Fame Begets Foes

The following day, after her victory against Bold Jon and subsequent forfeit, the afternoon finds Loreia scant ever seen wandering outside the Coldbrook camp. For the times she leaves her tent for water and something to eat, and perhaps a stiff drink, her pet trots closer, almost in step, ever at her side. The aforementioned tent contains enough space for two cots and space to walk between them. Of course, Loreia needs and has only one cot, on one side of the tent. The other side is currently occupied a water bowl and her backpack, and in the middle her dog sits on his haunches, licking her arm as she pets his head. No panting from the pup today, as Badger breathes quietly in a mimicry sympathetic to his master's...attitude, as far as he can judge.

She rubs the spots he can never reach while refraining from leaning down to pet below his neck and shoulders. She places a hand on her side, feeling where the wide strips of cloth beneath her soldier's attire were tied taut to support a fractured bone. Still hurts, but she must go out and socialize sometime, lest others think she's become a shut-in since that debacle with Ser Jon. The significance of everything she does seems to have tripled since her shoulders were tapped by Ser Eoric's blade, though the fault lies not with him entirely, for which she possesses acute awareness.

A familiar voice outside calls her name, announcing that Lord Drakeson wants a word. A moment later, she answers that she is ready. Brushing aside the tent flap, Baelon ducks in, resplendent in his full plate. Badger waddles to the rear of the tent and flops on the ground, slightly bored, but watching with vested interest, his mind poised to observe the alien interaction happening in front of him.

"
Lord Baelon, welcome."
Loreia offers a small smile. "
Daveth came by to tell me the latest about the tilts. I hear you still reign as champion of Lane 1. Well done."
Her guest may notice something different about the way she talks. However, she finds difficulty in hiding the disappointment that worms its way back into her face, after the due praise.

"
And how is Lady Gwyn?"

Baelon enters, his face shadowed - something is clearly weighing on his mind. He brightens and smiles when Loreia asks about his wife.

"
Gwyn is well, thank you. We are both looking forward to the new member of our family."


He shifts a bit, his face darkening again.

Nowhere to sit. It's a bit awkward to stand over her like this, but I can't very well sit next to her. Well, perhaps it will help drive the point home, so to speak.

"
I have done well in the lists, but I doubt anyone will remember much of it. I dare say that in a few years time, few will remember who won at this tourney, but many will remember Ser Jon's matches against Lord Forrest and yourself. As if the three of you were not already much talked about."


He frowns.

"
Tell me though - were you trying to get yourself killed? Daveth lost his brother in a joust, and from what I understand, he was at least wearing plate. Wearing just a breastplate? That's damned near suicidal in a joust for anyone - and you're not just anyone. You are lucky it was Ser Jon you faced. Oh, sure, you got hurt - but if you had been facing someone with more hate than honor you could easily be dead, even if they had only half of Ser Jon's skill. A tourney lance may be blunted, but if your opponent aimed at you and not your shield, it could still easily kill you."


He sighs exasperatedly.

"
You're not just some guard anymore, Ser Loreia. You're not just any knight, either. You are a symbol. Believe me, it's not an easy thing. It may sound cynical, but there are a lot of people out there that would dishonor themselves to strike you down, just because they don't like what you symbolize - a violation of Andal customs, a challenge to male authority, or even just the Black faction. Now on top of it you have defeated a famous warrior and favorite of the Green faction. Oh, they'll rationalize that you only beat him because he was already injured - which is probably true, but that's beside the point - but it won't stop them from hating you all the more because of it."


He smiles wryly.

"
Your life is not just your own anymore, whether you like it or not. You are becoming famous, whether you like it or not. That's not entirely a good thing, believe me. You could slink off back to Bear Island and never make a public appearance again, and there would still be people that would remember you and kill you if they had the opportunity."


He pauses to let his words sink in.

"
So you have to make sure you don't give them an easy opportunity. I'm not saying don't participate in jousts - I quite like seeing you knock your detractors down a peg or two - but by all the gods, wear some real armor when you do. I get that you don't want to wear your fancy new armor in a joust - it's too valuable to have to ransom back, and with it's iconography a Green might even decide not to ransom it back at all... but look closely at my armor. It's not my good armor, either. It's designed to look like it from a distance, but see how the backplate is shaped? It makes it easier to twist in the saddle, but leaves gaps. Not so great on a battlefield where someone might try to stab me in the back, but perfectly fine for jousting. The legs are much more heavily armored on the outer surfaces, and the backs are thinner and lighter. It protects me in a joust as well as my good armor would, but is worth no more than a regular set of plate. Makes the ransoms cut into my winnings less, and I can replace it easily if some curr decides to keep it out of spite."


He considers for a moment.

"
It occurs to me that I've not given you a gift to celebrate your knighting."

Other than guarding your vigil, but I'm not going to tell you that.
"
Come visit Caladan Hall after you have healed and I'll have a set done up for you."


He pauses for a moment.

"
There's something else I'd like to talk to you about, but this isn't the time or place;
it can wait until your visit."

Badger seems to shrink a little, eyes up and squarely on the drama, if a bit hard for him to look at comfortably with his jaw barely brushing the grass beneath him. The cutting brash remarks through which Baelon lays his concerns at Loreia's feat make it challenging for her to control her attitude and easing the contortions of her grimace. Oh, this is just what I needed.

He starts going on about his armor now. She almost, almost doesn't care. Carefully, she stands to her full height, a lofty brazier with the warmth of summer heat on cowpies gathered for a fire.

