(121-04-10) Little Cockatrice, Little Princess
Little Cockatrice, Little Princess
Summary: After much time apart, Mariya and Arrick meet again at the White Stone Manse.
Date: 04/10/2014
Related: None

White Stone Manse - Starry Street

It is a summer day. The weather is cool and overcast.

This grand manse faces the prestigious Starry Street. The first story is protected by narrow high windows that stop people from seeing inside, but the big windows on the back wall and the four upper stories make the manse bright and airy over all.

The first floor's main hall is brightly lit with lamps to make up for the shortcomings of the street-facing windows. The white walls and polished white marble floors add to the effect, making it seem airy and bright. There's a grand dining room separated from the entry hall by broad doorway. The house is richly decorated and well-appointed, with luxurious furnishings.

Like almost all of the houses in Oldtown, it shares two walls with its neighbors on either side, but the servants quarters, kitchens, and servant's stairs buffer the house proper from any noise that could possibly leak through the thick stone walls. The grand staircase that allows residents and their guests access to the upper stories is of white marble veined with a pleasing yellow-tinged pink.

There's a pleasant walled garden in the back, viewed from the windows in the back wall and accessed through a glass-paneled door.

What with new arrivals, trials of the seven and everything else, the Dornish Manse has been in a state of perpetual movement and ordered chaos. Though Mariya has been markedly in and out the past few days, she has been mostly inside today. For the moment, despite the bustle, the youngest Martell has gathered a tray of fruit that she means to put out in the entrance hall to make it easier for those moving in and out to grab a snack without sneaking in to the kitchens.

With the arrival of Ser Arrick's squire and traveling servant, the Gargalen knight was quick to change into fresh robes and make an appearance downstairs for food and likely discussion of the coming trial. Not seeing anything available in the sitting room or in the entranceway the young knight is pointed towards the kitchen which he brashly invades with a demand, "Lord Blackmont's retinue will be needing fruit and whatever else passes for food in this gods forsaken place set out and available now not later…" The young knight peers at those present and then grinds his teeth as he says to the small Dornish woman gathering fruit onto a tray, "Ahh, Princess Mariya… I did not expect your presence in the kitchen…" The knight then bows his head and offers, "My apologies."

Ser Arrick peers up from his bowed head, surveying the young Princess and adds, "You have definitely grown since I last saw you my Princess."

At the brash entrance, Mariya turns around quite suddenly, startled. An apple rolls off the tray, bouncing once on the floor and then lopsidedly rolls away. Instead of a proper curtsey, she bobs her head before studying the newly arrived knight. There is not exactly a smile at their meeting again, but she does address him directly. "Ser Arrick. Ser Tameron mentioned that you had come with Lord Blackmont's contingent. You have grown as well, though it seems as if your words are still rather short." Still holding the tray, she moves forward - meaning to brush by Ser Arrick and head toward the same entrance hall he was demanding food to be placed. "I'm not sure if I can accept your apology, as I don't know if you're apologizing for the words or that I was the one they were directed toward."

Ser Arrick steps aside and allows the Princess to pass, he bends down in the process and retrieves the fallen apple, wiping it with his bare hands and taking a bite with a hint of satisfaction in each crunch. Following after the Princess the knight says, "The words stand, every servant in that kitchen heard me, more of, I would hate to think a Princess could be commanded to do much of anything, so my apology is most definitely directed towards the little Princess with the tray of fruit."

Ser Arrick tilts his head as he bites into the apple again, waiting for his apology to be accepted.

"Then, I'm not sure I can accept the apology." Moving through the manse, Mariya finds a table in the entrance hall and sets the tray down upon it, making sure it's neatly arranged. "If you wouldn't have apologized to anyone else for those same words, I don't see how you can be sincere. Nor do I think Ashara would like to know that you find her home a godforsaken place." With a roll of her eyes, she plucks a few grapes and then keeps moving. Perhaps there is a room that he will not follow her in. "I was not commanded to bring the fruit to the entrance hall - I thought it would be nice to have it out." Then, somewhat more childishly, she adds, "And I am not little."

Ser Arrick scoffs at the mention of Princess Ashara and he says, "Your cousin's choice of home is of little consequence, Oldtown is no place for our fiery blood and if this mansion could rise into the sky like a Fowler hawk and return us to Sunspear, I would pray to the seven it'd be done swiftly." Ser Arrick continues following along, this chase is easy, chasing Martells up and down the towers of Sunspear was always a favored task when Arrick was a boy, nothing has changed, just a lot less steps.

"You speak of this place almost as if it were YOUR home, but we both know that it decidedly is not. Even if you won't accept my earlier apology, I can't apologize for the truth I speak now." The Gargalen crosses his arms, still with the half-eaten apple in his hand and then adds, "And as far as you are concerned, you will always be the little Princess or if I remember my first years in Sunspear, the baby Princess."

"Oldtown seems a fine place for our fiery blood. As soon as I arrived, tempers started flaring left and right. I'll have to return to Sunspear someday, but there's nothing wrong with enjoying my time here." Mariya doesn't pick up the pace, but neither does she slow down now that she realizes that Arrick means to keep following her. "It's not your place to judge where someone might call home. Ashara likes it here and so do I! It's different."

