(121-05-13) Sharper Than Thorns
Sharper Than Thorns
Summary: Florents and Florent-to-be converse over lunch and receive a guest.
Date: Date of play (13/05/121)
Related: None

Foxearth Manse Starry Street
Tue May 13, 121 ((Tue May 13 09:44:14 2014))
It is a summer morning. The weather is cool and stormy.

This manse's front door has a red-gold fox's head painted on it, and the doorframe tiled with a mosaic of blue flowers.
Like most of Oldtown's houses, the lower part of the building's facade has no windows, but here this does not make for a dark great hall — the ceiling is so high that grand tall windows up twelve feet above the street level let in plenty of light. They're of coloured glass, blue and green and reddish-amber and white, pieced together into scenes of foxes running amid blue flowers. The floor of the grand hall is bright golden oak, the walls plastered pristine white, and the baseboards, crown moldings and doorframes are all mosaics of semi-precious stone, green beryl and lapis lazuli and carnelian, continuing the fox-and-flower theme.
In the center of the room there's a set of plush couches and chairs, covered in light blue brocade, with a couple of bright wooden tables at their sides to form an elegant space for conversation. Sideboards of similar glossy wood stand along the walls, bearing numerous delicately painted vases, all kept full of fresh blooms.
On the East side of the room is a wide arched doorway leading into the dining hall, a magnificent chamber that can seat at least thirty. Beyond it there are hidden doors leading to the kitchens and the servant's quarters. On the West side is a great curling staircase, leading up. It's newel post is carved into the shape of a fox, standing on its hind legs to look curiously up the stairs. He is leafed in reddish gold, and his eyes are carved of amber. At the back of the hall there are large windows looking out into the back garden, and double doors giving access.

At midday in the Foxearth manse, the common room's table is occupied by luncheon. A selection of fish and fowl are the dishes of the day, with cold meats and breads remaining from breakfast rounding out the repast. Abram sits at the table, across from the Florent-to-be, Valerity. Idly spreading a bit of cheese over a heel of bread, the knight is in the midst of asking what the lady thinks the Derring Downs variant on the Florent fox and flowers crest ought to be. "Caelin had said a fox with a dead rabbit in its jaws, though I can't recall if he seemed to be joking or not."

"A dead rabbit?" Valerity wrinkles her nose, shaking her head with a chuckle. "Whatever for?" She reaches across and drags a fingertip through the soft cheese on Abram's bread, popping the fignertip and its pilfered dairy into her mouth.

"With the words, 'we do not dig.' That part is vital to the humor." The black-haired, younger Florent adds as he emerges from the gardens discretely, where he has had his head firmly buried in paperwork. He gives the slightest of smiles, shrugging off his own… joke? and approaching the table before offering a bow to Valerity. "Good afternoon, my lady." He looks to Abram, waiting a formal introduction.

"Well, give me a better idea," Abram rebutts with a crooked grin, and brow-arching 'Really?' look to the finger trail in his cheese. Sniffing in amusement, he takes a bite from the bread, asking with a chuckle around his mouthful, "Would you prefer the fox devouring a cluster of grapes?" Then Caelin enters, and Abram cracks a broad smile. "Ah! Speak of the Stranger and he will appear." Rising to his feet, he glances a side to the lady, a wicked smile tugging at his lip as he begins, "Valerity.. This is the unlikely heir to Brightwater Keep, my cousin Ser Caelin Florent. Caelin," he looks to his kinsman, "This is Valerity, a Redwyne for some short time yet."

"I would think a fox drowning in a vat of wine would be more appropriate," Valerity replies, a dimple deep on her cheek. Caelin's elaboration on the proposed crest elicits a laugh. "Ah-ha." She stands in a smooth, seamless motion, extending a hand to her Florent's cousin. "Hello, unlikely heir. I'm the equally-if-not-more unlikely bride." Then she suggests, "Perhaps a fox with a yellow rose beneath its paw. Teeth bared. And the words, 'Sharper than Thorns.'"

