#CONVERSATIONS ✧ ⎨ merei rogare ⎬

[ravellaarryns]

who; @percival-templeton when and where: moments following ravella's conversation with merei rogare, ravella arryn remains within the tent when merei is escorted from it, following her identification of the attacker upon the life of king graham of hosue royce. ravella remains quiet for a few moments as the knights of the vale surrounding her converse with targaryen guards, before she raises her gaze to look upon the lord commander of the queensguard. with a silent understanding, the pair make their way out from the tent back into view of the tiltyard, the sound of clashing lances and the cheering of crowds seemingly drowning out the conversation shared between the pair.

the sounds of the cheers sounded distant compared the dull noise coming from the very back of her mind; she watched as lance smashed against lance with not the slightest bit of a flinch as the queen of the vale stood silently beside the lord commander of the vale, no doubt disassociating in the thoughts of her own mind. it felt like an eclipse, as the dawning realisation of what had happened seeped within her, orbs of ice falling upon the retreating figure of the lyseni woman who had been the one to explain the link. the true identity of the person that had attempted to take the life of an integral part of their realm; despite her dizzying levels of self-importance, the queen of the vale was also aware of the roles within their society.

in class, in position, and in gender; the marriage she had made legitimised her in more ways than one to the traditional gaze of the vale. there was no better choice following the weaker example of masculinity that was rowan arryn in the eyes of the falcon court.

there was an inhale, the smallest inclination that something was entirely weary within her; as though she was holding on to her composure by the weakest of threads. the eyes of the world would remain upon them in such a moment, courtiers were their beady gazes fleeting over to the sight of civilisation itself; two ancient andal bloodlines stood side by side, though her arms remained crossed over the bodice of her deep indigo corset, laced with thread of black and silver. there was no need to speak, for it was understood should the silence break too early, so would her composure; the lyseni had crossed the vale of arryn, and had crossed the wrong individuals.

they were not ruthless like the lions, nor were they cunning like the thorns; the very reality of it all was they were worst. the belief in their superiority made this all too personal an attack, and ravella finally found herself turning her gaze toward the man who towered beside her.

"ensure it is known there is to be a council meeting this evening." ravella commanded, her hands clasping together in fists as they folded beneath her arms: so blind in their fury they were to the fact that one of the rogare siblings had attempted to help them. ravella would rather set that olive branch aflame, for she believed them to all be the same; cut from the same cloth, jumpstarts who had severely forgotten their place on the great chain that was life itself. it appeared as though she had nothing more to say to lord templeton, and yet, she remained stood next to him.

"lys." she uttered, with a sense of disdain dripping her voice: the actions of their rulers had made an enemy of them this day. her tone implied disbelief, that they would even believe themselves worthy of being within the same vicinity as them.

her cousin had made a guest of them it appeared: seated comfortably within the stands. "this is a blatant declaration of war, lord commander." she uttered, for that was what it was. there was no way they could sail over the narrow sea to war on the lyseni by sea; but their influence was already in westeros, and it was in westeros they would face the consequences of their actions. "bring me our braavosi ambassador."