(121-04-09) Jabs, Real and Otherwise
Jabs, Real and Otherwise
Summary: In which there is sparring and forgiveness. Eh. More or less.
Date: April 9, 2014
Related: Poor Instructions

May be missing the first part. If anyone has it, please add.

Malcolm has showed up in his sparring leathers and with both his Braavosi sword and a practice sword. He peers about looking hopeful.

Daevon's in his leathers too, carrying a braavosi blade of his own, along with a practice sword and his usual longsword. "Good day," he calls out to Malcolm. "Are you ready?"

Eonn came long with Daevon, riding his great white mare. He doesn't dismount.

Malcolm waves to the men and heads that way already studying Daevon's sword. On arriving, he bows a deep, polite bow. "Well met!"

"Which swords then?" Daevon asks. "Which style?" But even as he's asking he admits. "I'd love to try in the braavosi style, although you'll certainly have an advantage there."

Eonn turns his big destrier-plow-horse beast and starts around the tourney grounds, to trot over the field where visiting knights would erect their pavilions.

Visenya arrives astride her horse, and flanked by two men-at-arms. She dismounts from her palfrey, and wanders over to the fence to watch her twin and Malcolm.

Malcolm grins, "You don't have to ask me twice, Your Grace. Any excuse to spar Braavosi style is a good one. Bated tips or raw steel?" He spots the new arrival and quickly looks down and away submissively.

"Ser Malcolm Storm, my twin Princess Visenya Targaryen, and my brother Ser Aevander Targaryen," Daevon offers the introductions. "Bated tips." He places his other blades down, his amethyst eyes sparking.

"Storm?" Visenya asks with a slow forming smile as she looks over the young man about to battle her brother. "He looks like a bravo out of the stories." She tries to meet Malcolm's gaze, but with his head dipped it proves impossible.

Aevander arrived by foot rather than horseback, but he joins the others over at the fence to watch the… well, one can't really call them festivities. He dips his head in a small nod as Daevon introduces him. "How do the pair of you know each other?" he asks.

Eonn pays no mind. He's putting the big mare through her lumbering paces. Surprisingly, the animal has a very pretty floating trot, unexpected.

Malcolm tries not to look as horrified as he feels at being noticed by such exalted figures. His accent is very Stormlands, more lower gentry than truly posh. "I am an acknowledged bastard of House Kellington, your Grace, but have taken some of my education abroad." There is a momentary look of horror at having spoken at all when it was unclear if he was meant to respond, and then his face goes utterly blank. He keeps his eyes down and executes a very deep and graceful bow, staying low until said exalted personages make it clear he may move. Still keeping his eyes down, he sets the practice weapon aside, and in response to Daevon's choice, draws his own blade and puts a little button on the tip to prevent accident.

"We met over our love of the blade," Daevon says to Aevander. "You should join us, brother, fight the winner, or the loser or both of us as you choose. It'll be fun." He's looking excited at the very prospect, so alive. He offers Malcolm a reassuring smile, but then there is to be fighting. He does the same as Malcolm, and then moves to the centre of their area, shifting so he's standing side on, his amethyst gaze intent.

"I see." Visenya says at Malcolm's explanation. She offers him another enigmatic smile before saying, "Fight well, and do not be easy on my brother. Give him a challenge." And then Aevander approaches, and she gives him a narrow-eyed look that is punctuated by a curl of her lip and a sniff.

Eonn rides another wide circle around the field, then trots back towards the tourney-grounds proper.

"Oh, gods," Aevander laughs with a shake of his head, "I'd get trounced. If this Storm fellow can hold his own in dueling you, brother, I'd hardly be worthy competition for either of your skill." His gaze travels briefly over to Visenya, but as he takes in the snarly look she gives him, he merely turns back to the up and coming spar.

Malcolm glances back and forth, head still down, clearly at a total loss for what to do with such company, but Daevon, having given him an implied command and something safely familiar to do, he steps into position. Once in his proper place and on guarde, he relaxes and goes very still, expectant. He takes a deep breath, and lets it out. He looks at the base of Daevon's neck, rather than his eyes.

"Aevander, just because you might lose doesn't mean you shouldn't try," Daevon replies. "How will you ever get any better if you don't fight?" He looks between his siblings. "And besides, sparring brings men together. It's good, it's fun." A pause and then he adds. "You were unfair on her, just as I was not fair on you, brother." There. All done. He's curious as Malcolm sets his gaze there. Quiet and focussed now he waits for Malcolm to make the first move.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Malcolm=blades Vs Daevon=blades
< Malcolm: Good Success Daevon: Good Success
< Net Result: DRAW

"I'm surprised you aren't in the company of Elinoise." Visenya says in an icy tone to Aevander as she watches the men prepare to fight. The incorrect mispronunciation of the name is obviously intentional. "You always liked plain girls."

