(121-04-30) Wagers and Wild Things
Wagers and Wild Things
Summary: An impromptu Dornish garden party.
Date: 30 April 2014
Related: None

This manse has a large walled garden behind. The tall stone walls have a heavy double oak-and-iron gate leading into the alley behind. It's quite solid, though there is a little door in it that one might open to look out. Near that gate is a stable, a kennels, and a mews. These utilitarian areas are separated from the garden proper by a low stone wall with a gateless entry. It's thickly growing with clematis vines bearing pale purple flowers.

The garden proper has white stone paths and is planted with flowerbeds and flowering trees. Most of the blooms are white and pale blushing pink shades. Near the house is a tall cherry tree that frequently bears a profusion of sweet fruit.

At the center of the garden is a large seven-sided fountain of white marble, filling the air with the sound of its splashing water. Tiny silvery fish live in it.

The midafternoon sun doesn't quite sizzle over Oldtown like the Dornish one would over the desert sand, but the weather is pleasant enough and the day fair besides. On arriving back to the White Stone Manse from a pleasure ride and seeing to their sand steeds, the pair wander into the garden from the stable through the alley-side gate. She's mid-tease: "You may be the better swimmer, I grant, but I still maintain that I am the better rider. Even with a hawk on my arm." She stops at the fountain, dipping her hands in the fresh water to wash them, then splashing a bit on her face.

Ryam chuckles as he hears that. "Oh, you would think so…" he remarks with a grin, before he adds, "Perhaps we will have to have some kind of race at some point, then? I mean, it would be against my honor as a knight, or something like that, not to accept the challenge." Similarily washing his hands in the fountain now.

When she's done refreshing herself, Alaeyna flicks the remaining water from her hands in Ryam's direction, a playful gesture that matches the tone of their banter. "You know I've never been able to refuse a challenge, brother," she answers to his suggestion of a race, flashing him a conspiratorial grin. "But there would have to be a worthy wager to sweeten my inevitable victory."

"Ah, but there is no inevitable victory for you, my dear sister," Ryam replies, stepping a little bit back at the flicked water, before he adds, "But name a wager. It will make my victory so much sweeter.

Alaeyna laughs, the sound as pleasing to the ears as the splashing of the fountain. "So you say, but our contest will speak for itself." Moving away from the fountain, now, she wanders towards the cherry tree, inspecting a low-hanging branch to see for fruit ripe enough to pick. "Let me see. If I win…" she pauses, dramatically considering what might be an amusing wager. "You must color your beard, like those Pentoshi lords do. Pink, I think. Or perhaps Fowler blue."

Listening to that wager, Ryam raises his eyebrows a bit lightly. "Pick one. Blue or pink," he remarks, before he adds, "Of course it will not happen, since I will win. And what will you do when I win?"
Arrick comes out of the manse.

Alaeyna is standing near the cherry tree, engaged in some lively banter with her brother, Ryam. The pair have just returned from a ride and are in the midst of hammering out a wager, the nature of which seems to revolve around determining which of them is better on horseback. "Blue," she decides decisively. "If I win, you must dye your beard blue like a fat old Pentoshi lord." She beams at the idea, like she's already imagining her inevitable victory. "What will I do? Well, not likely much, since I'm sure to best you, but I'll humor you. What say you?"

With an unusual saunter to his step, Ser Arrick Gargalen steps from the white stone manse, seemingly in an good mood. He's wearing his usual Gargalen-colored silks and looks to have little weight upon his shoulders. This man obviously has taken some good news or other recently, there's no telling what that actually was.

With his eyes scanning the garden, Arrick's interest falls upon the pair under the cherry tree, he saunters over offering aloud, "Good day Lady Fowler!" Arrick comes upon the pair and nods to the other man present, an oddly placed smile upon his face. Arrick is happy…Too happy…

"Hmmm, let's see. I have never been good at coming up with good wagers, but let me think." Ryam replies, as he looks a bit thoughtful. At the pick of the color, he looks a bit relieved though. Turning to look around the garden for a few moments, he sees Arrick, offering the man a polite nod. "My lord," he greets him.

