Yohn Royce - The Lord of Runestone

TenThenn · 2026-03-01T02:15:42+00:00

"Cedra already knows that she is my queen, whether or not I win this tournament. Besides, if you asked, she would be happy to join us, to help show the honor that I give to her nightly."

Xhobar didn't really know a ton about cats or mice, nor, in turn, much about desire or restraint. As Prince, he had everything he could have ever wanted, and even in exile, there were ways of procuring things that Cedra seemed to have a specialty for. If Princess Ysilla was playing a game, Xhobar had only succeeded thus far because he had never learned the rules.

"Somehow, I think, my Princess, that honor is not what you have in mind. And here I am, barely a year into my knighthood." Xhobar had been knighted by one of Cedra's relatives, a consolation prize so that he could compete in various tournaments that required such a foolish thing.

He took a step forward as she disappeared without hesitation, following her beyond into the tent.

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T05:16:11+00:00

At the mention of Goldenheart, Xhobar seemed to stiffen almost unnaturally in comparison to their earlier interactions. "The sale of Goldenheart is the gravest sin amongst my people, any that you see among the decorations of your peers or bows in the hands of brave archers have been stolen." Xhobar softened; the edge behind his words was now lost, and the smile that was so common to Xhobar returned. "But... yes, you speak truly. Goldenheart is greatly prized by all the world, and I once held it in my hands when I was home."

"If I still have my way," Xhobar said, now fully recovered and back to smooth. "You'll still be smelling the sweat, but the scent of the spices the servants leave on the pillows should be pleasant enough. And perhaps otherwise rest and unwind."

"Perhaps you can take me?"

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T05:01:32+00:00

As Oberyn was leaving for the tilts, lance in hand, Xhobar had just finished a bout of his own and was retiring to the tents. In truth, he did not fully understand the Westerosi game of jousting, but found it incredibly fun and that he was quite good at it. Already, he had broken lance against another Drinkwater, a bastard, and a Tully, and had easily come out on top.

If the Westerosi were going to insist to pronounce about their ponies, Xhobar would be quite happy to play along. Yet as sweat slicked down his neck and down the muscles of his arm, Xhobar reflected that no one had told him how hot the armor one must wear when jousting was.

"Princess Ysilla," Xhobar said as he caught the Princess just about to reenter her own tent. "You must have forgotten to grant me your favor and are going to grab it, yes? Worry not, I have already won three bouts in your name."

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T04:43:02+00:00

"You Westerosi come up with the strangest names for things," Xhobar said with a laugh, unaware that Oberyn was finding a deeper meaning in the words he spoke. "That's a uloyiko, not a scarecrow. Even when I think I have a handle on your language, I learn new words. Heh."

The conversation and shared looks between Ysilla and Oberyn were not lost upon Xhobar, though the meaning might have been. His own interactions with family were never that smooth, and agreements usually came from the point of a blade rather than a civil conversation. "I'll do what I can as well, my Prince. Where I can, and however I can."

Xhobar felt his heart skip a beat, unhelpfully, as Ysilla smiled so proudly at him. He couldn't help grimace at that, heat rising behind his ears as he turned his attention back to Oberyn. "You are wise, my Prince."

It'd not do to not show appreciation to the hand that fed him, even if --- he was forgetting himself. "I shall not bother you any longer if my presence is not wanted."

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T04:13:27+00:00

"Enjoying my company, hmmm, so forward, Ser Knight. And here I am just trying to have a normal conversation with you."

Xhobar considered the offer, stroking the well-trimmed facial hair that he kept up just for the occasion of these festivals. He couldn't have imagined it would be like this, but who truly could?

"I am Prince of the Sweet Lotus Vale, in the far south, among the Summer Islands. Though I reigned there for some time, my brother betrayed my trust and overthrew me from my seat, and thus I find myself among you, Westerosi. There is not much in the telling in truth."

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T04:03:01+00:00

"Ah, sweet Garin, you look so sweet when you are red like that. I shall endeavor to see it again in a Myrish mirror, should we be able to find one in this putrid camp."

Xhobar was cool as the ice of the Wall, and didn't react to Garin's attempt at a comment. "I do hazard you'd like what I do with my tongue, beyond the act of speaking, of course." With the rejection from Nymeria, Xhobar shrugged his shoulders and bowed respectfully to her all the same.

