STRAWBERRY WINE.

such ready kindness, and seemingly sincere too, ought to be appreciated, but lynara feels it is almost a double edged sword to cling to selyse's generosity when her own intentions are so far to align with the princess' own. if she was to do so, perhaps she would confide in the princess that she thought the match was unlikely to occur still, or that she simply did not wish to make the red keep her home at all — but it now seems less dangerous to be deceitful, without ill intentions, than to speak her truth. "i would not be opposed to it. my own sister has grown out of needing me, you see." for a short moment, she wonders if that may be the case for selyse and alyssa, but with the way the princess speaks of her stepmother, such assumption seems misplaced, so she bites her tongue instead, and offers a nod of understanding (even if she did not entirely). so she dismisses any talk of the queen, and offers the princess instead a tilt of her head, as if the younger’s words were preposterous. “i do not find that likely, your grace. if we are to be good sisters, i would not find it in me to ever dislike you truly.” lynara can not tell if the same can be said, but she does not allow the other time enough to think further. “let us not dwell in such heaviness, your grace. there are far too many beautiful things for us to be so despondent, hm?”

"is limitation something to draw pride from, lord umber?" she clicks her tongue. "you northern men are all the same." complaint is half-hearted, even if there is some lingering frustration — she's heard enough moaning about the men from her entourage wishing to return north, and, for now, she could not say she shared such sentiment — but it is drowned by the levity in tone she's best familiarized in wearing. gaze softens as she brings a hand to the center of his chest, even if lynara gives him a gentle push. "yours, indeed," is muttered, before she is turning on her heel to guide them to what seems to be the closest source of fresh air and semi-privacy — one of the many balconies. "shut the door and sit so i may remove this mask of yours. it is rather beautiful, but do you not feel unbearably hot in it? do not lie just to indulge me."

lynara's  approach  only  serves  to  remind  jory  that  he  should  not  indulge  her  so  easily.  the  painted  on  mask  he  sports  is  testament  enough  to  the  favour  she  holds  in  his  estimations.  every  so  often,  he  forgets  about  her  handiwork  swathed  over  his  features.  her  appearance  from  the  crowd  brings  the  reminder  with  it.  even  with  her  face  partially  concealed,  he  knows  it's  her.  jory  has  no  trouble  recognizing  any  of  the  starks.  "  your  handiwork  is  still  stands,  my  lady,  "  he  confirms,  using  her  title  as  a  term  of  endearment  more  than  an  honorific.  "  fun  is  for  little  boys,  lynara,  "  he  speaks  the  words  but  only  believes  them  halfway. he and her brother had rejoiced well into their adulthood years.  "  anyhow  —  i'm  on  duty,  as  you  know.  "  he  gestures  to  his  side  sword  as  if  to  drive  home  his  point.

though she is certain he is not as appreciative — not for distaste towards her, she knows, but simply from his own person — as she is, the acknowledgement is enough to fill her with pride, sentiment clear on the way her lips curl upwards and remain so, chin tilted upwards. "well, you look beautiful with it." some of it falls as he goes on, however, and the lady stark's shoulders slump, dramatically so. "ser, you were a little boy once. can you not remember?" she can not; he had always been much taller and more serious than she was, even when he was but another of her father's squires, one of her brother's friends. "try to remember tonight, it may be your one chance. tomorrow all will be as it usually is." next, he receives a scoff. "do i? i had not been warned by my lord brother that we were in immediate danger."

he then shifted his attention to her well-being with genuine concern. "and how have the evening's events treated you? i hope the week has been as kind and joyful for you amidst all the grandeur."

