Page 008: The Responsibility of an Individual
The Responsibility of an Individual
Summary: Sequestered in Revyn's Chambers, him and Jaremy question the whore.
Date: 20 July 2011
Related Logs: Everything from Page 008.
Revyn Jaremy Amelia 
Revyn's Chambers

In the history books, the maester of Four Eagles Tower would probably use the word "troubled" to describe the activity in Terrick's Roost this night. Jaremy happens to pass the maester on his way up the stairs, and doesn't bother to suggest the word for the log book. Instead, he comes to a stop on the landing and adjusts his swordbelt. The sound of riders and bustling down in the courtyard is evident through the window slots, and the night is already growing cool. This night, to Jaremy, was becoming one of the worst he's ever had.

Turning to a small two-step stairs, he comes to his Uncle's door and knocks on it once, pushing it open and committing himself to entering without much more notice.

Amelia is standing by the window, looking down into the courtyard as man and beast assemble to ride and prepare a defense. The woman is hugging herself. She turns her head quickly to him and takes a deep breath. "Young Lord," she begins. "You.." She looks as if she might scold him but stops short. The whore might move to him but for the leg irons. It wouldn't do well to scratch the floor of a man kind enough to house her.

"I…?" Jaremy replies, closing the door behind him. Looking thoroughly exhausted, having his afternoon wine after a long day of riding interrupted for the mess that this has become, it appears as if a hard shove could take him down. Finding a chair, he pulls it over and motions for her to sit. He then turns and grabs one for himself. He avoids even her gaze as he busies himself with preparing their conversation. "Have a seat. We have much we need to discuss."

"Yes. You." There's some venom there in Amelia's voice. She lifts her skirts and moves carefully to the chair, doing her best to keep the chains off the floor. Its more of a shuffle as she walks but she offers no complaints. The whore stops beside him, looking down with pursed lips. "I should strike you for lying to your father as you have. You and Revyn, both. How dare you." She takes a haughty breath and frumps herself into the chair. "You endanger this house with those words. What happened does not endanger this house." Her arms cross and she eyes him. "But." She swallows. "I am out of line, m'Lord. I am still gracious you saved me. That.. I am afraid I cannot repay you for." The woman finally smiles at him. A little.

"I don't…know what my uncle is doing with that, and clearly I've caused enough trouble that I don't know whether or not to keep my fool mouth shut." Jaremy grunts, lowering himself into the seat across from her as he sets his sword down on the table beside him. "You did something important for Isolde and I, Amelia, and for that I gave you the benefit of the doubt on this issue of the silver, but now I need to know the truth." He leans back in his chair, running a hand over his forehead. "Did you steal from the Tordanes and is that silver in your room?"

"Jaremy," she sighs, drifting her head to the side to rest her hand to her forehead. Eyes close for a brief second before she looks to him. "You're not a fool, but sometimes you need to know when to shut the fuck up." She loves him. But because she loves him as she does, she does not candy coat things for him, either. So the smile on her face carries less admonishment and far more warmth. "Thank you for the benefit and it was not improperly placed. But what I did for you both was something only for you two to know." Plus her. But she's a mousetrap for secrets. her head rises from the lean and the whore looks directly at him. "I have never in my life taken money against the law from the house of Tordane or from anyone associated with the house. My room at the Rockcliff Inn should have two stars and twelve. All in copper. I carry no silver and all of it goes to Herbert," the owner, "when I receive it. Change goes to me."

It's at the tail end of Amelia's statement that the door to the room opens, allowing Revyn to make his way into view, one hand lifted to run through his hair as he gives a slight shake of his head, "Jaremy, I certainly hope that you're getting whatever information I need to be able to go to Stonebridge." And, the door is then shut, eyes playing over to the other two before he continues, "Not only that, but I damn well want to know what this whole affair is about. Especially if I'm going to go speak with my neice about it."