Eonn stops his mare at the side of the bench-stands, and stays on her back, watching now.

Daevon and Malcolm are both wielding braavosi blades, facing off against eachother, while Aevander and Visenya watch, and Eonn rides his horse.

Eonn's mounted on his big white mare, but he's not going anywhere, just sitting there, watching the two on the field with their blades.

"I means I should try with someone closer to my own abilities," Aevander replies. "I prefer a chance of winning battles if I'm to engage in them. Speaking of which," he glances over at Visenya, "do you really suppose insulting our cousin's aesthetic and name is really going to change my opinion about either her or your behavior, sister?"

Malcolm darts forward suddenly, with an unusual angle of the sword, more as a test than anything else, grinning like a wild man, all self consciousness before royalty forgotten in the joy of trying a new opponent in the form of Lord Daevon.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Daevon=blades Vs Malcolm=blades
< Daevon: Amazing Success Malcolm: Good Success
< Net Result: Daevon wins - Crushing Victory

"Oh, I forgot. I'm supposed to care that you have an opinion in regards to my behavior." Visenya lets out a little laugh. "Because I'm supposed to allow her to slap my brother and say nothing in regards to it. Or do anything. I'm supposed to allow her to let her say whatever she likes to me because you've decided you have a soft spot for her, and as far as you are concerned she can shit all over Daevon and I."

Daevon's smile matches Malcolm's own. There's a joy of the blade, especially in facing a new opponent. He sidesteps Malcolm's first blow, and his second, preferring to engage in a dance of avoidance than using his own blade to parry. When he lashes out with his own blade it's to test Malcolm's own defences. And then in a flurry so fast that it's barely visible, in a series of swirling strikes and steps he finishes with a flourish that sends Malcolm's blade flying into the air, disarming him.

<FS3> Malcolm rolls Acrobatics: Good Success.

When Rona Vielo finally awakened, she found that the Dragon Door Manse was lacking in Targaryens. It took a little investigating, but having learned where they ended up led her to the tourney grounds. As she leaves the road, drawing nearer along the grass, her attention is drawn to the field where Daevon and Malcom face off. At Daevon's expert disarming technique, she claps exhuberantly, the sound slightly muffled by her leather gloves. She settles at the edge of the field, near enough to Aevander and Visenya, but not so close as to intrude on their conversation uninvited.

Malcolm rapidly follows the blade, doing a leaping somersault, oblique to Daevon's line of attack, hoping to force a delay, collects the sword and bounces up again into en garde position, laughing brightly at the cleverness of Daevon's attack.

"Yes," Aevander sighs, his eyes on the pair of men clashing swords, "because the gods know Daevon cannot defend himself from the savagery of a slender young woman's open palm, and his honor demands your unique vitriol. And, certainly, if I don't immediately back your vicious comments with disapproval of my own, I have turned against you in all things and can no longer be trusted." He gives a small shake of his head. "No wonder you and Cerys are forever at odds. You are too alike."

That flip has Daevon laughing in sheer joy. "Bravos!" he exclaims, delighted. He backs off a little to give Malcolm room to recover himself, only a second to land before this time he charges forward, on the attack, his blade flicking out furious in a relentless assault as he seeks a hole in Malcolm's defences.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Daevon=blades Vs Malcolm=blades
< Daevon: Success Malcolm: Success
< Net Result: DRAW

Eonn watches, silent, his expression curious and grave.

Visenya is speaking loud enough to Aevander that Rona can surely overhear her. "Oh yes! Continue to dismiss /everything/ I say, Aevander! Keep dismissing how I feel or that I'm upset without even thinking that I may have a valid reason to be upset! You're so good at it, you know. It's probably one of the best things you do. Continue to compare me to Cerys. Maybe next you can subtly but not so subtly remind me that you never approved of me doing after the dragon, but how /you/ have so much grace that you would never dream of saying how distasteful you really found it out loud!"

Malcolm delights in the flurry of post and riposte, parry and thrust. His accent is very Stormlands, more lower gentry than posh. "You are really good, Your Grace. You were too modest." His body language is relaxed, but his swordwork is precise.

Rona lifts her brow without looking Visenya and Aevander's way. Her decision not to intrude on that conversation seems like a better one every passing moment. She claps again for Daevon, but keeps her voice silent, lest she distract the duelists.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Malcolm=blades Vs Daevon=blades
< Malcolm: Good Success Daevon: Great Success
< Net Result: Daevon wins - Solid Victory

"You are a bully, Visenya," Aevander murmurs, his brows lifting as the Storm fellow goes flipping for his sword. "I know beneath that you are so much more, but at times you make it difficult for anyone to wish to look beneath. I do not doubt your feelings, but they do not excuse the cruelty of your words."

