(121-02-22) The Dornishmen in the Garden
The Dornishmen in the Garden
Summary: Osric and Mariya happen upon each other in the garden. Ashara comes to greet her cousin, Arros arrives with a wounded squire and Everett comes to tend him.
Date: 22/02/2014
Related: None

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Mariya..Osric..Ashara..Arros..Everett] [[include LogPlayerBottom..

The manse has been a flurry of activity with the arrivals of Osric's family and in-laws as rooms are claimed, trunks are carried through the halls and unpacked, children run laughing under feet. Though a part of the excitement, Mariya remains slightly outside of it. There are people who unpack for her and she has taken the moving and rearranging time to immerse herself in one of the books that Osric put aside for her. This is how she regains equilibrium to finding herself in such a strange place. She has tucked herself into a cushioned chair in the walled garden, brow furrowed as she reads intently.

Osric himself is given to strolling through that garden of an evening to calm his nerves. The flora here are chosen specifically to bring Dorne to mind, a bit of the familiar nestled amidst the foreign. He is dressed casually, in sturdy trousers and a light tunic, tall brown boots and a matching belt. As ever, the greatsword Dawn hangs from a baldric worn over his shoulder. Seen from afar, his expression might seem distant, perhaps even nostalgic. His fingers trail through the blooms and over broad leaves, and he hums softly to himself while he thinks himself alone. It only goes on for a moment, however, before he notices his goodsister's presence. Then he leaves off his meandering to make for her more directly, a surprised smile painting his weathered features. "Princess," he says warmly as he approaches. "Do you find the manse to your liking?"

Most of Osric's approach is missed by Mariya. She tends to be absorbed by the books she reads. At the greeting, her chin rises and she starts to unfold herself from the chair. Though not exactly startled, it does take her a few moments to move her thoughts from one subject to pleasantries. Noting her page, she slowly shuts her book to give her goodbrother the attention he deserves. "Good evening, Ser. It's quite beautiful. I like it here very much." She glances at the flowers behind him for a moment, noting that she seemed to have taken him by surprise. "It's quite peaceful out here, away from all the chaos inside. I can read upstairs if you'd like the garden to yourself."

"No," Osric says, perhaps too quickly. Afraid he's offended her, for some reason, perhaps. "Stay, Princess. If I've disturbed your reading, I can leave you to it. I sometimes walk to the Starry Sept, of an evening. I could…" His violet eyes retrace his route back toward the door, and his tone is earnest. He intends to accomodate the young woman, however he can. "It's beautiful — The Starry Sept, I mean. You should visit it, if you haven't already. I could ask Everett to take you."

Mariya sets her book on the cushion next to her. She gestures at the other chairs to invite him to stay. "No, you're not interrupting. It's just…it smells differently here. And I couldn't tell in my room." The very air is new in Oldtown. "I like looking up from my book and realizing I'm not back in Sunspear." Already it's her book, despite the fact that she's merely borrowing it from the house library. Abruptly, she adds, "Ellia's quite happy to see you again. She went through about four different outfits yesterday to make sure she wore the right one to greet you properly."

"I…" Osric is a confident man. He's not a social butterfly, but neither is he commonly lost for words. But word of his wife's eagerness to see him takes him aback for a moment, a fact that he attempts to hide in the motions of taking a seat. "I was pleased to see her as well, Princess," he admits once he's settled, and there's obvious affection in his voice. "I am blessed by my lady wife and our healthy children." Settling in, he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands folded together between them. "It is different here, isn't it? Everything, so different from home. Not so foreign to me, I suppose, as it is to you." Starfall, of course, being closer in culture to the Reach than Sunspear is. "I'm glad this home suits you. Princess Ashara will be pleased that you're making good use of her library."

With a warm smile, Mariya straightens. "Sorry, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I just wanted to say that I think you two are a good match. And if you tell Ellia about the clothing thing, I'll tell Ashara you're stealing the silverware." That is, obviously, a joke. "You know how she gets." Her sister, that is. "But, I just thought you should know." It's a vote of confidence from Mariya in Osric. She glances up to the closed in wall and over it to the tops of the buildings surrounding them. "It is very different. But, I like it. It's a good change. I hope I don't make too much trouble for you, Ellia and Ashara."

Osric's eyes widen slightly in mock-offense, but it's clear that he sees the joke for what it is. Rather than responding with a further jest, though, he takes a turn for the serious. "I would never betray your confidence, Princess. I am glad to know that you approve of our match. My wife holds you as the dearest of her siblings. You know her mind better than most." With a hint of a wry smile he corrects himself to, "Better than any, perhaps." His violet eyes follow Mariya's gaze over the wall, a view that seems as strange to him as it must to her, and he answers quickly. "You are no trouble at all. You are family, and a Princess of Dorne. I am honored beyond words to share my home with you."