"If it risks Terrick's Roost my father, at the least, has to know." Jaremy replies, eyes darkening. His chest rises slowly only to deflate quickly with a sigh as he leans back, elbow propped on the table and his tired fingers splayed over his forehead. He doesn't even bother to look up at the sound of his uncle's voice. "We've only just begun, Uncle. she has at best copper in her room, and tells me she hasn't taken any of the money."

Jaremy cracks open his fingers, looking at Amelia through them. "From the beginning, what happened with this silver? Just start from the beginning. Leave out no important details."

The whore's eyes narrow at him, challenging. "But you do not make up tales, Jaremy Terrick." She scolds him like a mother. When Amelia see's who it is stepping through the door, she rises from her chair like any Lady would. "Ser, I thank you for the use of your room. You are kind." She dips her head to him, being a touch more formal with him. It all seems to calm her mood again and she settles back into the chair, straightening her skirts behind her as she does so. "What I am telling you is exactly what I told the magistrate: Monday afternoon I took it upon myself to place bets on a gentleman I met at the tavern earlier in the day. A 'Ser Kevan'. My bookmaster is in Stonebridge. I rode there to meet with him. On the way I noticed a man I have seen on the crossing before carrying a satchel. As men do, he looked at me as I passed and stepped into the ditch. He dropped the bag and out tumbled much silver. Far more than this disgusting slob had any business carrying. I drew my dagger to him and asked him where it came from. He scrambled to grab some of the coin as I approached and I moved faster, demanding it again. I do not believe he took much before darting off into the brush. Seeing all that silver, though, I took it up and rode back the way he had been coming from — Stonebridge. I went directly to the magistrate's office with the stags, took a receipt for it, handed it over with my tale, and went down the street to the tavern and had a few glasses of summerwine with a few men and met my bookmaster. I took a man, stayed the night, and left midmorning yesterday."

As Amelia rises at his entrance, Revyn lifts a hand and gives her a slight wave, indicating that she should dispense with such things for the moment. Rather then angle towards a seat, he's moving towards the window and when it's reached, his shoulder comes to press into the wall beside it, arms lifting to settle over his chest. "So you drew your dagger on a man who may or may not have had claim to the silver?" There's a pause and a slight cant of his head to the right as he looks over towards Jaremy.

"Fuck." Jaremy grunts, closing his eyes beneath his hand with a weak chuckle. "Ser Kevan's the Hedge Knight Jarod's recruiting. He's going to be in the lists too? This tourney's going to be a boar of a bitch." Another weak, sarcastic chuckle erupts from the young lord's lips, finding the humor in it.

As if sensing Revyn's gaze, he cracks an eye open, casting a similar glance in his uncle's direction. "…that and you just happened to come across a man with a gigantic satchel full of Stonebridge silver? This is the tale that you gave the magistrate?" His eyes turn back to Amelia, pushing himself to sit in a more proper manner. "Amelia…" His voice trails off, not quite buying it.

Amelia purses her lips and looks to Revyn. "I am used to men who carry silver. You know this. I know the men who do in this area. It is my business to know that. And should I see more than one hundred stags tumble from someone unknown, I believe it is the job of any good member of society to question such things. I am no highway robber. I gave the man's description to the magistrate." She then looks sharply to the Young Lord. "And how do you suppose I came up with 168 stags, Jaremy? Did I get it as a 'tip'? Tell me, as well: What would someone like me do with that silver? I certainly could not spend it. Had I kept it, where would I be if I spent it? Likely I would be dead."

"Looks can be deceiving. You of all people should know that, as well," comes the retort from Revyn. Then, he's simply falling quiet for a moment, considering what's been said before he's giving a slight nod of his head, "I can see why Lady Valda issued a writ for your arrest. This story is one that feels reherased, with too many pieces falling into place far too easily." His attention shifts back to Jaremy, a slight frown creasing his lips now, "Your father won't buy it, Jaremy. He'll listen to that, shake his head and order her off to Stonebridge in a heart beat."

