(121-04-13) Sympathy for the Dornish
Sympathy for the Dornish
Summary: Please allow me to introduce myself. I am a man of wealth and taste.
Date: April 13, 2014
Related: In Blood, Truth
Players:
Daevon..Sapphyra..Aevander..

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"He was," Sapphyra agrees, patting the spot beside her. "I've known him since I was little .. and I now wish I had spent more time with him when he was here at the manse a few days past." Pale eyes turn down on the needlework in her lap. "Can I get you something to drink?" And by 'I' she obviously means the looming servant that stands in wait for such things.

Daevon's dressed all in black. He takes the seat next to Sapphyra. He did actually send a servant up to Aevander, asking to speak to his brother. He sighs and shakes his head at Sapphyra. "No thank you." Another sigh. "You'd think it would get easier, people dying. There was little chance that Ser Osric was walking away from that Trial of the Seven, unless the Dornish won. He was stubborn, uncompromising, bound by his honour and his sense of right and wrong."

Aevander comes down from upstairs, also dressed all in black. Then again, Aevander always dresses all in black, so there's likely little to be taken from this continued monotony. He's freshly scrubbed and tidy and steps over to the table as he requests of the servant, "Something to eat and juice and water. For all of us. Good morning, Daevon. Cousin." He offers Sapphyra a small smile before tugging out a chair across from the two of them and sinking down into his seat with a small sigh. "Shame about Ser Osric."

As the servant slinks off quietly to do Aevander's bidding, Sapphyra's smile lifts, a ghostly representation of it's normally warm self, but no less genuine. "Good morning," is said with a softness that must come naturally to her. "Yes, we were just talking about him. Daevon was just remembering his knightly greatness." She leans to gently squeeze Daevon's arm before her eyes lift again to Aevander, "Did you know him well?"

"Aevander, can we lend the money to ransom some of the knights?" Daevon asks. "I don't like the idea of them being held for any longer than need be. Two of them are bastards, they don't have funds of their own and it may take some time for the others to acquire payment." He's looking worried, definitely hasn't slept, or if so not well. He sighs. "His death is a great loss to us all."

"Not very," Aevander admits, "I more knew of him, though we spoke on several occasions. He seemed a man that very much tried to live up to the lofty ideals of knighthood." He glances over at Daevon and considers. "Have you spoken to Princess Mariya or Ashara or the men of House Dayne about this, brother? Those being ransomed are being held quite comfortably, as I understand it, their wounds treated where such is required. I would think it might be rather seen as an overstep and an insult to Martell and Dayne if we rush in to ransom their warriors. I've no doubt House Martell and House Dayne both can afford it without assistance."

Daevon just deflates at Aevander's words. He doesn't even try to argue it. "I'm sure it is comfortable being held by those that…" he trails off, sighing.

Sapphyra falls silent for several moments as she listens to the pair. Then, "Surely, inquiries could be made as to who will be ransomed and who is having difficulties with it? If there are some that aren't to Daevon's liking, wouldn't a ransom paid anonymously be possible?" Her attention then shifts to the returning servant, the trays of the requested juice, water, likely also watered down wine. Then on the next tray a large loaf of bread, and fruits of the season, along with eggs, and the smell of some sort of meat - under a covered tray - is brought in and set before them.

Rising to break off a chunk of bread for herself, and spearing a bit of fruit, Sapphyra's eyes linger on Aevander a moment as she picks up the next plate, as if silently asking him if she can serve him something as well.

"Arros isn't being held," Daevon says. "He's been provoking fights. He's angry and upset. He said he was looking for the money, but the ransom was likely to be extremely high. Princess Mariya is distraught, how do I interupt her grief to bring such concerns to her? And he did not wish to speak of it with Princess Ashara. I have little doubt both would ransom him, but… well he's my friend. I'm not going to see him commit suicide by the time it takes to raise the extortionate amount of money. I failed Ser Osric. I don't want to fail Arros."

"No, I am sure that part is difficult," Aevander agrees with a small nod, "but it is part and parcel with dueling, and there is no shame in it, if both sides comport themselves well." He reaches over to collect an apple for himself, crunching down on a bite as he considers. "Anonymously, yes, but that would still say plainly enough the House in question was unable to ransom its own men, and that is humiliating. There are occasions where it may be necessary, but I do not believe, considering the wealth of the Houses to which these knights belong, that it is in this instance." Aevander's brows lift at Arros's behavior. "Then perhaps the Blackrood should hold him, if he's running around making an ass of himself. I doubt such behavior is of a sort Ser Osric would have wanted, for all I'm sure this Sand is shouting his name to the heavens." Aevander has another bite of apple before he continues.