Caelin takes the offered hand, bowing a second time to brush his lips briefly over the back. He offers a bit warmer of a smile as the unlikely heir straightens. "It is a pleasure to meet you, my lady. And I hope to welcome you to the family." He looks to his cousin, and then laughs at that last suggestion. Like his smile, the laugh is subdued, brief, but not robotic. "A charming notion, although I would hope we could be a bit more discrete than that."

Abram protests deadpan to Valerity's first jape, "I haven't drowned." He barks out a sharp laugh in the same moment as Caelin at her latter quip. "My Lady, you were truly meant to be a Florent. Sit, sit, join us for the midday repast, Caelin," he invites, sparing a hand and moment to see Valerity returned to her seat before he retakes his own.

"Alas, discretion. The enemy of fun," says Valerity, dimples on both cheeks, now. She inclines her head and drips a brief curtsy to Caelin transferring her hand to Abram and resuming her seat. "Please," she adds her voice to the invitation with a pleasant nod.

Caelin inclines his head at the invitation, taking a seat and placing a cornhen on his plate. He eats methodically, neatly, chewing and swallowing before speaking. "If not a vat of wine, then the grapes idea has merit. It would seem an appropriate celebration of your union, cousin." He pours a glass of water for himself, however.

Abram chuckles, a far more casual dining companion than his fellow Florent. Leaning one elbow on the table in order to reach for the pitcher of wine, refilling his own goblet, Abram comments with a smile, "Mayhap I'll simply add a red cadence to the blazon, that would be the most boring and therefore most discreet choice." Glancing back to Valerity, he notes in a shift of subject, "My good cousin here has been entertaining the idea of mending fences with the Dornishmen, in the wake of recent events. Any luck on that, Caelin?"

Valerity takes up her wine, sipping delicately. "I still like the vat," she says, then shakes her head at the suggestion of a red blazon. "Far too subtle. If the Florents of Derring Downs will be known for anything, I think, it will be personality." And ears. "And ears." She couldn't not. The subject of the Dornish catches her interest keen, however, and she lofts her eyebrows at Caelin. "How are you thinking to go about that?"

"Marriage, preferably." The black-haired man sips water thoughtfully, placing the glass down, although his lips quirk at the ears comment briefly. "It seems a good time for it. The Dornish need friends in the Reach, the Crown wants to see those fences mended very much. If the Tyrells have no wish to be loyal servants of the King, I suppose we can step into the breach."

"Personality and ears. My Lady may have just written my epitaph," Abram notes with amusement stirring in his throat as he draws a drought of wine. Content to let the subject shift, he glances between Caelin and Valerity as the means and methods of smoothing relations are discussed.

"Well, since this one seems to be mine," says Valerity, glancing at Abram and back to Caelin, "and you cannot have him… does this mean you intend to step into the breach, yourself, milord?"

Tironos has arrived.

The two Florents and one Florent-to-be are inside the dining hall, enjoying a lunch. Caelin eats very precisely and neatly, fork and knife in hand as he dissects a Cornish hen. Or maybe it's Dornish hen in this setting. Either way. "One does what one must. To be honest, it is not so terrible a burden, really-" He pauses, looking up as Seranos, one of the servants, announces a visitor.

Abram rolls his shoulders and chuckles quietly as Valerity quips to his own status, glass raised in smiling concession to the lady. "Aye, don't look to me. That is one area in which dueling is clearly not the correct course of action." Several of them resided within the Hightower of late, did they not?" he wonders of Valerity on the subject of the Dornish.

"The ladies did," says Valerity, frowning a little distractedly. "I came to be extremely fond of Princess Mariya, in that time." She gives her head a shake and looks back to Caelin. "So which lady of Dorne has enchanted you, milord? I daresay a man who characterizes marriage as 'not so terrible a burden' is halfway in love, already."

