Page 300: Afraid Of Freying
Afraid of Freying
Summary: Discussions of the definition of "Freying."
Date: 15/May/2012
Related Logs: Cape politics in general
Kamron Martyn Saffron 
Reading Room, Four Eagles Keep
The room has a large glass window and seat that looks out partially over the cove, in daylight hours the sun provides illumination to the room. Other stools and chairs linger in small groups as shelves along the walls are littered with scrolls, books, letters and documents. The contents are a modest collection of local records, histories, and literature offered to both the family and guests of Four Eagles Tower.
May 16, 289

With the Naylands' whirlwind visit over and done with, Kamron has focused his attention back onto other situations. The bandit situation is frustratingly in the hands of others, so he's asked his cousin to meet him in the reading room to discuss Stonebridge. At one point, Kam may have been sitting down reading one of the books of the collection, but he's since popped up and is pacing back and forth — although still reading.

Stepping into the room a bit slowly, Martyn pauses just inside the door to look around. "Careful so you don't wear out the floor," he comments after a few moments of pause, before he moves further into the room.

Kamron looks up from his book, then down at his pacing path, a wry grin crossing his lips, "Couldn't sit still. There's just too much talking, and not enough -doing- going on." Closing the book gently, he moves over to the shelf, returning to its proper place. He gestures slightly to the door, "Want to get that shut? I wanted to talk to you briefly about the big fucking mess that is the Tordanes, before sending word back to Seagard or talking to Lord Terrick about it, or anything like that."

Martyn nods a little bit as he moves to close the door. "Trouble with diplomacy, all the talk…" he remarks, before he grimaces a bit at the topic of the day. Nodding a little bit as he makes his way back after having closed the door.

Kamron nods his head, "I could do with a little less conversation, a little more action — even if it's political action." A little huff of amusement follows as he moves over to perch on one arm of a chair, "That said… I was curious if you'd gotten a chance to speak with Lady Tordane." There's a pause, and then he clarifies, "Lady Danae Tordane, that is. I spoke with her briefly, and was not greatly encouraged, but I wanted to know if you'd gotten a chance to talk with her yourself." Rubbing at his face with both hands, he lets his hands drop and blinks as if trying to wake up.

"I've only talked with her before the duel and all trouble that's come after it," Martyn replies after a few moments, before he adds, "Not many things in this whole mess that is Stonebridge seems to be encouraging these days…"

Kamron grunts softly, nodding his head, "I went after. Well after, really. I asked her a few questions. She said she meant to push the claim for any child, male or female, but if there was no child, she would not push a claim." That's said off-hand, as if it's nothing more than he expects, but his lips purse tightly before he relates the next point, "And when I asked if she meant to follow suit with the written promise Ser Gedeon made to swear Stonebridge to the Terricks if he won it, she avoided the question." His fingers tap on the side of his right thigh, where his axe-head would be if he were wearing it, "I've been thinking of suggesting to Lord Mallister that we don't outright support her claim unless she re-affirms that promise in writing. What do you think, coz?"

Martyn shrugs a little bit as he looks around. "At the moment that seems to be the best course, yes," he offers after a few moments of consideration. "Not that it would matter much, until we know that there's a child involved, from what you say…" He grimaces for a few moments, glancing around the room again for a few moments.
pose frowns down at his hands for a long moment, "Honestly, coz… even if there is a child, if she's not going to swear to the Terricks, the Groves, or us,I don't know if the Mallisters should support her. Does it matter which of the Weasel-houses she swears to?"

Kamron frowns down at his hands for a long moment, "Honestly, coz… even if there is a child, if she's not going to swear to the Terricks, the Groves, or us, I don't know if the Mallisters should support her. Does it matter which of the Weasel-houses she swears to?"

Martyn shrugs a little bit, "We'll just have to wait and see before we decide on anything set in stone, I'd say. The way things are these days…" He shakes his head a little bit, not saying much more at the moment.

