"I just don't understand the appeal." Ostara remarks as she and Brienne watch as men from all across the Stormlands knock each other from their saddles.

Three lances have already been broken and a man's injured his shoulder. Possibly dislocated it. He'd pretended like it wasn't an issue, laughing and waving to the crowd as he'd hobbled over to the maester. He'd been red faced though, and the knuckles of his fist had been white. Ostara doubts he'll be participating in the melee tomorrow.

Beside her Brienne of Tarth shrugs, "I like watching them get knocked off."

Ostara smiles at the other girl and shakes her head before turning her attention back to the joust, hand shifting to glide over Rubeus' head, which is lying heavy in her lap. The shadowcat rumbles, the woman sitting beside them goes deathly pale when she hears it and Ostara wonders if she'll faints. She hopes not. It had been difficult enough convincing her mother that Rubeus wouldn't be a problem.

And he's not really the problem. If the woman faints that's completely on her in Ostara's most humble opinion.

Sighing, the young witch glances to where her brothers are sitting beside their father. Robert looks overjoyed to be here, watching the tourney and cheering on his so chosen favorites, while Stannis looks interested but not nearly as interested as their brother. Ostara isn't sure whether to be amused by that or not. She does feel a little bad for abandoning him to endure their brother's company but, well, Ostara likes Brienne and she needs more friends.

"It's amusing, I'll give you that."

"Will you attend the melee?" Brienne asks, blue eyes focused on the man rolling in the dirt.

"Yes, mother won't let me not come seeing as it's Robert's name's day celebration. I'll be terribly bored though."

Brienne clears her throat, fingers curling around the edge of her tunic. Blue silk with silver fish embroidered into the hems. It's well made and fits her nicely, the color does absolute wonders to her eyes.

"You could always sit with my family and me." She offers, never once turning to look at Ostara, which makes the other girl's blood boil.

Brienne's a sweet girl, smart, she's got a dry sense of humor that had shocked Ostara the first time she'd heard it, but she's also very shy and hesitant around Ostara which leads the curly haired girl to question whether her hesitation stems from the fact that she doesn't get the chance to make new friends often or the fact that she's possibly bullied for her differences by her peers on Tarth.

She suspects the latter.

"I'd love to sit with you and your family at the melee." Ostara says, the smile she receives is a bit shy but lovely all the same.

Silence falls between them, not the awkward kind, something peaceful. It's nice not having to fill the space with idle conversation, Ostara likes that she doesn't have to worry about ensuring she keeps Brienne entertained every three seconds. Being able to watch the joust without having to split her attention between a conversation she hates and a sport she hates slightly less is nice.

Ostara brushes her hair over her shoulder, thanks the gods for cooling charms, and continues to watch as men get smacked off of their horses.

After a while she begins to see the appeal of it.

Watching the men fall is more amusing then Ostara had expected it to be. So long as no one gets truly hurt that is. The man who'd hurt his shoulder had not been amusing to watch. Ostara has never had a dislocated body part herself but she's had other injuries and so she can imagine the man is in quite a bit of pain... But everyone else is amusing.

By the end of it a knight from house Morrigen is the only man not to be unsaddled. He wins a bag of gold and a chaste kiss on the cheek from Lady Cassana, which only serves to horrify Stannis which makes Ostara snort. When the knight finally ambles off and the audience begins to chatter Ostara rises from her seat and rolls her neck, cringing at the resulting pop.

When she turns to Brienne the blonde is starring at her in disgusted horror which only makes Ostara snort.

"If you think that was awful," she says to the other girl, "you should hear Robert crack his knuckles."

"I'd rather not."

"You probably will one day, he's not shy about it." Ostara says with a shrug.

Brienne looks more then a bit horrified but hardly surprised.

Perceptive, Ostara thinks as she brushes down her skirt, good.

It's good to be perceptive in a place like this. A place where people will cut your throat as soon as smile at you. The problem is most people who are perceptive don't tend to apply what they've learned in ways that won't get them killed. Ostara licks her bottom lip as she tucks some hair behind her ear. She hopes Brienne isn't foolish in her perceptiveness.

Truthfully, It's too early to tell.