Tironos was back at Foxearth Manse once again for yet another Florent. As he had sent word ahead it helped him gain entry a bit easier then normal. Being lead through the manse by a servant to tall knight ducks down as he enters the dining hall, once inside he returns to his full height of six foot eight, which might explain why he ducks down in doorways, even if they are actually high enough for him to pass through without. Dressed in a tunic, pants, boots, and doublet of House-neutral colors.
Mocha eyes scan the occupants and what they are doing before a baritone voice says, "Forgive the interruption, I asked to be let in when not intruding on important matters." The human giant nods respectfully to Valerity, Abram, and finally Caelin saying, "Greetings My lady. I was not expecting to see you again so quickly Ser Abram." then to Caelin he says, "I came to speak with you, but as it appears you are busy I can return another time Ser Caelin if you need the time with your family and guests."

Caelin stands as Seranos quietly introduces the visitor and slips back into the shadows. "Ser Tironos." The Black Fox inclines his head in greeting, before looking back up to the man. "A pleasure to meet you. Please, it is no trouble. We were simply dining on lunch. You are more than welcome to join us." He beckons for a chair to be brought out for the large knight, returning to his own seat.

Sera has arrived.

Abram raises his glass to Tironos as the Tarly re-enters the manse, an easy grin warms his expression as he quips, "Come back to make certain I truly am spoken for? Tis pity tis true, I'm afraid," rising again to his feet and once more stepping to lend Valerity his hand, bending in a bow over her hand, speaking before giving her fingers a kiss, "Lady Valerity," he rises, and glances to the new guest. "May I present Ser Tironos Tarly. Ser, this is my wife-to-be. What brings you back?"

Valerity stands to be presented, dipping an elegant — if brief — curtsy as her name is given. "Ser Tironos." She lofts a dark, dramatic eyebrow, though her dimples are merry. "Have you been trying to pilfer my fennec fox, Ser? If that's the case, I fear we may not be friends."

Tironos bows his head respectfully to Caelin as he takes the offered seat once its brought forth and says, "Thank you but I finished eating before coming here, though I will accept wine if you have any." He then looks to Abram and says, "Reviewing the final name given actually." He then bows his head respectfully to lady and says, "A pleasure Lady Valerity." in a formal tone. He then smiles softly to Valerity and says, "Fear not my lady. To be a bit direct, my younger sister was betrothed very young and has saved herself for him. Recently however things fell apart a bit and the betrothal was annulled. She feels her time here has been wasted a bit due to this and as she is still here she's asked me as her brother to find respectable and honorable Lords or knights worthy of her, who will also treat her as the lady she is. I asked one of the few I know who might have been able to help with such and was given four names. Your intended was among them, though he was more at the bottom of the list."
Looking to Abram adding, "no offense intended." then back to Valerity, "This is mostly due to the fact it was suggested he may have already been betrothed, it just wasn't certain. I confirmed this, at which point there was no further need to continue the discussion." He then looks to Caelin saying, "Now I am on the last name given. If you are willing to discuss the matter amongst family Ser Caelin, and you are not already betrothed yourself, so far two of the four are already betrothed."

Making her way down the stairwell is one Sera Florent. Dressed in her usual attire with her back fully exposed and her hair braided in an intricate plait about her head, she trails her fingers against the bannister as she makes her way to the ground floor. The sounds of more than the usual people forces her to pause briefly before she grins and makes her way towards the sitting room. She pokes her head in to see if that is where the group has gathered, catching the tail end of the conversation. Her eyes scan the room while her lips pull back into a wide grin. "Cousins, soon-to-be Goodcousin! And-.." She pauses in her greeting as she looks up, and up, and up at the tall man that is Tironos. "Cousins, I…I think we may have a giant in our midst. I had thought they only existed in my mother's stories about the North…."

Sera then flicks her teal eyes towards Caelin as her grins widely, "What's this I hear about bottom of the list and betrothals? Are you leaving me, cousin Caelin? And here I had thought I had your heart forever." She is teasing of course, right? Right??

"Ah," says Valerity, sipping her wine and regarding Ser Tironos over the cup as he explains his sister's predicament. "By all means, Ser, do make haste. It's well known that, past the age of ten-and-eight, all a lady's charms are quite withered on the vine." The words are very, very dry, and so she summarily wets her tongue again. She smiles at Sera in greeting, settling back into her chair.