No. Let it go. Meditating on her words while she speaks, she employs care that she addresses one of legitimized Targaryen lineage. Caution tempers her offense in some strange mire of humility, ire, and understanding. Like the runoff from a hotspring in the cold North that cools as it flows onward and away from the source of its heat.

"
Thank you, milord. Your concern is warranted, and your words ring true. I am honored that you wish to add to my house's efforts to see me fully prepared for the storms surely headed my way. Before you go, I have something to say that I would like you to remember when we find the right time and place for our next talk."


She pauses for breath. "
I was not aware of the bar I set for myself when I knelt before the gods and before Ser Eoric and swore my knightly vows. But, I have been familiar with hate and spite, that threaten to unmake me, for many moons since the tourney at Riverrun, and long before that. Today, I enter dangerous situations to show my enemies and my friends that I am unafraid, and I and others prepare me for ones I won't see before I am in them to show them that my spirit is ready and committed to proving what I stand for."


"
One more thing."
The subtle intensity with which she spoke bleeds out of her voice as she addresses a concern of her own, perhaps just as he's turning to leave. "
I don't wish anyone to suffer petty cries of playing favorites. It's one thing for people of my house to give me what they feel I've earned... Whatever the cost to you, I can promise I'll pay it in full."

Baelon is taken a bit off balance;
the resistance he had expected having been subsumed into a newfound eloquence on the part of the Shieldmaiden.

"
I doubt any of us truly know what challenges will come to you as a result of your knighting. It is a sad state of affairs that you will face more hardships than other knights simply because you are also a woman. I believe you have the potential to overcome them - you are a strong woman, Ser Loreia, and I don't just mean your muscles. I also believe that you will be a better knight than most who bear the title, and I don't just mean your martial skills."


He locks his eyes with hers.

"
As for the armor... I received my first armor from Ser Peyton Darke, with whom I squired. A knight is responsible for acquiring and maintaining the tools of their trade - but no one ever said they had to do it on their own. I ask you not to pay me back. Someday in the future you will meet another warrior in need of protection, or even take on a squire yourself. Give them a gift as I am giving one to you, and as I received from Ser Peyton. Any who decry it as favoritism can stuff themselves. It's a gift, but not undeserved or unearned."

The Shieldmaiden's will matches the Dragon's Son's fire. Once again, the two stand in mutual admiration for one another.

Nice save.

She places one hand over her collar on the opposite shoulder, in contemplation of the dilemma. "
I was never a squire though. I would like to tell them to go stuff themselves, but for something everyday like this, next to all I've received already, it's just my way. Will you allow me to pay at least part of the price?"


[Should we enter intrigue?]

Baelon shook his head.
"
It's a gift Loreia. You did not expect to be reimbursed for the fine saddle you gave me as a wedding gift;
why is this any different?"

She crosses her arms. "
That's different. You were bein' wed. It just...don't feel fair for me bein' giv'n me own set of plate, when others 'ave to earn it proper. 'Have to'...nay, 'choose to'. Would you let me gift your ransom back, as though you couldn't pay with your own coin?"

"
You were right the first time - most knights have to earn the coin to get plate, they don't have a choice. I certainly did not;
Ser Peyton did what he could, but he couldn't afford to gift me plate. I wouldn't have refused it if he could, though. Do you think that Prince Daemon had to earn his first set of plate? I doubt it. You are right, it's not fair. Just like it's not fair that you will be at higher risk than most in a joust. You've proven that you can handle an honest opponent without needing plate. It's the dishonest ones you need to be worried about... and anyone who says it is an unfair advantage should try facing Ser Jon in naught but a breastplate and see how well they fare. Not half as well as you, I wager.

"
This isn't that different from the saddle at all. I was wed, you were knighted. A gift is a gift. Ransoms, however, are a different matter completely. Entering the lists is a gamble. Anyone who enters the lists knows the risks, and must be ready to pay them. A gift honestly given is a gesture of friendship. Waving a debt, such as a ransom, is an act of charity. Charity to those who need it is a kindness. Charity to those who don't is an insult."

Arms remain crossed, though her eyes soften. "
An' this must feel like an insult to you. I don't want it to. Part of me sees everything they're throwin' at me, an' I want to take it all an' overcome it. Prove I can beat the odds when they're not for me."


Loreia's arms fall to her sides. "
I guess in a way, I already have. All I'm doin' right now is insultin' a friend."

Baelon pauses for a moment, considering her words.
"
I think we've gotten a bit off the path, here. I want to see you overcome it all, too. That's why I want to give you the plate. If it offends you to receive it as a gift, then by all means buy some for yourself;
I was pleased with the idea of making a gift of it, but not if that would offend you. The main point is for you to be better protected before you enter the lists again. That is what really matters."

"
No, I'm not offended,"
she quickens. "
I shouldn't have insisted. Friends shouldn't force terms when they want to give gifts. I'm sorry."
I can only choose to accept it or deny it. And he's right, I do need it.

[If this was your plan, it worked, heh.]

"
No apologies needed. I know you were not trying to irk me. You have entered a strange new world, full of dangers as well as wonders, and it will take some time to orient yourself. In truth, your attitude was healthy - some people in this world will try to ply you with gifts for some darker purpose. I would not recommend arguing to a noble's face like that with others, though... most, even those who are allies, will take offense at it. To them, it is not that you are a knight, it is that you are only a knight. A wonderful world we live in, isn't it?"


His voice drips with sarcasm on that last line. Then he smiles.

"
It is settled then. When you have healed, you will come visit Caladan Hall, agreed?"

"
Aye,"
she smiles, "
I will. Thank you."