|A Mutual Accord|
|Summary:||A decision made by the lords of their houses places Lord Ozric and Lady Nedra in the not-unusual position of being betrothed, and learning of it as the banns are read.|
|Related Logs:||current events in the cape|
|Eagles Way ~ Terrick's Roost|
|The short road leading up from the Green towards the castle proper is known as 'Eagles Way'. Surrounded on both sides by the deep green grass, guards watch this area at all hours from high perches. The road is of a worn cobblestone and dirt that provides traction on the ascent in all types of weather.|
|Thursday Feb 21, 290|
He had things to take care of in the township before coming back to the Tower. Likely to allow for steam to rise up and hopefully allow tempers to abate, before the Young Lord returned from Stonebridge. His squires and lance had returned earlier, allowing the Uoung Lord, the grace to walk alone and gather his thoughts. Though easier to ride to the Roost-being on foot gives him a chance to be lost in the solitude that the early evening allows. And a time to not be recognized, save for the patch on his eye.
The evening weather that had followed a day that was neither to hot nor to cold, to humid nor to arid, nor to breezy or to still, one of those 'middling' days when everything is just mild and, seasonably, uneventful. For her part, Lady Nedra had spent the afternoon and better part of the early evening walking along the rock strewn shores before heading into town again for a bit to eat. Its from this that she and her maid, Shalla, and her armsman Ser Duncan are returning, though at a slow pace which indicates she is not eager to return to the castle. Having neared the portcullis she'd slowed again, eyeing the walls before eyeing the sky instead, thinking up a reason or six for staying out in the evening air longer.
It seems fate and the Seven are either kind, or cruel in their happenstances. When the knight does come into view, it seems so does the Lady, and her own escort. There's a part there that catches the one eyed man off guard as if surprised to see anyone returning to the Tower, let alone be walking around at this time. Eyes catch the men at the Portcullis, and there's a wave off, before the Young Lord, picks up his pace to bring him somewhat behind Duncan.
"Ser, and ladies. I hope you don't mind me skulking in behind you." Ozric announces his presence. "I am trying to remain somewhat inconspicuous."
Having lifted one hand to point out the names of some of the early evening constellations, Nedra gives a small start of surprise at the sound of footsteps and then - her attention further tugged - by the presence of Lord Ozric. The hand that had been lifted is lowered to her side and she, along with her maid Shalla, give a curtsy of greeting to Ozric even as her guard, Ser Duncan, is shaking his head with a mild expression of polite amusement on his face. "Good evening, Lord Ozric,' comes the mellow voice of Duncan, offered with a bow, "best wishes, in that regard," added as he straightens and pins a look at the women he's escorting. "I had hoped to see Lady Nedra already safely behind the walls by this hour, but there appears to be some measure of star gazing that they are determined to achieve, at this hour, from out here on the green."
Nedra feels a small rush of color rising as Duncan's words point out, rather neatly, that she'd rather be outside than in, and that avoiding things - anything really - is simply not done. She starts to life her hands to smooth something, be it hair or dress or anything that might need tending too. Halts the gesture even as it starts and instead draws a soft breath. holds it for a silent count, exhales quietly, squares her shoulders subtly and steps forward a small pace. But it's a step forward, not back, that counts. "If you'd like to aid in this endeavor, my lord, we could easily draw attention at this gate if you wanted to step through another and continue on with your business at this hour? We're pretty adept at being distracting, it's a special skill of sorts."
"A stubborn bit of star gazing? Surely these stars have been in place all the times she has visited here, and I suspect shall continue to remain here, long after she leaves this tower." He adds with a faint smile to the other knight. Hands clasping behind his back, for a moment as he turns his head up to look, allowing his lone eye to trace the movement of the stars. "The Green is often blocked- I am surprised she did not look to the Ravenry at the top of the Tower. It holds the best view."
And there he turns his gaze now on Nedra for a moment. "I see where your horse gets it." a faint grin added for a moment before he is coming to step towards her and offer a bow-short. "My beloved." Or is it bethrothed-which is the best way to greet in this manner. A glance is given to the Knight as if in quiet consent to him talking. "Why do you linger-As for me? I chose to find my way through some wine, and figure out this-situation."