Abram smiles easily to Tironos, "Oh, no offense taken. I wouldn't want to see me betrothed to my sister, either." Sera's entrance is met with a deeper grin. "Cousin, just in time for lunch," as he greets the young lady, he is pouring wine into a goblet and offering it to the Tarly. A glance aside with narrowed eyes at Valerity. "Fennec fox, is it? I heard that. Likely on account of the ears." Further jests are left off as Tironos addresses the reason for his visit to Caelin.

Caelin sets his fork down in surprise, blinking once. His gaze goes up as Sera joins them, his cousin's words making a smile flicker across the man's face. "Alas, duty compels me elsewhere. We must leave our ill-fated love to the poets." He laughs softly, beckoning the manservant for wine as he considers Tironos's words a moment. "I am untaken, Ser, yes. I am honored by the proposal, and would certainly be happy to meet with your sister and get to know her. I will of course have to consider any such proposal in light of my house's best interests, however."

The seated giant stands a moment to bow his head respectively to Sera and says, "My lady. I fear the stories are true, I have come to claim the good men of the roses to repopulate the north with giants." offering a soft smile in jest as he retakes his seat. He then adds, "It would seem, judging by my siblings, I am the only giant left." chuckling softly. His mocha eyes shift to Valerity as he says, "It is a sister's request, and after not knowing she existed for pretty much her entire life, I feel compelled to make the effort to help her." Then to Abram he adds, "The fennec and the giant, perhaps we should hire a troubadour," chuckling softly. He then looks to Caelin saying, "I have no say in the matter regardless, as that lies with my father obviously. Though if you have questions feel free to ask them and I will do what I can to answer them. Though those I have spoken to seem to all agree you would fit the preference well." As an after-thought hits him he smiles and adds, "Rest assured, of the four children of Lord Alan Tarly I know about, I am the only giant. My siblings are closer to typical heights, though my sister does look more like a Lannister then a Tarly in regards to her hair and eyes."

"Past ten-and-eight is it? Well I suppose nothing is left for me but to turn into wine," Sera bemoans teasingly as she slips in to join them more fully. She eyes the food but heads for the wine first, reaching to grab a glass and moving to pick up a flagon in order to fill it as well. "A love for the poets, alas the fates have ruined me! But I do not blame you cousin, wine is not very fitting for the heir." She chuckles softly lifting up her glass to take a sip. Once done she blinks towards Tironos and the chuckle melts into an all out laugh. "I fear that the giants are already under way in taking over the Reach, but it does make for a striking vision to see them block out the sun." Sera watches the exchange between Caelin and Tironos as she moves to take a seat, though her attention flicks over to Valerity soon enough as she whispers a bit morer quietly, "And tis good to have you around as well. I am so glad to have another woman who may help me in this family affair. I am positively surrounded by men at all times, save for the servants."

"Which family affair is this?" Valerity asks Sera, sotto voce and leaning in, dimples deep and irreverent. She glances to Caelin and back. "Are we speaking of general family business, or am I being invited into a verse of your poem?"

Abram passes the flagon to Sera as his cousin settles in to drink and whisper with Valerity. A dry, knowing look goes from the two chatting ladies to Caelin, to whom the elder Florent gives an exaggerated sigh and shake of his head. The knight shrugs and downs the rest of his own glass, settling back into his own seat and leaning unevenly on one of the chair's arm.

"As would I. My father deserves some say in the arrangements of his heir." The taller Florent nods, Caelin's eyes flickering to Sera as she and Valerity begin to discuss. Maybe a faint wrinkle of worry flickering across that brow. "Might I inquire about the circumstances in which her previous engagement dissolved?"

"In general," Sera returns towards Valerity, though her teal eyes flick to Tironos, a bit heavy with meaning though she grins widely. "As for being a verse in our poem, only if Abram allows it, him having to duel Caelin next would not sit very well with Lord Florent," she teases. "Although I suppose there is always the attic," she says the last bit with such a wicked look before clearing her throat to focus back on Caelin and Tironos. She flashes Caelin an innocent look at his furrowed brow.

