Alcoholic Therapy

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

One night bound by the walls of Camelot castle was already beginning to take its toll on Aloisia. Normally she would have been carousing with the knights or on a hunting expedition; both of which would have involved a rather large quantity of ale. If she were seeking solitude then she may well have been holed up in the castle library poring over old tactician's journals or looking at maps of Cenred and those kingdoms surrounding it. Here there was nothing to do but for her to sit stagnant in her chambers or to wander the castle. She had taken to the latter as a duck to water, and had soon found herself traversing the town itself.

When her bright eyes had lighted upon a familiar type of sign, Aloisia thought her fortune may well have been improving. Entering the inn with her hood drawn up and her money-pouch full, she was intent to have a drink or several and think on what that piece of parchment she had found in the mercenary's tunic had meant and where it could have come from. Either she was supposed to be dead by now or decorating a dungeon somewhere. Neither such option was particularly appealing, and she was determined to get to the bottom of it. She pushed her hood down and sat at a table in the back of the inn, ordering a pitcher of ale to quench her thirst if her curiosity was to remain unsatisfied for the time being.

She poured herself a tankard, the foam spilling over the edge of the wooden mug and onto the table where it bubbled and faded. She took a long drink, savouring the yeasty flavour of the drink as she sat back in her chair, stretching her long legs out before her. The arm not occupied by her drinking action reflex was slung casually across the back of the chair next to her, her eyes focused on the pitcher of ale rather than anyone around her for the time being. Knowing how quickly she was able to drink, she contemplated ordering another one now so that she wouldn't have to wait in between mouthfuls. Heavens knew how poorly the first pitcher usually fared.

[Caellach Baratheon]

There was laughter amidst the staccato thump of hooves upon the cobble streets of Camelot. They were accentuated by the snorts and the clap of hands. That, and the sway of heavily armored men swinging down low from their saddle nigh in unison. They were dirty and smelled of the road. They smelled of hot horse flesh, too, and of sweat. They smelled of the heat of the sun and thensome. They smelled entirely of man as they made their way within the White Dragon.

They were coated with sweat and dirt, and seemed weary from the land long ride. Yet, they were accepted so warmly the moment they entered! In fact, the keeper had lunged himself forth toward them without shame and had assured the men all cups of ale and hot food. They weren't only warmly accepted by the keeper though but by others from men to women; many who lean forth to hear from where they had come from and what they had done. After all, the company of freeswords had been gone for quite a while.

"Bandits are getting worse every day," one man cared to say. "We've come back with a few trophies though!" He had barked thereafter and clapped his hands to signal one other man to loose a canvas bag that was full of wares; random trinkets and other such things. It was spilled onto one table and many looked on with wide eyes. "The rest was returned to Gilot, of course. Poor man must be weary of those bandits," the man said thereafter. Then he looked over his shoulder to the other men. "Where's Cael-- Ah, there you are!" He grinned toothily as the door swung open once more. He lunged forth to throw an arm around the man.

"That was a wonderful run, no?" He asked of his companion. Caellach smiled somewhat. It was a tight smile with clenched teeth. "Aye, I suppose you may say that," the freesword uttered then shook his head before managing to sweep free from underneath Jhitare's arm. He shoved the man forth and lifted his voice for the others. "Open the casks! I want ale flowing tonight and hot food set out on these tables!" Caellach barked aloud and the men within his company barked with cheer, and even the others, too, seemed pleased.

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

((Sorry it took so long for me to reply! I've been pre-occupied. Thanks for replying!))

She could not help but overhear the men who burst into the tavern shortly after her own arrival. They had loud mouths and even louder manners. Neither trait particularly bothered Aloisia; she had gained information and that was something that was always valuable. From her observations she gathered that the man referred to as Cael was the leader of these men. At least it was his word that had the entire inn happily sipping at full tankards and waiting for food to fill the gaps around the ale in their bellies. From her relaxed position at her table she could see very well what was going on but it would be more difficult to find out any more news. Bandits were something that always interested the Cenredian Princess.

