|Summary:||A Terrick young lord finally weds a Lady Banefort, if not quite in the way many first expected.|
|Related Logs:||Most Jacsen/Anais/Banefort-Terrick alliance logs|
|Throne Room — Four Eagles Tower|
|Great pillars rise above the occupants of the room, the ceiling arching across the structural supports in a lovely feat of construction. The north and south walls have expansive windows that filter in sunshine during the day while ornately designed torches provide light at night. The room is large enough to host a great feast for quite a number of people but the tables are typically kept elsewhere. The Lord's Throne is at the west end of the room on a dais with a high, circular window that brings in the setting sun with the late afternoons.|
|Fri Oct 21, 288|
The wedding festivites had put the entire town into a flurry of excitement beginning days prior with the arrival of Lord Banefort, in a pair of war galleys off the western coast. Shortly thereafter Lord Jason Mallister had arrived amidst an entourage of knights in shining silver. the noble notables had continued to come until the day of the wedding at last dawned.
The bride and groom had each processed through town in a carriage to the Sept of the Seven, escorted by riders and well wishers in a bright parade of heraldic splendor. The Septon had spoken the ritual words of blessing, with Ser Jarod Rivers handing Jacsen Terrick the gold and purple cloak to drape about the shoulders of the lovely bride, once the blessing was complete.
Smallfolk had gathered outside to cheer the newly wed couple as they emerged, many of them choosing to follow the carriage back toward the castle afterward. If any of the peasantry commented that the wrong Terrick seemed to be getting married, no such words reached any noble ears.
With the wedding complete, the celebration can truly begin.
"You're still wearing that smile," Jacsen points out to the woman seated beside him in the carriage, whom might now be rightly called his Lady and wife, and he does not seem at all displeased as he observes as much. "It rather seems to suit you, Anais." The stream of small folk to either side of the carriage catches his attention through the window for a brief moment, though the coach soon draws to a halt in the courtyard of Terrick's Roost, its door being drawn open for the sake of the Lord and Lady Terrick. So Anais and Jacsen are greeted, when the driver opens it, and steps are brought out for the use of bride and groom (though perhaps more for the man than his wife).
The Banefort party (namely Quentyn) made certain that Anais ha a drink in her hand somewhere between the sept and the carriage, and she may have swallowed it down a little more quickly than she should have. She's wide-eyed and flushed as she watches the people following the carriage, and even a little flummoxed by Jacsen's commentary. "It went so fast," she murmurs, smile a little dazed. "I just- I think I thought I'd feel /different/." But then the carriage is pulling up, and the stairs are brought to the door, and she looks up to Jacsen, offering a hand toward his elbow. "Your lead," she smiles faintly.
The lady Lucienne stands upon the steps to the tower proper, firmly ensconced on her half-brother's arm, the rest of the Terrick family with them. Ser Jarod cuts a fine and handsome figure, standing tall and proud, his little sister looking a little gaunt in her swathe of violet silk. They both watch on expectantly, having made their way back to the castle ahead of the wedding carriage. "Here they come," murmurs Lucienne, hugging a little tighter to Jarod in anticipation.
He chuckles mildly at Anais' answer, and shakes his head a touch. "The difference will come with time, maybe?" Jacsen offers as he stands in the carriage, at least as much as he can, reaching for his cane. "I don't know, I've never been married before…" He's smiling for it all, though, welcoming his bride's hand upon his arm as he leads them out and down the carriage's steps. "Come on," he encourages her, "Your new home awaits."
"Home," Anais echoes, her hand tightening as Jacsen's arm as she follows him out of the carriage. It's the only outward indication of any nerves she might have, and even that is likely most noticeable to Jacsen himself, as she raises her other hand to wave to the gathered people. Sunny smiles and bright laughter greet them all, and she even blows a few kisses to children sitting on their parents' shoulders.