Tironos says, "I admit to not knowing the details, though i believe it is related to the delay their meeting once she was in Oldtown, also given how upset she was I believe he hasn't been acknowledging she exists. You can ask her or her former betrothed Ser Victory Bulwer for the details if you so desire. I did not wish to pry too much on the subject while my sister was still a bit upset over it. Is there anything more?" He then looks to Sera and valerity as they speak, most mostly Sera as she looks about, but says nothing.

"Oh, certainly no dueling. Why would he mind? It's all in the family," Valerity speaks into a sip of wine, thus swallowing her grin. The bit about the attic makes her laugh out loud, a quick peal that's just as quickly contained. Ahem.

Abram's deep draught of wine is disrupted slightly by a small cough that result in the elder Florent knight snorting a small measure of red wine at Sera's words. "Ahem!," he clears his throat and muttering, "Well, I havnt drowned in wine yet," as he seeks a hand cloth and blows his nose. "Sera you are horrible, I'll have wine coming out of my eyes after that." Still, he smiles, despite the speech.

Caelin clears his throat, giving Sera a look at that as he inclines his head to Tironos politely, trying to keep things on topic. "No, I don't mean to pry if the wound is still fresh." He takes a sip of water, "Although that does beg the question. Despite my cousin's jests…" Giving Sera a second look just for good measure, "Eighteen is still quite young. It would not be unreasonable to take a break from engagements under the circumstances." He shrugs lightly, "But either way, I should be very honored to meet your sister, Ser Tironos. I believe Sera is currently planning a feast to celebrate our cousin Abram's good fortune. You should both attend."

"Try not to kill your cousin," Valerity tells Sera, grinning — her glance at Abram and back makes it clear which she means. "I'm not done with him yet." With that, she rises. "Do pardon me, everyone. Even the Redwynes can only hold so much wine." And the lady swans off to the privy.

At Valerity's and Adam's laughter, Sera tries her best to maintain a straight face but she couldn't as she snickers right into her cup, bubbling the wine in a very unladylike manner. Still, she tries to keep her eyes on Tironos and Caelin to maintain her innocence. "There is still time, Abram," she warns him in terms of wine-drowning. She then flashes Valerity a grin, "I would never dream of it, not until you give us an heir first of course…" She then dips her head at Valerity's departure before falling silent for more pressing matters, only bobbing her head at Caelin's mention of the feast while adding, "It should happen within the next few days, if everything goes as planned, we would love to have you and your family join us."

Tironos nods respectively as Valerity takes her leave then back to Caelin, "SHe may be willing to tell the story by now, I've just not asked. True she is still a bit young, though I believe it is more her personality. She avoided life's adventures so she would be as respectable and pure as possible for him, now that she is without, combined with my own recent wedding. I believe it is hitting harder then she will admit even to herself. As to dinner I will discuss it with my family, we will attend if possible, or at the very least her. My wife has been a bit under the weather of late and might not feel up to such an event. Though I will say my sister also enjoys riding and hunting, if that is something you both share, that may prove a pursuit you may share as well."

Abram winks to Valerity's parting look as the Redwyne takes her temporary leave of the table. A grin curls his lip as Sera warns him that there is still time, and he tilts his head after another moment to drag his regard from the departing Valerity to the laughing Sera. The invitation extended to the Tarlys is affirmed with a nod, as he tosses down the hand cloth, and takes another measure of his lunch.

Caelin's face flashes a ghost of a smile at the banter, then nods to Sera's words. "Very good." He begins to return to his lunch, "So that matter settled, maybe you or my cousin," He looks to Abram, "Can tell the story of how you two came to know each other."

Oh a story. Sera settles into her seat deeply though her eyes wander to the food every once in a while, She doesn't eat just yet but takes a sip of her wine instead, cradling the glass between her hands once done.