Kamron grimaces broadly, "Wait and see… that sounds too much like the Late Lord Frey to me." He shakes his head hard, "Sorry coz… that's not meant for you. Just the situation. I don't know that I see any other option either, but I keep thinking we should have plans in place — something. Should at least try to get Lady Tordane to write down her oath in the babe's name. If there even is a babe." This time, the shake of the scarred head is slow, "Gods but I need a problem I can just hit in the face with my axe."

"It sounds a bit like the Freys yes," Martyn replies with a shrug. "Once in a while it's the smart thing to do, though," he says, before he shrugs a bit. "Always preferred even the dirtiest fighting to politics. Seems more honest."

Kamron nods slowly, reaching up to rub at the scar over his eyebrow, "Do you think I should tell Lord Mallister and Lord Terrick what I talked to Lady Tordane about? Just leave out my suggestions and give them the facts flat out?"

Martyn considers that for a few moments. "If I was one of them…" he begins, before he's unable to hold back a half-smile. "Aside from the fact that we'd all probably be doomed, if that was the case…" A few moments, and back to being serious. "I would have requested the facts as flat out as possible first, then asked for the suggestions. So perhaps offer the facts first, then the suggestions or something like that?"

Kamron nods his head, grimacing again, "Well, I'll be able to talk to Lord Terrick about it, but Lord Mallister…" He trails off, sighs softly, then nods, "…I think I'll just stick to the facts. I still don't think he much trusts my judgment, and I'll have to send word by courier, rather than going myself, if I'm still to help out here, and be ready to go to the Twins." His grimace fades, and a bit of laughter touches his lips, "You know your sister made me promise to talk to Lord Terrick about her going up to the Twins."

"That sounds like a good idea," he offers after a few moments, before he pauses at that last part, "She did?"

Kamron shifts to slump down into the chair whose arm he was previously perched on, sitting in it sideways with one leg thrown over his previous seat, "Father's own truth. Apparently Lord Terrick told her he'd 'consider' allowing her to go, and now she's all aflutter that she might not be allowed to. I wonder who he is, the man who caught her eye." There's a pause, and then he laughs, "Or she's just looking forward to seeing you and I get the tar beat out of us."

"I'm thinking she more would like to be there so she can put us back together after we get the tar beat out of us," Martyn offers with a bit of a chuckle.

Kamron nods, scrubbing at the back of his neck a moment, "Probably so. I wonder if the Half-Septon will be there. He did a good job on me on Pyke." A chuckle rises to his lips, and he half-raises one hand defensively, "Not to insult your sister's skill with a needle and herbs. I've just never had to be sewn up by her." Another sigh lifts his shoulders and then lets them slide, "I wonder what ransom will be. If we both loose in the first round of the tilt, it could hurt the house." A rueful shake of his head draws a laugh up to his lips, "I don't think either of us is going to withdraw, however, so I guess we'll just have to win." The younger Mallister knight is sprawled sideways across a heavy chair, one leg thrown over an arm and his back up against the other arm.

Martyn is unable to hold back a grin, "Good plan, avoiding losing. You've decided you're not that rusty after all, then?" he offers. He's seated in another of the chairs, a bit more like most people would, of course.

A possible interruption to the Mallister knights comes in the form of the strawberry-haired Banefort and one of the Terrick maids. The two are walking side by side, talking in an almost girlish quality of hushed, excited voices and expressive hand gesture. Whatever their topic, they both seem quite excited. It probably helps that both are the same age, and that Mistress Morla isn't around. Saffron is still in mourning threads, though a vibrant violet sash has been done at her waist to match the flowers threaded through her hair; her cheek is still marked by the shallow, horizontal cut, though it is less angry around the edges and no longer weeping.