In a fluid motion that attracted an appreciative eye from the men at a table next to hers Aloisia stood and scooped up her ale jug, leaving the empty tankard behind on the table. She sauntered over to where the men stood, the jug cradled in one hand against her hip and her other hand resting idly on the hilt of the sword she had belted at her waist. From what she had been able to gather over her few short hours in Camelot the women were a peculiar bunch, more given over to weaving and needlepoint than taking an interest in politics and current affairs. Aloisia went one step further than the women of her homeland and her parents unfortunately could not forgive her for it. Unabashedly, she walked right up to the man who had made the demand for ale and food.

“And where did you come across these bandits, friend?” she enquired with an interested expression. Once she had posed her question she lifted her jug of ale to her lips, drinking with abandonment so that ale spilled from either side of her mouth and onto the leather bustier she wore over her informal linen shirt. The linen now bore the first of many ale-spills of the evening. Once the Princess set herself to drinking it was usually a very heavy night.

[Caellach Baratheon]

Caellach was accustomed to having women, but he had never dealt with a woman much like her. So, the moment she had drawn up to him and had spoken, Caellach had turned to her, and when he saw her...well, there was surprise written clear as day in his eyes. He smiled then and his teeth bore down on his lower lip, and Caellach didn't answer her. In fact, his eyes seemed to do most of the talk and they were trailing wherever they pleased on her. After all, she was an attractive woman for one that was far from the slight build of Camelot's stock. That, and the way she carelessly drank her ale made him ache to see her in bed with her mouth properly...

"Her thighs look like they could break a man," Jhitare stated from behind. He looked amused as he stared at the woman, but Caellach himself had been drawn free of his reverie, too. "I'd let them break me." Another man added lewdly from behind. Caellach lifted a hand to silence them. They frowned and nearly whined, but aoon fell silent as the ale had begun to flow.

"That depends, friend," Caellach started and lolled his head. He looked down toward her hip where the hilt of her blade was. She truly was a rather peculiar woman. "I would ask why such a matter would concern a woman, but then I could see that you're no ordinary woman, are you?" He asked of her and smiled. He even looked amused. "Give me your name and mayhap I'll tell you." He said. "A name for knowledge," he told her, and with a smile, he turned away slightly only to work his cuirass free of his body. His hands moved by way of reflex that had been earned through the years.

All the while he bared a bit of his flesh; dirty and sweat slick as he was.

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

Luckily for these men, Aloisia was used to such treatment. A different kind of Princess might well have been offended or even made a command that would have seen the soldiers cooling their heels in the stocks. For her part, however, she met his open admiration of her form with little more than a quirk of one dark brow and a half smirk. Her hazel gaze fixed itself on him and her arm had halfway lifted itself to smack his companion sharply across his mouth when the man she had addressed quietened them with a gesture. She leaned against the bar with the arm that held her jug aloft, the vessel dangling from her hand as she gave it sweet respite for the moment. Her other hand was still upon her hilt in a silent warning; she was used to rough-housing and holding her own with the men of Cenred but she would not think twice about chastising the men of Camelot should the occasion call for it.

Her lips twitched with the unmistakeable beginnings of a smile when the man asked for her name. She wondered if it would matter to him that she was royalty, or that one word from her â€" truthful or otherwise â€" could have had him rethinking his position from inside the castle dungeon. From the very little that she had heard of Prince Arthur, it was entirely likely that he would have hauled the man down there for just such an insult, if indeed an insult it was. Aloisia was inclined to think the man a rouge for the time being; exactly the kind of man that she had grown up with back home. Her mouth refrained from blossoming into the impish grin that it might have sown had the subject not been one that she held to be very important.

