Ode to Defeat (Open to All)

[Larynne Baratheon]

The door creaked opened to a sleepy young lad who led Larynne into the room. Either it was Baelor's squire or...well, let's not think on that. She thought to herself with a shiver which was either from the draft that wafted through the corridor or from the thought. Most likely the latter.

Stepping purposely inside behind the boy, Larynne saw Baelor, no longer wearing his fur cloak and armor, but heavy, woolen breeches in their stead. Even without his armor, he was a big man. Austyn should've known better than to instigate him.

"No, thank you, Milord." A short curtsy of respect to his title. 'I'm not here to drink with you. I'm here to apologize for the way Ser Densmore acted." The flash of lightening caught her attention if only briefly before she looked back to him. She should've been uncomfortable there, alone with him. But, instead she felt more revolted by his demeanor and disheveled appearance. It was apparent he'd no intention of bathing before settling into bed.

"Can I get a servant to bring up the fire, or get you more blankets before I turn in, Milord?" She offered out of courtesy more than anything. Her head hitting the bed, all cozy under her own blankets with the warmth of her own fire crackling beside her was what she really wanted. If only she had her husband to warm her as well.

[Baelor Karatus]

As the words fell from her lips, more and more of her court manner continued to show itself. Baelor quickly found himself growing bored, first with the apology and then with the questions that should have fallen from a servants mouth, not her own. Perhaps he had been wrong in assuming there was any fun to be had with this one, she seemed entirely focused on maintaing court symbiosis, and though she had come to his chambers late in the hour, he could plainly read disgust upon her face as if she where screaming it at him. Baelor had grown to see there where two kinds of nobles in the court, those he reviled and angered, and those he intrigued and and earned the respect of. Clearly, this Baratheon belonged to the first group, though he had long ago learned to not let such things annoy him. He knew that winning the heart of every noble was a dream unmeetable by anyone, whether it be a King or a lowly Lord such as him.

Flicking his wrist boredly, Baelor looked away from the woman to his fire. "It seems to me the flames already dance, and I have more than enough blankets. If you're quite finished making sure everything is alright and politic, you may go to wherever it is you call home within this Keep. Do not worry yourself, your knight is in no danger from either myself or from word traveling to Stannis. He tried his luck and was quickly and effectively punished for it. The matter is resolved. If that is all, take your leave, Baratheon." His tone held no hostility, but merely boredom. He had hoped for something a bit more exciting than a Lady simply trying to make sure all matters of court where smoothed over before she retreated to bed for the night. Baelor smiled gently to himself as he stood, why had he dared assume that a noble from a Major House would want anything than to keep playing at politics and manners, even at this hour?

Walking to the kettle, Baelor filled his goblet once again with the mulled wine, slowly taking a drink of the liquid and enjoying the feeling as the heat, both from the fire and alcohol, wormed it's way down his throat and through his body. Turning to once again look upon the Baratheon woman, he cocked a single brow, waiting to see her action. Did he lust for her? Of course, though he couldn't imagine a sensible man that wouldn't. However, he was not going to beg the woman to stay, nor would he corner her. Baelor, instead, alked back to the padded chair and comfortably sat upon it, eying the Baratheon woman one last time, the way the thin material held the shape of her body, the way her hair seemed to glow in the fire, and then with a simple smirk, looked away and let his gaze fall back to the flames before him.

[Larynne Baratheon]

Her cheeks began to warm, not from the fire's heat, but instead from feeling infuriated at his indifference to her formal apology. Which, Larynne felt was necessary. Apparently, it wasn't.

"Well! It seems you really have no regard or care for the formalities anymore than you do for politics." Larynne placed her fists on her shapely hips. Her features turning to displeasure. "I came in here to do you the courtesy as a Lord and guest in this house..." She stopped and followed his gaze to her thinly robed body. Instead of being insulted, Larynne gave a soft snort.

"Oh, now I see. You thought I was coming in here because of what you told me in your charming way on the stairs." She walked over to the window to watch the raging storm outside. The rain pelting at the window with heavy drops, mixed with the howling winds which sounded like a maiden wailing for her long dead mate.

"You're a cad, Lord Baelor." A glance with the slightest of smirks over her shoulder at him sitting in the chair with goblet in hand, looking to her rather un-warrior like in his two tone colored breeches.