Kamron looks up as the door opens, and starts as a pair of skirts enters. There's a bit of a bustle as he quickly twists in his seat to sit upright and then rise to his feet to bow. "Lady Saffron." He waits until the young lady responds, then glances over to Martyn, "I took a few more passes this morning. Still haven't hit the dirt. I think I'll manage unless I draw poorly. Just because there aren't any really renowned jousters about doesn't mean there aren't some very good ones." Looking back to Saffron, he gestures up toward her cheek, remaining standing while she herself does, "I certainly hope that isn't a suggestion that you ran into further trouble around the Roost, Lady Saffron."

"And there's always the chance of new talent when it comes to the jousting, of course," Martyn offers with a bit of a nod, before he gets to his feet as well. "Lady Saffron. How are you today?" he asks, not commenting on the cut on the cheek at the moment.

The ladies are drawn up-short, and Saffron must hush the maid girl as she starts to giggle; she remains smiling all the same, and sobers her voice as she intones, "Ser Kamron, Ser Martyn." And then she looks to the former as she brushes a pair of fingertips across the little cut, and she dimples at him. "Only if you consider tripping over your own skirts as trouble, Ser Kamron. I really must get the tailor to take these hems up a bit if I'm going to go running about in the surf, got attacked by a broken clam shell." She steps closer to the knights with her maid in tow, and she tilts her head a bit. "Discussing the tourney?" She inquires casually.

Kamron nods to Martyn, "New talent, but you'd think we'd have heard of a new Ser Jaime or Ser Barristan." A rueful chuckle alights on his lips, "Although I must admit that I wouldn't particularly like to face The Mountain or Bronze Yohn either." He nods to Saffron, chuckling more heartily, "I wouldn't know if tripping over my own skirts is trouble, as I've never done it." He swishes his hands around his legs as if twirling skirts, "The lack of skirts, you see, Lady Saffron." Shrugging a little helplessly, he nods at her question, "Indeed. It appears that we'll both be in the melee, but we're trying to decide whether or not to join the joust as well. Will you and your cousin be joining us at the Twins?"

"Unless we join the joust and get banged up too badly, of course," Martyn adds, before he nods a bit. "The good thing about not wearing skirts, I suppose." Otherwise keeping silent for now.

Saffron cannot help but join the maid in a small burst of giggles at the idea of Ser Kamron in a skirt. The two women exchange a glance before the Banefort daughter focuses her attention back on the pair of knights. "I'm sure if you wanted to give it a try, Ser Kamron, we could get you some skirts." And then her smile curves a bit more, and that dimple cannot hide the slight mischief in the expression. "We could make a wager out of it. You did sing for Lady Iliria after all." Then she sobers a bit again, nodding her head. "I will be there, as will Lady Anais I imagine. A letter from the Banefort has made it clear that I will be there with or without her." Something in the way her lips twist suggests she's not sure why its so important.

Kamron glances over to Martyn, "Well, of course." Saffron's suggestion draws a laugh from him, and he looks back to his cousin, "You know, coz, that's the second woman recently who's measured me for skirts. I'm starting to wonder about Westerland ladies and if they prefer their men in pants or skirts." Laughter fills the words, and it rises to a peak at Saffron's words of a wager, "Oh no, Lady Saffron… singing's something I enjoy and have no shame of doing in public. You'll not catch me wearing skirts…" There's almost a suggestion that he might follow it up with some line like 'unless it's around my neck,' but thankfully he manages not to be quite that crude in front of a lady. Stepping over to clap Martyn in the shoulder, he adds, "You're far too gloomy, coz. If we get banged up in the joust, we'll just have your Lady sister pack us a poultice, and fight all the harder in the melee." That does not, of course, cover the possibility of serious injury or death, but apparently Kam's in a glass-half-full mood.

"Oh?" Martyn offers to Kamron, unable to hold back a bit of a grin. "Who was the first one? And it would be… interesting to see you in a skirt, cousin. Just make sure that you add a wig as well." He then pauses at the clap to the shoulder, before shaking his head a little bit now. "We'll just have to see, won't we?" He also looks a bit curiously over at Saffron. "Interesting letter, then?"

