her reaction was much the same as his own when he had first felt lord gyles's teeth. it took some effort not to laugh. “expect the unexpected, i suppose.” at the second mention of her aversion to violence, he made a mental note to avoid the subject. “i learned from a young age as a matter of necessity. the winged knight cast a long shadow over the eyrie.” the knights of the vale were formidable warriors and it was in keeping with his house’s tradition that the heir be a capable leader of such a force. “i enjoy the discipline more than the violence itself.”

“it is a narrow line to walk. to foster a relationship of any sort requires trust, both given and received. somehow, we must remain willing to take the first step.” there were far too many snakes in the grass to begin casting doubt on those he trusted. “if i can understand what turned lord gyles’s thoughts, our relationship may yet be stronger for it.” or, he would have a firmer understanding of where they stood.

“ever wise. the maester threatened an extra dose of milk of the poppy should i attempt to leave this room before they bid it.” luc wasn’t one to be intimidated by greying men in long robes, although he didn’t doubt the maester’s threat for a moment. her offer was generous regardless. “i shall remember that, my lady. though i hope such a need does not arise.”

"Not many would be so inclined to show forbearance." It was an earnest compliment -- for it mirrored much of Amarei's own disposition and the counsel she had given. Acting in anger was a short path to regret. A cool head could see what hot blood would only cloud. When he spoke of why and how Gyles had turned, her eyes flickered with intrigue. It was clever thinking, to ascertain the root of the matter. "Some minds are more malleable than others. It is not necessarily a character flaw, in my understanding. In a way, we are all shaped by the voices around us." A brief pause. "Something may have turned his thoughts." Hands folded in her lap, now. Neat, deliberate. "Or someone."

His next words earned him a warm smile. "Not the need for aid, no. But I would be pleased if you called upon me, regardless." She had made a point of holding his gaze as she spoke. "The true hero is the drink I spilled over her dress." Her eyes softened in spite of her casual dismissal of being deemed a hero. "I am only relieved she is unharmed."

To find her words had nudged him towards the realisation that House Dalt was owed an apology pleased her. She had no wish to tell him what he ought to do. After all, people were ever more steadfast in a course they believed they had chosen for themselves. "I hope they will think kindly on it."

"You have been locked to the land too long, Andrik. Lost track of how we make a deal" Gwin hissed. "The Drowned God calls all true ironborn eventually" She allowed her own cruelty to show against Andrik once again. "You will be lucky if you're even accepted back by our isles"

It was certainly a night.

Oswyck and his family were luckily far away from the fray, but what had happened remained in pieces. In fact, he had hardly known - the first night in a fortnight that Violet had decided it was time to sleep. For once, the ruling liege Tullys were able to rest. It seemed the rest of the world couldn’t.

Despite this carnage, there was an air of hope that he wanted to cling to. Would such an alliance prevail? He had tried to broker peace with the Iron Islands, and received similar uproar. People never really changed, especially when opening old wounds.

"Someone who had the good sense to abstain from overindulgence." He took in the sight of the lord before him, in all his sobriety and earnest willingness to help, and offered the Riverlander a small smile. "House Dalt seems to be bearing the affront to their hospitality with grace. I am not sure I would have displayed the same forbearance, had it been Godsgrace." A Dornishman's temper was no secret to the realm, including those who dwelled north of his native lands. It made for suspenseful tales and song, and for colourful jokes. Dornish vengeance, however... Well, let them hope tempers would flare and fade once more, and they would not come to sample the harsher vintage of the two.

"emeric has always been a good man." there was certainty in the words. she had known him since they were children, long before either of them had grown into the people duty required them to become. "though i suppose even good men are capable of foolish things."

her expression softened at the mention of his children.

"poor sweetlings." sympathy colored her voice. "you could not have known." her gaze returned to his. "you brought them somewhere you believed they would be safe. there is no fault in that."

his words regarding the alliance gave her pause.

"perhaps you are right." she had spent much of the celebrations hoping that what had begun at sunspear might become something lasting, but hope alone had never made a peace endure. she thought briefly of eleana, and of the certainty with which she had defended that hope only days before. she wondered what her cousin would make of her hesitation now. likely something accompanied by a rather triumphant scowl. the thought almost made her smile.

yet amira had not changed her mind. not entirely.

"a marriage is easier promised than lived, and peace easier declared than kept."

still, something gentler remained in her expression.