~X~

Dinner that evening is full of Robert boasting about Ser Morrigan's win and claiming that he will be a better knight then even the Lord of Crow's Nest. Ostara doesn't doubt he will be. Robert may be prone to rash decisions but he's not an idiot and he's certainly not one to shy from a challenge.

If he says he'll be a better knight then even Barristan Selmy then he will be a better knight then Ser Selmy.

She picks at her dinner and listens to her brother's jabbering with half an ear as she goes about thinking of the best time to visit the Vaelmaereon keep. It's possible she'll be woken early for tomorrow's melee so it would probably be best to go as soon as it's time for bed, check on her eggs and the plants that had somehow taken root in the ash (likely because He did something while transporting her seedlings to Valyria), and return early enough that she can get some rest before tomorrow morning.

"Ostara? Are you listening?"

"Hm?"

A dark eyebrow raises as her mother levels her with a look. "I asked after your friend. Brienne of Tarth."

"Oh... What of her?"

"Will she be attending the melee tomorrow?"

"Yes, she's invited me to sit with her family. I told her I'd be very happy to do so."

Robert nudges her with his elbow, eyes wide as saucers, and asks, "The girl you were sitting with today? That is Brienne?"

"Yes, Robert," Ostara rolls her eyes. "I introduced you before the joust."

"Oh...Right."

Ostara rolls her eyes, not at all interested in starting an argument with her brother when she's really not all that surprised that he'd forgotten in the first place. Smart as her brother may be his priorities revolve around tourneys, knights, and becoming a great Lord. He might take interest in Ostara's friends but it's more of a passing interest then anything else.

Besides, Robert won't be here long after the tourney ends. A few days perhaps, then he'll be heading off for the Eyrie and Ostara won't see him again for several more weeks, possibly even months. Starting fights just isn't worth the time nor the energy. So instead Ostara decides to talk to him about the joust and the melee, Robert practically beams with his joy and promises, in a hushed whisper so that their parents don't hear, to teach her how to properly hold a shield.

Apparently it's what Jon Arryn is teaching Robert and Eddard Stark at the moment. Technique. Daevyn Sand hasn't gotten her around to using a shield and so Ostara smiles delightedly and nods as she reaches beneath the table to stroke the top of Rubeus' head. The shadowcat wedges his head between Ostara's legs and the table, effectively crushing her fingers for a good three seconds before she manages to yank her hand out of the minuscule gap.

She stretches out her fingers to ease the ache and glares at the thrice damned cat even as his eyes go impossibly large.

He's begging.

Ostara chooses to ignore it, because he doesn't need any of the food on her plate and she can't actually sneak him anything at the moment. But Robert's hand flashes in the corner of her eye along with a large slice of fatty meat, he flings the meat onto her thigh and smiles widely when Rubeus' tongue darts out to take the meat from where it rests on Ostara's dress.

Shooting her brother the fieriest glare she has Ostara discretely moves to slap the back of her hand against his middle. If they weren't at the table and if their parents weren't around Ostara would do a lot worse. Because she likes this dress and now she's going to have to deal with the grease stain before the maids get their hands on it.

Kick him, Ostara mouths at Stannis when she catches his eye.

He furrows his brow at her, glances at their parents, then points very briefly at Robert.

Yes, Ostara growls under her breath, him.

A soft thump and Robert's surprised cough tells Ostara that her message was not only received but very happily accepted.

"Are you alright, Robert?" Their mother asks, voice honey sweet with her concern.

Ostara and Stannis ignore the look their father is giving the two of them and continue to pick at their meal. It's not like Steffon can prove they did anything.

"I'm fine."

"Honestly Robert, you need smaller portions cut. You'll choke on of these days." Cassana reprimands.

It's not a lie. Robert does have a tendency to cut his meat into larger chunks then they really need to be but it's not really his fault? Ostara doesn't think he'd actually choke on his roasted quail but she understands why their mother would be concerned. One of the leading causes of death (outside of poor sanitary conditions, illness, and the not so occasional stabbing) just so happens to be choking.

And it's not like the Heimlich maneuver is commonly practiced. Hell, sticking your fingers down someone's throat to pull out the blockage would be more effective then just sitting and watching someone choke to death.

"I wasn't choking." Robert grumbles, eyes flickering in Ostara's direction.