Alaeyna favors her bastard-born brother with a grin, taunting him, "At least you ride better than you invent wagers, or you'd truly stand no chance in contest against me." And then saunters in Arrick, his easy gait and wide smile prompting her own good humor to sizzle. "Good afternoon, Ser Arrick. I'm so pleased to see you in such high spirits. I can only imagine the cause." She mocks him with a wonderous tone, as if she knows very well what the cause is. But rather than tease him about it, she ventures to see the two men introduced. "Allow me to present my Dornish twin, Ser Ryam. Our enterprising father got two women with seed in the same year, ravenous man that he was." She speaks of her late father with fierce pride, and then says to her brother, "Ser Arrick is Lord Ander's son." Also, Alaeyna gives Arrick a kiss of greeting.

Taking the kiss from the Fowler woman, as is most important in greeting her Arrick has learned, the Gargalen then more formally greets the other man and he says simply, "Your father was an overactive man it seems, at least you have good protection." Arrick motions towards the Fowler Lady and he adds, "I was never as lucky. Had to protect myself!" Arrick then peers between the two and wonders, "What were you two discussing? A game of some sort?" Arrick loves games… He loves betting, he'll throw in a chip or two no matter.

"It's a pleasure and an honor to meet you, Ser Arrick," Ryam replies with a smile, before he adds, "And yes, our father was not one to rest too much when it came to such matters." A brief pause, before he adds, "My dear sister here thinks she is a better rider than me, and so we are planning a little race to settle that matter. I just need to come up with a proper wager for when I win it."

Alaeyna plucks a handful of dark cherries from a low branch on the tree, biting into the sweet flesh of one with delight. When Ryam explains the matter they're currently debating, Alaeyna interjects with a laugh. "On the contrary, I know myself to be the better rider, and although I am fond of him and wouldn't want to crush his spirits, I've always valued honesty and speaking candidly above most other things. We were just considering the matter of a wager when you arrived. I've named my price, but he's yet to come up with his. Perhaps you might help to inspire him, Ser Arrick?" She cants her head to the side to spit out the cherry's pit unapologetically.

Arrick ponders the gamble and then sizes up the pair with a good once over, he then says, "It's my understanding that Lady Alaeyna is a renowned rider of great steeds, bareback and saddled." Yeah, Arrick could mean all sorts of things with that. "I'd likely place my dragons on her in a tilt, but in this, I must side with my Dornish brother." Arrick peers at Ryam and then says, "While I'm sure she'll ask for something embarrassing of you, I think it's best to fight fire with fire." Arrick nods towards the woman and says, "You'll need to see her pink-faced with whatever you demand of her…" Arrick wonders if there's anything she wouldn't do and says, "I'm just not sure if there's any way to embarrass our dear Lady Alaeyna."

Grinning widely as he listens to both of them, Ryam is unable to hold back a chuckle now. "I'm sure there must be something that can embarrass her, although I have some problems trying to figure out what," he replies, looking a bit thoughtful again. "Hmmm…"

Arrick wins a wicked grin from Alaeyna with his double talk, prompting her to casually agree, "It's true. I'm never so much at ease as when I have a fine Dornish stallion between my thighs." She shrugs a shoulder lazily, a pleasant breeze rippling the layers of cerulean blue silks she wears, the color of House Fowler. "My brother lacks our penchant for a good gamble," she tells Arrick. "I'm positive by now you'd have invented some appropriately scandalous wager to claim from me, nay? Perhaps it is you and I who should have a race."

Arrick allows a chuckle to escape his lips as he states, "I am running on a bit of luck lately, you might not want to stand against me Lady Fowler." Arrick then shows the boots set about his feet and he adds, "I am also the Desert Fox of Dorne milady, there's few who ride as well as I." Arrick is a great rider, he's shown such in Dorne and just recently he placed third in Oldtown's jousting tournament, a definite testament to his skill atop a horse. Eyeing the woman a moment longer the Dornishman says, "I can think of little scandalous activity you would not consider. I CAN think of something rather repulsive however…" Arrick sniggers evilly as he places his bet in Ryam's name, "You'll have to kiss a rather vile Reachmen in some public place and suffer the eyes of scorn of both Dornish and Reachman alike."

"Getting cold feet and wanting to pull out of the race already, sister?" Ryam remarks, with a grin, before he adds, "And it might sound a bit boring, my wagers very often tend to involve coin and such." A pause as he hears Arrick's suggestion, and he offers a wide smile now. "Now that's an idea," he remarks, with a smile.

"It might be amusing just the same, to see what daring wager you might come up with," counters Alaeyna, suffering Arrick's bragging with good humor. That is, until he actually proposes what he does. All the cheer melts from her expression, her tone venomous she replies, "As effortless as it would be to locate a vile one in this town, I'd sooner cut my lips from my face than place them upon a Reachman."