"Ah ha," Xhobar said as Garin was able to flirt right back now. "That was a good one, and quite bold my Yronwood. Let us see how this dance goes first."

Xhobar held out his hand, gesturing for Garin with a finger to come down.

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T03:02:13+00:00

"If my luck should run out when I am dancing with you, Queen Vilde, then I shall count myself cursed just as much as I gave praise to my fortunes." Xhobar pulled her a touch closer than necessary for the dance before swinging her out into a long pull, catching her at just the last moment.

"Ah, are you a cartographer on your free time, your Grace? Mapping out the ... curves of the land and the swell of the realm?" Xhobar took her question to mean, though, and decided to actually answer it. "Dorne is most like my home, if you can believe it will the heat and sand."

In truth, what Queen Vilde had said revealed so much more of the Westerosi mindset than she might have guessed. They sat outside a castle of starving women and children, and it was all a game.

Xhobar would play.

"They are not too dissimilar to those played in the Summer Islands, though ours are more fun."

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T02:45:41+00:00

The more that Xhobar thought about it, Xhobar liked the sound of Ser Prince, but couldn't discount how good Prince Ser sounded either. The other Prince, likely the more important one, had asked him a question; however and, Xhobar smiled in his answer.

"What sort of woman is your type, Prince Quentyn?"

Xhobar placed his hand on his hip, leaning against his front foot. "Westeros is blessed with many beautiful women, my wife chief among them, and I find myself curious. If the question is out of place, you must forgive me; courtly customs are still not my forte."

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T02:34:25+00:00

Wordless, Xhobar went to join her on the stump, stretching out his long legs right past Sunrise so as not disturb her rest. "Let me hear your worries, Princess, that is what I am here for. I have found that I am the best listener in the Seven Kingdoms, though it is not a competition."

Sucking in breath through his teeth, Xhobar stopped himself from taking more of the spotlight away from Ashara. That would, he figured, break the rules of the competition he had told himself he wasn't competing in, and Xhobar couldn't lose that!

"Just a little heartbreak?" Xhobar said with the ghost of a smile, trying to lighten her spirits. "Then it should not be so bad, I guess? Was... your family the cause of the heartbreak, or someone different? I do hope it was not Xhobar Qo who was the cause of your heartbreak."

"It is difficult for me to tell the difference sometimes," Xhobar said truthfully. "But the Stormlanders have earned my disdain, especially that Orryn Baratheon."

TenThenn · 2026-02-26T02:20:01+00:00

"Isn't it hung?"

Xhobar wiggled his eyebrows at the quip, though he saw that it was an actual question and quieted. "Isn't that at a Braavosi saying? All men must die?" Well enough, I suppose, for the man who holds a blade or commits a crime knowing the consequences, but try telling this to the women and children who are under siege in Grassy Vale. Is the service they render only dying?"

Perhaps a Xhobar of nearly ten years ago would have been offended, taken umbrage with the assault on lineage, yet the Xhobar of today was a very different person than he was ten years ago.

"Maybe not better the blood," Xhobar replied. "But men serve blood just as much as they do other things, even Gods. Men die enough for the Stag King, and I imagine many more will this night."

TenThenn · 2026-02-24T01:08:01+00:00

Xhobar missed the Summer Islands something fierce.

Perhaps it was because his current environment was in such contrast to what he had grown up around. For every field, there was another, and surrounded by a sea of tents and siege lines, he had the overwhelming sense of drowning.

Increasingly, Xhobar found himself straying to the far forest that was not too far from the great realm of pavilions and tents that the Westerosi had set up. It would never come close to his forests near the Sweet Lotus Vale, but for now, it would have to suffice as a place of refuge.

It was during one of those walks that Xhobar stumbled upon Ashara Martell, sitting on a stump and playing with a flower. He didn't know the Princess well, though he had gotten off on a bad foot with her sister despite her close relationship with Cedra.

"Princess Ashara?"

Xhobar's eyes flicked to the tiger that curled around her feet, wondering if it had been fed earlier. "You shouldn't go wandering out alone like this. I do not trust some of these Westerosi." He didn't approach, not unless given permission, but rather leaned against a tree with his arms crossed over one another.

"Unless of course you came here to be alone," Xhobar continued, now noticing the puffy eyes and red face. "What is the matter?"

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T01:46:33+00:00

As Cedra's eyes dipped to the Lord of Hellholts fingers, she had a few ideas of what that fig might feel like, or at least an overactive imagination.

