#fandom crossovers

"I must beg your pardon, my lord," Rhoswen said expertly. "I was not given a time to expect him. Have you been offered refreshment?" The man nodded, gesturing to the table and the tray there, heavy with fruit and cakes and a waiting jug of wine, as well as two beakers - seemingly untouched. Rhoswen nodded, glad to see that that had been done as she'd instructed. "They told me you had come from far away - a journey of many months. It must be a grave thing you seek, to have traveled so far to a place you do not know."

"I did not come for me," the older man offered, swallowing nervously. "It is for my brother. We - There are tales told in my land that here on the other side of the sea is a king whose touch may bring a man back from the brink of death."

Rhoswen nodded. It was true - she had seen the hand of the king do remarkable things. "And your brother is dying, is that it?" The lord gave a short nod, his mouth in a grim line. "What is your name, my lord? So that I may tell my lord when he comes?"

"Maekar, madam. A Prince of house Targaryen, of Westeros."

"Targaryen." Rhoswen pronounced it carefully. "It does not sound like our names."

"Can you tell us about your lord?" The boy spoke now, careful with his tone. "About Lord Boromir? Is he a great warrior, or…or a fine sailor?"

"He is an abominable sailor," Rhoswen said with a smile. "This is not his chief seat - he is here now only because the King has bid him rebuild the harbor. He is a soldier, first - a man at arms. That will be the quickest way to know him," she assured them, taking note of the sword and dagger at the elder prince's waist, the way the belt was worn with use. This, too, was a seasoned veteran, not just a man given to wearing a sword for show. "But he is fair - and kind," she added, catching a glimpse of Boromir standing just in the hall outside, still hidden in the shadows. He'd heard what he needed. "He will hear your suit and pass favorably - I have no doubt. He also has a brother, who was nearly lost." Her eye met Boromir's in the dark. "I think he will remember the pain of that."

Her husband would pick his moments - he strode in as though he had heard nothing, his dirty tunic from earlier exchanged for a fine tabard in black and silver, the White Tree picked out in neat embroidery upon his breast, his signet ring back on his hand. "Your pardon, my lord. I was delayed. Hail and well met, Prince Maekar."

Their visitor turned, and his face suddenly fell. "…you are not the harbormaster," he said, finally, after stumbling silently for a few moments.

"I have many titles, but that is not one of them at present," Boromir said with a smile. "I am Prince of Osgiliath, and Commander General of the Royal Army, and a good friend to my lord Elessar, the king of Gondor of whom you have heard. But before I am any of those things I am a keeper of the gate, and I cannot allow just any man to come before my lord to beg a favor. So tell me, Maekar of House Targaryen, why should I let you and your people through?"

Maekar was a proud man, and impatient - that much was easy to see. He seemed to be struggling to make himself amenable. "We are not beggars, your grace, we have come with coin, and treasure, if that is what you and your lord require. My brother is…is gravely injured. In my land we have heard tales that this is a place of great healing, and I have heard that your king might …be able to bring him back."

"What is the manner of his injury?" Boromir asked, before Rhoswen could ask herself. (He would have known she would want to know - her husband knew her too well.)

"A blow to the head, my lord, from a mace. He…sleeps, and breathes still, and will take water and a little broth, but he will not wake. Months now he has been like this, and our…our great men of healing have no answers."

"Injured in battle?" Boromir asked, glancing at his wife again over their guest's shoulder.

"Something like," Maekar said. Now there's a word that does not mean what it says, Rhoswen thought to herself. "Your - your housekeeper said that you were fair, my lord, and a worthy judge, and a soldier. All those things my brother was also, and I - I would give all I possess to have him returned to me."

Boromir smiled, and sighed. "I must beg your pardon again, Prince Maekar. I have twice deceived you today. That is not my housekeeper, but my wife - the Lady Rhoswen."

Rhoswen tried not to let their visitor's crestfallen embarrassment color her greeting. "Hail and well met, Prince - and to your son."

"Aegon, my lady," the boy said crisply, making a deep and very proper bow. "Thank you for the cakes."

"They are my son's favorite, too," Rhoswen said with a smile. "I think he is about your age."

"Please," Maekar said, and every syllable of his speech was strained with impatience. "Will you not give us your answer? The wind freshens and the harbor is cold and I do not wish to delay when my brother still lies aboard."

"You - you brought him here? An injured man on a boat? For however many months?" It was Rhoswen's turn to look at Boromir with impatience and horror.

"Thank whatever gods you serve that I married a healer, my lord," Boromir said with a small smile. "I think my mind has been made up for me. I will send men to bear him here - if only to put my lady's heart at ease."

"And your king, my lord?" Maekar's voice was pleading - not a tone, Rhoswen thought, that he took very often, or lightly.

"Lan-Xiansheng," Wei Ying greeted him, "I apologize for my tardiness, I had a little mishap. I promise it won't happen again."

"No apology necessary," he replied, his voice as rich and smooth as Wei Ying remembered. But a memory was nothing compared to the real thing, especially when it was speaking directly to him.

A din of laughter rolled down the hall then. Wei Ying could pick out the voices of his team easily, and one he had only a passing familiarity with. He said: "I'm glad I'm the only one that was late today. At least you know my people can be relied upon."

"You aren't the only one," Lan Zhan replied, "I was late this morning as well."

"Oh?" Wei Ying asked as they fell into step, making their way toward the conference room together. "If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."