There's a grin from Mariya, obviously pleased by the sentiment, despite her following words. "I'm not sure I know her better than most. She's the one that knows me." With a laugh, she takes Osric's words at value. She's used to being accommodated. "Thank you. I'm honored to be here, protected by the Sword of the Morning. I think it's the only reason Mother let me go. Even though Ellia's quite persuasive. How could she say I wasn't safe with you around?"

"Your mother is too kind," Osric replies humbly, bowing his head. When he straightens to look at her, his expression has shifted to one of almost conspiratorial mirth, and he shifts the course of the conversation slightly. "Of course, there is no shortage of famous knights in Oldtown during the Dolphin Festival, Princess. I have seen another famous protector of yours very recently, riding in the tourneys. Indeed, he narrowly beat Ser Arros Sand in the equestrian competition, and I have heard that he acquitted himself well in archery and jousting."

Though she did give Osric the compliment of her mother's confidence, that is forgotten quite quickly. In fact, it is impossible to not notice the perk in Mariya's posture at the mention of 'famous protector'. Her back straightens and her hands fly straight to her face. In her mind that could only mean one person. "Ser Daevon?" The conspiratorial tone is matched with wide-eyed glee. The man means quite a lot to the young Martell, as Osric certainly knows. "He's here?" It's possible that the young woman already knew the young knight was in Oldtown, but she seems to be genuinely surprised. "Is he well?"

"He was two days past," Ser Osric confirms, his expression so very serious by comparison. "And well enough to nearly snatch victory at the joust from my cousin, Ser Arros. Surely if he knew you were in Oldtown, he would call on you, Princess." He seems sure, though his words and tone are calm, and perhaps meant to calm Mariya as well. "If my lady wife does not object, I could send a man to give him word of your arrival."

Nervously, Mariya takes the book from her side and clutches it to her chest, drawing her legs up underneath her in her chair. Instead of watching Osric, she watches the flowers sway gently in the garden as she remembers Ser Daevon. "I'm glad he's well," she replies warmly. "Despite that it nearly came at the cost of victory to your cousin." Finally, she smiles back at Osric, excited. "That would be very kind of you, ser. It would be good to talk with him again. I haven't seen him since he left Sunspear. I'm sure Ellia won't mind." That is, she'll talk her sister's ear off until she consents to sending word to Daevon.

"Perhaps it's best if you ask her," Osric says, chuckling. He sits near his young goodsister in the garden, relaxing after dinner. His lady wife and their two children are likely bedded down, or nearly so, and he seems to be at his ease. "Though I'd have you meet him here, Princess, or be escorted by our men when you do meet him." His eyebrows raise as he asks, making the words into a request rather than a demand. "Oldtown can be a labyrinth, I'm afraid, to one who is unaccustomed to its ways. Best not to be caught out alone."

"I will." There's little doubt that Mariya will be nagging Ellia about the opportunity to see Daevon again. There's a bit of a pout when he insists that they meet here rather than outside. It's clear that she wants to explore the city more. "But, if the men you've trusted come along, they could guide me properly. I don't wish to be trapped inside my entire time here. As much as I enjoy the manse, I certainly would like to explore the outside. And it's not as if Ser Daevon would pose a threat to me. He saved my life, after all."

"Of course," Osric allows with an open-handed wave. "I only meant that, were you to meet him elsewhere, you ought to be certain of an escort. Gareth, perhaps, my steward. He knows Oldtown well. Or Everett — you know Everett? A Reachman by birth," he says, as if that gave one intimate knowledge of Oldtown. "Herric or Llew," he adds two men-at-arms to the list, trusted veterans both.

"Oh!" Used to being over protected her entire life, Mariya is quite accustomed to making more desperate pleas for her independence. This makes a welcome reprieve. "Yes, thank you. I've heard you speak of them before, but I don't think I actually know them yet." It's possible she was introduced and simply did not remember them. "You must know Oldtown well by now, having had the advantage of being here before us. Other than the library and the Starry Sept, what else should I make a point of seeing here?"

"Not so long before you," Osric protests good-naturedly. "The Citadel is an impressive sight. There's a lovely fountain in Oldtown Square." He thinks a moment, one hand coming up to rub at his chin before he adds, "Some of the islands in the river have an exotic sort of beauty to them. So unlike Sunspear." He shakes his head, searching for more of the city's highlights, but in the end the only thing more that he has to offer is an apologetic look.

