(121-05-21) The Bride's Prerogative
The Bride's Prerogative
Summary: Valerity decides to invite the Dornish to her wedding. All of them.
Date: Date of play (21/05/2014)
Related: Related Logs (Say None if there aren't any; don't leave blank. You have to use full URLs, like http://gobmush.wikidot.com/logtitle)

White Stone Manse — Oldtown

The White Stone Manse is busy, it would seem, this morning. With the sudden increase of Dornish staying in the Manse, this is not an unusual sight. Though awake, Mariya is still in her room, either dawdling about leaving it or preparing for the hot day that inevitably lies ahead.

Valerity has specific combination of swanning and genteel bullying that gets her past most doormen and servants. It would probably make her an exceedingly effective assassin, but — fortunately — her intentions are more benign today. She's up in the living chambers of the manse before anyone asks — pointedly — if they can assist her. Caught out, as it were, the Redwyne lady doesn't even blink. She nods. "Lady Valerity Redwyne to see Princess Mariya Martell." A beat. "Well? Don't just stand there. Announce me."

So there's a knock on Mariya's door, and a slightly confused chambermaid announcing, "Lady Valer'ty Redwyne to see you, Princess?"

The door opens not long after the announcement. Mariya gives the chambermaid a smile and thanks. Valerity gets a bit more of a grin, apparently not seeming to mind - or perhaps not knowing - the lady managed to make so far as outside her room of her own accord. "Lady Valerity, please come in." The door opens wide enough to admit her before she shuts it behind. She is already dressed, though seemingly in the middle of braiding her long hair. She moves to a chair, gesturing for Valerity to take a seat as well. In doing so, some of her braid falls out and she absently combs her hair out with her fingers and starts again. "It's good to see you."

Valerity's smile is a touch rueful for the princess, alone. She's not going to be apologetic for just anyone, you know. Balls to that. But there's also genuine, slightly shy, pleasure in seeing Mariya Martell once more. She takes a seat, smoothing her silks out beneath her, dressed elegantly but certainly in anticipation of the heat. "It's good to see you, as well, Princess. Thank you for receiving me." A delicate pause. "How have you been?"

"Of course." Mariya's hands make swift work of her hair and it is soon braided to the ends. "I'm well. My brother has arrived from Sunspear recently and he has been a welcome sight." Her eyes cast about for the ribbon she could have sworn was right there before standing again to find it on her dressing table. "How are you? I am sure you are quite busy at the moment." She turns, still standing. The look she gives Valerity is a mixture of happiness for her friend and a bit of something else there, too.

Valerity looks down at her hands a moment, nodding. "Quite busy. Moving things from High Tower — of course we're living in sin. It is me. And none of it is going to be made proper by observing the rules now." She looks up again, meeting Mariya's eyes. "But it seems as though things are happening quickly. It's a — " she can't quite bring herself to say 'love match.' "We're both very agreeable to it. Getting married. Something I never thought I'd ever say. So we don't see a reason to wait."

There's a raised eyebrow and a bit of a blush at the implication, but Mariya does not seem to have any issue with Valerity living in sin. She manages to keep her eyes on her friend steadily, then she glances down to tie the ribbon about the end of her braid. "I am glad that you are happy." And she certainly sounds sincere in that. However, she has little to say for her intended's happiness. "I hope it will continue to bring you happiness."

"I'd like you to be there," Valerity blurts. And, not commonly one for blurting things, she looks all the more embarrassed and vexed by it. She sighs. "I know — that you won't want to be. And I don't blame you. Not at all," she stumbles on with an earnest sincerity that she's savoring like a nice, stinging nettle tea. "In fact, I thought it might be horrible to ask, but I'm not asking so you'll say yes. I'm only — it seemed more horrible that you not know how much you've meant to me. As my friend. My only friend, really." She sighs. "Just know that you're wanted there. That's all." She rolls her eyes. "And that I am very, very bad at this sort of thing."