She smiles ever so sweetly at him, glad he isn't directing his irritation at Stannis, and says, "I'm glad you're alright, Robert, truly."

Instead of replying, instead of reacting, Robert merely rolls his eyes and returns to telling the table about how excited he is about tomorrow's melee and how one day he hopes his friend Ned will come to visit Storm's End to see one as the North don't typically participate in tourneys. If he cuts his meat into smaller slices no one says a word about it.

~X~

Ostara dreams of a woman with dark eyes, pinprick pupils surrounded by a thin line of gold that bleeds into the near black of her iris, and hair that tumbles like finely spun silk over her shoulders.

A vague spike of recognition sparks in her brain but it's quickly drowned out by love, yearning, sorrow.

So much sorrow.

The woman smiles a pretty dimpled grin as she runs her fingers through Ostara's hair, short hair that is hers but isn't, and then lips are pressing softly against her own which only makes the sorrow in her chest spike painfully.

Ostara doesn't understand why she is so sad, why she curls her arms around the woman and pulls her closer, why she buries her face in the woman's neck and cries as the woman kisses Ostara's temple and whispers that everything will be alright, she understands, this is how it must be.

To survive the long night sacrifices must be made, the woman whispers into Ostara's ear, so softly that Ostara's barely hears.

Moving as if on strings, Ostara pulls away from the woman and with hands too big and too broad and too calloused to be her own Ostara moves to brush dark hair out of the other woman's face. And for a moment there is only her and the woman and eyes that shine like burning coals in the darkness that is slowly creeping into Ostara's dream.

Then the woman opens her mouth and Ostara expects her to say something. Instead there's an scream that toes the line between pain and pleasure and the woman's blood bubbles up to spew from her mouth like molten rock.

Ostara jerks back, startled, when the magma dribbles onto her hands.

When she looks back the woman is gone, and in her place, a dragon with scales of red-gold and a series of wickedly sharp horns crowning it's head.

~X~

"You look exhausted." Robert remarks the next morning, tugging at a curl that has sprung free from the braid Ostara had put it in that morning.

"Not all of us can be morning people, Robert." She retorts as she slides into her seat.

Stannis raises an eyebrow at her, a question clear in his eyes, she merely shakes her head in response and ladles porridge into a bowl which she then mixes with a bit of brown sugar and honey. Once her concoction is all made up Ostara begins pulling bacon and eggs onto her breakfast plate. It's silent as the three children go about their typical morning routine.

Robert takes perhaps too much bacon and too many eggs, Stannis takes his porridge plane and his toast buttered to nearly sickening degrees, and if her parents were there to join them for breakfast the young witch is sure Steffon and Cassana Baratheon would both split the leftover eggs between them before choosing their bacon or sausage.

Unfortunately, neither Steffon nor Cassana will be attending breakfast as they've both got such busy schedules. Apparently the Lord and Lady of Storm's End have much to do in order to make sure the melee runs smoothly today. Ostara doesn't envy them one bit, not really. She'd much rather eat her breakfast and run off to find Brienne.

"Stannis, will you coming with me today? Seeing as Ostara's got a new friend to play with?" Robert asks causing Stannis to blink at him before nodding slowly.

"I suppose I will, yes." Stannis says.

And Ostara reaches across the table to nudge her brother's hand with her spoon, clean. She hasn't stuck it in her mouth or her porridge yet. Which is probably the only reason Stannis hasn't tried to completely bite her head off about it.

"You'll have fun, I promise." She tells her twin and rolls her eyes when he merely stares at her.

Thankfully Robert doesn't seem too hurt by Stannis' disinterest in him. Opting instead to throw his arm around Ostara's shoulders, pull her back against his side, and ruffle her hair which makes her cry out in indignation and beat uselessly at his hand. When he finally releases her Ostara's hair is a mess of curls halfway out of her braid and bouncing around her head.

She shoots Robert a glare, Robert just smiles at her and takes a bite of bacon.

"You're such a prick, Robert." Ostara mutters under her breath, already attempting to fix the damage he's brought upon her head.

"Ostara!" His faux shock isn't endearing him to her any, "You can't say things like that, you're a Lady."