"If Princess Mariya is distraught, then likely she would wish all of her kinsmen around her, and as a Princess of Dorne, she must learn putting her own pain aside for the good of those who serve her. You are her betrothed, Daevon, as well as her good friend, and you both mourn Ser Osric. I can imagine no better presence to comfort her at such a time."

"How many of your friends have you watched die, Aevander?" Daevon asks. "How many of your heroes? How many of your kinfolk? And don't you dare use 'what Ser Osric would have wanted'. How do you know what he'd want? And you don't know Arros. It's not even been a day. She's allowed to rgieve. Where do you think I was all night? Did you know this betrothal was planned?"

"None, brother. Is that something for which I should apologize? I know what Ser Osric would have wanted because I know the manner in which he lived his life. With dignity, with compassion and with the deepest of faith. Do you truly imagine he would approve of Ser Arros Sand's behavior?" Aevander asks with a small frown. "She is allowed to grieve, but she might also arrange for funds for her men while she does so, to the betetrment of all. Or perhaps Princess Ashara is the one to speak to of this, if you feel Mariya is too overwrought." As for the betrothal, he gives a shake of his head. "No, brother, I knew nothing of it, though all things considered, I admit it strikes me as an excellent match."

Daevon shakes his head. "No, it's not. But it's something you should show some compassion for at least. Mariya has lost her goodbrother. Arros a cousin. All of them one of their greatest warriors, a good man. And they saw the city cheer for his death and celebrate. That is difficult." He sighs. "I do not wish to marry. I have never seen it in my future. Likely I shall die before the year is out, and perhaps you, my brother, will need to step into my place."

"I know, Daevon," Aevander agrees gently, "Oldtown cheered because its warriors won, more than because the Dornish lost. The greatest sadness is that I doubt they cared enough about Ser Osric to care one way or the other if he lived or died, so long as he was vanquished. The Dornish have suffered a great loss, but that does not mean they should sully the man's memory with behavior such as Arros Sand is displaying. He met warriors on a field of battle, and he died with honor. It is painful, but it is a risk of the life," one brow quirks, "as you yourself implied just this very moment. That being said, I think you must see being married in your future, now, and do what you can to avoid being slain in the meantime. Perhaps we shouldn't wait the full year. Perhaps we should have the thing done next month."

"Aevander, there's no way that we could arrange a royal wedding in a month," Daevon says. "It will be the most ridiculously grand wedding they have ever seen in OldTown. It will be a holiday for all. It will be the culmination of an epic romance story, and they will see it happen. And it won't be rushed. Perhaps Visenya would be willing to organise some festivities to celebrate the announcement once an appropriate period of mourning for Ser Osric has passed."

"Good," Aevander nods with approval. "Then kindly stay alive for it, or will all look like asses."

"When will you marry, brother?" Daevon asks.

"When I can find a wife that won't mind my spending more time managing the lot of you than with her," Aevander replies wryly, "and one who will require minimal management of her own."

"Elionys?" Daevon asks. "You seem to spend a lot of time with her."

Aevander's shoulders lift and fall in a small shrug. "We shall see."

"I'll write a letter, if you like," Daevon says. "You'd be a far better husband than I."

"Write a letter?" Aevander asks, brows lifting. "From you that is quite the offer brother. But a letter to whom and regarding what?"

Having been mostly silent, listening to the banter between brothers, at the topic of Elionys, Sapphyra's brow lifts a little. "I was unaware that there was a relationship brewing." Her eyes shift to Daevon and back to Aevander.

"To mother," Daevon says. She's the better choice than their father after all. Of course it's an idle threat, Daevon doesn't write letters. "I shall tell her of the friendship that you and Elionys have. She will be delighted, you know. She longs for more grandchildren, or so she said in her last letter to me. You would make her so happy, Aevander." He's teasing, mostly, as all brothers should.

"Oh, you are so thoughtful, brother," Aevander replies with a laugh and a roll of his eyes, "however could I repay your generosity if you were to do such a thing?" His eyes narrow, albeit playfully, "I would find a way." Looking at Sapphyra, he says, "I am not sure there is, princess. Certainly, nothing has been discussed beyond my dear brother's poking. But of course, were anything to become a formal courtship, you and your parents would be the first to hear of it."

Sapphyra laughs softly, her eyes turning down to the early season strawberry before lifting to Aevander again. "I should hope that Elionys would be the first, I'll settle for second or third, past father." She tilts her head at Daevon leaning to playfully poke him.

"You could be married within the month," Daevon says. "You could have children before my own wedding, if you're quick about it. Wouldn't that be lovely?" He smiles at Sapphyra.

"That would be two royal weddings in a single year. Far too exhausting," Aevander points out with a quirk of a smile, "and as the Princess Sapphyra so wisely pointed out, a courtship does require two parties. So, perhaps dont start hanging up the bans just yet."

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