"Aye," comes the mellow tone again of Duncan, "would have been quite the clear sky to be looking at to, from the top of the tower," is said with a faint touch of a smile to that often stoic visage.
For her part, Nedra eyes Duncan with a long look, the sort that speaks of years and years of practice at being on the receiving end of this particular brand of wit. "Thank you, Ser Duncan, for point out - again - that the sky would have been just as lovely from up the tower as out here on the green." Dry wit can match dry wit any time. She turns toward Ozric again, his words drawing a small breath of startled laughter from her, in fact it's a somewhat reluctant chuckle with regard to his remark about her horse - but she doesn't argue the point. The short bow he gives her, and his words to accompany, cause that touch of color to rise again ever upward and she is flustered into glancing down again. "I linger because the air out here is a good deal less crowded and I am less likely to be caught in awkward or angry conversation if I have room to keep on walking. I've no wish to argue, endlessly, nor wage a war of words that leads only to hurt feelings and worse, further driving a wedge of dissent or rift. I've lingered at Stonebridge this long so that I would not cause any harm by returning. I would rather do what I may, at your side my lord, to help , instead o f harm. But I do not know how, yet, to achieve that."
The nod given to the other knight, and almost a conspirtaral look is enough for Ser Ozric, before he has focused his attention back on Nedra.
The Lady eyes her minder, and the Terrick lord does manage to suppress a grin, but barely. And then he looks back towards the Green for a moment, his jaw tightening for a second and then releasing. "Well, that is something I do not think, I will ever be able to change my lady. The Tower of Eagles is a fine spot for my family and our close friends, such as your brother and good sister." And he looks back to her. "A boon in the closeness, but there are places of solitude one can find if you know where to look." And there he falls silent for a moment. "Still, it is your place here.-despite what someone might think, this place is now yours. And it will only make it seem worse if you were to bluster in or avoid all together. Acceptance is one thing. Carrying on like a victory won is another." And so he clears his throat. "I know the Lady Anais is unhappy. If there are others in my house, I've not been made known." he says plainly. "I.." and he is quiet. "I won't allow harm to come to my family- or you."
Nedra's head is tilted back subtly, watching the expression upon Ozric's face as he speaks, following - trying to follow, trying to actively learn - the shift of his expressions and how those shifts accompany his tone of voice. "I have found that a walk along the cove is a good place, my lord. Sometimes the tower, but it's easy to get - for lack of a better phrase - treed like a cat, my lord. I prefer to have ample room to.." she pauses, lets the sentence end where it ends and exhales softly before she takes another of those small steps forward, ending up tilting her head slightly back a touch further so that she may do so.
"I know, my lord, I know that you wouldn't, and that it goes without needing to be said, but also that you put it to words, it means a lot, my lord. I have always had my family, of which we are no small numbers, to rely upon. I don't know know where the balance is, but you are my betrothed, and that means that I am with you, fort you, at your side, come hell or high water. And, considering our proximity to the coast and rumblings of war, hell or high water could very well be ingredients around the corner at any given moment. I won't embarrass you, I promise. If you'd rather that I remain, then I'll do so. It's as simple as that."
There's a flicker of amusement in Ozric's eye, but he hide the rest of his expression quite well. As if he is trained in keeping a stoic look, even though mirth might be simmering below, or bubbling like some secret fount. A step closer to the woman and he merely moves to come to her side, so as to continue staring off into the distance. Looks to her, of course will be asides, but it does allow a more intimate feel without violating a minder's presence.
"I have no fear that you will not embarrass me. Nor do I fear that you will do wrong here. I trust you've been trained in the running of a House of some sort- and if not you will seek to have yourself learn what skills might prove nessecary." And he glances to the young woman. "I am glad. I am-that you are my betrothed. Contrary to what others may believe of the circumstance-this is in the best interest for this House, and yours."
Nedra tilts her head slightly to the side as she casts a sidelong glance upward at Ozric as he speaks, she listens rather quietly in fact and then stands quietly alongside Ozric for another few moments. It's only, in fact, after those few moments, that he may discern that she is shaking faintly. Or trembling, perhaps, might be a better word. A keen eye, further, might note that she's trying to contain laughter - but not entirely successful in doing so because a small almost-hiccup of sound escapes her and she ends up having to brush her fingertips against her eyes.