Eonn leans forward on his mount to hug the great mare's neck, as children do their ponies.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Daevon=blades Vs Malcolm=blades
< Daevon: Amazing Success Malcolm: Great Success
< Net Result: Daevon wins - Solid Victory

Daevon's completely focussed not letting anything distract him from the fight at hand. His defence is impenetrable, for every move Malcolm has he has a counter. He moves in all directions, save for into the air for the most part. There's nothing of the formation fighter in his wild ways. The moment the blade moves for him he's somewhere else. And again that flurry of steel, a flick of his wrist, and Malcolm's weapon is sent flying out of his hand once again. This time though Daevon carries on after the blade, seeking to catch it in his offhand. He leaps past Malcolm, not sommersaulting though, just snatching the rapier up from its flight, and landing lightly, he spins around, blade in each hand, ridiculous as it looks and challenging he asks. "Yield?"

Rona glances Eonn's way, and a smirk forms as she turns to approach him. "Ahh, my dear Coingiver. Hello, Eonn. Do you know what led to this duel? It seems friendly enough, but one never can tell."

Malcolm drops gracefully to his knee, head down and arms spread, "Yield. I know when I'm beaten, Your Grace."

"And you're manipulative, and refuse to see your own faults." Visenya snaps back, "Like how you throw /everything/ back in my face regardless of the situation. I don't give a damn if /you/ think it is acceptable that she hits our brother. I don't think it is acceptable, and my opinion is just as valid as yours! I didn't slap her. I didn't try hitting her. I pushed her away from him because she would have kept hitting and jabbing him and he would have let her." Her voice goes softer, but her words are strained with what sounds like the start of tears, "I've NEVER been cruel to Elionys before then. Don't you DARE dismiss how I feel because it's easy and convenient for you!"

Daevon offers Malcolm his blade back, smiling ear to ear. "That was fun. You're good." And then he spots Rona. "Lady Bravo!" he calls over. "Come meet Ser Malcolm Storm. He's incredible, did you see how he flew into the air and caught his blade and sommersaulted too. I was lucky he didn't kick me in the face as he did so. Ser, have you met Rona Vielo, the Lady Bravo?"

Eonn straightens up and looks down to Rona. He smiles, "It is only practice," he tells her. He offers her a hand. "Want a better view?" But then he stops, as Daevon is calling the woman, and he looks towards the Prince now.

Rona begins to reach for Eonn's hand, but she is also distracted by Daevon's call. She waves enthusiastically to Daevon before turning back to Eonn. "It seems I am to be introduced. Come with me," she insists as she turns to the field, apparently expecting Eonn to be in tow. She saunters up to the two swordsmen, dipping her head respectfully to each. "A very impressive display," she says in her thick Braavosi accent. "Who did you train under, Ser Malcolm?"

Eonn sighs a bit, and dismounts from the tall mare. He leaves her there, untethered, and follows after Rona. The horse doesn't go anywhere.

Aevander offers a little applause as the spar concludes and his brother is the victor, just as he expected. "I don't believe she would have hit him again," he replies to Visenya, "and you have not ceased being cruel since yesterday. Elionys is my friend, Visenya, and our cousin. If you dislike her behavior, you have the wit to tell her so rather than insult her looks or her weight, both of which make you appear both petty and unable to see properly. I am not dismissing your feelings. I am only saying just because you feel strongly, that does not give you blanket permission to be vicious."

"I tried to tell her. She told me to shut up." Visenya points out, "But I forgot meanness and cruelty only counts when it's coming from me."

"One moment," Daevon holds up a single finger to Eonn, Rona and Malcolm, and then stalks fof of his family members. "Aevander. You've been unfair on Visenya. If she had done as Ellionys, you would have chided her, not the person who intervened. You expect so much more of Visenya than the rest of us. Visenya is your sister, and she was protecting me. She would do the same for you. Let's put this behind us, please? I asked you here so you could spar, Aevander. Actually test that rusty skills of yours."

Malcolm is utterly delighted by the whole affair, and pops up grinning. He takes the sword back with another bow, "Thank you, for a wonderful work out. I am always at your service, Your Grace." He bows politely to Rona, his voice pitched to carry "I have not yet met the Lady, but I have heard tales of her fighting prowess since my arrival here. I would be happy to make her acquaintance." He does not look in the direction of the arguing Targaryen's in the desperate hope that they have forgotten him entirely. "I had a Dancing Master growing up, and he provided me letters of introduction, for when I visited you fair city. I have studied a little here, a little there." He smiles crookedly. "It seems to me good a Storm taste more than one wind in pursuit of prowess." His sword is bated, against accident in the spar. "Are you here to spar, fair Lady?" He flashes a welcoming smile at Eonn, "I would a quick word with you later, Eonn of Rills."

