(121-04-27) Liberation
Summary: Ellia is liberating Dorne… one princess at a time.
Date: April 28, 2014
Related: Feeding Fish

As the sun begins to crest the horizon for its morning ascent, the Dornish contingency stirs within the White Manse before setting on out across town. Garbed in widow's finery of obsidian silks and veils, Ellia rides towards the front upon her sable mare. Oldtown is fairly silent in those scant minutes before dawn - most of the city fast asleep from the night before. With one of her personal guards on her left, and Ser Tameron seated upon her right, the somber princess leads them to the Tyrellian Manse. Upon arrival, she announces her party to the stationed guards perhaps slightly less than patient for her audience to be granted.

Ser Tamron wears the colors of House Dayne, as Ellia's mourning will not allow it. However, he keeps a black band tied around one sleeve as a reminder of his own mourning. He stands quietly besides his lady, his sword on his hip but peace-tied, and waits for the door to open.

Once coming to the Isle, they would be shown in, though weapons would have to be peace bound which in and of itself is a tedious thing to do, but the guards insist. Finally once that is taken care of, the proceedings move inside and towards the barracks where a room has been prepared. A plain oak table is seated center with a man clad in blacks and greens behind it. A servant is busy carrying one tray out, that used to contain food, as another bringing fresh wine sees to the man's cup.

Ser Quillian Oakheart, being the other lone man in there barely looks up when the princess or Tameron are shown in. Instead a drink is taken before a smile shines through his beard. Rising up, he does come around to greet. "Good Morning, I did not wait to break my fast-so I do hope you don't find it too rude." Apparently the hour does not bother the Knight. "Do you need refreshment?"

Dark eyes slip around their surroundings as the princess is led through to the designated meeting place. She gives the Westerosi escort a rather shrewd scrutiny - eyes only venturing from the servant once their host rises to offer greeting. The smile is returned with the faintest crack of a curl upon her lip, Ellia raising a hand to stay the man in his offerings, "There are a great many things I find rude, Ser Quillian - breaking one's fast in company is hardly one of them. We are fine, thank you, but by all means if you need to have your fill do not let our presence deter you." Her words are crisp and measured as she shifts her gaze in brief to regard Tameron before again looking back to their host, "Though I am certain your servants have made the introductions, allow me to offer the proper courtesies. I am Princess Ellia Dayne and this is Ser Tameron, my companion. I am to understand one of my knights, Ser Arros, gave offense following the Trial?"

Though it is no Oakheart holding, officially - it serves for here and now. "Indeed? Well, good." The knight states before offering a brief bow to the Princess in response to her greeting, his own amused smirk hard to wipe away at this point. She is given a look over, before he looks back towards Tameron. "I remember him from the trial." meaning this particular granule of sand. A raise of a brow follows, as Quillian moves to sit behind the table- allowing the Dornish to decide what they will do on their own. "He did, the bastard-though not to me. To my sister." And there he looks back to the pair of them. "If he had given offense to me-he likely would not be here, and it would have to be grievous for me to take insult."

Tameron remains quiet and somber, allowing Ellia to speak for him in the question of refreshment. He dips his head in a nod towards Ser Quillian as he is introduced by his princess. He waits, too, for Ellia to chose sitting or standing before he does.

The Dornish princess appears perfectly content to stand, her gloved hands sliding to fold before her as she offers a faint dip of her head in understanding, "I see. And your sister, Ser Quillian, she is a maiden still? That is to say, she has no husband or betrothed by which to champion her in her stead?" Ellia shifts a sidelong glance towards Tameron, giving him a faint bow of his head to grant him permission to sit, should he wish.

Quillian chuckles. "If she did, it would be a surprise to me and the rest of my family." A round about way to say no, but still there is the Princess' answer. "I do not abide insults to women, particularly of my family and House." he adds before he is reaching for his wine and drinking deep. "Do you have the ransom, to pay for Ser Arros?"

No, if the princess will stand, so too shall her knight. Tameron offers the tiniest shake of his head for Ellia's subtle invitation to do otherwise.

"Do you have my sister?" Ellia counters simply as she lets her attentions slide back towards Quillian with a steady gaze. His response elicits a more distinct curl of her lips as she continues, "While your dedication to your sister is a commendable asset, Ser Quillian, I hope you do realize women are hardly as fragile as brothers tend to believe them to be. At least such is the case in Dorne. I would like to believe your Westerosi women are no different. In truth, Ser Arros is a bastard and as such, one must learn to take anything said with a granule of sand. However, he did give insult to a noblewoman - even within Dorne, this is not a practice I condone. You shall have the ransom requested under one provision."

"I do have your sister. She has been in the sparse company of my wife and several friends have come here as well." Quillian replies. "One of them, Ser Arrick paid my honor insult twice while here, so I believe you heard on that as well." Oh the Gargalen. A pause is given though as he looks back towards Ellia, and there he tilts his head, amusedly. "One provision? And which would that be, Princess?"

The mention of the Gargalen does little to satiate the princess, though she retains her composure well enough to elaborate, "That the said ransom be placed towards the dowry for your offended sister in hopes of solidifying a sound marriage match for her. In turn, I shall also see to it that Ser Arros is held accountable for his actions. Your sister shall have him to command as a servant for a period of one week - no more, no less. If during that time, any other transgressions occur - I request to be notified immediately."