Arrick nods and says to Ryam, "Well, it seems you've already won if she won't take such a wager." Arrick's eyes shift to Alaeyna, watching for a knife to come his way, and he says with a hint of laughter in his voice, "Your riding skills atop a horse must not be as great as we all thought." Of course, any other riding skills likely far exceed what anyone could imagine. "Lady Fowler, I jest, I could never see the lips of a Dornishwoman fouled in such a way. A Dornish Ladies' lips are for a Dornishman." Arrick then adds, noting his company, "And other Dornish ladies of course."

Ryam is unable to hold back some laughter as he sees his sister's reaction, shaking his head a little as he does. "Don't worry, I love you too much for putting you through something like that, dear sister. So I will have to do a bit of thinking to find a good wager instead."

Her temper flashes hot, but when Arrick and Ryam seem amused by her reaction, Alaeyna bites her tongue rather than give them more fodder. She huffs, popping another cherry in her mouth, sucking the sweet flesh from the pit and then spitting it out with distaste. "Let's have no more talk of Reachmen. They sour my mood." She glances at Ryam sideways, and chides him, "Don't encourage Ser Arrick. He's wicked enough as it is."

Arrick looks over the 'sweet' Fowler woman popping cherries into her mouth and says looking rather hurt, "I thought wickedness was something you valued in a Dornishman?" Arrick folds his arms as if questioning her previous words to him. Towards Ryam the knight says, "I'll say just bet her that she CANNOT kiss nor touch anyone in public for a week and see how well that stands up once you beat her." Arrick then reaches up into the tree and grabs a few cherries for himself, popping two of the stemmed delights into his mouth.

Ryam is unable to hold back a grin, "He is? I knew there was something likeable about him." Spoken a bit lightly, as he looks between Arrick and Alaeyna now, offering a grin to his sister. "That sounds like a good one too, to be honest. So that both the race, and the wager is a challenge."

"True," concedes Alaeyna, her harsh reaction to mention of Reachmen softened with amusement over Arrick's ridiculous attempt to look wounded. "And I did, until you proposed I foul these fine lips by touching them to varmint. Now I am forced to reconsider my position." Her good humor has started to return, though, her tone tempered with a bit of a tease for Arrick. When the new wager is proposed, she seems not to like it much better. "What you ask is impossible," she protests.

Mention temptation, and here she comes; amidst a flurry of light silk skirts slit to her waist, cradling a little bundle of swaddling to her chest, Alia exits the manse into the little walled garden behind. Her attention is mostly focussed on whatever she has wrapped up, but dark eyes flit up at the sounds of voices. "Ah, my loves," she purrs, her smile growing as she sashays over to counter: "Nothing is impossible, hmm?"

"This is, I promise. We're arguing over a suitable wager for my brother to assert if he manages to overcome all odds and best me in a race on horseback. Ser Arrick suggests I not be allowed to indulge in any physical intimacy for a week. Disproportionately cruel, wouldn't you say?" Despite her dramatic overtures, Alaeyna brightens just at the mere sight of Alia, breaking pose order to be the first to greet her. She sidles up to the beautiful Sand woman, nibbling on her ear and kissing her cheek, then peering down at the bundle of whatever it is she's holding in her arms.

"He said 'in public'," Ryam points out, before he grins at Alaeyna. "But did you not claim that me winning would be impossible too, sister of mine? Have you started to reconsider that position?" Said a bit lightly, before he grins to Alia. Also looking curious about the bundle the other Sand is carrying.

Arrick sighs, as another bet is deemed impossible and he says, "I can understand you not wishing your lips to go to waste, especially considering the companions you've brought along milady." Arrick's eyes go over to the newly arrived Alia, who suggests the impossible is in fact possible. Arrick ponders that a moment, then says to the new arrival as he finally spits the stems of the cherries he has been chewing on to the ground, "Do you believe Lady Alaeyna would be capable of keeping her hands to herself for but a weeks time?" Arrick then nods to Ryam, repeating the man's words, "I did say public, that's very true!"