smile widens at shared affection, guiding her son close so she may enlace their arms together, beneath the glorious cape he was wearing. "one hardly needs brains to be of noble blood. westerosi nobles have always proven it so." scarlet lips turn into a smirk, derision always ready in the tip of her poisonous tongue. "you must enjoy it, do you, darling? are there any doors not being a prince opens to you?" curiosity is not faux; though joanna is too hesitant to ever let go of her majesty, she could perhaps understand that one could hear or do things not easily granted if others do not know who they are. "i have missed my childhood home tremendously, drystan." indeed she has, though she knows that many would not believe her affliction; joanna trusts her children above all to realize when she does not indulge in falsity, however, for she's often been frank with them (when and about what she thought suitable, of course). "though there is always something to sour. your cousin is unhappy, you may have noticed." it displeased joanna immensely that it seems her vision was short-sighted with this match (and, well, that cerenna was not happy with it), and that such mismatch may as well be visible to others too. she sighs.

with  swift  movements  she  removed  her  mask,  clutching  it  in  her  hands  as  she  didn't  wish  for  it  to  disappear.  letting  her  back  fall  against  the  cold  stone  wall  she  breathed  as  if  she'd  been  holding  her  breath  for  several  hours.  maybe  she  had.  "thank  god."  she  let  fall  from  her  lips  in  a  breath,  unaware  of  the  lion  prowling  close.

the night is young and merry and joanna would not have her own house dishonored by excusing herself early even after some minor displeasures — she would not have it so even as she is obliged to make an intermission because her stupid handmaiden (she almost misses briony, may her soul not burn terribly wherever she is now) picked a shoe so tight she could barely walk. her feet still pinched, even after she replaces the ornate shoe by one that is gilded instead; she can not tell if her mood betters or worsens at the sight that awaits her by the hall. her good sister's child — technically, her niece — was a being of such lovingness that it was sickening, but her face was not one joanna had forgotten just yet. "my, my, is that the lady baratheon? the babe?" joanna knows zehra is not the youngest, but she still recalls the few namedays she had attended, and the girl would always be no better than a child to her, especially if she was intended to behave as one. "'tis a masquerade, young doe. by showing yourself like this, one may think that you are expectant of recognition by a certain someone."

“i see i am not the only one in need of a moment away from the dancing,” she said as another masked guest took a seat next to hers.

roy makes a good effort in being as distant as he can, taking any opportunity away from the dance floor — it is where it is most suitable for him, after all, best to keep watch should he need to. it does not seem to be as fitting to the lady that speaks up, however, with her garb as well done as it is. there is a story about a mermaid, elenei, from the origins of the stormlands and, as he glances at the brunette, he imagines she may as well be elenei personified, if only for the way she's chosen to portray herself for the evening. "i have no taste for it, i'm afraid. i pity the feet of those who wish to try their luck, so best to keep my distance." tone is light, his own attempt at humour, if only for he already has set himself as surly by keeping away. "what is your impediment?"

the longer she speaks, the more recognizable the timbres are. roy shifts in his place, paying closer attention and even leaning in to impose himself in a way a brother would to tease a sister, especially one as quick-tongued as the princess was. "is that so, amarei? go on and fetch your mistress." the name of the lady in waiting is purposefully brought up; both girls were of similar coloring, similar personality and, who knows, he could even be right. the lord commander exhales a sound of offense, though his tone remains playful as he pulls back and shakes his head. "i am supposed to be ever alert, my lady. that is hardly possible if i am to be twirling around."

the voice is not unfamiliar, the frame less so. royce has not met the stark heir many times, but, if he gazes for longer, he would be able to tell that edric's gaze is just like his father's, the hand, whom roy has been well familiarized over the years. "would you not side with them had you been denied unfamiliar enjoyment? it may not please adults much, but the dancing, the lights, the food, sure would please them. i know my daughter has already given me an earfull over being denied to dress up as her aunt has." for he does not consider what he has done dressing up in any sort, even if he'd allowed elenda to be the one to choose what color would he wear. "have you brought yours to the city, my lord?" he does not voice his assumption, not yet but he recalls of the stark children in the riverlands; davos spent that week speaking of the toys and the games the boys had shared.

