the gardens of maegorβs holdfast were a riot of color and music, while he waited beneath a carved stone archway draped in dornish silk, eyes scanning the crowd. he looked every inch the martell sonβ dark eyes and the confident ease of someone raised between sand and spear. but there was a softness to his smile when he finally spotted @insufficiient.
β trystane. β voice carrying warmth as he approached. he steps forward, arms open just wide enough for a brief, brotherly embrace should it be accepted. β i feared you'd be caught in another council session or cloistered away with your queen. it seems the gods have been kind this evening. β
a smile curves on his face, amused and only a touch protective. he clapped a hand to trystaneβs shoulder, gentle but firm, β come. walk with me. you can tell me all the things you arenβt allowed to say within the ears of the court. β