"I can say whatever the hell I want." Ostara retorts almost angrily.

Robert's barely concealed laughter eases her anger a bit but not enough for her to find humor in the situation. It took her an hour to do her hair this morning, a bloody hour! Southern styles are as beautiful as they are intricate and even though Ostara hadn't gone to such extreme lengths as her mother might have she'd still taken quite a bit of time to style her hair.

She'd really been very proud of it and the fact that Robert has just ruined all of her hard work without a single remorseful thought makes her blood boil.

"Mother will have your mouth washed if she hears you saying that." Stannis remarks.

"Mother's said worse then I have, Stannis, don't for a second think she hasn't."

The older twin shrugs absently before turning his attention back to his food. Ostara and Robert follow his lead, digging into their food with a bit more gusto then necessary. It's forgivable, considering the fact that Robert and Stannis wish to be free of the confines of Storm's End while Ostara merely wishes to visit with a friend. By the time the three of them have finished their breakfast they've no interest in lingering.

Ostara kisses both Robert and Stannis upon the cheek before calling for Rubeus to follow after her as she makes her way toward the tourney grounds.

~X~

"It's hot." Brienne remarks as she and Ostara lounge in the shade provided by the awning over their heads.

Ostara nods.

There's only so much she can do with charms before people begin noticing that she's not sweating, or slightly red in the face at the very least. So she keeps herself cool enough to not be as uncomfortable as the people around her but not so cool as to not sweat.

It's moments like this that Ostara truly misses deodorant.

"I feel sorry for the knights." She says, eyeing the two knights fighting in the middle of the arena set up for the tourney.

"They'll be alright," Brienne remarks, "they've trained for this."

"I suppose they have, haven't they?"

Brienne's eyes glitter as she watches the two men dance around one another, careful not to fall prey to the other knight. It's a rather elaborate dance and something in Ostara grows bitter. War should not be considered a game and that's essentially what tourneys are. War games. Ostara hates that young knights who've never seen death or war take such pleasure in these games.

It's different with the older knights. They've seen blood, smelt rotting bodies, gone months without a proper bed to sleep in.

Ostara turns her head to smile at Brienne and says, "Perhaps one day you'll be out there? I suspect you'd be the one of the better fighters."

Red stains Brienne's cheeks and the girl offers a shy smile.

"Perhaps."

Leaning back against the back of the chair she'd been offered earlier that morning, Ostara moves to gather up her hair and ball it up at the top of her head. She shoves her wand into it, carefully casting a sticking charm to make the magical object appear as nothing more then a hair stick that won't run the risk of letting her hair slip out of place or falling from her hair.

She'd pulled her braid out earlier before meeting with Lord and Lady Tarth and she hadn't attempted to do anything with the wild, frizzing mass until now.

With it up off of her neck Ostara can feel a gentle summer breeze cool the sweat beading on the nape of her neck.

Slowly, the hours pass.

More and more knights come to fight and when the final knights make their way into the arena Ostara finds herself mildly interested but not overly so. She pays them half a mind, and only because Brienne seems so thrilled with everything going on. She's trying to support her new friend's interest but... It's difficult. Because everything is so damn repetat- a scream, a spray of red, Lady Tarth collapsing as the knight from a smaller Stormland house crumples.

"Bloody hell." Ostara mutters, eyes wide, as Maester Cressen rushes out into the middle of the arena to tend to the man.

But there's nothing he can do for the poor knight who was too confident in his own abilities. Because hovering beside Cressen is a man shrouded in black mist and silence.

Do not worry, sweet eyed warrior, Phil's voice drifts over the screaming and the whispering and the sounds of women crying, I shall care for him.

"That was awful." Brienne says after the knight has been drug off to be tended too by the Silent Sisters.

"Yes," Ostara agrees. "it was."

She didn't know him, hadn't heard of him before today, but she finds the senseless violence disgusting. But there's nothing she can do now so instead of weeping or gossiping or fainting, Gods forbid, Ostara merely sits and watches as the knight's body is practically thrown into a cart which will be brought to the nearest Sept to be tended to.

It's sad, it's horrible, but it's life.

People live, people die, and Ostara knows this perhaps better then anyone. She does, after all, have lifetimes worth of experience.