Saffron just shakes her head a bit, giving the knights a simple smile. "You are missing so much experience, Ser Kamron… skirts are quite a chore, especially when combat is concerned." Though she does arch up a coppery brow with the faintest hint of curiosity. "Which Westerlander tried to get you in skirts besides me, Ser Kamron? There are not many of us running about the Riverlands." Which isn't exactly true, but it keeps her story in check. Then her gaze wanders over toward Martyn, and she gives him a light smile. "I'm not entirely sure what the purpose is, but I'm meant to be there, so… be there I will.

Kamron shakes his head, "I told Lady Tordane that I had no experience being a lady, and she offered to trade me one of her dresses for my own armor." Amusement filters through the words, but it's a dry sort of thing. He points a finger at Martyn, "And -no- wigs." His hand rises to scrub through his short hair, "Long hair looks like even more of a trial than skirts, if you've a helmet to wear. I don't know how Ser Aleister and others do it." And then something Saffron said finally sticks in his head, and he glances at her, his unscarred brow rising sharply, "Especially when combat is concerned, Lady Saffron? You aren't planning to enter the lists as a mystery knight, are you? I quite thought Lady Rowenna," -never- Ser from this knight, "had that sort of thing sewn up."

"Maybe you wouldn't have gotten that much trouble with the head on Pyke if you had more hair to support under the helmet?" Martyn offers with a grin to Kamron, before he looks over to Saffron at the other Mallister's question.

There is a moment's pause from the redhead as she realizes her own mistake, and she quickly shakes her head. "No, no… I have no intention to become a knight. I'm certain that Lady Rowenna has her reasons, but deceit is deceit no matter how you dress it." She then shakes her head as she clasps her hands behind her back in a casual pose, looking between the two knights. There is only the smallest hint of her holding back further comment, whether because she has yet to formally meet Lady Rowenna and wishes not to cast judgement, or for some other reasons. She does return to her dimpled smile. "With that said, perhaps I will spare you from the skirts after all, Ser Kamron."

Kamron snorts softly at Martyn's words, "Or maybe the spear would have stuck in my long hair and kept me down and out." Once more, his fingertips trace the line of scar tissue over his brow, "I'll take nearly losing an eye over an unknown outcome from a blow to the head, thank you very much." He nods to Saffron's judgment on Rowenna, "She carried it off well, and she can fight, but the Lady Rowenna is no knight, nor will she ever be one." Shaking off the sober speech, he chuckles at the Banefort, "I thank you for that, Lady Saffron. I would look quite the silly figure taking the melee in a skirt, and somehow I don't think jousting would go so well sidesaddle."

Martyn chuckles a little bit now, but otherwise keeps quiet as he moves back to his seat, leaning back in it.

There is a moment of relaxation that takes her shoulders and she nods her head gently with Kam's words. "There are good reasons to know how to fight," she says casually, shrugging her shoulders. "It was perhaps the one reason my father at least ensured I could fight back if my life was threatened." She twists her lips a bit as she glances toward Martyn and then back to Kamron.

Kamron raises his eyebrows at Saffron's words, chuckling lightly, "Oh so you -do- know about fighting in a skirt, Lady Saffron. Or at least the rudiments of defending yourself." He presses one hand to his chest, "I do wish that such was not necessary, but as the late troubles have shown, even with as many knights as there are in the Riverlands and Westerlands, we cannot be everywhere." He glances over to Martyn a moment, "I wonder if the melee will break into alliances. Frey-aligned against Mallister-aligned with everyone else scattered in between."

"Maybe. We'll just have to…" Martyn is unable to hold back a grin in Kamron's direction. "I know you don't like it, but wait and see…" He shakes his head a bit lightly.

