playing with powderkegs Who: Jaehaerys, anyone else who's interested in causing some chaos When: Evening, Day 67 (just after the hunt) Where: A certain inn not far from the Iron Gate. Status: Open Rating: PG-13 for violence and possible impending carnage
King Paegon the Just had been keen on reform and fighting corruption, but he'd never shown any inclination to rid the world of brothels or taverns. He'd also never minded what his only son and heir got up to in those particular environs- although Jaehaerys had never been quite up to equalling his uncles' reputations there.
Jaer Sand however, did not have to worry about upsetting anyone. And was furthermore not in any mood to care. He'd ridden to the gate and promptly turned around. Furious with Elia, furious with the Starks, the gods and the whole damn world. There were days a man just needed a fucking drink.
The alcohol was flowing almost two full hours, Jaers was in the midst of a round of ribald jests with a band of Tyroshi and Lyseni sailors when someone with a Northron accent insulted the Archon's wife as a bearded whore. Someone threw an insult about Kaelyn Stark's frigid cunt and the dialogue rapidly deteriorated. There might have also been something said about hunting Dornish whores. There might have been something said about Stark butchers sacrificing babies to their trees.
Jaer threw the first punch.
To say the inn exploded was to say the Dornish sun was midly warm in midsummer. Fists, tables, mugs and bodies flew and the Prince of Dragonstone was in the midst of it. If you couldn't throttle a Stark, at least you could break their soldiers' heads.
Someone knocked his skull hard enough to send him reeling, but he grabbed a chair and righted himself. Then swung the chair at his opponent's head.
The soft snick of steel drawn from a scabbard was the first sign of real trouble. Around him, Braavos and sailors now had knives in hand and so did the Northron contingent. Of course, there were a lot of sailors, a lot of commoners. And they all had some very deeply felt reasons for misliking Northern interference in their amiable brawl.
Jaer drew his own blade.
The melee began.
It was a while before he realized there were Gold Cloaks present. And they weren't doing a damned thing to intervene. It was only a flash of a thought before a mug when hurtling past Jaer's ear and then it was back to fighting.