"Right, that story is shit, Amelia. Going forward with that, I'll be honest, you'll end up in Stonebridge's dungeon or worse. It's got far too many circumstances that chalk up to blind luck." Jaremy rises, moving down the table to a pitcher of old summerwine. Taking it up, he sniffs it, and then pours a few mugs of it. "Amelia. I know you have your…secrets. I don't want you to protect me in this matter. This happened while you were in Stonebridge on my behalf while Isolde was in Terrick's Roost. Please…tell us the truth, even if it shames my uncle of me."

"I will take that as a compliment, Revyn. Thank you. But that is why I gave a description of the man. If this man were innocent of a crime and the stags were in fact his, why has nobody come forward to claim them stolen? I will gladly confess to such crimes as I believe I was defending the coffers of one family or another." She shrugs with the rest. "I believe someone will find they are missing silver and appreciate that I returned it as soon as I could." She looks prim in the matter until Jaremy speaks. The whore levels her eyes at him. "You know I do not break confidence without permission, m'Lord. Your case is one where I have believed that it was more prudent to keep you in the dark to protect the Terrick family." She tries to cross her legs but can't. Stupid chains. "Very well." Amelia looks between Revyn and Jaremy. "Lady Isolde of House Tordane was the only one with locked access to my room, save for you, Jaremy. Since you did not place it there, I assume she did. Inside the satchel I found one-hundred seventy stags of silver that I believe are missing from the Tordane treasury. I buried two in order to support my story. I can take you to them as they are buried just down the road."

"Take it as you will, Amelia. I simply want to know what we've suddenly found ourselves thrust into." Revyn then falls silent, listening to Jaremy and then Amelia and when the whore finishes, his features actually drop with a slight twinge of surprise. That's quickly brought under control, though, and his eyes flit in the direction of Jaremy, "Wait. What." He then looks back to Amelia, his brow lifting just a touch as he shrugs off from his position against the wall, "I'm going to assume there's a good reason as to why they had access to your room. When you returned from your trip to Stonebridge, that's when you found the silver in your room?"

Jaremy takes in a deep, slow breath as he hands out the mugs of summerwine. "Uncle." Jaremy starts, biting his lower lip. "In the interest of not seeing me in pain, Amelia was kind enough to arrange a…meeting between myself and Lady Isolde in her chambers. What she means to say, which I do remember a strange satchel in her room, though I'm not very familiar with her chambers, and that likely Lady Isolde herself left it…perhaps as a thanks." His voice is distorted by his mug as he takes a sip. "Which is another thing we cannot take to Lady Valda Tordane. Not in the slightest, because then we'd be facing demand for compen—gods I've really fucked this up, haven't I?"

Amelia listens to Revyn and nods once. "That is correct, Ser. And before you ask, my statement to Jaremy was sincere in every way." She glances to him and back to Revyn. "For what I did, I did not ask anything of any kind. I especially did not ask for someone to give me stolen stags. I have never requested anyone to steal anything from the House Tordane or anyone associated with it. You both know what I am. I have very little. This is plain. But what I have is my honor to myself and my word. I may sell my body but I will not sell my soul. Not even for a satchel of stags. Period." Amelia is quite firm about this, her voice a touch higher. Its tinged with frustration. She didn't want the money. Someone looking to save their own skin would just drop it in the river. Someone dishonest would bury it for a rainy day. At that, though, she falls quiet. What happened in that room is not for her to discuss, let alone guess. She's visibly upset by this.

Looking to Jaremy, Revyn gives a single nod to his nephew, for his attention is drawn back to Amelia, "Next time, start with the truth, Amelia. It will save everyone quite a bit of headache." Now, his hand lifts to rub at the bridge of his nose and when it drops down, he's looking back to Jaremy, "That meeting better have been worth it, Jaremy, because you've effectively just stuck it to the Naylands … not that I'm going to complain, mind you." There's no love lost between him and that family. "Alright. I have no idea what we're going to do about this, but there's not a word to your father, Jaremy, until I'm back. I need to speak with my niece and see whether she left that silver."