Saffron pinks a bit at her cheeks, and she offers the Mallister knight a small shrug of her shoulders. "My father is the Banefort Master of Arms, and well… he has no sons to speak of, so I suppose he was content to just have one of his own interested in his skills." There is the smallest touch of relief in her eyes as she has a moment to speak (mostly) freely about such things. As the conversation takes a turn, she nods her head a bit. "It wouldn't surprise me, Ser Kamron."

Kamron groans at Martyn, "Seven Hells…" And then he realizes he just said that in front of a young lady of good breeding, and he clears his throat, "That is… dang. I knew you were going to say that. Of course, if we don't have our own alliance prepared, we may be out of position if the Freys come at us with their own…" Now he's mostly teasing, although there's a slightly weary sound to it as well. He glances over to Saffron, he nods, shrugging a little helplessly, "Sadly, I think Martyn is right… we'll have to Frey it."

Martyn grins, before he nods at Saffron's words, "So you ended up being the one learning those skills then?" he offers. Also offering a grin in Kamron's reaction, with a bit of a chuckle.

Saffron smirks a bit toward Kamron. "And what is the definition of 'Freying' it, Ser Kamron? If I am to use it properly, I need to know the context." There is a faint glimmer of amusement in her pale eyes. And then she looks over to Martyn. "There is a good chance I was the only of my sisters to show interest… Magnola would never permit her hands to become rough, Terra was too quiet and meek for such, and the two youngers were, well, just that. Too young."

Kamron shakes his head at Saffron, noting ruefully, "Probably not the best choice of terms to use in public, especially around Frey-aligned houses, Lady Saffron. But the definition, for your academic edification, would be sitting on your backside and waiting until the decision is made by someone else, and then supporting it wholeheartedly. Less specifically, playing 'wait and see.'"

Martyn nods a little bit at Saffron's answer, before he grins a little bit as he listens to Kamron's explanation. Keeping quiet for the moment, while looking a bit amused now.

Saffron grins toward Kamron with a slight tilt of her head. "I will try to do my best to find the proper time and place to use… Freying." She cannot hide the small grin that starts to bud on her lips as she glances toward Martyn. Unfortunately, the maid is looking somewhere between ashamed to be amused and very amused. The redhead steps forward a bit more so she can capture a seat, idly touching the cut at her cheek.

Kamron waves off Saffron's words, "Oh gods no, Lady Saffron. There's no appropriate place for Freying, no matter what my cousin says." Still, the words are light and amused, obviously teasing. Once she seats herself, Kamron once more takes his own seat, although he doesn't sprawl as before, instead sitting back comfortably, leaning his chin on the fingers of his left hand and crossing his left leg over his right, "Some say it's a valid tactic, I say that those people should just act a bit more. Take a chance." Laughter splashes from from his lips then, and he gestures toward Martyn, "That may, however, be the reason that my face has become a pincushion while my cousin's remains untouched."

"Well that part is simply because I know how to take care of my good looks," Martyn offers with a bit of a grin in Kamron's direction, as he leans back a bit further in his seat. Unable to hold back his own laughter now.

"I'm sure there are times and places for Freying, Ser Kamron," Saffron says with a slight gesture. "For instance, you could Frey a storm… or a relationship could be Freyed." She cannot help but grin now, full and dimpled with laughter in her pale eyes. "There is quite a lot that could be important if Freyed." Her gaze slips over to Martyn briefly before she looks back toward Kam.

Kamron waves a finger at Saffron, tsking softly, "Oh no… you are misusing the word still, Lady Saffron. Freying a storm would be foolish. Far better to find shelter, batten down the hatches, and then wait it out. That's not Freying, that's actually doing something." Laughter bubbles free again, "And Freying a relationship, well, that is simply surrendering your future to another, for it allows them to make the choice for you, and then goes along with it. Far better to flee any such thing as quickly as possible." Hardly able to keep his lips together now, he proclaims, "Better afraid than Freyed!"

Martyn just shakes his head a bit as he listens to the two, closing his eyes at the moment. Almost looks a bit tired, doesn't he?