Chief Magister's Palace

Several of the other magisters had sent representatives, of course, so there was a long ceremony in which the magisters were introduced and then the party themselves. It was long and dull and left them all tired by the time the formalities were done. There was, not very surprisingly, to be a feast to celebrate their arrival, but the Chief Magister assured them that it would be the following day, so they would have time to rest. "In the meantime, I hope each of you will feel free to rest and enjoy the palace. Is there anything any of you would wish of us?"

Magister Tyreo Ormollen had watched the entire boring ceremony. His eyes had locked onto one of the knights guarding the savage prince. Tyreo did not know what, but something about that man drew him. As soon as the ceremony ended he walked slowly to this Lord Commander Snow, and offered him his pink gloved hand, he pursed his lips and smiled. Giggling he said, "I am Magister Tyreo Ormollen, and I would like to lead you in prayers." He rose on his tip toes so his purple cape rose enough so the man could admire his rounded ass. He knew it was especially rounded today because of the blue heeled boots had just arrived from Braavos.

Aegon allows himself to be led to the guest quarters, but once they are there he banishes the Lyseni servants in favor of the Westerosi ones who had arrived by ship.

Tyreo laughed, and ran a hand up and down Brandon's chest, "So strong." He murmured lowin his native tongue before returning to Westeros. "I would like to lead you in prayer of our Goddess. If you have a moment to come alone with me I can learn you her name." He giggled again. "Has any one ever told you that your eyes are darker then midnight in Winter. I love them. I want to eat them up." 

"You're on duty, Ser Brandon, no time for pleasure," Aegon called out, half a joke and half a rescue, as he began to walk away.

Brandon's hand remained where it was, but the blade was stayed, "A Knight of Westeros does not suffer to have hands put upon him," Brandon replied, "Let us chalk this up to a misunderstanding of cultures, and I will be on my way."

"I will not." Brandon replied, taking another step back. "You do not seem to be a fighting man ser, but if you want an apology, and have a champion, you can feel free to name the time and the place, and I will meet him on the field of combat. The Gods can decide who was wronged."

"I do not know the place, but I will find someone to guide me," Brandon replied stoicly, "I will be there."

He turned on his heel, and strode off after The Crown Prince.

On of the servants bowed. "The princess went out to walk in the city. She hasn't come back yet."

"I don't know, my prince. The princess didn't say. It's not my duty to question her. She must go where she likes."

When it was getting very dark, Rhaena finally managed to get back to the palace. She had picked up a lot of disconcerting words on her travel from the back end of nowhere back to a place she found familiar enough to find her way back to the palace. The words she heard made her almost not want to return, not knowing if anyone would be there or if it would be safe, but she had no where better to begin searching.