The little creature is asleep, a wad of coarse lashes covering each of its closed eyes. Black as sin, and furry — it is some sort of cub, far to big to be a kitten. Alia adjusts her grip that she might cradle it with one arm, slinking the other about Alaeyna's waist as her lover comes close. She revels in those little attentions paid her, dark eyes bright as she teases, "Then I do stand corrected, my love." She winks encouragingly at Ryam, before continuing on in her thick Rhoynish drawl re: the cub, "One of my littles found him on the journey here, isn't he beautiful? I am thinking to name him, but I cannot decide what." Gracing the lady Fowler's shoulder with an affectionate kiss, she starts to laugh, eyes sliding to Arrick. "A week is a very long time, my darling, with all these temptations about. Perhaps… a day?"

When this caveat about in public gets mentioned a few more times, it prompts Alaeyna to reconsider the whole thing. "Very well. In the extremely unlikely event you triumph over me, brother, I accept your wager. And if either of you happen to desire my company in the week to follow, you'll know to seek me out in my chambers, where I will have sequestered myself with what I imagine would be a willing hostage." This last is to Alia, and she punctuates her words with another kiss, this one placed near the corner of her paramour's mouth. When the small cub is revealed beneath its swaddling, her eyes widen with delight, and she observes, "We've arrived with quite a menagerie, haven't we?"

Ryam looks about to say something, before he grins as the wager is accepted. "Excellent, then," he offers, before he smiles as the cub is revealed, looking to the animal now. "He looks quite beautiful," he says, with a smile.

Arrick laughs at Alaeyna's words and he says, "I figured as much, you'll likely become a very private person for the week after your brother's victory." Arrick shifts his eyes towards Ryam and he says, "I do hope my boasting builds you up, I like to support winners." As everyone's interest turns to the cub, Arrick remarks towards Alia and her bundle of joy, "Oh dear, if Princess Mariya spies your new friend she'll likely want one for herself." Arrick points to himself and adds, "I"ll be the one retrieving it for her I'm sure."

He stretches in his sleep, the little cub, a chubby paw on the end of a somewhat lanky leg peeking out of his swaddling clothes to reveal some colouring — a dark mottle over his black fur. Alia catches that kiss to the corner of her mouth, hungrily insisting on another to Alaeyna's lips before she speaks again. "Indeed, we have. When Jana brought him to me, I could not turn him away; wait until you hear his little squeakings. Ah! Do not count your snakes before they hatch, my sweetness," she warns Ryam, "Your sister is as much a rider as yourself, hmm?" As the little cub settles again, she lights another smile upon Arrick. "But what a fine errand, mhmm? How is your head, darling?"

The pair share another kiss, and then Alaeyna reaches for the creature's meaty paw, gently stroking it with the tips of her fingers. She suggests with a grin, "Perhaps we should call him Your Grace. He's sure to be as beautifully fearsome as a Dornish prince when he grows into those feet." When Alia vouches for her prowess in the saddle, she preens, shooting her brother a knowing look. "We will need settle this sooner than later. I don't think I can suffer your bragging for long." Her words are playful, and then she's back to fawning over the cub. Idly, she tells Alia, "He's made a remarkable recovery."

Ryam nods as he hears that, "She is a skilled rider, that is true," he replies to Alia, before he offers Arrick a grin. He chuckles at Alaeyna, nodding a little. "Just pick the time, and I will be ready," he replies.

Arrick wipes his brow and exclaims happily to Alia, "The healers at the citadel cannot figure out just how the fog lifted so quickly, but it definitely has." Arrick runs a hand through his long hair now and he grins slightly as he adds, "There's a great healer in the white stone manse who's mere touch managed to cure me of any ills. I just cannot reveal this mystery healer." Arrick raises his arm and shows his bandaged wrist and then smirks as he reveals, "This healer has not yet managed to fix this problem just yet, but I know she will." Oops. Arrick definitely let out something there, but there's lots of 'shes' with the special touch of healing. It could be anyone!

"How very fortunate, darling," Alia responds, highly amused for all that vagueness from Arrick. She dips her head to a graceful nod, allowing with another wink, "Such deft hands as to ease away your fog must be very talented, indeed." The cub stirs again, batting sleepily at Alaeyna's hand. "Mmm," she laughs, face turning back to her lover, "I am sure he will be fierce. How about 'Prince'?" And with another glance over to Ryam, she can't help but to laugh again. "So eager to prove yourself the better, hmm?"

Alaeyna looks between Arrick and Alia, following the glances and vague speech between them with her own amusement. But she's thoroughly enamored with the cub, whose fat foot she continues to toy with, delighted when it stirs to bat at her. "I like it," she tells Alia, grinning. "As long as he befriends my hawk, that we might hunt with them both in tandem." About her brother, she observes, "He's always been so. But I never tire of competing with him."