Because she was more bold than most, Aloisia let herself appreciate the man's form as he so obviously displayed it for that purpose. Her own eyes looked him up and down, and a smirk finally deigned to settle itself on her lips. It was good to see that Camelot at least had some similarities with her homeland. In Cenred these kind of games were played daily and Aloisia even enjoyed them some of the time. “No woman is ordinary,” she told him with absolute confidence. “It is only men who don't possess the talent to tempt them into being exemplary.” A quick flicker of her dark brows above her sparkling amber stare dared him to contradict her. “And if all the knowledge you have is worth but a name, then what use could it be?” Her smile took the wood-be sting from her words and she waited to see if the men of Camelot were any better players than the men of her acquaintance back home.

[Caellach Baratheon]

Caellach hadn't been personally offended when Jhitare had been slapped. Truth be told, the man had very well deserved the blow and Jhitare himself had known that. It's why he had wheeled away from the woman and put Caellach between them. That, and the table. He looked wholly offended and frustrated then. He hadn't expected such a welcome home from a woman. Caellach, though, had only smiled a tight smile; one that left his teeth bared.

There was no doubt that the woman was a peculiar one, and although rather attractive, the men learned swiftly that they were biting more off than they could chew. Their comments, whistling and thensome had suddenly come to a halt, and Caellach was left there to speak with her in relative silence. That, and making silent wagers over whether or not he'd be taking her to bed that night. It was a possibility to say the very least. After all, maybe she did want him and that was her way of attempting to present herself or even stake her claim.

Yet, there was something about her...somewhat in her eyes that said there was more to her than what met the eye. That she knew something that could undo him, and yet, Caellach only smiled and continued to play with that fire without any shame. He had no fear, and no matter whether he was faced by a horde or simply a woman with a sword, Caellach would smile back.

Caellach looked amused as she became more bold and actually eyed him as he had her. He made no complaint of that though; in fact, Caellach liked the attention. He removed his cuirass with ease and afterward had set the well worn, weathered and abused armor on the floor by his feet. The removal had bared the shirt underneath that left rather little to the imagination; the fabric white and clinging to his flesh due to sweat. His hands reflexively had undone his vambraces thereafter to bare the rest of his arms which were hard and muscled, and honed from the years. That, and laced with faint lines of scars. He allowed a sigh of pleasure thereafter and leaned against the counter, and still...Caellach smiled.

"Is that so?" He asked of her and looked around to his men; there was only two of them that had split grins from her comment on women and men both. The others, though, still stared on at their beloved leader and the woman both. It was a strange sight to them to say the very least. Nonetheless, Caellach turned away from the counter and had drawn closer to her. He nearly pressed and brushed against her, and the men's breathing had come to a near stop then as Caellach's mouth lowered to her ear. Yet, Caellach did not bestow a kiss but only a few words.

"Yet, a name seems to be too much for you to give," Caellach said. "If I were a crueler man I'd ask for more, but what I seem to ask for now...well," Caellach smiled. "It does not matter to me, friend." He added and his hand lifted to brush his fingertip against her chin before he stepped away.

"Drink your fill and eat, and mayhap when you're ready we may talk," he added.

[Princess Aloisia Sorestan]

A sly look crossed Aloisia's features as the man leaned in towards her, his breath hot on her ear. There was little doubt as to his intentions, or at least what his intentions would be were she to give way to him. Far from being upset she was merely amused, the thick smirk on her lips gave as much away as her eyes fell to the looks on the faces of his men until he pulled away from her again. The soft touch of his hand against her chin could have been viewed at patronising, and she narrowed her eyes slightly at him as he dismissed her as easily as though she were a serving wench. She may have been used to fighting with men. She may have been accustomed to drinking with men and even on the odd occasion in consorting with men. But if there was one thing that Princess Aloisia most definitely was not acquainted with, it was being ignored by men.