"but i think we must allow ourselves to hope for it. cautiously, perhaps." the corner of her mouth lifted. "i do not think dorne has ever been particularly skilled at giving its trust freely."

when he extended his hand, her gaze dropped briefly to his open palm. she placed her own within it without hesitation, allowing him to help her from the carriage. she let out a slow breath once her feet met the earth. the open air carried none of the heaviness that had settled over lemonwood after the fighting. there was only the warmth of the sun overhead and the familiar scent of dry grasses carried upon the breeze.

"you've made me rather curious about this luncheon now," she said, a hint of warmth returning to her voice.

Her warmth extend to his children's welfare eased some of the tension held in his frame. "It should have been safe; the journey was not very long and they were thrilled to travel beyond Godsgrace." His head had ached by the end of it, with how many questions they had directed at him. "Perhaps they would enjoy a jaunt to Yronwood, when we're permitted our leave from court." He offered her a smile that touched his eyes. He would much enjoy that, himself.

"I have told them of you. Obella asked of your beauty." He breathed a soft exhale, amused. Fond. "Trystane did not much care for the news. His wooden knights hold his heart." Although if Obella took to Amira swiftly, she would win Trystane's trust just as easily. He looked to his older sister's guidance in most things.

Her wisdom carried a soothing quality that he mused on for a moment. He believed he had enjoyed her mind, her empathy, even as a boy. But he'd hardly had the words or the wits to understand as much. "We are a proud and stubborn people, but we also have much to be proud of." He hummed. "But you are right. Hope and obstinacy need not be at odds."

He had passed on instructions to an attendant, for a blanket to be laid out beneath the shade of a suitable tree. It was a short walk to where the luncheon had been prepared, an array of little dishes and a pitcher of chilled wine. The Allyrion guards stood a short distance away, by a cluster of cypress trees. "Court will place hardwood and polished silver between people. I thought we might enjoy a break from that." He looked to her, and gestured for them to settle on the blanket. "I have learned not to turn heel from duty." An implicit admission. He had tried to, before. "But I like to remind myself there is a vast world beyond carved halls and curated conversation. A simpler world. Honest."

"through fear, through stories of what my people have done. it is the only way we preserve our history and what the mainlanders hear about house." he answers. "I cannot say exactly what is my House covets. even between my sister and I we each want different things. we both go to sea for different reasons. my father was smart to begin trading with the metals we produce with different ports and regions and while gold is nice, it does not bring the joy as being at sea."

his brain rattles some more before he answers once again, "we do not seek to rule and overthrow our Great House if that is the answer you are looking for." he said as he eyed her again. "as if the Dornish would be so light to accept surrender by word so easily."

"I suppose there is something to be said for knowing what it is you want." She offered him a faint smile as he spoke of his sister, of differing objectives, and a father who had instilled in them a cunning she appreciated. "I think I enjoyed myself more on my voyages to the free cities than I do at court." It was a truth she did not often allow herself to consider, and had not the liberty to linger on. "But I suppose we all have our roles to play."

When he spoke of his house's continued loyalty, she held eye contact for a long while -- as if she wished to challenge with the mere intensity of her gaze. "Why not?" Another dangerous question. "Are you so fiercely devoted to your overlords?" With that, she breathed a chuckle. "How very admirable."

“i learned as much when i met with his teeth.” it was said in jest, and he raised a bandaged hand to rub at the back of his neck. for all of his swordfighting instructor’s lessons, nothing could have prepared him to expect a man’s bite.

he nodded. “when the conversation strayed to her, he made light of the rumors of her capture.” he need not give breath to a repetition of the lord’s wording, nor the laughter that followed. “i would not have struck him otherwise. i believed our houses stood united." his eyes narrowed. “if it is wine that spills the true thoughts of men, i would rather they remained sober enough to own them.” lady hightower’s words offered a stark warning. lady hightower's words offered a stark warning. was there more at work than tongues loosened by hospitality? feasts held to provide opportunity to air grievances — and reveal traitors. yet what was to be gained by turning guest against guest?

“you are kind to say so.” luceryn inclined his head. “she gave her life believing it served a purpose. i could bear her death more easily than seeing her memory treated carelessly.” luc considered her counsel in silence, his gaze lingering on the salve she had set upon the bedside table. it was much as he thought, and hearing it from another secured his path. he had acted rashly but not unjustly. “you offer sage counsel.” his thumb traced absently along the edge of the bedpost. “i shall hope lord tyrell is as clever as i have always believed him to be.” eccentric, perhaps, but not as tactless as his words might imply.