"Believe me, father's going to have me neck deep in learning the names of the available daughters of all sizes, ugly and not, between now and the tourney. I'll be lucky if he even allows me outside of the walls." Frowning, Jaremy takes another sip from his mug. "I've lost her. The best we can do at this point is try to remain stable and let father do his work. As for this situation…" He tilts his head, tsking. He shakes his head, locking his eyes onto Amelias. "…it was a good effort, but what this is now is unfortunate. There's a way out of this, we just haven't seen it yet. Though I don't see where returning stolen silver means that she herself stole it. Honestly, I think the matter will be dropped soon and moved onto more Nayland damnation games."

Amelia looks to Revyn, almost defiant with her eyes. "I will say what I must to protect those I take on. I risk my life for my love of the men of this house. I will not apologize for it. Nor will I discuss what happens with my people without their permission." She huffs a breath. "So you are aware, I placed several bets back and forth through the day of Sunday. I did, in fact, meet with Ser Kevan and place bets on him when I arrived in Stonebridge. That is all correct." She meets Jaremy's eyes and doesn't miss a beat with her reply. "Those questions I asked stand. If I took it, how did I get it if I was so busy riding back and forth those days? If I took it, what could I possibly do with it? Spending it would be suicide and even a one penny whore knows that much. I believe questions of logic will be the best defense to my tale. I have no access to any treasuries. Nor do I want them. I have little use for what I have not earned myself."

There's a grunt from Revyn towards Jaremy, followed by a quick shake of the man's head, "You give up to easily, Jaremy, but you had best learn those names. Or even better, find one yourself that your father approves of. In the mean time, we're going to have more pressing matters to attend to, especially if Nayland convinces Valda to petition our little event." Then, he's looking back to Amelia as he gives a slight shake of his head, "I appreciate that, Amelia, and I'm sure Jaremy does as well, but your white lie has placed us into a difficult position. When trouble arises and you are involved, seek us out and tell us what happened. Your secrets will remain safe." Now, he looks between the two before finally settling his attention on Jaremy once more, "Tell the guard to treat her as a guest of mine. Once your brother returns, we will depart for Stonebridge and hopefully get this resolved in a fashion that keeps everyone safe."

"At this point we're talking miracles. I don't particularly believe in them at the moment. For the time being all I'm going to be doing is focusing on maintaining some sort of even level before the tourney, so that things don't get worse there. Fucking Naylands." Jaremy hisses, pausing to down the last of his wine as he rises, angry. "To think it would have been so fucking difficult to let the marriage alone be enough that they get sent over here to rattle the nest." He stops at the edge of his chair, looking to Revyn's door. "Don't do anything stupid without me, Uncle. I'm not interested in either one of you dying where I can't do something about it."

"My lie was contained to endangering myself only. Though the next time someone leaves me a satchel full of cash I'm going to dump it in the town square and walk away. The games you nobles play." She shakes her head, settling back in the chair. The woman waits for Revyn to finish before speaking up. "I'd request that you take me with you. Lock me in shackles and take me. At the very least it appears you are serious about the matter rather than giving in to some weak political game. You can take the upper hand by remaining defiant while still taking the trouble to bring me. I am your prisoner. Should they have legal right to take me, then all the better. We can resolve this faster." She then quirks her brow at Jaremy. She wants to say something to his last but finds herself.. a little shocked.

"Oh, I -entirely- agree with you, Nephew." Revyn does lift a hand and then waggles a finger in the direction of his nephew, "Next time you want to frolic behind your father's back, let me know. There are some easier ways." He's then looking to Amelia, offering the woman his first real smile of the day as he gives a shake of his head, "Sorry, not going to happen. I'm going to speak with Lady Isolde and Lady Valda as family, first, and as a Terrick second. That and I'm only taking Jarod and my wife, Isolde's aunt, with me. If I brought you, the Naylands may decide to simply seize you from my custody or attempt some other maneuver. No. You will remain here." Jaremy's final comment draws a lift of his brow and a low laugh begins to sound in his throat, "Don't worry, nephew, I have no intention of dying any time soon. What fun would be had in that?"