Amid the throng of people waiting to receive the bride and groom stands a slender and bronze-skinned figure wrapped in golden silks with a delicate purple pattern dancing along the edges and across the translucent scarf that's draped around her head and shoulders. Avinashi is smiling quietly as the carriage arrives, though the smile is easy enough to lose in the crowd, even if her atyical garb makes her a bit more likely to spot and identify.
Jarod is anything but gaunt, beaming and clapping as he watches his half-brother and bride emerge from the carriage. He even puts his fingers between his lips and whistles. Because he just can't help himself. He's dressed in a doublet of deep golden yellow, for his part. His bruised face is more-or-less healed, save the faint yellowish-brown bruising left around his right eye. Perhaps he's color-coordinated with it. "Smile, Luci! It's a merry day." He squeezes her arm as the bride and groom approach.
Jacsen wears a smile for all of those gathered, both familiar faces and strangers alike, and one for his bride as he guides her down the carriage's steps. He's dressed as fine as any Terrick of the Roost might dress, though he lacks reason to be called ostentatious. "Thank you, all of you!" he calls out to the welcoming throng, "We are both so glad you all could come and join us in our celebration today. We wish the blessing of the Seven upon you all!" He turns his face towards Anais, and offers her a few gentle words.
Smile. Smile she does, a wide and happy thing, as Jacsen and Anais emerge from their carriage; Lucienne even disengages from Jarod to clap along with the rest of the crowd. "Don't they look a handsome couple," she says, sparing a glance back to her half-brother. Still smiling!
Whatever Jacsen murmurs, Anais ducks her chin with a smile to it, nodding her agreement. Her hand still at Jacsen's arm, the pair moves toward the crowd of smallfolk, smiling and chatting as they go. When one woman passes Anais a handful of flowers, a few of them find their way into the hair of little girls being held by the hand or sitting on their parents' shoulders.
A blond non-Banefort makes his way through the crowd, angling for a spot with a bit of a better view. Or maybe he's just seeking out familiar company. Either way, it's near Jarod and Lucienne that Gedeon finds himself, and he offers a reply to Lucienne's smiling question. "They do, quite handsome. Someone ought to paint a picture."
Jarod smiles back at Lucienne, one of those big, boyish grins that makes him look even younger than his one-and-twenty years. "They fit well enough together, must be said," he agrees with his sister. "Gedeon! Mate." He reaches out to clap the other Rivers knight on the shoulder. He's even jollier than usual today. Eyes scan the crowd and he asks, "Your squire about? Didn't spot him at the ceremony, but I was so nervous trying not to drop that bloody cloak I couldn't focus on much else."
Jacsen stands as tall as he ever has with his cane in hand, keeping himself to his wife's side, and keeping her at his. He shares words of encouragement and gratitude with the small folk as they wind their way through some of the gathered throng. They spend longer than perhaps is wise for the Terrick lord, given his lame leg, though he hides any discomfort well enough when he begins to draw his new wife back with him in the direction of Four Eagles, and more familiar faces.
Anais even waves over her shoulder as Jacsen leads her away from the smallfolk, her flushed cheeks and warm smile the very image of a young bride. And when they approach her new family, the smile even eases somewhat, warming her features further. "Jarod, Luci," she greets them both, extending a hand to each in turn. "Thank you so much for all of your help. It was perfect. Beautiful."
"Gedeon," greets Lucienne, turning her smile to the Oldstones knight. She pauses for he and Jarod to converse a little, before cutting in with, "You'll save me a dance, won't you?" And then the happy couple are upon them, and she's a new Terrick to greet. She steps forward to take Anais' hand, gushing, "Congratulations, you look absolutely radiant, Annie. What a lucky brother I have!"
"Rowan's about somewhere in the crowd," Gedeon assures Jarod, "though he was standing with Caytiv and then we sort of…" he shrugs a little for the current look of his squire. "He'll turn back up when the drinking starts. My lady," this is for Lucienne, "I'll save as many dances as you'd wish to have of me." As Jacsen and Anais make their way over, the former is offered a smile, the latter something a little gentler. "You look beautiful, my lady. Congratulations to the both of you."