"And it was his response that wounded you more than the careless words of others." Amarei concluded with a sigh. "I do not fault you. I have been cautioned to sharpen my senses to the machinations of people, as I believe most of us reared for court have. But if we are to brace ourselves for ill will at all times, and never forge trust in friendships, what will be left of us but fearful rumination?" There was truth in her speech; it was a taxing way of going about their world, the assumption that every hand extended in kindness concealed a blade.

"I am glad you say so. I did wish to ease your lot. If I failed to do so with my with words, I would hope at least the salve brought you some relief." She looked briefly to the other salve in the cloth bundle. "I do not wish to anger the maester by undoing your fresh bandages." She simply placed the second salve next to the one she had applied to his lip. "The other salve, to cool sore skin. If you have need of my aid again, you need only call upon me."

Amarei then neatly folded the cloth in her lap, and placed her hands above it. "I happened upon Lady Emphyria, whose dress hem had caught embers of an overturned brazier. She is well, although presumably somewhat shaken. I did think it all a terrible shame -- House Dalt's home is a marvel; I do hope it did not sustain too much damage."

"A slight on your account? I would never wish to speak unkindly of my beloved brothers." To chide for reckless demeanour, on the other hand... Well, she need not be quite so irritatingly overbearing, so soon. "I am not blaming the wine. It brought to light what had been quietly festering in minds. Still, it would do to keep our wits about ourselves at public events. We were all honoured guests of House Dalt, after all." Amarei helped herself to some of the sliced fruit, and some bread and olives, the baked good still warm to the touch. A slice of ripe melon was polished off, along with two olives, arching an eyebrow as she broke the bread. "The river bank. Entirely by yourself?" Her voice resonated as sweet as the honey to stir into refreshments and drizzle across delicacies. "The Dornish are quite something, in their libertine ways. I would understand, of course, if you did not wish to disclose who might have lured you to the river bank." A quiet snicker under her breath, and she dipped her bread in olive oil, spiced with a blend she could not entirely make out. She deemed it pleasantly fragrant.

"No, no, not needed, Lady Amarei." She waved a hand. "I fear I need little of tea lately. I had a calming brew ready with me already, so it's fine, truly. But it was terribly generous of you to think of it."

She fell into step beside her anyway, not waiting for an invitation twice.

"Food, though. Yes. I would very much like something to eat." She pressed a hand briefly to her stomach, as if that settled the matter entirely. "I could eat a whole roast boar this morning, I think. Singed dressing-robe and all. Small mercies it was only the hem, truly, another inch and I'd have gone up like a Dornish bonfire, and wouldn't that have been a fine way to end a wedding. 'The Trout who caught fire at Lemonwood.' They'd sing songs about it for the wrong reasons."

Her eyes flickered upward in momentary surprise, but once the lady fell into step, she schooled it into gentle acceptance. "I am glad to hear of that, in any case. I do so appreciate how soothing a brew can be for one's nerves, and the ceremony one can make of taking it each morn." A smile accompanied the musing. "Very well, then we shall break our fast together and I will request mint tea for myself, alongside our feast." She enjoyed the fresh mint leaves, and the generous dollop of sweet, floral honey stirred into the tea. It was refreshing, even when served hot.

When Empyhria went on to jest of her near-misfortune, Amarei could not help but splutter a laugh. "Well, thank the Gods you already see fit to jest of it." She hummed. "Roast boar, hm? I concur. And fresh flatbreads, served with olives and herb-infused oil. And pastries, of course. I sampled one kind with a date and walnut filling the other day. Delightful." She had begun to find the enduring heat draining, but the delicacies did make up for it.

"unscathed?" she echoed with theatrical disbelief, one hand lifting instinctively to her golden hair, now finally coaxed back into place. "you should have seen me -- my hair was beyond saving, my dress had been thoroughly ruined, and i am quite certain there's still dust on me from last night." it was said with more resignation than humor, the sort reserved for inconveniences that could not be undone.

whatever frustration she felt over her appearance vanished almost immediately at the mention of her sister. "wait, what's wrong with my sister?" the question came before she could stop it, quieter now, uncertainty creeping into her voice. concern settled across her features all at once. "i haven't seen alyssia since last night. everyone was shouting and -- gods, it was chaos."

