after the battle
where: the Dornish Marches
when: Sept 20, just after the attack
status: closed. ask to join.
The smells of blood, death, and burnt flesh wafted on the breeze. The dragons wouldn't need to be fed this night. In his pavilion the king paced across the Myrish carpets, unable to bear being still. In the center of the tent was a low table, where his counselors and the greatest lords of his party were gathered. The Wardens of South and West and North, and the heir to the East. House Martell was represented by his mother, with Jonath Rowan at her back, his sword loose in its scabbard. Only houses Baratheon and Tully were missing from this assemblage of the great houses. Jaehaerys glanced once at his uncle before he spoke.
"There is no mystery as to who attacked us. I saw the Valyrian blade, Dawn. I have fought against Ryan Dayne before, in tourneys. What we need to know is why he did this. And whether he had leave to do so." He looked at his mother. Her face was pale as death, her eyes downcast, and he wondered what she was thinking. Did she expect to leave this tent alive tonight?
Jaehaerys looked around at the nobles gathered before him. "There must be a price paid for the blood spilled today. What do you all wish for it to be?" Let them speak, let them cry out. He would hear them, but he knew that cost was already determined: blood much pay for blood. There would be no treaties this time.