"My half-good-sister," Jarod says with a warm laugh to the Terrick-nee-Banefort. When Lucienne's done with Anais' hand he'll take it, and bow to give her fingertips a knightly sort of kiss. He straightens, nodding to Gedeon with another chuckle. "Aye, I expect the pair of them will get up to some fun together. I'll speak to him later." He asks no more of Rowan, focusing on his family.
"You look beautiful, Lucienne," Jacsen greets his sister with genuine warmth and affection, reaching out for her hand that he might offer it a gesture not unlike the one his brother offers to Anais. "And yes," he agrees, "I am a most fortunate sort indeed." He smiles again, turning it upon the two men, one a brother and the other close enough despite intervening years. "Jarod, again, thank you. Your help was indispensable. And Ged, I'm glad you came back to the Riverlands, that you could be here today." He claps his brother on the shoulder and asks, "Have you seen our betters? Have they made their way inside already?" he wonders, even as his eyes scan the crowd for sight of that rather conspicuously garbed Dornish woman.
"Oh, let them have some fun," Anais grins to Jarod and Gedeon both. "A day off. Seven know, Cayt probably had to endure a visit from Father, and that could drive any man to drink." She blushes at the compliments, reaching down to brush a hand over the material of her dress. "All the compliments really must go to the seamstress," she shakes her head. "I think all of those fittings might have actually been worth the trouble."
"And you, most handsome," Lucienne assures her newlywed brother, shifting her adoring gaze to him as he takes her hand. "Perhaps they slipped inside while you were greeting the masses," she supposes, turning a quick look over her shoulder. "Shall we?"
"Glad this day came while I was here," Gedeon replies, grinning at the word play. "I'm sure the lady B-…" Gedeon blinks, "-Terrick is right. Rowan will be well enough until he shows up, again."
"Was my honor, brother," Jarod replies to Jacsen simply, still beaming. He clasps his half-brother's arm in return briefly, then offers that arm back to his half-sister. "Aye. Lets. The ceremony was lovely and all, but I'm rather ready to have some proper fun."
"Let's," Jacsen echoes the chorus voting for a move inside, as the Seven know he could use being off of his leg, though he smiles through the discomfort of standing overlong. "Your seamstress is to be complimented most highly, my lady wife," he says, seeming surprised as the word comes out so easily, so queer on his tongue. "I am no fit poet, but I am certain one could put the image of you today to good use in crafting something beautiful." That compliment paid, and quite seemingly sincere, he makes to draw Anais with him indoors, where the feast awaits.
Anais blushes again at Jacsen's compliment, reaching up to tuck her hair behind her ears. "You didn't look so bad yourself," she murmurs, pushing up on her toes to brush a shy kiss to his cheek. It's one thing to know you're allowed to do it, but it's another to actually do it. "In fact," she adds as she settles back onto her feet, smoothing a hand over his shirt, "You look very handsome. I think I saw some of the girls in the sept weeping as I came toward you. I can't blame them."
Lucienne latches back onto Jarod to be led inside to a seat. "Some proper fun," she echoes, squeezing his arm somewhat firmly. "You'd best behave, Ser Jarod Rivers. No climbing on seats at this party, you hear?" She turns a wry look up at her knighted brother. Oh, yes, Jarod. That story has already done the rounds all the way back to the castle.
"I didn't climb onto anything. That's a vast exaggeration of what happened," Jarod justifies himself as he escorts his lady sister inside. "It was a chair. I just…stepped. It was a crowded tavern, bloke needs to do something to get a body's attention. I was only thanking the Lord of Banefort for his very generous financing of the evening's drinking. I was being polite. Polite!"
Jacsen laughs a bit as the quartet, and presumably Gedeon and other notables, make their way into the Hall, following the general din of excitement that leads them towards the Throne Room of the Roost itself. "He was terribly polite," the freshly married Terrick tells his new wife and his sister, "I'm sure Jar just wanted to set a proper example for the rest of the Rockcliff that this Lord Banefort was a fellow worthy of such polite manners. That's Jar after all, blazing a trail for us lesser sorts to follow." He winks at his brother. "Right, Jar?"