Tironos says, "A bit boring really, Ser ABram and I have faced each other on the tourney field over the years. Sometimes I win, sometimes he does. All there really is to that story." he then downs his wine with a fair bit of properness, likely aided by his size as he places the cup down and says, "I thank you for your hospitality, but I better go and see if my wife is feeling any better. Please excuse me." as he stands and offer seach a respectful bow of the head.

Abram reclines back in his seat, goblet and platter both still within reach as he regards Tironos in anticipation of the tall Tarly's answer. A bite of roasted fish on bread prevents any immediate speech as Tironos tells a story of a meeting. Chew chew. Then the Tarly is announcing his intention to withdraw, and once again Abram raises his glass to the other knight. "Ser Tironos, until next time."

"Give our regards to the wife," Sera returns lightly towards Tironos as well as she lifts her glass and dips her head; better than getting up and curtseying; really she does have manners usually. Her eyes then flick back towards Caelin, waiting until Tironos' footsteps indicate he is far enough away for her to speak in a low voice without being overhead. "Well, a prospect already, cousin! And Tarly is not a bad family name either. Although as heir you may be able to have your pick. Your eligibility just rose tenfold."

"Tironos is an odd one," Abram allows with an easy smile. "The only Tarly I've ever heard of who doesn't enjoy the hunt." A shrug as he looks to Caelin. "Would need to know why the prior betrothal were broken, there's rarely a clean reason behind such things, and as I know all too well, the actual breaking of a betrothal takes quite a bit of doing." A wry grin follows the words. "It would cost you a Dornish match twofold, as the Tarlys are no friends to Dorne."

"There is that," Sera agrees as Abram mentions their southern neighbors. "And I won't lie in saying that a partnership with them would be incredibly beneficial to us. The pick is yours cousin, of course. I am not really aware of any Dornish ladies in Oldtown who would be a match, but then again I haven't met any of them yet either." She frowns slightly before turning her eyes to Abram, "Is there an eligible Martell we may be able to woo into marriage? All I know is Princess Mariya. Although…Prince Daevon hasn't exactly been…discreet in his own wooing matters either…"

"Hush, it was a test." The now more relaxed Caelin offers Abram a smile, nodding. "No, it's of no real benefit to us. Maybe if we could gain their sword, but…" He shrugs. "We don't want to offend them either, of course. But even in less suspicious circumstances…" He shrugs. "I have met a Lady Zerina Blackmont, briefly. But I am not familiar with the Dornish contingent in town. But that's what your betrothal feast is for, cousin Abram."

Abram rolls his eyes and lets out a long breath at talk of Daevon Targaryen's discretion. "That- and this is coming from me, so it should count double- was not wisely done. If the Prince offers further insult to the Martells, it won't go well for the peace, which won't sit well with the Crown." Caelin's talk of his betrothal feast serving as the method of meeting the Dornishfolk in Oldtown brings a broad smile and exclamation of relief. "Oh good! For a moment there I was worried it would be a colossal waste of time." A grin aside includes Sera, "If Princess Mariya attends, be sure to seat her beside Valerity, as she'd just mentioned they're friends."

Sera makes a face at Caelin before it melts into a grin. She then dips her head towards Abram in agreement. "I will be sure to do so. But…if we are to invite them, would Ser Quillian…well, you know about his past and what happened at the trial. It isn't exactly a secret that they do not get along…" She trails off before turning back to Caelin. "That is one thing I was considering; who we should invite exactly, and whether the guests may end up dueling in the middle of the feast. While I am sure Abram would consider it great entertainment I would rather avoid bloodshed." Even as she says it, it sounds a bit hollow - she would love nothing more than for there to be a massive scene during the feast.

Caelin returns the face with that faint smile, shrugging at the worry. "Then we toss him out for insulting our guests. I do not see the particular trouble." He ponders quietly, setting his fork down. "But, someone explain to me what we're referring to with Daevon and the Princess Mariya."