"I can't help that it is in my blood, my dear," Ryam replies to Alia, with a quiet grin, before he nods at Alaeyna, "Something which makes me very happy," he replies. A grin is offered to Arrick at his little slip now. "There is a 'she' that has a good healing touch around here? Might be worth it to take a wound or something, then?" Spoken a little lightly now.

Arrick grins at Ryam and he says referencing Alaeyna's bastard brother, "All Dornishman know their way about the saddle, while I know Dornish women are our equals in almost every way, I fear Lady Fowler is overmatched in this sort of riding." Arrick shrugs at his repeated thoughts and then as Ryam suggests taking a wound, Arrick scoffs saying, "This healer is not likely to offer her services easily."

The cub starts to growl half-heartedly, opening his eyes to see just who's toying with him. His claws come out, sharp little things, ready to rake at Alaeyna's hand now that he's awake. Alia unwinds her arm from Alaeyna's waist, that she might change her grip on the little scamp as his movements become a little more energetic. "Your blood runs hot, yes I know it," she tells Ryam, serious despite her smirk. "If you take a wound though, darling, we shall never hear the end of Alaeyna's crowing over your loss," she adds to Arrick's scoffing, trying to contain more laughter and keep ahold of Prince.

"Oh, look. The little princeling rises to my bait as swiftly as Ser Arrick does," observes Alaeyna playfully, shooting a look at the Gargalen knight over her shoulder. The group are clustered up in the garden around the cherry tree, Alaeyna and Alia paired up with Arrick and Ryam nearby. The afternoon is pleasant, but holds nothing of the intense, dry heat of their homeland.

"Thanks for the warning," Ryam remarks, with a grin, at Arrick's words. Nodding a bit at what Alia says as well, and smiling a bit as he sees the cub now. "Ah, he awakens," he offers, with a smile.

From the Manse, Mariya steps into the garden. The pleasant afternoon has drawn her from her rooms. Still getting used to being free and returned, she glances about with a happy sigh before her eyes drift to the cherry tree and those gathered there. Her hands clasp in front of her and she makes her way to the Dornish group and the small cub, curiosity over the animal winning over the urge to disappear back into the Manse.

As Mariya draws close to the cub held in Alia's arms, Alaeyna wastes no time in dipping her head deferentially and saying to her, "Princess. House Fowler is relieved to see you looking so well. My brother and I are yours to command while we are here in Oldtown."

Always keeping an eye out for new visitors to the garden, Ser Arrick spots a certain Princess making her way towards the assembled group of Dornish men and women. Not wanting to be too obvious about greeting her, the Gargalen waves her over and says aloud, "Princess Mariya, come see the household's newest prince!" Arrick peers over at the small cub and he then whispers to the group, "Just watch, I bet there's another of these about within a week's time."

"Just so," Alia replies to both Ryam's offering and Alaeyna, her smile all honey-warm. "Welcome back awake, little Prince," she tells the cub, hooking her thumbs under his little fore-shoulders to raise him up in front of her. The swaddling falls away, revealing the dark mottling all over, and his thick furry tail, lashing about regally. He yawns, jaw quivering, his sharp white teeth stark against all that black and brown, though Alia's attention is drawn away as the courtesies start for her sister. "Mariya," she greets affectionately, sadly without an arm free to hug. "My darling baby sister, you are more and more beautiful every time my eyes chance upon you, hmm? Come, look, see what little Jana found — yes, we have named him Prince." That last, an agreement for Arrick's words.

Smiling as he listens for now, Ryam turns to Mariya as he hears his sister greet her. "Princess." It's offered with a polite bow now, otherwise keeping silent for the moment.

At the greeting, Mariya smiles warmly at the newcomers to Oldtown. "Thank you, all of you, for coming all this way. It is good to see you. You all look well." Giving her half sister a warm smile, she moves close enough to lean forward to study the furry new member of the household. "I hope your journey was not too hard. It is nice to come home to such friendly faces." Arrick's greeting gets a blush and a flash of a grin, but she quickly returns her attention to the small cub. "Well, isn't he darling? A perfect name for such a regal animal." She does not reach a hand to pet the small creature yet. Instead, she rests her hands on her knees as she bends forward.

As the sisters reunite, Alaeyna casually peels from Alia's side after kissing her cheek, leaving the Martell women to each other's company for the moment. She moves to Ryam's side, telling him, "I think I'll run indoors and see if I can't coerce Lorenzo into joining us." She offers Arrick a kiss, too, before departing from the little garden party and ducking indoors.