"Guess it depends what's in store for you in the afterlife." Jaremy replies to his uncle with a tilt of his head. "Only you and the Seven truly know, am I right?" A little humor strays through the darkness. Stepping around the chair, he rests his arms atop it and turns his attention back to Amelia, agreeing with Revyn. "No, you'll stay here. White lie or not I'm sure the Naylands would love to make a show of justice out of you to impress the Tordanes. I agree with my uncle. Perhaps Valda just wants the separation and we can get out of this without too much trouble. I think Lady Valda could silence the Naylands. After all, Isolde might not be…" Jaremy's words slow, looking to his uncle. "…maybe that's what this is about. Maybe she aims to end our pursuit of Isolde. Maybe that's what will end this."

Amelia might offer opinions and heated words once in awhile, but when she is given a firm cue to stuff it, she takes it. "Yes, m'Lords. As you wish." Revyn and Jaremy get a dip of her head. She falls silent, watching the two.

Another laugh sounds as Revyn looks back to Jaremy, a flash of a smile coming to bare before he offers, "I'm not even sure the Seven know what's in store for me, Jaremy." Then, he's casting a look to Amelia, giving a slight shake of his head and a lifted handwave once more, "You sound as if you've been punished. Enjoy the .. hospitality for it's worth. My journey will not be long and when I return, you'll be free from this room." Then, he's looking back to Jaremy, "Perhaps. Perhaps not. I'll know more once I get to Stonebridge. And I shan't be staying there long, for I well imagine Naylands will be present. I shall seek you out upon my return, Nephew. Until then, stay safe." That said, he's turning and making his way towards the door.

"I will, as will Amelia. I'll…" He runs a hand over his forehead, doing his best to not look too tired. "…I'll keep her here. Not that she'll have far to run. Both her and I are probably under the same observation right now." Jaremy says with a wave to his uncle, watching the man depart. Thoroughly exhausted himself, he turns to Amelia. "Please, do what he says and take a few days to think and rest. He'll be back soon enough."

Amelia shakes her head and offers Revyn a smile. "No, m'Lord. Not punished. I may have a sharp tongue and heart, but quieting it is also a skill that requires bravery. Any fool can speak out of turn. Thank you for your kindness." She falls quiet as the men speak again and once Revyn has left, she nods to Jaremy's words. Her tone is once again less formal and more personal. "I will. And I am sorry to have brought the family to this. I-" She sighs. "I am a baseborn, Jaremy. Worse, I am a whore. I am not worth the risks you take. A stand should be made for someone of nobler value to your banner."

Revyn has left.

Jaremy stops, and for a moment it appears that he's going to start walking again. His back to Amelia, his head lowers and his shoulders slump. "Amelia. You did not ask for that bag of coin. This is a result of something that you did for me, and in that I am the one who is far more guilty than you, and that's something that asking to be handed to the Naylands won't change." He turns to her, his brown eyes resting behind tired lids. "What the Naylands are doing is malicious, and it would have come in some other form. What kind of man would I be to let you die to make life easier?"

"No, this is a result of something Isolde did for me." Amelia sounds frustrated. "Stop confusing these things, Jaremy! You cannot rule a house and lands if you insist on taking on the debts of other people. The responsibility of an individual belongs to them, not the people. To think otherwise is weakness that you cannot afford." She stands from the chair suddenly, the woman cross. "Oh stop being so noble." An unintended pun. Or was it? "Sometimes people die because they fuck up. I know quite well what I risked doing that, I just did not account for a sack of cash being left at my bedside." She shakes her head, calming. "I love you, Jaremy. I really do. But you take on too much. Please think on what I'm telling you. We need your kindness and heart. But what is more important is what we need from you as a leader and unifier."

Jaremy looks around the room and finds that Revyn didn't drink his wine. Plucking the mug up, he moves back to the chair across from Amelia and slouches into it, placing one spurred boot on the cross-beam beneath Amelia's chair. "So what you're suggesting, Amelia, is that since you love me so much I allow you to die because Isolde left you that money?" He drinks heavily, setting the mug aside. His shoulders and arms drape over the armrest of the chair, eyes intent on Amelia. "Amelia, you tell me to not be so noble and to let you sacrifice yourself for our cause, but those two things can't happen at the same time. You did this for us. Isolde and I. I chose to partake, and it never would have happened had we not wanted it dearly. You were kind to us, truly, and I won't see you dying, starved to death, and thoroughly raped in some forgotten dungeon beneath Stonebridge."

