You'll figure it out if that's what's meant for you."
Garett stands at that. "I sometimes forget how young squires are. Noble or commonor or otherwise. A long time ago, I had unshakable beleif too." Then he goes to put his saddle back together like had been doing.