Eonn raises his eyebrows at Malcolm, then nods to him. A flicker of a smile touches his features.

Rona nods her approval at Malcolm's philosophy. "I did not come to spar today, no. I came in search of my hosts." She gestures toward the three Targaryens. "I fear that I keep later hours than they do, so I must seem terribly rude when I do not appear to break fast with them. You know Eonn?" She smiles at the man of the Rills. "Eonn, you seem to know everyone. I should follow you about. I could learn so much."

Malcolm says, "Eonn is the first person I met in this city and is full of good an honest advice, always a valuable thing in a new place." He eyes the battling Targaryans without turning his head, "I would not know what to do in such exhaulted company. I am better off with plain food and simple lodging, I think. What brings you so far from home, Fair Lady?""

"I expect more because she is capable of so much more," Aevander argues, "Anyhow, I am not the one glaring and taking jabs. If Visenya is willing to lay this disagreement to rest, so am I." Of sparring, he says nothing, yet.

Eonn smiles a bit, and says to Rona, "I am sure I do not. And it might be that if you follow me about, you'll become a cat. I've heard it said." He pretends not to notice the argument going on.

"What a lovely way to excuse your unfair treatment of me." Visenya sighs. "Fine. I accept that you'll put your friends before Daevon and I. I'm sorry I called Elionys ugly. For now on I'll let her treat me or Daevon as badly as she likes. Does that make you happy, Aevander?"

"That is a story that usually requires wine, Ser," Rona says to Malcom with a smirk, which she then turns to Eonn. "But did you not know, Eonn of the Rills? I was born a cat. A witch made me into a woman. I thought that was why you like me so."

"How about I tie one hand behind my back," Daevon asks. "Or both hands. And wear a blind fold. Maybe only use one leg. Or agree to stand in the same spot without moving, brother?" He's teasing. He looks at Visenya, thoughtfully. "This isn't going to change how any of us treat eachother, will it?"

Eonn laughs. "You lie," he says to Rona, teasingly. "If you were a cat, you'd be following me already." He winks at her.

Malcolm gives a warm chuckle, "Is that how you do it Eonn? I thought it was the oysters." He bows acquiescence to Rona, "Perhaps another time and place, then."

Rona laughs merrily at Eonn. "I have killed men for calling me liar. You are lucky that I find your company pleasant," she teases. "Were you out riding, Eonn? Or did you come specifically to witness the duel?"

"Well, that would just be pathetic for both of us," Aevander points out for all of Daevon's offers to even the field. Looking over at Visenya, he gives a small shake of his head. "No, my dear," he replies softly. "It surely would not."

"That is another manner of calling you a liar, entirely," Eonn tells Rona. "I think I need not fear. I didn't come to witness the duel. My mare needs exercise." Then, to Malcolm, "There is no how to it. Cats just like me. In truth, I am annoyed by the accusations about the oysters." He shrugs.

Malcolm cocks his head, curious for Eonn's response to Rona's question. He drops his eyes, "I do always seem to be offending." He turns back to Rona, "If ever you are of a mind, I should like to test my sword against yours, Lady Vielo. I am always interested in learning from new opponents."

"I was joking," Daevon clarifies for Aevander, just in case he didn't realise.

"I'm /trying/." Visenya says to Aevander. "Truly, I am. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I am trying very hard." She dips her head briefly to hide her face before she says, "Go spar with Aevander, then…"

"I know," Daevon says gently to Visenya. "I know you're trying. I've noticed."

Rona nods to Malcolm, "Just so. Perhaps we will learn something from one another. Ever since my arrival in Oldtown, more and more Water Dancers have arrived. Perhaps we should form a guild devoted to the art of the blade."

Eonn gives Malcolm an apologetic look. "I did not say offended," he says.

Malcolm says, "A club or guild might be fun. It's good to have people to practice with and learn from." He smiles crookedly at Eonn, "My boot spends half it's time in my mouth since I came here it seems. I am glad no offense is taken.""

"Then please make amends with Elionys," Aevander requests gently. "You are both intelligent and capable, I know you you speak calmly to one another this can be resolved without further ill feelings. And thank you for trying." He glances over at Daevon and exhales softly. "All right, all right. Let's get this humiliation over with, then."