Amelia watches him, arms crossing beneath her chest. She did her best to subtly stitch the front of the dress up but she still looks the part of what she is. The woman turns as he passes to sit in his chair. Her features soften as she hears his words and the woman sinks gently to her knees on the floor in front of him. The skirts pool around her and she nods. "Sometimes that is what must happen, hon," she says quietly. "You all play these back and forths, but a smallfolk who involves themselves in the affairs of nobles is still.. what they are. We don't have the power you all do. Whether you like it or not, we are not as important. I-" She takes a long breath out. "I knew the risks going into this. I did not dismiss them lightly. But think of.." Her voice slows and trails and she looks away, almost confused. She makes a face, brow furrowed, before she shakes it away and looks back up to him. "Jaremy, did I tell you what happened to my mother?"

"If the smallfolk see that the Terricks themselves buckle beneath the weight of this new regime that Valda Tordane has formed, then they'll know to fear for any other warrants, and that their relative safety is crushed. They saw what they needed to. I told the Nayland to fuck himself, took one of our smallfolk into custody, and bid all to know there will be no such warrants without Terrick accompaniment. Now the nobles will move to make amends, and I'll likely return from tourney with a prospect and through coalition will stonewall the Tordanes and Naylands into behaving. That is how this works, Amelia." Jaremy sighs, peeling his eyes away from her form beneath him to reach for his glass. "…and it gets a little bit grayer every day."

"What happened to your mother?" He asks, mug in hand.

"Gray is not a bad thing, Jaremy. Just be able to identify the sunrise from the sunset when you must distinguish from the time between. We, as your people, know who you are. People believe. Not all, but most." She reaches out to touch his calf, cupping it gently to give it a squeeze before it drops. "My mother was a whore." Its a bitter taste, but there are no other ways to say it. It shows on her face. "She was like I. She catered more to nobility. She tried very hard to be proper but in a city like Seagard it was hard for her to be what I have become here. But she would involve herself in these affairs. She had a few backroom meetings with some of the Lords and Ladies of the city." She swallows, taking a breath and looking down. "I was fifteen when.. she died. My mother had spent several nights involved in something that they were paying her for. It was not..whoring. One night she did not come back — which she always had. I found her behind the tavern, covered in rats." She steels her jaw to push on. "Sliced. She looked like ribbons." Amelia's voice only shakes for a moment before her eyes lift back to him. There are no tears, only the streangth to fight them. "Nobody cared. I never saw the men again. Only the innkeeper offered condolances. ..And a job as a whore." She purses her lips. "I know well the risks. But I have no illusions about where I stand. Or, where I deserve to stand. We are friends. We were once lovers. But there is an important distinction between what you and I are."

Jaremy's eyes dance in strange intervals, finding new places on Amelia's face to settle on as she tells her story. As she delves into ribbons and rats, he lowers his eyes to the space between them and reaches out to rest a hand to the side of her head, brushing through a few strands to lend sympathy. "Your mother wouldn't want you to suffer the same fate, Amelia." He offers, hand retreating from her. "You're right though, there is an important distinction between you and I, and our stations. We've spoken enough that I know you'd likely club the side of my face if I avoided recognizing what you are. Whore, however, is too strong a word for what you are. A whore would have taken the money, and wouldn't have offered to do what she did for a Lord and his … love." Jaremy frowns, taking another pull from the mug of wine. "You're not going to convince me to let you burn for this, Amelia. Period."