"It isn't as though Father's never stood on a chair," Anais grins to Jarod, conspiratorial. "I wouldn't worry about it. Considering that fun I heard you all had, I doubt anyone actually /remembers/ seeing it." Before she even reaches the table, someone's put another drink into her hand, and she takes a sip before she realizes there's more alcohol in it. "I should have something to eat, and soon, or I'll be no good in short order," she murmurs, rueful.
Lucienne lifts her brows. "Polite? Hmmm." She doesn't look convinced. Nevertheless, a shake of her head dismisses the notion of arguing further, and she follows along with a swish of her skirts to their appropriately reserved seating. A goblet full of that disgustingly strong wine is the first thing she attends once she's safely tucked in a chair, too, lifting it quickly to propose, "To the bride and groom."
"Aye, that's me, proper example and blazer of trails," Jarod nods along with Jacsen's version of the incident in question, laughing. He heads to get himself a seat and drink as well. Lucienne is eyed at the wine she selects. It's the same he goes for, though, so he can't really chide her for it. Glass is raised. "To my brother, best man I know, and my new good sister. Be kind to each other, and be happy."
The party does not quite make it to their seating without a few interruptions along the way, various notable figures in the Riverlands and Westerlands, though none quite too notable, come to get in the way of the quartet's progression and pay compliments to the beautiful bride and her fortunate husband. They are the sorts of compliments that Jacsen's courtly experience makes accepting and returning certainly easy, though he at least roughly equally relies on Anais to do such pleasant work. He shows her to a seat first, before taking the one beside her and fetching a drink, that he might return the toast given him. "To my bride, and my kin, all of us now and forever family, and friends."
"To family," Anais adds to the toast, raising her own glass. "To the people who care, and who make each day easier." Her smile flashes across her features, and she takes another swallow of her wine, her free hand reaching for Jacsen's not to hold it, but to trail a finger over the back of it. "Luci, Jarod," she looks to the other, smile slipping crooked. "Please don't let me get /too/ drunk."
Lucienne doesn't miss that look from her half-brother, and narrows her gaze at him in return, as though daring him to question her. Her eyes remain locked on her glass as they all toast, fluttering closed as she tries for a long sip of the vile liquid. It's barely a short one that she manages, the taste so unappealing to her, and she blinks over to Anais at the sound of her name. "Oh. Sorry. I… will try my best to suggest water every other glass?"
"To family," Jarod toasts with feeling, drinking. Unlike Lucienne, he doesn't wince at all at the taste. This is the sort of stuff he tends to drink, so it goes down easy. Anais' comment gets a chuckle. "I'll do my level best, Anais. I'll try not to get too stupid this evening, myself. I don't want to be entirely hung-over for the tourney tomorrow. Well, at least no more hung-over than everybody else."
Jacsen takes a healthy sip of his wine as the toast is made, and spares a glance about the throne room, raising his cup in salute to a passing familiar face from Seaguard, whom raises his own cup and calls out a blessing to the groom and his bride. "Hmm?" he makes that quiet noise when Anais so brushes his hand, his eyes dipping to her fingertips as he hears her request and he manages to put together the implicit meaning beneath her words. "I suppose I ought not get too far in my cups either, Jarod. If only to better cheer you on tomorrow. You are our best hope, after all!"
"You might have to fight off a few servers to get it to me," Anais grins to Lucienne, gratefully leaning back to allow one to place a bowl of soup in front of her. "Ah, excellent," she murmurs when it arrives, giving Jacsen's hand a last brush before turning her attention to the food. "Jace, you'll have to give me the odds for the Seagard and the Riverlands men," she smiles to her husband. "And I'll be glad to give you the numbers on the Westermen."
Lucienne returns Anais' grin in some form of her own, then tries another sip of her wine. It still makes her wince the second time around, so she abandons the thing to the table for a moment. "Will you be jousting then, Jarod?" She wonders this with a curious look to her half-brother.