Ellia pauses before finally circling back to address the next insult, "In light of the recent transgressions against my people granted by your own people, I do think a little leniency is due where Ser Arrick is concerned. While your own intentions might have indeed been honorable towards my sister, most of your countrymen have not. We have been brutalized, imprisoned, had our kin murdered, and suffered enough loss over the past few weeks to break weaker men - and yet we still forge onward. Ser Arrick is loyal to his throne and Princess Mariya is part of that loyalty. If he spoke out of turn or granted insult upon you, it was undoubtedly because he was uncertain whether you were sincere in your actions. You cannot expect a man to take another at his word, when every word given to him since entering Westerosi lands has been a lie. Were this Dorne and situations reversed? Can you say that you would trust one of my own people had we treated you the same?"

As the Princess speaks, The Blackrood listens thoughtfully enough, before he is nodding ever so slightly. "I am sure my father would be pleased to know the money would be given to my sister. I have enough of my own coin and conqueror's purse." And needless to say Osric's death by his hands have upped his mad street credentials already. Still there is a nod. "I can agree on that." There is a slight smirk there-apparently pleased with the terms thus far. However as the princess circles around there is a small frown showing there on Quillian's features.

"There I must disagree with you-mainly as I only know your people to be false." And there he raises a hand. "This is the truth of things where my family is concerned. I am not looking to slight you further than you have been, Princess." And there he looks back. "Tell me which family keeps a man's bones from his kin-and is not pressured by their liege's to return it? Am I to trust them?"

Tameron's chin lifts and his brows furrow a little. At long last, he speaks, though perhaps Ellia would wish he hadn't. "You believe us to be false, ser, and so you will act falsely with us?" he asks softly. "Is that what we are meant to understand from your words and your letter?"

"It is highly doubtful, Ser Quillian, anyone could slight me or my own any more than we already have been. Quite honestly, House Targaryen's understanding of the term 'hospitality' appears to be as maddening as they are. How it is their bannermen have not yet risen up to overthrow them is beyond me, but that is a different matter entirely," the Dornish princess relates easily as the mention of the bones elicits an arching of her brow. "If any of my people had the bones of your fallen kin, Ser Quillian, you have it on my personal honor they would have been restored to you. In Dorne, we hold our bannermen accountable for their transgressions. Should you seek resolution upon a matter with one of them to no avail, then the onus is upon you to alert House Martell of the situation. There are some lines that not even the bravest of enemies should dare cross…" her words taper as Tameron finally speaks.

"Ser Tameron…" Ellia cautions smoothly, her gaze sliding to her companion before looking back to Quillian, "I am certain Ser Quillian shall let my sister know we have come to take her home. There is no need to escalate this situation into something far grander than it should be. The price for Ser Arros of 350 gold dragons will be delivered within the hour."

"I mean, that I would not be expecting to trust you. For you are false." This said over towards Tameron with a glance. "Did you not get your sword, and your bones? I kept nothing. Nor have I tortured any under my roof-though to guess by how Daevon Targaryen and Arrick Gargalen would bemoan me in my own halls-you'd think I was wearing Mariya like a cloak-despite all proof to her well-being." And there Quillian looks back towards Ellia. A smile is given and the knight rises.

"Indeed I shall. I can be sure to let her know to gather her things and be ready once the ransom arrives, just to be official." Besides he doesn't know how long it will take to wake and get the Princess ready to leave.

Ser Tameron stops talking and presses his lips carefully together, his gaze dropping briefly to his feet. It lifts again as Quillian agrees to fetch Mariya with no further complications, and he glances from the knight to the princess, his expression a mild mixture of both surprise and confusion.

The Dornish princess visibly twitches at the mention of the Targaryen, her composure faltering for the faintest half-second as she grits her teeth beneath a forced fake smile, "It is an accord then." Ellia decrees simply. Her dark gaze slips briefly back towards Tameron before again lighting upon their host, "In the future, Ser Quillian, should you have any issues with any of my people - I would expect you to bring it to my personal attention. Likewise, should we have issue with you or your own, out of courtesy, I shall bring it before you as /civilized/ nobility should do. If there is nothing more in need of address, we should take our leave and allow you to return to your morning business."

"My morning business involves fucking my wife-which I'd not let you interrupt. However. Yes - in the future, I'll be sure not to brandish a sword and stab through the first Dornishman I see." a twitch in his smile before Quillian is looking back towards Tameron. "Good day." he adds, before he is likely to head back to bed and sleep. He will allow a servant to give Mariya the good news. A glance is given back over towards Ellia. "Oh, and Princess. My condolences for your loss." added softly before he makes for the door.

Tameron's brows shoot higher and he very carefully does not say another damn thing. Indeed, the farewell offered to him by Ser Quillian is met with only a prompt nod and the shifting of his weight as he makes to walk for the door.

The Elder Princess of Dorne says nothing further, her chin lifting slightly at the mention of her fallen husband. Slowly her gaze shifts back to reside upon Tameron before giving him a silent nod as she joins him upon their way out.

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