Rona taps her chin thoughtfully. "A guild. A society of true warriors, devoted to mastery of the art of combat. I wonder, though, if it would not make some of the nobility nervous." She eyes Daevon, a slow smirk forming on her lips.

Daevon's not been listening to the other conversation. His smile's a brilliant thing as Aevander agrees to duel him. "Which sword?" he asks.

"It is more, Ser Malcolm, that I hear the joke often." Then, a pause, "Mmm, I think, lovely blade, that it would make them more than nervous. I think that you'd better keep such a society a secret."

"I'm not apologizing to her." Visenya says with a gritting of her jaw, "She was the one who mistreated me, and said rude things to me."

Malcolm leans in to say softly to Eonn and Rona, "A quiet guild, perhaps? A guild that practices somewhere less open than here?" He says seriously, "It is not a joke so much as honest curiosity. I've never seen the like of you and those cats."

Visenya crosses her arms over her chest, and focuses her attention on her brother's go to spar, leaving her alone.

"A secret society," Rona's muses aloud. "I am not accustomed to keeping quiet about my art. But the notion has merit. If Ser Daevon were involved, though, it would lend legitimacy that would be difficult to argue against. Still, I shall give it some thought."

Eonn smiles vaguely. "Perhaps. A guild of water-dancers, though? He is not one."

"You don't have to apologize for you anger, but the ongoing insults seem unwarranted. We'll talk more in a moment. This won't take long," Aevander predicts as he swings over the trailing. "Whichever blade you fancy. I don't think it'll matter.

Malcolm smiles, "I shall leave the choice up to your wisdom, Lady Bravos. Please consider me for membership whatever you decide." He adds in Braavosi, "Secrets keep better with fewer mouths to spread them." He studies Eonn, "He expressed interest in learning to tumble like the Lady here. He may not be, but he certainly would like to be, I think.

Daevon picks up the wooden sword, laying down his bravo blade with great care. He offers the other to Aevander. They're fine things, well balanced for all the material they're made of, a great feat of carpentry. "You should have more faith in yourself, brother."

Eonn smiles at Malcolm, and nods. "You are right about that," he says.

Rona nods to Malcolm. "No, not water dancers, Eonn. that would limit membership far too much," Rona explains. "But only those who practice combat as an art. Those that live and breathe it, and respect it as a worthy pursuit all by itself, rather than merely a means to defend oneself or kill one's enemies."

Malcolm turns back, as the noble brothers appear to be preparing to spar. "I think he feels about the sword much as I do."

Visenya watches mutely.

Eonn laughs, a bit bleakly.

"Come," Rona says, ushering the men toward Visenya. "We must clear the field for them."

"Mmhmm," Aevander replies skeptically as he accepts the sword, testing its balance with a small nod for the thing's craftsmanship. He takes a few practice swings and jabs before settling into a slight crouch and looking over at Daevon. Ready whenever he is.

Malcolm looks sharply at Eonn, but doesn't comment on the laugh. He comes along with Rona willingly enough, honestly curious to see the men spar. He tries to stay on the far side of Rona from the terrifying royal.

Eonn is ushered along. He seems to have the habit of obedience.

Daevon watches Aevander, his every move, wielding the wooden weapon as if it were made of the finest steel. His own stance is side-on. He offers a single nod to Aevander.

Rona inclines her head to Visenya as they approach. "Princess," she says with a smile. "Did your brothers often fight as children? Or is it unusual for them to challenge one another physically?"

Visenya turns her head to look at Rona and her companions, "Daevon did not often fight until he was a squire." She explains before looking back to the fighters, "Everyone suspected he would be delicate. Said it was a shame that the girl twin came out so hale." She smiles a touch, "But he proved everyone wrong."

Aevander closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath, steeling himself. Then he rests his attention on Daveon and steps in to take a jab towards his left, gauging him.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aevander=blades Vs Daevon=blades
< Aevander: Good Success Daevon: Good Success
< Net Result: Daevon wins - Marginal Victory

Eonn nods to Visenya, solemnly. He's silent now.

Malcolm careful watches the sparing, which seems safer than embarrassing himself before the Princess. His expression suggests that he is listening to the conversation and considering it as he watches the brothers fight.

Rona nods to Visenya. "Just so. Both of you have inner strength that has, perhaps, sometimes been unappreciated, no?" Her dark eyes turn to the duel as it begins, lighting up in interest.

Daevon's not looking to win, nor does he want to humiliate Aevander. He begins on the defensive, letting his brother be the one to attack, just enjoying the rhythym of it. For once he uses his sword to parry, he's usually far more inclined to just move out of the way. Wood whacks against wood. His own strikes are at first telegraphed, clear and obvious to defend against with none of the blinding speed he showed against Malcolm, just testing Aevander's defences not trying to break through.