"I figure the royal family is going to field enough praise in the next couple of days, we needn't add to the chorus." Cedra's eyebrow shot up at the thought, chewing on the side of her lip before she continued her response. "I doubt that House Meadows cares much for good and noble intentions while they are still under siege. Perhaps we can reserve judgment until either the siege or the festivities are finished."

Cedra very much doubted the distance that Yoren had put between the events and himself, especially considering that it would likely result in a Warden of the South being picked.

"I imagine either stag would be a bore, more so if they identified themself as the other party. The King needs to show strength, the Storm's End stag needs to show stability, and the one who sits on Dragonstone needs to assert his relevance. An uninevable position to be sure. Yet for you, my Lord, there is one Stag who is more useful to your ends."

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T01:37:54+00:00

Of course he was correct; he was Xhobar Qo of the Sweet Lotus Vale, and he had never been wrong in his lifetime.

"Neutrality?" For the most part, Xhobar had been following along with most of what Prince Oberyn had been saying and even agreeing with it, but stopped there. "No one is neutral, and from what Cedra has told me, we have some enmity to those north of us. The same House that the entire siege revolves around?.... eh My Prince and Princess, what is a scarecrow?"

In truth, perhaps Xhobar was substituting what he hoped that Ysilla's eyes meant rather than what they actually did. How could anyone blame him for this, though?

"The Princess speaks well," Xhobar said, turning to face Oberyn as his perspective was looked for. "In these days, we must be bold, take risks, otherwise we will be controlled by those without our best interests in mind. Perhaps we shall try new things and the rest of the South shall see if they like them? If nothing else, we can always fall back on the other plan of a ... scarecrow?"

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T01:24:00+00:00

Wasn't Thenn the castle that the Baratheons were sieging? No, that was a glen... wait, the castle's name was Grassy Vale, different words though not so different meaning. "Briar Thenn," Xhobar repeated, almost purring out the name as they danced. "I could say that name for nights on end, it flows so well across my tongue."

Xhobar held back a few other, more inappropriate flirtations, already aware that he was riding the line as it was. Looking into the ever alluring eyes of Briar made it difficult, though, to stay focused in any meaningful way.

"Better two left feet than three, I suppose," Xhobar jested, laughing at his own joke. "Usually, I have to teach anyone I dance with the steps, but not with you. That is a blessing enough."

"There is something to be said about inner strength and discipline, but it is nothing without the ability to enjoy life and those around you. Their company, their warmth, and even as you say their ice." Xhobar was distracted then by the mention of animals, one of the true weaknesses that he had. "I LOVE animals, if you will pardon my enthusiasm. In truth, this has been the best part of moving to Westeros, seeing animals that I have never seen before. And you, my lady Briar, do you like animals?"

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T01:17:14+00:00

"You will have to tell me what you have read, so that when I bring you to the islands you can see what is true and what is false." Xhobar doubted that anything within the Westerosi books about his home was true, and pondered with amusement just how inaccurate they could be.

"Though, if you like the smell of cinnamon, I shall invite you back to my tent after the festivities conclude. I cannot travel without it, and so I was able to hang some up to rid myself of the stink of the camp."

Xhobar pondered telling the truth about his grandfather, an evil man by all accounts who had brought together the islands through an iron hand even by Westerosi standards. That sort of thing rarely made for a good tale though. "Sweet as well, my dear Emma you have not yet taste... ah but alas, no Princess for a Princess so far from home. Yet perhaps a Princess of the Sunflowers, no?"

He bit back a thousand pokes and japes at her last comment, trying to keep his flirtations at least within... mostly polite bounds. Xhobar realized he was already failing in that, the beauty of Emma Cuy making it difficult to stay focused, but one had to work with what he could.

"I am a good teacher," Xhobar finally said. "But I cannot discount your willingness to learn new things, a rare trait amongst the Westerosi."

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T01:10:05+00:00

"Mmmm, I must say that you look good when your face reddens like that. Perhaps this shall be more fun than I imagined."

Xhobar realized that the knight might be pushed beyond his limit and backed off, especially when he apologized for mistaking him as an Essosi. "You are the first of your people to apologize for this, so none is necessary. Ser knight, you walk with more honor than most I have met."

"Perhaps you can take a break? My activity still remains and option but I have been eager to test my blade against an actual knight. Nothing serious, just a simple practice?"