"I've heard the dolphins are lovely." Ashara makes her way down the stairs from the bedrooms, smile flashing at the pair of them. She's recovered from her post-archery contest cold by now, and looks to be in better spirits and ready to go do something to land her with another cold, most likely.

Mariya gives Osric a sympathetic smile. "I didn't mean to put you on the spot. I'm just eager to see the sights." At the appearance of Ashara, the younger woman puts down her book again and stands. "Good evening, Ashara. I hope you're feeling better?" Having just arrived the day before, she hoped to see her cousin to greet and thank her for her hospitality, but did not want to intrude upon her sickbed. "Thank you for allowing us to stay with you. And allowing me to borrow a few of your books. This is a lovely home."

Ser Osric stands as well at Ashara's appearance, inclining his head as he greets her with a soft, "Princess." Hands clasped behind his back now, he seems content to let the two women exchange greetings as he stands by in relative silence.

"Quite fine, thank you," Ashara answers, stepping forward and holding out her hands to her cousin with a warm smile. "And please, there's nothing to be thankful for. You're family, of course you'd stay here. Don't go letting Osric and his stuffy manners get to you," she adds with a teasing look at the knight. "You haven't been in long, have you?"

With ease Mariya takes and grasps Ashara's hands with a gentle squeeze, gladly partaking in the family reunion in the garden. "It's good to see you, cousin. Oldtown has done you well, I should say." Smiling, at the teasing she adds, "I am thankful, still. We just arrived yesterday. Ellia is resting with the children and I'm only up and about to read in the garden. Ser Osric has been kind enough to keep me company and tell me the sights I should see."

"Princess Ashara knows the city much better than I," Osric says, with a nod at the older — nay, the more experienced of the two Dornish princesses present. "She's right, no doubt. I too have heard that the dolphins are a sight to see. Perhaps tomorrow you could accompany us to see the harbor? The children must see them, of course, and they'd be glad of your company." With a nod to include Ashara as well, he adds, "Both of you, of course."

"Oh, hardly," Ashara waves a hand at Osric, smile broadening mischievously at Mariya. "It's more that I refuse to be walled in here, so I just pretend I know exactly where I'm going and what I'm doing. It's all about attitude, cousin, and that is something I'm quite capable of handling. Did I hear talk of Ser Daevon?" she asks, looking between the pair. "I've found him a few times practicing at the tourney grounds."

Just then the door leading into the gardens from the stable is thrown open, and Arros half-drags half-carries his squire out by the back of his sandsilk robes. "I told you not to stand right behind the Grouch, didn't I?" He says amiably to the boy as the squire in Uller colors clutches at his chest and struggles for breath. "Told you he'd kick you. Didn't listen, did you?" He lets go of the boy when they are near a bench, and shakes his head with a bemused expression, "Well, let's see how bad it is. Might be we need to get a maester for you, you little idiot."

"Both of you certainly know the city better than I do." Mariya can't help but smile back at Ashara. She has the same desire to roam about free. "I'd love to see the dolphins with the children." Ser Daevon's name makes certainly turns the young woman excited and blushing. "Yes, Ser Osric was just talking about his prowess in the joust the other day. I was hoping to see him again. We knew each other in Sunspear." The sudden bursting open of the doors causes Mariya to quickly turn toward Arros' way. She is certainly startled by his presence.

Osric, too, turns suddenly as the door bursts open. The noise sees him tense suddenly, eyes narrow, but when he hears Arros' voice that sudden wariness is replaced quickly by good humor, and then concern. "Here's the victor now, Ser Arros," he says with a gesture toward the knight. But then the careless squire's injury comes to light, and he's crossing the room, quick and wordless, to stand at Arros side. Silently ready to be of service however he can.

"Arros had some thoughts on the dolphins, actually," Ashara starts to say, just as the knight in question bursts into the garden. She arches a brow, glancing toward the injured squire with a wry smile. "And one of the men here, Gareth, is local enough that he likely knows some of the best places to see them. Can the boy breathe, Arros?" she calls over, taking her time in moving toward the squire.

Rooted in place by the activity for a moment, Mariya looks between Osric and Ashara before moving forward. She is generally behind them as they make their way toward Arros and the injured squire. "Is he alright? What happened?" She's not sure if there's anything that she can do, but curiosity and concern urges her forward.

"I think he got a good solid kick to the ribs, Princess." Arros tells Ashara without looking up from his squire. The boy peels back the front of his robes to reveal a purple horseshoe-shaped imprint on the space between his breast and belly, and continues gasping for air. He's young for a squire, perhaps thirteen or fourteen, and his physique is still boyish. Arros will stare at the wound for a moment before clapping the boy on the shoulder, "You'll be fine, but maybe we ought to send for one of those funny old men just in case."