“are people still talking about that little… faux pass during the performances in the riverlands?” he could not help but to notice that several nobles had been withdrawn, less willing to sign themselves up for activities with the possibility of receiving the worst kind of royal attention after the (even roy can admit so, even if not out loud) shameful display then. he makes a hissing sound at the possibility she raises, before letting his gaze linger on the game that unfolds in front of them. could that be the best possibility, truly? if the shift in the royals’ relationship was genuine, perhaps they would find it to distract themselves over than to make their companions pay for their loss. “may be. we shall have to be prepared regardless.”

he leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as if sharing a confidential matter. "and between you and me, i find there's a certain art to staying occupied with the lighter side of these gatherings. it helps keep the mind sharp for when we must turn our attention to weightier matters." his gaze briefly flickered with a seriousness that hinted at the underlying pressures of their positions and the recent strains on his family, before he shook his head, dispelling the momentary shadow. "for now, i'll look forward to cheering you and my father on the tennis court, should lorent and I lose."

"your father always wishes for a win, so if you shall not be offended, i shall hope that you will be by the sidelines in a couple of days. and that we shall not go head to head today either. i would not like to throw the match in your favor just to please your parents." a tease with much truth beneath the words.

dancing had never been for him — lessons of the sort were not spared around nightsong, and he did not see himself fitting amongst the ones shared by the baratheons unless he was explicitedly demanded to. that is not the tone or the order he receives now as the brunette approaches him; roy is almost certain he recognizes the mane, but he does not voice the assumption just yet. not in said words. "they must be of royal blood, for no other reason but a explicit order would lead me to the dance floor, my lady." arms remain crossed against his chest, and the lord caron tips his head in the direction of many a youth near him. "you would have better luck and better partner elsewhere."

That’s all the realm is now, back-stabbing and scheming and arse-licking and money-grubbing.

redness appears in their cheeks at the kind help from the lady stark, even if they know there is no need for embarrassment. lynara is aware of alys' unladylike demeanor by now and the woman has never been anything but sweet. in response, the squire gives a toothy grin, attempting to refocus on her company's voice. " the fruit is very good and there is hardly anything that tastes undesirable... but i will miss these most of all when we travel back home to the north. " there is no complaining to be had from the mormont, not much of a picky eater, though the vast selection and choice is one that has grown on them. it will be hard to readjust after the spoils they have received. alys takes the handkerchief with a nod, already collecting the best sugar pieces for bear. she listens intently to what lynara says, wanting to make conversation but being careful as to not overstep. " barbrey cannot hold anger for you, my lady, surely not... and no doubt agnes is well looked after, but i would love to join you for a visit. "

bottom lip sticks out at the mere thought, the idea she also shared. “i need only say the word and ask that we may have some extra shipments brought with us — surely the fruit should hold if there are enough containers, and talisa’s ship can keep them safe.” or so one could hope; she did not know the logistics of traveling, but she was nothing if not insistent in her hopes and wishes. “‘tis our right to be a little spoiled, after all of this.” smile comes back to her features with the scrunch of her nose. “well, she can not, else she would be dismissed.” by the tone and the sway of her feet, she means it as a jest — barbrey will be dismissed soon, anyhow, once she becomes a stark in her own right by marriage. “then be certain to add a few more for my girl. we can probably go right now, no? what else do you have today but this scrumptious spread, my liege mormont?”

of course, when the topic shifts to her wedding, lynara’s own face grows hot, and she can not restrain the sigh that tumbles out of her lips. “she would have to be in charge of it, alongside me, of course. the lady of the house is no longer, but the godswood at the last hearth is almost as beautiful as winterfell’s.” to speak of this alone, not only treacherous, felt like a fantasy — she had not been asked, yet the dreams crept in, the groom replaced by another than the one that she had been promised for so long. she returns to reality with a tilt of the head, and a gaze of light reprimand, offense just a tad more genuine now. “if you did not ask me, i would be so cross! of course i shall. i am already helping, am i not?” she looks over to the table of foods. “one of the most essential parts of the feast.”