The restless Martell - in both situation and setting - hits a dead and and whirls around. Now, she is forced to face the offending Gargalen. Mouth agape at the hated nickname, Mariya can think of nothing better to do than pelt one of the grapes that she still has clutched in her hand at him. "I am not the baby Princess!" It's like she's ten again. "You--you—terrible cockatrice!" It's certainly not as cutting as baby Princess, but it's the best she could do under such circumstances.

Arrick falls back, but only a step as the lone grape screams past his head and he says, "Ahh yes, I remember you doing that exact same thing at the top of the Tower of the Sun. I believe it was to one of the Dalt boys though, I think you called him Mr Lemonhead." Arrick chuckles at that memory and says slowly, "Oldtown is no place for a Princess. All it takes is a single Tarly to find the courage to pull a dagger and your great adventure is ended for a second time, only this time more permanently."

Ser Arrick visibly thinks a moment as he takes a bite of his forgotten apple, "And I may be a terrible cockatrice but the truth can be terrible sometimes. There are great adventures to be had in Dorne, a safer place for a baby Princess to roam free, and most important, no Tarlys to bother your babyface."

While on any other occasion, Mariya might have a witty (or somewhat witty) response to Mr. Lemonhead and the grape pelting, today she just stares at Arrick. She opens her mouth to retort, but then snaps it shut almost immediately as her face starts to turn pink and then the more obvious red. "You know nothing about that." It is less embarrassment and more anger that crosses her face as she stares down Arrick, defiant and upset.

Determined to not be caught in the corner between him and freedom, Mariya moves to roughly push past the offending knight, hissing, "And you know nothing about me." She still has more grape ammo, but she has yet to throw them. Perhaps she is saving them for a more opportune moment. "What do you know of Oldtown or great adventures? You prefer the soft and safe Sunspear and look down on anyone who wants to see anything differently. You'll never be as good or as true as the Maiden's Knight."

Arrick scowls at that last line and says as he's brushed past, "I've done my duty to Dorne on more than one occasion and Sunspear is merely where my father requested my presence. I'm not the heir of my house and can adventure as I please. I saw the Stormlands the night before I was knighted and it is made of people who hate us just as the Reach you seem to enjoy oh so much is equally filled with people who hate us!" Arrick teeters on his boot heel and then says with annoyance spreading across his features, "I know about you and it seems to me you've lost your love for Dorne and I cannot understand such. You mention a knight who there's great question as to if he's merely a maiden in disguise and his name fits. I cannot imagine being compared to such or wanting such a comparison. I am a knight of Dorne, a defender of your homeland and sworn to your family and ultimately to you, unless you've forgotten!" Arrick growls the last bit out and then steps back towards the dead end he had originally cornered the Princess. "I imagine there are more grapes to be thrown and I am a willing target my Princess." Arrick sticks out his chin and prepares to be showered in grapes.

"So, we are to just write off all of Westeros because some Reachmen are bigots?" Mariya's disdain can be heard even as she tosses the words over her shoulder. Now her steps are hurried, though she attempts to remain as dignified as is possible to flee from a knight who has already claimed that he means her no harm. "If you think I've lost my love of Dorne, you are a fool. I have no need to explain myself to you. My desire to learn more of this land and these people does not make me love Dorne the less. You say you defend me and our homeland, yet you disdain the man who actually defended me against harm. If you think Ser Daevon a knight not worth comparing yourself to, then you are doubly a fool." Finally, she stops and turns. Disdainfully, she tosses the grapes to his feet - not even attempting to hit him with them. "You think to mock me. But, I do not accept it, Cockatrice."

Arrick peers down at the fallen grapes and steps on one saying, "These people here aren't all just bigots, they'd murder an adventurous Dornish Princess if given the chance. In our time here, we aim to step on them like these little grapes." Arrick steps on another and then scoffs again at the mention of this supposed maiden knight, "A better name for this supposed Maiden knight is likely to be the inbred knight, but as I know of your exploits, I know nothing of his." Arrick pauses his advance and says with his annoyance fading, "As I see you retreating, I shall let you go. Thank you for the fruit and especially the grapes my Princess."

"That is not why we are here." Mariya is stubborn in that. "Because they're not grapes, they're people. Not all of them are good people, but they're people." With narrowed eyes, she watches as Arrick steps on each grape, but does not retreat. "You know nothing of Daevon Targaryen. You seek to dislike him because he is a Targaryen and not because of his deeds - which are many. If you wish to claim prestige such as his, perhaps you should not care so much about the sigil of those you would help and think more of what is right. You may be known in Dorne, but this is not Dorne." Letting Arrick stay where he is, she whirls around, glad that he will stay in the corner and not follow. "No need to thank me, Ser Arrick. It was not done for you. Though, of course, you may keep the grapes."

Ser Arrick puts his hands on his hips and he tosses the pit of the apple up and down and he says to the empty room as he squishes the grapes a little more, "Well, I guess the childish games continue even beyond the Red Mountains…" Arrick chuckles at that as he heads back to the tray of fruit, prepared to enjoy a few more pieces of the offering.

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