Aevander's hardly one for backflips or show. His sword clacks against his brother's a couple more times as they learn the feel of the other, and perhaps a bit about style and how they make their choices. Then Aevander feints right before trying for a jab at Daevon's torso.

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Aevander=blades Vs Daevon=blades
< Aevander: Good Success Daevon: Great Success
< Net Result: Daevon wins - Solid Victory

"Sometimes I think we are two sides of the same coin. So very different yet so much the same." Visenya says as she watches her brothers. "Aevander has never been particularly interested in combat. He's clever, you see. Better at giving orders."

<FS3> Opposed Roll — Daevon=blades Vs Aevander=blades
< Daevon: Good Success Aevander: Success
< Net Result: Daevon wins - Solid Victory

Daevon can't backflip either, nor does he try to. He doesn't follow the feint, instead he sidesteps it, that jab to his torso meeting thin air. "Nicely done, brother. Your eyes didn't tell." And yet still it didn't hit. He quickens his pace, this time forcing Aevander to move faster, again he's not trying to break his brother's defences, just test them. He wants the thrill of the dance but without the win.

Malcolm says as if to himself, "It is often the case that inner strength is underestimated." He leans forward over the barrier, curious as to Aevander's technique.

Rona nods. "A sharp mind can be as effective as a sharp blade, in the right circumstances." She smirks over at Visenya. "As can an indomitable will."

Aevander only grimaces faintly as his wooden sword jabs at nothing. And then he's backing up a step and fumbling to matching Daevon's quick rebuttal. It's clear enough that if Daevon did want to cut through that defense, he could do so with little effort.

"Indeed it is, Ser Storm." Visenya turns her head to give the bastard a glance and a brief smile that is almost flirtatious in nature before she looks away. "We all have our talents."

Malcolm lowers his head at being addressed by Princess Visenya, "A simple country swordsman wouldn't be in a position to judge." He looks a bit sad watching the spar now, his expression suggesting he is thinking of something else.

Eonn just smiles.

Daevon doesn't want to though. He wants to be that child with a wooden sword flailing it around at his brother, having fun, with no thoughts of winning or losing, or worries that his brother will thrash him. He wants just that smack of swords, and to find some of the comraderie they had as children, to seek out his older brother in the man he's become. He's not toying, not trying to humiliate he just wants that which they once were. "Do you remember?" he asks, his voice soft as his pace relaxes once more.

Aevander huffs a faint laugh as their blades clack, clack, clack, finding a rhythm that's more like choreography than combat. "Yes," he replies quietly. "You always wanted to play me at swords, have epic battles, and I wanted to make puppet shows about them, instead."

"Are you not a Knight, ser?" Visenya asks with a tilt of her head that sends her loose silvery tresses tumbling to one side. "A Knight ought to look a lady in the eye."

Eonn reaches to touch Malcolm's elbow, very lightly.

Daevon smiles and nods. "But you still did. I must have been half your size. You could have easily beat me, but instead you let me dream. You never pushed, never hurt, were always there. It never mattered who won, who lost, did it? It was never about that. We both won by just being brothers." And he lets the sword speak for him.

At Aevander's comment, Malcolm blushes under his dark tan, and looks away, pretending he has heard nothing personal. And then the Princess is rebuking him. There is a flash of terror before he makes himself turn towards her. By the time he faces her, his face is blandly calm. He tilts his face down, but angles his eyes up, so as to be looking down respectfully, but making eye contact as she seems to wish. He makes a low bow, "My apologies, Your Grace. I am not used to such exalted company. A breach of manners was not intended."

Rona pinches her lips in an effort to disguise her amusement at Malcolm's deference. She glances to Visenya curiously, but keeps her silence, watching the little drama unfold.

"I am a Princess, Ser." Visenya says with an amused little smile, "But I am not the Crown Princess. Your manners are startlingly good. You may be naturally born, but you are still a Knight anointed in the oils of the Seven. Be proud of it. You've earned the right to look a Princess in the eye with your own merit."

Eonn glances at Rona and smiles, too.

"Where would be the fun in trouncing my baby brother?" Aevander asks with a soft chuckle. "I always wanted us to be on the same side." Their swords bounce together again and then once more.

"We are, aren't we?" Daevon asks. "Hmm, you know we could…" he shoots a look over at Malcolm and Rona. "With my brother at my side I bet we could defeat them. It's a pity the Lady Bravo doesn't wish to fight today."