"Fetch Everett," Osric says, wincing when he sees the bruise. "Our Septon, an old friend. He can see to the boy." But Osric doesn't wait for someone else to do it — it's no sooner said than he's crossing toward the door to find a passing servant. He speaks to the boy in hushed tones, briefly, and once the lad is on his way Osric returns to the small cluster of folk gathered around the squire. "I took a similar kick myself, in my youth," he says softly, meant to reassure the boy. "You'll live, Son."

"Nonsense," Ashara says comfortably, crouching by the boy. "I'm quite capable of dealing with this sort of thing. It can be a bit of a shock to take a blow just there," she assures him with a small smile. "But if it didn't kill you to begin with, it's unlikely to kill you now. May I?" she asks, reaching toward his ribs.

It is some minutes that pass before the Septon is roused, as they say. His boots softly scuffling along the floor, followed by the whips of dragging robes. "Right, right-bring the satchel with me..Let me fix this damnable belt." Cursing also proceeds, before Everett enters the room. His rope belt clenched in fingers as he finishes setting it in place. Sweat on his brow and neck, showing the good brother was either outside or interrupted from some other…vigorous task.

Ahem

Belt cinched, just so Everett first looks towards Osric-before he is looking over to Arros and the others. "Alright then, shall I see the lad.." Coughing lightly before rubbing his hands together. "I promise, I've got gentle hands.. Just like a babe."

Arros takes a step back from his squire when others come forward to help the boy. He rakes his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, and glances to Mariya, "Forgive me for the unorthodox introduction, my Lady. I did not know we were expecting others."

Fergus the squire looks about in a befuddled manner as the Princess and the Septon look over him, his large dark eyes widened in shock. He'll wince when the bruise is touched.

"Ser Arros," Osric says, his tone apologetic as he gestures to Mariya. "My goodsister, the Princess Mariya Martell." He bows slightly as he introduces the young woman, with an obvious fondness in his tone. As he straightens, he adds, "Have you met our Septon? Everett," he says with a nod at his friend. "My oldest friend."

From a respectable distance away, Mariya wrings her hands as she watches the proceedings. She's not normally witness to bruised and shocked squires who require Septons and healers. Distractedly, she meets Arros' gaze and blinks. It's a moment before she responds, prompted by the introduction of Osric. "No forgiveness is necessary, ser. Please, look after the boy." As both Everett and Ashara take a look at the boy, she frets on the edges - knowing there is not much she can do.

Ashara glances up as the septon approaches, though she doesn't actually move away just yet. "A pleasure, Septon," she greets with a polite smile, tilting her head as she turns back to the injury. Since the boy doesn't object, she reaches out to feel gently along the ribs near the injury, touch light. She certainly has gentle hands. Of course, when the subject is a teenage boy, that can lead to other sorts of discomfort.

Everett gives a nod back towards Ashara. "Princess." Or is it your grace? He always is confused by these titles. Dornish as opposed to Westerosi. A glance there as he is letting his eyes narrow in study of the boy. Crouching down beside Ashara, he too reaches out his own hand-which will hopefully alleviate some of the uncomfortableness and just add to the embarrassment. "Right o' lad." he chuffs out s fingers prod to the ribs. "Catch a hoof did you? Can you give me a deep, deep breath.." clearly searching if it is more than deep bruising.

"Princess Mariya." Arros gives her a proper bow. "Ah, Fergus will be fine. If that is his worse injury I'll count him amongst the luckiest of men." He folds his arms over his chest to watch.

Fergus grits his teeth as Ashara's fingers touch him, and lets out an actual grunt of pain as Everett probes with increased pressure. It doesn't feel as if anything is broken, but it's obvious that it causes him some miscomfort.

The garden has quite the commotion. Ser Arros has burst through from the stables with an injured squire. While Ashara and Everret assess the boy's wounds, the rest look on. There is an absent curtsey on Mariya's part at the introduction. "Ser Arros." As she watches the proceedings, she winces as Ashara and Everett prod at the bruising to ascertain his physical state. "Though I'm not sure he feels so lucky at the moment." Seeing the commotion up close, she starts to back away. There is not much good she can do here and she feels in the way. Scooping up the borrowed book from the nearby chair she moves toward the door to the house. "We'll all meet properly under better circumstances." To the young squire, she adds, "I hope when I meet you again you're well healed." And then, she's through the door and away.

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