The surprise on Mariya's face is quite plain to read. The Dornishwoman quickly looks up from her ribbon tying with wide eyes. There is not even a thought to interrupt Valerity as she speaks. Finally, though, she remembers that she should reply. Oh!" is her very elegant response. The surprise on her face starts to fade into a fond smile. "You mean quite a lot to me. You were kind when others were horrible. And I truly do wish you happiness. It's certainly not you that would make me not wish to be there." There is, of course, the matter that a wedding requires two people and she can only wish one of them happiness sincerely. She does not sigh and she does not fuss, but there is a long moment that she is clearly thinking things over. "You really want me there?"

"In a perfect world," says Valrerity. "But the world's far from perfect, of course. I know that. It's more important to me, as I said, that you know. You're wanted. And — if you came, you should bring a contingent. Bring every Dornish prince and princess and lady and lord and knight and — stablehand. So that you're surrounded with people who care for and admire you, as I do, and not simply subject to the eyes of bitter men who can't leave the Marches behind them." She nods. "You're all invited — because it's my fucking wedding."

The language and the sentiment brings a soft laugh from Mariya. "A contingent of Dornishmen at a Reach wedding. I feel as if that is the beginning of a joke." However, the smile fades when she says, "It is not just the Reachmen that give me pause, Lady Valerity. You are my dear friend and…" she frowns, unable to figure out how to say this without offending her. Finally, it is her turn to spill her words out, speaking quickly. "I am sure that he makes you happy - for I can't imagine you saying it when you felt otherwise - but I cannot forgive him his acts and I fear that he is not a good man." The sentence out, unable to bring it back, she adds softly. "I am not sure I can wish him well, despite the fact that I wish you every happiness."

Valerity reaches for the princess's hands. "You don't have to. Wish him well, or — like him. Or even be there. I came with no expectation that you would be, I promise you, and take no offense at… anything." She pauses, then says, softly, "I think I met a good man, once… and I couldn't love him. So the fault likely lies in me. But he — Abram — is good to me. And to his own." She looks down. "It's not enough to make him a good man, probably. Not that way you mean. If I were a better person, I'd probably — but I'm not." Deep blue eyes lift to Mariya's, once more. "He is for me. We fit. And for me, that's better than a hundred righteous men."

As Valerity reaches for her hands, Mariya does not pull away. Finally, she sits in the seat close by. "You are a good person." The princess squeezes on her friends' hands. "So, the fault is not with you." While it is unlikely that Valerity would ever convince her that Abram is a good man - or even a kind one - she listens to her words and frowns. She has been given the out, but instead, she says, "I have promised to do far more unpleasant things than ignore someone I dislike to wish someone I love happiness. It would be horrible of me to not come to your wedding when you wish me there. I will come. Hopefully with my contingent." Whoever that contingent may be. There's a pause. "I will still be wearing black, though, I hope you will not be offended."

Valerity breathes out, releasing a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, and kisses Mariya's forehead in quick, fervent gratitude. "How little I deserve so good a friend," she whispers, touched, her heart visibly a hundred times lighter. "I wouldn't be offended if you came naked in war paint. So — if you will stand with me, I would be grateful. If you'd prefer to sit with your contingent — I would still be grateful. And I hope you do bring a contingent that sets everyone on their ears."

Mariya smiles to know that she made her friend happy - which is most likely why she agreed to this in the first place. "I will not be naked or in war paint," she laughs. Valerity's levity is easily boosting Mariya's own mood. "You deserve far better friends than I," she tells her with a smile. "As you said, it is your wedding. You may place me where you wish. I am sure my contingent will be able to spare me for the ceremony."

"Then with me, please," says Valerity, smiling. Then, more ruefully, "You'll be standing opposite Ser Quillian, I'm afraid, who stands for Abram, but I think the actual ceremony should be mercifully brief."

The mention of Ser Quillian brings about a tight lipped smile. "I will hope he is able to stand through a brief ceremony without killing the Dornish person opposite him." However, her face lightens after a moment. "But, do not worry. As I said, I have done far worse things than wish a good friend well on her wedding day. I can stand opposite of Ser Quillian and pretend as if he does not exist. Which is how I attempt to live most of my days."


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