Amelia's jaw is trembling just a bit when he touches her face. It doesn't show outwardly. A whore like her must be adept at concealing her emotions. But the touch does seem to calm her. Some of the tension even seems to leave her. "I am everything my mother would have not wanted for me, Jaremy," she whispers up to him. "But I play a dangerous game. I also stay informed and trade that information when I think it can benefit." Benefit who? Her? The Terricks? "Other than singing, the greatest skill I have is listening and making connections. I am quiet when I should be but when I am passionate.." Well, this is a perfect example. "My mother would want me to live as much as I could. I'm trying my best." She rest of his words have her setting her jaw once more while she fights the emotion for what he's told her. "Thank you, m'Lord," is about all Amelia can muster for a few moments. "Lady Isolde told me she'd see me ascended if she had the power." She shakes as she inhales, chin lifted. "You two honor me and fill me with pride, m'Lord. Just.. please. Do not seek more trouble of this. I beg of you. I am not worth it. I can't say that enough." He may be convinced, but she is as well.

"Then in the future, Amelia, offer gifts and not surprises." Setting the mug down, Jaremy reaches down to scoop her face into his hands, ensuring that she gets a good look at his face as he speaks. "I will never forget what you did for me. For that I will never find myself wondering what never was. Neither will she. Thank you." He plants a kiss to her forehead. The young lord sighs as he leans back, making it easier once again for the two to speak. "There is a way. You have connections, Amelia, and in conversation you're more deadly than my own uncle. There is possibility of your ascension in profession, that I can assure you, but if this is something you wish to work for you will have to be obedient and patient…and you may have to ply your trade for a little while longer."

Amelia takes a breath and nods to his direction. "Yes, m'Lord." But as he cups her face, she looks up to him. The woman cannot hide her love for him, especially not in her eyes. It runs deep with her. Its a wonder how she can bring herself to do what she does.. let alone keep from becoming attached. Maybe she does. "You're welcome," she says quietly, sniffing once. "I wanted someone I love to have something I cannot. I dream of faceless men to take my breath away. I have seen the glimmer in Lady Isolde's eye. Many speak of being willing to die for love." She gives him a lopsided smile. But the rest gets her to nearly stop breathing. It comes once again in a short gasp at the end and she dips her head deeply in front of him. "I will serve the Terrick House however the Lords and Ladies see fit, m'Lord." She raises her head slowly. "But you must be careful not to shame your house, m'Lord. I cannot erase what I am. Bringing a whore into a home, even as a servant, is something that will be mocked and scorned by many. Families will not care that you or others who know me think what they will. What matters is reputation. Power perceived is power achieved, m'Lord." There is deep, deep pride on her face but its not just for herself, but for Jaremy as well. And with that pride comes a far more respectful tone to her voice.

"I will be careful, Amelia. No doubt the rumors at the tourney are going to be horrific, and no doubt that the tourney itself will be dangerous. I was forced with two very bad decisions, and in the end the choice that I made was the practical one. We will stand against this and they've won this first round, but they will not win the second." Jaremy's brow lowers, no longer delving into his depression, coming out of it with resolve. He reaches out once more, placing a hand on her arm as her head remains bowed. "Though…despite your best efforts, Amelia, I want you to no longer pursue this matter of Isolde and I." His words come out quietly, nearly pained. "Love or not, she will not be the lady of this place. She is lost to us and I've failed her, and that alone is my weight to bear. Sleep well knowing what you did was the one bit of light in it, but…" He shakes his head. "…to pursue this even more could result in more shaming of our house. It's like you said. I must be careful not to do that."

She does not comment or respond in any way until he has finished saying what there is to be said. Her arm is soft, though. She is no warrior or supremely strong individual in the physical sense. Like her heart, just gentle and warm. "I will do as you bid, m'Lord. For the House." She bows to him once more and comes back up. "I will not attempt to plant seeds there, either. If this situation is as you say, I wish to do no more harm than I have." She swallows. "As you say, m'Lord, it is time for you to look to the future of your home." She wets her lips and folds her hands, settling more comfortably into this position in front of him. "I will speak of her less, but I must break her confidence to share something that I spoke of her with because it effects you. When I last saw her at the Inn in Stonebridge, as I climbed out the window, I gave my solemn promise to look after you, m'Lord. To take care of you in a way she would approve of. I wish to fulfill my promise to her. If you wish me to look into anything fo you, please ask. But this woman who will be entering your life.. I will not let her do so unchecked." Somewhere there are a pair of cats fighting. "Do you wish to know what I can discover of her?"