"My lord, I am my father's daughter, yes, I can read a map and the stars, I can sail, I can ride with the best rider you have in the field, I have no fear of heights or enclosed spaces. And while, yes, I have a serious loathing for spiders that leap or spring, and I really don't find any particular fondness for rats or snakes, I'm the last one that'll be on a table or a chair shrieking - ninny like - regarding it. All of this is true, but I am also my mother's daughter. I have been trained in all the skills required to run a household of this size, or any size. Be it regarding the books, the food stores, the linens, the simples, regarding managing the household staff, the placement of guards, the trivial details such a who sits by whom at dinners, what manner of songs be sung, what wine be paired with which course, or the nature of the topic of conversation suitable for a drawing room. I have spent most of my life learning these skills."
This, all, is said quiet calmly, quite clearly, and she ends by lifting her eyes to his face again, instead of gazing out across the green, "My father is pleased by this match, and - if his pleasure is a measure, that means that Lord Mallister is pleased. If Lord Mallister is pleased I can only imagine that your Lord father is not displeased by the match, and that the details will prove profitable to your house, and that's the details that will matter in the places where such things are bluntly spoken of. I live, my lord, but to serve. This is my fathers will, this is the will of Lord Mallister, and I would not perhaps be wrong in saying the will of Lord Bolland as well."
Ozric offers his own small grin, before he lowers his head there. Quiet in this time to listen as to what she has to say, before he is finally allowing himself to nod. One hand coming up to pause her, for but a moment. "By running a house I mean can you understand figures-" but she goes on and there he drops into the silence allowing her to continue and answer those questions left unasked. A glance and he's grinning once more. "Your brother is as well, though I have been warned in not harming you. " All brothers likely give such warnings, as will he when the time comes to see his own sisters married off. But, Ozric doesn't linger on that. Instead he turns back towards the keep. "I suspect it was the Lord Mallister's idea so as to keep us with him. And that is fine. I know my father would not have accepted it, if it did not benefit the both of us."
And with that he nods back to the tower. "We should really go back. I'd not have them say you were craven, because of a decision we did not make."
"I believe, my lord, that I can reliably add up one and one to a sum of two, with a small margin of error plus or minus one skinny coin, if pressed," Nedra replies in a tone of mild amusement before she gives a measured nod. "My brother and I believe my cousin have expressed such remarks in a measure that is either serious or … well, family," she says with a shrug of her shoulders. "I said that I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, I'm quite adept, after all, at employing the tips of my shoes in the effort of kicking, should the need arise. I do not, however, see this becoming a problem." She straightens slightly and nods with a glance at the tower, "I'm not, and neither are you, as a result of a decision neither of us made. But you are right, and the hour is late enough."
That reply earns itself a snort, before he is looking back to her. "Well done, then." he replies dryly, before offering his arm over to the lady. "It appears your family, or perhaps men in general do not think I can handle myself in such a manner around ladies. Why do I need such warnings? If we are betrothed-then would it not be in my interest to be nice to you?" A chuckle there before he is nodding And Ozric starts to lead on to the keep. "Dually noted."
"I believe, my lord, is that the sentiment is expressed by all brothers to the betrothed of their sisters," Nedra suggests in a tone of voice that conveys the same edge of mild amusement. "He's my brother, my lord. He was 4 when I was born, he remembers me as the child that learned to walk holding his hand, the kid with the bruised elbows, skinned knees, hair flying in all directions and having to be coaxed down out of a tree by her Septa because I don't like green beans and I wasn't going to come down until she promised I'd never have to eat them ever again. I'm his sister, his kid sister, in familial vernacular," she has accepted his offered arm, her hand now resting lightly on his arm as she moves at his side. "It's not so much a slight at yourself, my lord, it's.. I would imagine.. the fact that you are.. well.. you're a man," she gives a small shrug, still amused and not really hiding it. "I imagine that you will be as nice, now, as you have ever been, and i did not think it's a matter of 'if' we are betrothed but a measure of 'we are', yes?"