(121-04-24) What is Owed
What Is Owed
Summary: In which Aevander and Daevon disagree. Surprise!
Date: April 24, 2014
Related: The Promsie of Anguish to Come, The Dragons' Honor

Daevon's asked to speak with Aevander. He's sitting at his desk, looking over the letter Quillian sent. "Did you get a copy of this?" he asks.

"Most likely," Aevander replies, looking over Daevon's letter. He gives a small nod after reading it. "Yes. I can't say it's any surprise. I would have wanted satisfaction of someone had tried to slap Cerys or Visenya."

"Why did he send it to me?" Daevon asks.

"Because you're the Maiden Knight, Daevon, and this is a fight over a maiden caused by an offense your cousin committed," Aevander replies, easing down into a chair. "He thought you might be interested in attempting to right it."

Daevon looks thoughtful. "I'll need to speak with Ryzael first then and find out why he did such a thing."

"As you like," Aevander replies. "I was witness to the end of it, and I was less than pleased with what I observed of Ryzael. You may wish to speak to Sapphyra, as well, as she was present for the whole of it. For my part, I spoke with Ryzael in an attempt to get him to apologize for his actions. He refused and considers himself the wounded party. I intend to reply to Ser Quillian by informing him he must do as he deems fit, but that I was unable to persuade our cos to the higher road. I also intend to make it known that any who would seek to champion Ryzael in such a fight would do so with our… or at the very least my… deep disapproval."

"Why respond?" Daevon asks. "This letter is, it's not right for any to make demands of us in such a way. If he has an issue with Ryzael then the two of them should deal with it. It's not our place to apologise for his actions or persuade him to apologise himself." He shakes his head. "That's not right to deny him the chance to have a champion to defend himself."

"He's family, of course it's our place," Aevander argues with a shake of his head. "I think to behave so poorly is unacceptable, and if the man is not skilled enough to fight his own battles, he should have a greater care as to who he insults. To call a lady a cunt, raise a hand to her and threaten her with 'blood, anguish and tears'?" Aevander snorts softly. "I do not support his actions, and I will not support any who would champion them."

"Did he say why he did as he did?" Daevon asks. "He's family, but he's not your younger brother for you to tell him what to do. It's just not your place. I think better to stay out of it. You have no right to dictate whether or not Ryzael can have a champion. You've no right to dictate to the rest of us how we act, Aevander. Ryzael's family, sure enough, and while that doesn't mean we stand by him regardless of what he does, it doesn't mean that we should allow someone to threaten one of our own blood like this."

"The Lady Johanna disagreed with him in public," Aevander replies, "and chastised Maelys for participating in the duel. This, is seems, was worthy of Ryzael's wrath." He exhales softly giving his head a small shake. "I dislike what I know of him, Daevon. I dislike his actions, his presumptions, his furies and his self-aggrandizing. I have spoken to him and I have made my expectations clear. If he insists on sullying himself by sainting Maelys and threatening Reach nobility, he will do so without my support or endorsement. I stand with the honor my family and I stand with the King. Ryzael's actions offend both."

"Hmmm," Daevon says quietly. "He's not an entirely terrible man, for all that he greatly admires Maelys. Have a little compassion for a man who almost lost his closest friend. Who was undoubtedly distraught by how close to death Maelys was. That doesn't forgive him for what he did. I just ask, don't take sides. Ser Quillian is not a pleasant man. At least give me some time to talk with Ryzael before you do or say anything."

"I am beginning to find, brother, that our cousin is somewhat of a terrible man," Aevander replies. However, whatever reasoning he has for such a comment, he does not elaborate. "Talk to Ryzael if you wish, but do not wait too long on it. Ser Quillian is not a greatly patient man, either, and he will act, one way or another, with or without a reply from either of us." He stands, arching his back in a slight stretch.

"What did he do?" Daevon asks. He shrugs. "Then let Ser Quillian act. We should not take sides on this. If he challenges Ryzael so be it. Whomever wins will be proved right."

"I have taken a side," Aevander replies, "and you may do as you wish." He offers Daevon a small nod. "Afternoon, brother. I hope it treats you well."

"Aevander, why do you never listen to me?" Daevon asks. "Why do you consider all I do and say wrong? Why is it when I take a side I am wrong. When you do, you're right."

"I listen to you, brother, I just don't always agree with you. Nor you with me," Aevander replies. "It doesn't mean I love you any less. But I am bone-tired of witnessing bullying called royal right and of the assumption that because our name is 'Targaryen', all others should drop to their knees and cower in our glorious presence. Our reputations are what we make of them. They are fluid and changeable and based almost entirely on our behavior. Being a dragon is a metaphor. We cannot actually breathe fire or bite off heads, much as some of us act as if we could. Nor should we wish to. We are owed respect, but not blindly. Not removed from our actions towards others."

"Do you ever agree with me?" Daevon asks. "Do I ever do anything right." He sighs. "I agree with that. I think, with Ryzael, there's a way to speak with him."

"Then do so, for I have most assuredly had no luck," Aevander replies. "You are marrying Mariya Martell. I heartily agree with that."

Daevon laughs. "It was not a choice I made, and I am likely not. I suppose I'll be a disappointment to you again."

"Oh, you're not backing out of it, are you?" Aevander asks with a soft groan. "Because this was ordered by an emissary of the king, and there is truly very little I can do if you make the king wroth."

"No I am not," Daevon says. "I am well aware of the political importance of this marriage. There are other Martells."

"And you… mean to marry one of them and not Mariya?" Aevander tries, his tone perplexed and his brow furrowed.

"Perhaps," Daevon says. He did try to marry a different Martell a few years ago, with his father refusing to even consider the match. Of course Daevon was a hostage at the time.

"Well, brother, whatever has turned you away from Mariya, I suggest you take it up with the king," Aevander replies, scrubbing a hand over his face, "Otherwise, I would prepare yourself for the fact you will be marrying her."

"She shouldn't be held prisoner," Daevon says. "Most certainly not as she is now. It is a great cruelty to expect her to spend her entire life hated by all, despised for her birthplace, and held captive. I won't be her prison."

"Then don't be her prison," Aevander replies. "Begin paving roads now, use the fact you are beloved of the people to win them over to her cause. The point of this alliance is peace. Help that come about. Gods, Daevon, this was ordered by the king. You cannot refuse it. You must help to shape it more to your liking."

"It is not about my living, Aevander," Daevon says. "I am the Maiden's Knight. How can I be true to my name if I'm used to imprison her? She doesn't want any of that. She wants to return to Sunspear and marry a nice Dornishman. She's been through enough."

"That's too bad for Mariya, then," Aevander replies with a quick shake of his head. "She is a princess. She serves her country. Dorne and the Martells are served by peace with Westeros, and she can be an agent of that peace. Do do otherwise would be small, cowardly and unspeakably selfish."

"Easy for you to say," Daevon replies. "Do not speak ill of her."

"It is easy for me to say," Aevander agrees, "And it should be just as easy for her to say, much as she may not wish it. Give her a home, Daevon. Show her you will cherish her, treat her with courtesy and respect, that she will be admired and cared for as your bride. Her happiness is yours to shape."

"I should not have spoke to you of such things," Daevon says.

Aevander sighs softly and glances around the room. Not finding what he seeks he offers, once again, "Then good afternoon to you, brother." And turns to go.

Daevon sighs and lets Aevander go this time.

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