(122-07-19) Aftermath
Summary: Rhaegor and Torren discuss the events of the day.
Date: Date of play (19/07/2015)
Related: Seeds of Peace; No Ex-Sept-ions; The Scorpion Strikes

It's the hour of the bat by the time Prince Rhaegor comes in search of his Dornish counterpart, attending the Martell prince in his solar. His expression is grim, but he does not seem weary; resigned, perhaps. "Prince Torren. I'd expected to call earlier, but I thought it best to pay a visit to my cousin Halea first." The moon is full tonight, and the Targaryen pauses at a window before seating himself to gaze upon it, rimmed by a red halo in the night sky.

Torren's expression is much the same. There's food in front of him, though it looks basically untouched, and wine, as well, which is similarly forgotten. He's staring out a window at the grounds below, so peaceful now, in contrast to the bloodshed only a few hours earlier. When he hears someone enter, he looks up, and gives the other man a polite nod, despite his demeanor. "Prince Rhaegor," he returns, making a sweeping gesture, perhaps to encompass having a seat and partaking of the food if he wishes. "It is quite all right. I hope the Princess Halea is having all her needs attended to. If not, please tell me how I can remedy that."

Rhaegor indeed moves to take the seat that's offered, and perhaps it's the first occasion he's had all evening to be off his feet. He helps himself to some wine, pouring a glass for himself and taking a drink without much by way of pause in between. "She will accompany the boy back to Dragonstone. They'll leave before the wedding." He doesn't comment on needs being attended to. What is there to offer a mother who has lost a child?

Torren just nods, his eyes drifting back to the window again and his fingers tapping against the table. It's a little while before he speaks again, and when he does, his voice is quiet. "The stories of what transpired that I heard from my countrymen were all very similar. Of course, I have not spoken to yours. Before I settle on a course of action I would hear what you have been told, as well."

Rhaegor sits back in the chair, regarding Torren with a level stare from across the table. "I regret that my most reliable men were not with young Ser Aelyn and his companions. If they had been, not only would the accounts have been more credible but the outcome would likely have been different, as well. I am told that Ser Aelyn apologized and that the Qorgyle did not accept. That the Dornishmen shunned the effort singularly, and that in his frustration, Ser Aelyn made a passing remark about the righteousness of the victors of the trial in the eyes of the Seven." He pauses to take a drink of the wine, lifting his free hand to rub some of the scruff along his jaw. "They attempt to protect the memory of the boy in the way they failed to do in the moment they ought have. And perhaps, too, they attempt to protect me, for it was my own failing that allowed the circumstances to escalate as they did. I ought to have arranged for the apology to occur while the both of us were present."

Torren listens to the words impassively and without judgment — at least, without outward judgment. Who knows what he's thinking. Whatever the case, he doesn't interrupt, leaning back a little bit as he considers. "I should have had a more watchful eye on Ser Manfryd," he counters. "You and yours are guests here. The fault was mine."

He lets out a little sigh, and says, "From what I was told, that was about what I expected. We have received differing accounts, but that was to be expected." He reaches up to rub a hand over his face, "I believe I will be sending Ser Manfryd to Essos. No doubt you understand that I am not able to put him to death over this, though I am sure your countrymen are calling for it."

"I expect that somewhere in the middle is the truth. Ser Aelyn was my cousin Halea's only son, a boy of unrealized promise. He was rash and entitled and I knew it was in him to provoke further violence sooner than prevent it. I allowed the distraction of a dozen other obligations to lead to a fatal misstep. I do not wish for another young man's life to be forfeit on account of that mistake." Rhaegor reveals very much in what he says; another man might indeed cry for the stringing up of Manfryd Qorgyle as a matter of pride. And perhaps he is reasonable to a fault, for no doubt there will be Crownlanders expecting the very same. But he is too deeply invested in the diplomatic work he and Torren have already accomplished, and he does not see fit to spoil it now when his own kin was the instigator.

"Indeed," Torren replies, and a little dry smile turns up the corner of his mouth, though it does not reach his eyes. "Let us agree that we have both failed in our charges, and strive to use this as a reminder to be better next time." His hand comes down to rest against the table, "I hope that by sending him away, I may at least show that I am not condoning Ser Manfryd's actions. To be away from Dorne will come as a great blow to him, perhaps even more than anything else."

"I hope," he continues, "that the wedding will proceed without impediment, though I am concerned about possible reactions during the ceremony. I care not for myself, but I do not wish for the Princess Visenya to bear the brunt of such unpleasantness as I imagine may arise. To that end, I am placing more trustworthy men in the hall to attempt to quell any such thing before it can really take hold. Perhaps you have some you could use in this capacity, as well?"

Rhaegor nods. "I defer to your judgment in this matter. An exile to Essos is something I can present to my kin and countrymen without misgivings." And, too, he gives a graver nod still when Torren says what he does of reminders and next times.

The Targaryen prince listens with a neutral expression to considerations pertaining to the wedding. To Visenya. "Of course. My most trusted have already been given instruction to be on guard for the same, and so we are aligned in purpose. I will speak to those that witnessed Aelyn's death. There are a few that I will send to Dragonstone early, on the pretense of accompanying Halea."

"Thank you." Torren doesn't dwell too much on that, lest it sound like he's gloating — which he really isn't. It's not as though it was a competition for Visenya's hand. It was a political match and nothing more than that. Especially considering that he didn't even know her before she came to Dorne. "Hopefully the worst will be averted, and once it is over and you all return to Oldtown, this unpleasantness can be put out of mind." Of course, he does not really believe that will happen, but there's always hope.

Rhaegor nods. It's not a competition. Visenya herself rather resolutely closed a door between them that will never again be reopened, and the Targaryen prince is no stranger to putting duty and obligation first. He gives no impression of being salty about the request, and says, "Most of the party will make their return by boat. Those who travel with us overland by way of Skyreach will not cause any further problems." He drains what's left of his wine, puts the cup down on the table, and then seems ready to rise from the table, lest the Martell prince raise any other matter first.

It seems as though Torren has nothing more to add, because he just nods, and replies, "Very good. Thank you." He sits back in the chair again and glances out the window briefly, but then his eyes return to the other man, and he says, "You and I are not close friends, and perhaps we shall never be close friends. However, I hope you know that your service is greatly valued. In Dorne, in general, and I in particular."

Rhaegor rises while Torren gazes out the window, but he lingers at the table's edge when the prince turns back to address him in parting. Against all odds, the comment summons a hint of humor from the tense Targaryen. "I would not discount friendship out of hand, Prince Torren. It's rather a long ride back to Oldtown." But the nod he offers is accompanied by a look that serves to telegraph that the sentiment is a mutual one. Anyone else on either side of the table might have made for a longer night and much more miserable future for their respective nations. "I will leave you now," he says, already making for the door.

The reply from Rhaegor gets a little huff of laughter, this time actually amused, it seems. "Quite so," he says. "Long enough to become better acquainted, surely." It doesn't have quite the implications that it might were he talking to, oh, say, Alaeyna Fowler — it's humorous, rather than infused with innuendo. But at least it takes the edge out of his demeanor. "Good night, Prince Rhaegor."

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