Lifting his gaze to the ceiling of the room, Jaremy can't help but smile and let out an exhausted grunt. Leaning against the chair's padded back, he runs a hand through his growth of beard and finally breaks into a quiet chuckle. "Seven…" He clucks. "…in every shadow there's a woman's plotting isn't there? I'm starting to think that the women of the neck are far deadlier than the men." Slowly, his neck muscles coil and turn, bringing his gaze upon Amelia once more. He can't help but smile. "Fine, though I'm not convinced you wouldn't do so anyway but do not touch, change, or manipulate anything. The last thing you need, gods damn you, is another bag of fucking silver. Eyes. EARS. VERY little mouth and hands, if you understand me right?"

The tired lord runs a hand over his face, shaking his head with no lack of incredulity. "…and now you see why I put faith in you today, Amelia. Now you see."

Amelia looks very earnest until he mentions a woman plotting. It turns more serious, but quite personal. There is serious conflict on her face and she looks down. A heaved breath and she nods. "M'Young Lord, Ser Jaremy Terrick.. You are more correct than you know. One day, when we are private and disarmed of concerns for each other's position, we will have a discussion." Her eyes lift. "But that day is not today. Likely after you have become Lord Terrick and understand better our lives and the roles we have become entrusted with." There is still no shortage of pride on her face, chin lifted up towards the man. But taking his direction, there is a curt nod. "Yes, m'Lord. Silken the tounge for my questions and grow my ears for the answers. I shall bind my hands. Though, if I must act when there is no time or I believe malice and cannot reach you, I will not hesitate to move. I am but a woman and cannot be sworn to your service as a sword, but I will carry what I honor I have to your banner, m'Lord. It is but the least I can do for your kindness today and keeping me out of that man's hands."

"This discussion will happen when it happens, but you're right, now is not the time. Just know that it seems the day for privacy and disarmed concerns might be far off." He rises from the chair, stepping carefully past her to stand nearby. His tired arms strech over his head, sore muscles popping near his shoulders as the stress becomes more physically evident. "In the meantime I have much to think about and much to prepare for. This tourney is going to be another test, and it's going to have very little to do with just swordplay and horsemanship. The Naylands will not stop at today, and you would be well prepared. Lord Tully may be there, and if they decide to take this matter to our overlord…I may not be able to save you."

Amelia does her best to rise with him despite the leg irons, grasping the bedpost to pull herself up steadily. She moves to the door with him as a Lady should to see him out. Her hands stay clapsed in front of her while she looks to him. "It will happen, m'Lord. It must." The mention of Tully brings her to nod. "Should that be the case, I will write a letter for you and explain a few things. I have no Issue. You are my family, m'Lord. You deserve to know some things that may aid you in your quest forward in life if I cannot be here to provide counsel." She hesitates, but only for the briefest moment. She then reches out to take him in a deep embrace, her head tucked into his shoulder. "Be careful, Jaremy. Make sure this wife loves you like you deserve." She sighs into his shoulder and steps back, looking up to him. "Now go, I'll keep you no longer. I must write my letter should the Tully's involve themselves." She reaches for the door to open it and shoo him out.

Hesitating at first, Jaremy turns and wraps his arms around Amelia to return the hug. His shoulders are knotted in his tension, and the level of fatigue in his bones is evident in the way his arms twitch. "Amelia, this wife of mine, if she loves me? That would be a luck granted by the Stranger himself. This marriage will have to be strategic at first, amicable as a second. There's simply no telling…" He gives one final squeeze before turning for the door. "…get some rest and I'll have the maester prepare some ink and quill for you in the morning. It's been a long day. Let it end for both of us." He opens the door and steps through, closing it behind him to lock her in solitude. A few words are uttered to the guards in the hallway before the sound of his spurs can be heard carrying him away.