Malcolm says softly, "I do my best, Your Grace. While I have traveled, it has not been in the highest circles. I would not want to offend one of your luminousness." he has been trying not to hear what seems a private conversation between the brothers, but at the talk of a group spar, he flashes a brief smile of pure delight, before clamping down on it with his company manners. "I do my best to please, Your Grace. I was not sure of the right address."

Aevander laughs softly. "You really do put too much stock in my skill, brother." He darts a glance over towards the lady bravos and Ser Malcolm, only to find the latter being smiled at by Visenya. "Then again, I suppose we could give it a go."

Visenya looks away from Malcolm to watch her brother's again. "You are far more polite to me than most are, actually."

Rona's eyes flicker toward the dueling brothers, noting their attention aimed her way. But she's been too focused on Visenya and Malcolm to know what they're talking about. Still, she offers Daevon and Aevander a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

"You're clever," Daevon says. "And there's nothing wrong with your skill. You're good. Extremely good for someone who'd much rather be reading about fights than engaging in them. Come on? Are we going to go back and join everyone?"

Eonn looks back to the brothers.

Malcolm stays in the same position, not sure if it is safe to look away, "How could one of my birth dare to be other than polite to one of your stature." He smiles a crooked, self mocking smile, "They's wrap my knuckles at home if I weren't."

"Yes, if you wish," Aevander replies, letting his sword relax down by his side. "I'm not sure I like the way that Storm is making eyes at our sister," he adds quietly. "Perhaps we'd better split that up before it goes on any longer."

<FS3> Visenya rolls Attention: Success.

One of those cats that so often follows Eonn about appears, having sauntered out the city gates and across to the field of combat.

"Aevander," Daevon chides. "Visenya's perfectly capable of dealing with such things herself. She does not need a babysitter. Just enjoy things, please? No more arguing."

Visenya must have overheard Aevander's words as her vague interest in the colorfully garbed Storm is suddenly renewed. She side-steps slightly to stand closer to Malcolm, "Rap your knuckles?" She pouts at the thought, and lays a hand over his suddenly, "How horrible."

Rona has to actually cover her mouth this time to disguise her silent laugh. She turns away, facing Eonn, to avoid notice. Her dark eyes sparkle at the bearded man as she murmurs, "It is like watching a dance, but everyone knows different steps."

Aevander's eyes narrow just a smidge as Visenya moves closer to Malcolm. He huffs out a sharp breath. "You were saying, brother?"

Eonn grins at Rona's comment and replies, "The poor creatures. But it is a wonder, yes."

Malcolm is startled into a look of stark terror as the Princess touches him, which he clams down quickly. He holds his face down, eyes up position, "Please don't cause your brothers to kill me, Your Grace. I am very attached to my head and prefer it to stay on my shoulders. I would take it as a great kindness."

"I was saying you need to relax some, Aevander," Daevon replies. "Have some fun. Do something pleasurable that you enjoy. With other people, not just on your own. You never seem to enjoy yourself very much, apart from when you're reading those books."

<FS3> Visenya rolls Acting: Good Success.

Rona chuckles softly, speaking in Braavosi to Eonn. "<I think that I may leave them to it. This seems to have become a family affair. Though, perhaps you should try to rescue poor Ser Malcolm. He did say that he wished to speak with you.>"

Visenya removes her hand slowly. Reluctantly. Her large amethyst colored eyes become suddenly sad at the rejection. One single tear rolls down her cheek. "Do you not think me pretty?"

Eonn smiles to Rona and replies, «Just so. Perhaps you'd care to join us, for a glass somewhere?» The question is for Rona, but he looks to Malcolm, extending it to the man.

Malcolm looks like he may have accidentally swallowed his tongue, then his shoulders relax and he bows very low, "Thank you for sparing me out of your great beneficence."

"Yes, well, books don't play petty games," Aevander murmurs. "I enjoy myself just fine. You do know how ironic it is, do you not, your advising me to relax."

Rona glances back to see Visenya's emotional reaction. Uh oh. She sidles up to Malcolm's side. "My lady, I am sure that Ser Malcolm is merely overwhelmed by your beauty. As are we all. Ser Malcolm, Eonn was inquiring about that meeting you requested of him." She gestures toward Eonn.

Eonn turns to Visenya and bows to her. He says, "You are the loveliest of women. Spare the poor lad, he's rendered shy by it. And, I pray, excuse us?"

"It is?" Daevon asks. "Why? I relax all the time. Why I'm relaxing just now, can't you see?" He's teasing, gently. He casts a look over at his escaping friends.

"Perhaps I am not as lovely as I first thought?" Visenya says in a teary tone before turning around to face her brothers. She grins at them mischievously.

Malcolm flashes a grateful look at the other two, and starts backing away slowly, lest she strike and gobble him up, "Thank you so much for your kind attentions, Princess. You are as beautiful as the moon and as dazzling as the sun." Back a step, back another step.