Abram chuckles low in his throat at talk of duels at dinner. "Nonsense, that form of entertainment is growing predictable. And don't dread Quillian, I'll speak with him. I'd be more worried about how the Dornish would react to him than vice versa." At the question of Daevon, Abram lets out a low whistle. "Had you not heard? He was cavorting with a lowborn sellsword in the Quill and Tankard. Publicly accompanied her up to a room, from what I had been told, though I defer to the Queen of Whispers if I am mistaken.." he notes with a languid flourish of one hand to Sera.

"What he said is true, though I heard the woman he has been with is an essosi woman, from Bravos if I'm not mistaken. She is well known for her talent with the blade as well. It was said that /she/ seduced him; I have to admire a lady who can gain a dragon, even if temporarily. Still, this is whispered by every tongue in Oldtown and I am sure Princess Mariya has heard of it herself." Her eyes then brighten as she sits up straighter. "Will we be inviting the Targaryens? I mean we have to bless their union with the presence of dragons after all."

Caelin bridges his fingers in thought. "Interesting. I am a bit surprised. I would not have expected it of him." He sounds slightly disappointed, then shrugs. "Do you imagine it will end the engagement? It would make things awkward but I suspect that not inviting the ruling family's Oldtown contingent would be more awkward in the long run. And I haven't seen much of Daevon since I arrived in town…" He trails off, suddenly looking over to Abram thoughtfully.

Abram snorts once, in a fine humor despite his disdain as Sera speaks of seduction. "It matters very little who led whom to the bedchamber, fucking still takes two. Or more," he amends a breath later, to be fair. "If nothing else, it looks very bad, and he is born high enough that such things effect him. Ending a betrothal that was a condition of peace between two realms can be no small thing. But it certainly won't help. I suppose it shall all come down to whether the Dornish want the match, or not. If they do not, the Dornishmen will find a way to break it, even if not gifted one by the groom." Caelin's sudden look toward him catches Abram's attention, and he awaits his cousin's words with raised brows.

"He wouldn't be the first husband to stray from his wife, before and after the wedding," Sera points out. "Even the best rulers are still ruled by something much smaller." She crinkles her nose at that before taking another sip form her wine glass. "I have heard the Dornishmen can be a bit…lax in their views of marriage and inheritance. Their bastards hold an almost equal footing to their nobles." Sera then leans back as she nods in agreement with Caelin. "Then it is settled. At the very least it will show us what they think of each other, even in such a public setting." Her teal eyes flick between Abram and Caelin as she finishes, quirking her own eyebrows.

Caelin stands, putting aside his plate, not elaborating at Abram's raised brow. At least not yet. "I think I'll have a talk with him before the feast, but we should move ahead regardless." He nods to Sera. "It is possible. At any rate we can only speculate for now." He hms, half to himself. "I think I'll go look now, in fact. Apologize to your fiancee for me on her return, Abram." He nods, turning to go.

"He would be the first Targaryen to scrap a peace treaty with Dorne by doing so, though," Abram amends dryly to Sera's comment. "Who knows, if the fair little prince makes a mess of his marriage, mayhap Mariya Martell might yet be betrothed?" with a wink aside to Caelin, enjoying the farfetched game of 'what-if'. His lady cousin's latter comment on the nature of Dornishmen earns a more thoughtful reply. "They are a very canny people. Quite practical in their own foreign way." Caelin's withdrawal is met with a nod in return. "No, if I start apologizing to her now- even on your behalf- I'll be doomed." A merry grin cracks after the deadpan jest.

"So we shall see at the feast what will happen. Mayhaps there will be some love upon first sight, or perhaps there will be bloodshed. If I am lucky it would be both," she returns cheerily towards Caelin. "Take care cousin. And be sure to find out all that you can of Prince Daevon if it helps. Avoiding an outright war would be rather ideal." Sera then slides her eyes towards Abram as she slowly grins over her cup. "I like her, by the way."

"That was one of the two outcomes I was afraid of," Abram returns with a wry grin to Sera's last comment. Setting down his goblet, the elder Florent rises to his own feet. "I'll leave the two of you to conspire against me in private, my dear cousin. At least for a moment. If you'll pardon me.." he notes with a short bow to his favorite cousin.

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