He had never paid much heed to Cerelle's histrionics. On occasion, it would coax a laugh from him, although he found his nerves to be too spent of late to indulge her. "Your hair looks perfectly fine to me," he countered, his pale blues settling on the characterstic molten gold for a good few seconds, before lowering to her eyes. "An untrained eye, of course." A weak smile tugged at his lips. "You've no clean clothes to spare? The Lannisters have fallen on hard times, then." Well, perhaps she could still inspire him to extend some banter. It was always easier in the presence of those who had come to know him, at his core, or at least as closely as he allowed. When he had returned from Dragonstone to assume his position as heir to the Iron Islands, he'd begun to knit a mantle he was not sure would ever entirely suit his frame.

"He hit me first." These first words were quicker, with a bite to them, similar to the one he gave Luceryn. Even still, Andrik brought a cup to his lips, the cool liquid doing nothing to help. At least, not now.

No response was given to his jabs. It wasn't worth the effort. He knew everyone wanted him to shut up - why would he give people that courtesy?

"A joke on whose expense?" Andrik vented a long sigh through his nostrils. He knew Gyles was not deliberately withholding details, that the eve was likely fuzzy, and entertaining the conversation at present pained him. Still, his patience had thinned over the course of the last days. The brawl, his encounter with Alyssia, the scathing remarks of fellow Ironborn who did not think him worth his salt, and did not bother to hide as much either. He inhaled, and reminded himself to be kinder to Gyles. "There say there was cruel talk pertaining to his mother's fate. Any man would be expected to lose his calm, never mind how tough his hide may be."

"You're not cruel." He retorted, decisively. "You're obnoxious." A semblance of a smile. "And you'll recover. Abide by the maester's instructions. Try not to sustain further blows to the head." He continued. "Which is why I would suggest making amends with Luceryn. If he proves willing."

"It is silly really if you think about it but maybe that is what it means to have power. You are able to blind yourself into thinking everything is alright because you ha e the means to protect pnes own interest and yet that only revels that thought revelation just how simple minded and a fool one must be." Domininc answered truthfully. He was lucky this only stayed between them or else he would be spending the night in some cell.

"Maybe he hopes that with trading off an offspring and a dragon to the Dornish sun, its enough to show his control on the seven kingdoms." He said as he begin tracing his fingers on her aimlessly as she kissed him before she spoke once more.

She shrugged at his speculation. "Maybe." Her fingers moved to massage the back of his head. "In any case, he must be sure not to frame the Dornish alliance as surrender." Who had surrendered to whom, was indeed an inciteful question.

Triston hovered over his son where the boy slept upon the narrow camp bed that was his for the night, not for the first time that evening. It had taken the better part of two hours to settle Leo to bed after the brawl had broken out amongst the camp. His son had not been witness to it, thank the Seven, but he had been alight with excitement in the aftermath — full of questions in that meddlesome Hightower fashion, forever curious, forever determined to know what had passed, no matter how little the matter concerned him.

Only when he was certain the boy's breathing was still slow and even did Triston steal quietly from the tent. There were still more of his rounds to make, more fretting to be done, and he prayed that he might find his brother and sister had returned at last.

The Hightower pavilions had been arranged together in a broad half-circle, their entrances opening upon a common stretch of ground where a fire burned low. It was there that he found Amarei, seated before the flames with a goblet cradled in her hands, the firelight dancing across her features.

“Amarei... at last,” he breathed, relief plain in his voice.

The next words escaped him before he could stop himself.

“Where in seven hells have you been?”

Even as he spoke, he heard how similar the shrill tone sounded to their mother, too near an imitation for comfort and felt heat rise to his cheeks. 

He grimaced, “I... forgive me. I have been beside myself with worry. For you and for Myles as well. What happened?”

She stirred to her feet when Triston found her. The harsh address did not unsettle her; she understood it owed to heightened emotions. "Of course you have. It was a dire spectacle, when the Dalts have done naught but shower us all with hospitality." Amarei had entered the scene after slipping from Dominic's tent. A detail she would keep to herself. "I aided another. Lady Emphyria Tully, her dress caught flame. She had hovered too close to an overturned brazier. I must be sure to seek her out when the commotion has calmed, and wounds have been seen to." Amarei reached for her brother's underarm, squeezing it gently. "How is Leo?"

"Unfortunate drunken ramblings caused affront, or so they say. Of sore losses and lingering resentment." She spoke with a sigh. Surely it was short-sighted to blame only the wine, but that was talk better suited for another time. Even if her mind had already begun to ruminate, as it was wont to do. "Have you seen Myles?"