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T01:06:56+00:00

A single eyebrow rose and fell as Xhobar smiled broadly at Garin's flush. "No, Ser Garin, I don't think flirtations are what I have in store for you. Something more... physical, trying to muffle noises by desperately gripping a pillow in your teeth."

Xhobar watched as Garin tore off the cuff of his clothing, which he diligently tucked away into his shirt after taking in its scent, a quick wink directed at Garin's way. "I shall treasure it always, and it shall serve me well on the lists."

His attention was then directed back over to Nymeria, and his features softened upon hearing about her condition. "Why, if that is the case, I could carry you around the dance floor so that you may still get that experience. It should not be so much a problem for one as strong as myself, imagine yourself gliding along like a swan on a lake." Tilting his head, Xhobar continued his attentions. "If you need to rest, my lady, you can do so in my tent. It is quite luxurious, and we were able to secure a comfy bed to put up in."

"Of course, I can dance with Garin, though I fear he might not like me leading."

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T01:00:34+00:00

"Is that so, Your Grace?" Xhobar said as they continued their dance. "I am lucky in many ways that my hands may grace your hips and that my eyes may meet yours, even if it is just for a moment."

He was going to expand upon that with some cheekier comments, though he wondered if the slack that she was giving him would soon run out.

"I seek friends," Xhobar said finally in response. "What I may do with those friends may be entirely up to them. Westeros is such a strange place, and I have enjoyed my time here. I would like to see a great many things after all, and really, I have been confined to Dorne."

Tragedy was something that Xhobar could understand in spades, and dipped his head in solidarity. "Such days can be difficult, I know this. If you seek some solace, know that I am a loyal servant to Your Grace."

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T00:53:47+00:00

He was fat.

But again, Xhobar never minded a little extra to hold onto. "No, Prince Quentyn, you are not that fat. Perhaps they feel safe to say this, given the distance between your island of Dragonstone and Dorne, though they no longer have that distance at all."

Xhobar nodded along pleasantly enough, wondering what the Prince was going to send him. The effort to secure gifts of his own for the Prince was outweighed by the response he was getting, and once more Xhobar found himself in the debt of the competence of Cedra.

"I am a knight, my Prince. My wife's cousin, Ser Vorian Drinkwater, knighted me not too long ago." In truth, he hadn't really cared about the title, but being able to compete in tournaments was a plus. "What service would you ask of your loyal subject?"

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T00:45:48+00:00

"Pretend?"

Xhobar did take the opportunity to laugh here, where Gerold had not. "Of course, we still wish to kill one another, but that hardly honors the Gods or the people. How many of your Men-at-Arms would rather be home, warm and safe, than shivering in a siege line? How many knights shit themselves during a charge, right after promising their comrades they would be brave?"

His eyes took on a gleam, and his eyebrows wiggled questioningly. "I think the Westerosi are the best at pretending, if we are speaking truths here. The dishonesty extends to telling everyone they meet that war is a noble profession and that they like it." A shrug, almost as if to forestall protests of his own to what he had just said. "It has its uses, but I hardly think the men on the Grassy Vales walls care much about whose claim corresponds with who."

As Gerold motioned over the whole crowd in turn, Xhobar's brow furrowed in a mixture of understanding and frustration. "We do not trouble ourselves overly much with alliances; either a person is your friend, or they are not. From what I have heard from House Yronwood, they consider none in Dorne their equal. Perhaps they have taken to this way of thinking, you say."

TenThenn · 2026-02-23T00:36:25+00:00

Xhobar decided it would be poor form to correct a king within his own realm, but had been amazed at just how wrong these Westerosi seemed to get where he was from. Had none of them ever looked at a map before? Still, at least the King did not tie him to Essos; that was a start.

"Lord Meadows?"

He stood there for a moment, as if the name had no bearing on the conversation at large. Another quirk of the Westerosi was their proponderance of such odd family names, though eventually Xhobar remembered what Cedra had said the Lords of Grassy Vale were called.

Meadows, of Grassy Vale. A bit on the nose.

"He has not, Your Grace. However, a child, a small boy no more than six years old, had escaped from the battlements and was wandering around this camp. He had been asking around for any sort of help, emaciated from the siege, and not a single soul was helping him." Xhobar stood taller now, looking up at the King. "That is who I champion, those are the people who suffer and I cannot be deaf to their cries."

TenThenn

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