“If I were a crueller woman,” she parried, “I might give more.” With a sardonic lifting of her eyebrows and a sideways tilting of her head that spoke volumes, she turned on her heel and returned to her table with her jug in hand. For the moment she was willing to play his game. Aloisia lifted her feet to rest on the table once more, paying homage to her ale jug and none other for the next few hours at least. She had her thoughts to keep her company and she was more than content to consider them for the time being as it was these thoughts that had lead her out from the castle in the first place. The night was wearing on, but her mind was more than occupied.

There was much to consider; her arrival in Camelot, the bandits on the highway and her name in print on that scrap of parchment. Then there was the assumption that her father hoped she might catch the eye of Camelot's heir. If there was anything that was repulsive to the liberal woman now gulping down her ale the way a fish filtered water it was the thought of her father selling her off like a piece of meat. She snorted into her drink, knowing full well that her father would be disappointed were he to wish for such a thing with any seriousness. Aloisia did not doubt that Arthur Pendragon had more than his fair share of potential love interests. He did not need to bother himself with wooing one such that did not care for his attentions.

The men in the taproom grew rowdier the more they drank, and once they had eaten the serious drinking really got under way. Dice games sprang up here and there and it wasn't until a man accused another of cheating him and a well-landed punch saw the rascal land unceremoniously on her table that Aloisia saw fit to pay attention to the others surrounding her. Her sole action in dealing with the situation was to hastily lift her feet from the table to avoid them being crushed by the landing solider in all his armour. When the man â€" who was bleeding profusely from his nose â€" had slumped over and was too heavy with drink to move, the Princess lifted a well-fitting boot and pushed him back off the table and onto the rush-strewn floor.

She lifted her jug to her lips once more, having had it refilled many times over the course of the evening. As she did so, her eyes met those of the man who had slighted her at the bar earlier. Holding his gaze, she drank deeply. Her desire for knowledge of the bandits may have been burning at hotly as ever, but her pride held it on a very tight leash. Perhaps he would give in and give her what she required; Aloisia really considered her name unimportant in the grand scheme of things. She set her jug on the table and smirked, crossing her leather-clad legs one atop the other.

[Caellach Baratheon]

Caellach had known stubborn women before. In fact, they were not exactly something new to him, but he had never known a woman like her. There was no doubt that was she was different from the norm and that alone attracted Caellach to her, but who was she to question him about somewhat and not even offer her name? It was more than obvious that the woman thought highly of herself. Otherwise she would have accepted the terms and told him the truth. Instead, she had chosen to settle with her jug of ale whilst the tavern filled with men that caroused eagerly.

They filled the tavern with their slurred speech, jostling and games, feasting and thensome. All the while drink continued to flow and food had been set out for those who wished to fill themselves. As they did, though, the men only seemed to drink deeper and drown in their cups at the end of it all. Caellach was more mindful though and had been careful with his own consumption; after all, he liked to have a clear head, and especially moreso around someone who was interested in him. Despite that, that didn't mean Caellach didn't drink.

Yet, she did not break.

It was a surprise to Caellach that the woman had still clung to her pride. Truth be told, Caellach was rather impressed by how steadfast she could be. Then there was a part of him that found her to be rather silly. Yet, the moment a fight had broken out, albeit a short one, Caellach had ordered to have the man carried off to a room to rest and be tended to, and he had used the excuse to approach her as he lowered himself onto the bench across from her.

"I've never met such a stubborn woman before," he admitted to her. He smiled a slight before crossing his forearms on the table. His hands settled on his biceps as he leaned toward her. He still looked somewhat...well, nonchalant, truth be told, as he watched her. She danced there in his gaze. Mayhap that should have been a warning for him, but then Caellach liked to play with fire. It's why he talked to her in the first place.

"You look like a woman that could use some help, and I have a feeling that I have that help," he said and lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "Yet, here we are playing a rather silly game where we should be getting to know one another, no?" He asked with a raised brow. "I'm weary and soon I will be finding my bed, God willing, of course. So, mayhap it would be best to set aside the game and truly talk, hm?" He leaned forward and set his hand flat on the table.

"I am Caellach," he added, offering his name to her.