"You are surely more lovely than you think," says Eonn, mildly. "You don't see yourself enough to be reminded." Then, to Rona, «Wine, lovely blade?»

"Mmm," Aevander muses, unconvinced. He makes his way over to his 'weeping' sister and tuts softly. "Come walk with us, then, sister. We see your beauty."

Rona gives Visenya a cheshire grin, utterly amused by her antics. But she is covering Malcolm's retreat, so she must follow after him. She gives Eonn a nod, "<Wine. A lot of wine for Ser Malcolm, I think.>"

"Visenya, are you all right?" Daevon asks, filled with concern.

Eonn nods to Rona. He bows again to Visenya, though he doesn't seem to expect her to do anything other than ignore him, and goes back to his white mare. He mounts up.

Malcolm murmurs, «I don't generally drink strong spirits, because of training, but tonight would be a good night for it. To the Quill. perhaps?" He bows and backs until he has enough distance to turn tail and escape with the others.

Visenya wraps her arms around Aevander's shoulders, and presses her face into his shoulder to hide her laughter. Her own shoulders shake as if she were weeping.

Eonn rides over to Rona and Malcolm. «I've a skin or two in my saddlebags,» he says. «Perhaps you'd like to ride down to the beach?»

"Ah, there, there," Aevander murmurs, giving Visenya's back a gentle pat-pat as if soothing her. More quietly, he notes, "It was good of you to let your mouse is get away, poor thing."

Daevon's looking rather bewildered now.

"Poor him or poor me? I'm so /bored/." Visenya says into Aevander's ear, "No one flirts with me except for that skinny Baratheon acolyte."

Malcolm says, "«Anywhere but here. Promise you will get me home. I haven't much experience of unwatered wine.»"

Rona glances back to Daevon with an apologetic shrug before inquiring of Malcolm, "Do you have a horse? Or will we be walking?"

Eonn offers Malcolm his hand, to help the other man mount the great white mare. "Bottle can carry all of us," he tells Rona. It's surely true, his mount looks to be equal parts plow-horse and destrier, and is enormous, heavy-boned and powerful, if no longer young and entirely too even-tempered for a proper war-horse.

Malcolm says, "Not with me, alas. We'll have to share." Relieved, he takes the hand and swings up. "Front or back, Lady Vielo." Some of his twinkle is back, revived by his escape."

Rona eyes the horse, then chuckles. "I will ride in front of Eonn. Hanging onto the back or being squished between the two of you does not sound…ideal." She smirks, reaching for Eonn's hand to mount.

Eonn leans and pulls Malcolm up behind him, then offers his hand to Rona.

"Well, poor you, too, then," Aevader replies gently. "Tough so far as most anyone knows, you're still engaged to the Pansy, which is reason enough to keep their eyes elsewhere."

Malcolm smiles crookedly, "If you say so, Fair Lady. It sounds rather pleasant to me." He wraps an arm around Eonn for safety and checks to make sure his blade is properly sheathed.

"How am I still engaged to a man who is openly speaking badly of our family?" Visenya asks with a sigh. She straightens up to look at Aevander, "I've been betrothed all my life to men who aren't the least bit interested in me."

"Oh, ho ho, I'm sure it does." Rona smirks at Malcolm as she mounts, settling in front of Eonn and leaning back into him for stability. She waves to the Targaryens as they prepare to depart. But she'll see them soon enough at the manse.

Eonn turns the big white mare for the Blackcrown road as soon as Rona is mounted, and urges her into a lope. Best to make a swift escape.

Daevon looks baffled at Visenya. "I thought… has Father still not replied. And is he speaking badly of you? I'll challenge him to a duel again." He waves absently at his friends as they depart.

"I have heard nothing from him. You?" Aevander asks of Visenya. "We could announce the dissolution, but then you can be assured Lord Garvin will wring his hands, call foul and demand recompense."

"Let's do that. I want to see him try and demand compensation from the family." Visenya announces.

"It might be wiser to wait until after the Blackmont matter is settled," Daevon says.

"One of our relatives from King's Landing will be in attendance to observe the duel. Perhaps after it resolves, that may be a good time to make the announcement. Let him e dismissed by someone closer to the king and have an end to it," Aevander suggests.

Daevon nods. "That's a good idea. I'm going to go take Sunshine for a ride now." After his friends, of course. "I'll see you both later." And off he goes to get his horse.

Visenya nods her head to this. "Alright." She allows quietly. That said, she turns to walk back to her own horse.

Which leaves Aevander with his own two legs, which he'll use to carry himself back home, and to his books.

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