As Lady Alaeyna Fowler leaves with a kiss, Arrick motions towards the small animal and asks Alia, "Do you think he'd hate being held by someone other than his new mother?" Arrick moves alongside the cub mother and adds, "I'd like to try my hand at caring for such an animal. Horses and hawks are almost too easy, this looks like a challenge!" Arrick looks towards Mariya now and he nudges her ever so slightly saying in a soft voice, "Well, go on Princess, pet him."

"He knows better than to bite a Princess of Dorne," Alia encourages as Mariya bends forward to look at the little cub, unable to keep her eyes from wandering after Alaeyna as she retreats. Prince undoubtedly doesn't know better, and he yelps and struggles against Alia's grip, lanky legs kicking. The short little Sand woman tucks him in close to her chest to better restrain him, which does at least seem to settle him a bit. "If you would like to give it a try, my darling Ser, you may be my guest," she responds, adding, "It isn't so far difficult to take care of him, but… he will get bigger. I imagine the day will come when a manse cannot hold him, and he will want for the wild mountains again, hmm?"

Ryam smiles, nodding as Alaeyne takes her leave, looking between the others for a few moments, before he smiles. "That day will probably come sooner or later," he replies to Alia, nodding a little now. "Sssh, it is okay," he offers to the animal, words kept quiet now.

Mariya watches Alaeyna go with a smile before returning her attention to Prince, studiously not looking at Arrick and instead focusing on cute animal in front of her. "Oh, I don't wish to startle him," she says softly at the nudge. However, she does hold a hand out, hovering close to the animal's head. That is about when the cub starts to start to struggle and she quickly pulls her hand back, unwilling to startle it further. Agreeing with Ryam, she nods. Still, she can't help but quip, "Though, keeping him fully grown would be quite the deterrent for thieves."

Arrick's brow furrows as he peers at the little animal, he then says, "I like to think knights deter thieves from thieving." Arrick looks off into the distance, showing how highly he thinks of his himself with a pose. He then returns his gaze to the little animal and then shakes his head at Alia's offer, changing his mind, "On second thought, I don't know if I could actually hold such a small, fragile thing and not break it…" Arrick looks to the Princess and he says, "You're so gentle, I thought you'd jump at the chance to hold such a creature."

Prince's eyes are a dull grey-blue, and his wiry little collection of whiskers twitch as Mariya's hand comes close. He darts his gaze curiously over the Princess after his little struggle, and then to Ryam, seemingly intrigued by that soft reassurance. He tilts his head. Alia's laughter rings throughout the garden again, delighted as she is by Mariya's quip. "A deterrent for many things, I should think," she agrees, taking in Arrick's pose with a grin. "Very ferocious," she humours the Gargalen knight. "Were I a thief I would surely run at the sight of you."

"Yes, everything will be okay," Ryam offers to Prince, still speaking softly now. Looking between the others, he grins to Arrick. "Well, while we might deter the thieves a bit, this guy, when grown, could probably eat anyone that dared breaking in, right?"

Finally, Mariya glances at Arrick, giggling at the pose. "With you and Prince we would have the safest Manse in Oldtown." Straightening, folds her arms. "I would love to, but the poor thing is surrounded by a strange new place. I'll wait until he's gotten accustomed to us." Watching as the young cub's eyes dart about the group, she nods. "He's very sweet. I am sure he'll allow me to pet him another time." Then, she laughs at Ryam's observation. "He could at that. Hopefully it will only be enemies he eats." Glancing back to the door, she curtseys, "I should head back inside."

Letting the formality he lacked in his greeting of the Princess shine, Arrick bows to the Princess and says towards her path back to the manse, "It's wonderful to have you back with us milady! May the seven bless your evening!" Arrick then grins back at Ryam and he says about the cub, "I bet this little thing is likely to eat anyone who crosses him as he breaks his fast…But I could be wrong."

"We will make sure of it," Alia says with firm resolve and another grin, of Prince's diet — enemies only, no friends. "Come, my sweet girl, we will walk you in. I will see some salve delivered to your chambers, Arrick, hmm? For the bruising." She turns then, too, heading inside as the cub climbs in her arms to peek over her shoulder at the men. New friends, perhaps!

Ryam smiles, as he listens to the others now, "It was a pleasure to meet you, Princess," he offers to Mariya, before he smiles as he looks between the others now.

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