"I'll give the crowd a good show, one way or another. I can usually manage that, if nothing else." Jarod nods to Lucienne. "Aye. Don't want to be too poor-off tomorrow for that. I've never jousted in a tourney before. I am looking forward to seeing the Mallister men again. I hope to get the chance to show them some of the entertainment the Roost has to offer, even if we're rather rustic compared to Seagard. I managed to catch up with a fair number of them during the tourney at Stonebridge, but there are a few here who didn't bother to make that trip, looks like. Haven't seen some of those boys since I was knighted."
The groom laughs a bit at the talk of Seaguard's men. "There are some tried and true knights in their number that will stare you down, brother mine," Jacsen assures Jarod, "Though more than a few are more show than grit. Whether or not that'll do you much good we'll have to wait and see, but you'll be sure to have our cheers regardless." He nods to the server that brings him, Anais, and the rest of the table repast, adding, "Remind me on the morrow and I'll give you a few of the names to watch, certainly," to his wife.
"You'll come, then?" There's some small surprise in Anais' voice at the news that Jacsen will attend the tournament, though her smile is certainly pleased. "I wasn't sure you enjoyed tournaments." She does manage to take a few spoonfuls of soup, then a chunk of warm bread between greetings and congratulations from guests. "Jarod, I wish you well. Especially if you have to go up against Quent," she teases.
There's a fretting look from his sister as Jarod confirms his entering the lists, but she doesn't keep it upon him long; Lucienne is reaching for her glass just as soon as the servers arms are clear of the way. She takes another sip, managing not to wince, and looks over again at Anais. "I don't enjoy them," she says simply, "But I'll be there?"
"He wouldn't miss my grand performance," Jarod says with a grin to Jacsen, tone all jolly as he drinks of his wine. "And it's all right, Luci. It's only play war. There are accidents at times, I know that, but if you're not stupid or mean there's no need to fret too much. And I can handle myself out there." He nods to Anais. "I'm hoping I get a chance to go up against your brother out there, actually. After all the talk of his prowess, I want to see how he measures up."
Jacsen nods to his wife, amused some by her surprise. "I was once a squire, after all," he remarks for the sake of any whom might have forgotten that in another life, he too was meant to be one of those bold men, "And my brother is right… no matter my love of the sport, I could not miss his go at the joust!"
Anais' brows rise at Lucienne. "Really?" she asks with some surprise. "You know you don't have to come if you don't want to, Luci?" She pauses then, lips curving into a rueful smile. "I can certainly see the appeal of spending a peaceful day in bed, in the tower, while everyone else is out being noisy at the tournament after the chaos that was preparing for the wedding." She taps a finger at her lips, then laughs. "And now I'm almost tempted."
Lucienne wrinkles her nose, and frowns into her cup. "I wouldn't miss it," she says with a shake of her head, "However much I'd like to. That's my big brother who'll be playing at war." She looks entirely uncomfortable for a moment, but another draw from her glass fixes that. "Imagine the gossip, were I absent! I'll just look away when they collide," she resolves, her smile returning. "And don't you go tilting at anyone silly first go, Jarod. Like Lord Jason."
Jarod snorts at Lucienne's last comment. "No fear about that, Luci. As far as the joust goes, I want to walk off the field with more coin than I walked onto it with, and I'm hardly the fanciest lance in the Riverlands. If I can win more tilts than I lose, I'll walk off the field happy." He smirks at Anais. "What's wrong, my good sister? Don't want to see me knock your legitimate big brother off his horse? I promise I won't hurt him too bad. It's just a game, after all."
"One hopes, dear brother," Jacsen drawls lightly, his brows rising, "That my own lady wife has intentions beyond avoiding the sight of her brother cast out of the saddle and on to his arse. If not…" He takes a sip of his wine and laughs. "Well, let's hope not, shall we?" He turns a smirk on his new wife, and settles in for an evening of well-wishers, exquisite dishes he can only manage to sample, and eventually that most famous part of any wedding, like as not.