|We Are Naylands|
|Summary:||The Lady Roslyn seeks out Ser Rygar on his recovery bed.|
|Related Logs:||Familial Loyalty|
|A modest room but with a large high bed that is set with four posts in rich mahogany. A blue rectangular rug is angled in the center of the room. A chest for storing the visitor's goods is at the foot of the bed and a grey blue cover settles over the bed. A hearth to the right of the windows which rests between it and the bed is done over with a iron screen meant to be removed when in use. A pair of chairs rest near the window and about a small circular table set with a candle. On the same wall as the door rests a low chest of drawers, a basin for water and a few wooden mugs rest there for use.|
|Tue May 01, 289|
Rygar remains bedridden for another day, sitting upright with back against the oaken headboard of the tower guest room. The gaunt gentleman's bandaged ribs are concealed beneath an overlarge nightshirt for the sake of dignity, and he is presently reading from a leather-bound tome, a flagon of drink within easy reach.
Roslyn's light scratch against the door hangs in the still quiet of the recovery room for a moment, a polite sound entreating entry as she waits outside the solid door. She brings with her another book, held carefully between her hands as she waits for permission to enter her cousin's room.
"Come," is the crisp word spoken to grant admittance. Turning his stiff neck only far enough to grant him a sidelong look at the doorway as it open, he draws a ribbon across the page with a flip of his fingers, keeping arms as still as he may.
The door is cracked open to allow Roslyn to slip in, as if opening it too wide may only further complicate Rygar's health. The lady knows little of these things, after all. Her gaze skips over the knight on the bed, usually a steady thing and for once not finding a correct place to look until she forces herself to stare at his features. "Ser cousin, I hope I do not find you ill-disposed to visitors?" she questions politely.
"Lady cousin," Rygar greets back in his habitual stony tone. As his guest is noble, the stern gentleman closes the book to reduce distraction, leaving the ribbon to mark his page. "I am well disposed to such, until given cause otherwise," he notes with a sharp sniff. "Stonebridge agrees with you, I trust?"
"Stonebridge is a lovely place. If it lacks the familiarity of the Mire, it most certainly makes up for such in the hospitality to be found from my lord brother and the Lady Valda," Roslyn murmurs in even tones, drawing across the room to claim a chair to put herself on an even level with Rygar as she transfers her gaze back to him. "I brought you something to read, though it is on the subject of Dorne. I could try to find something else, if you'd rather." She pauses. "How goes your recovery, cousin? What do the Maesters say?"
"I intend to return to my duties within the week, lady," Rygar answers with a short dip of his head to her inquiry. "The maesters do not dispute this," he adds, dryly. The mention of a book, piques his attention, and the knight wonders, "I shall welcome the fresh reading. Dorne, you say?" The breaths he draws are short, measured and shallow, to ease the strain on his ribs as the nobleman regards his cousin.
"Would they dare?" The question is quietly humored, though Roslyn's smile immediately turns apologetic at the implication of it. She rushes on to the safer topic of the book, replying, "Yes, ser. It is a book on the history and lineage of the ruling family there, though they also make some note of the interesting battles fought by some of their Princes."
"From out of arm's reach, perhaps," Rygar notes deadpan to her initial jest. "My grasp is rather limited for the nonce, although my reach remains great, cousin." A short sniff greets the subject. "Your timing is impeccable, lady: the work I had but recently completed addressed the subject of the Targaryen occupaion of Dorne, and the governance of Lord Tyrell. A work upon the Martells would make an excellent counterpoint."
"What a rare coincidence, cousin. It must be fate, then, that brought me to bring this one to you," Roslyn says lightly, the curve of her smile twitching all the more at Rygar's deadpanned tone. She falls silent for a moment, thoughtful as she draws up from her seat to move close enough to set the book within reach. Finally, she adds a non-sequitor, "You fought well, Rygar. It seems such good fortune that we can call you family."
"We are Naylands, cousin," Rygar states simply, as though that explained all of his conduct and family fortune. "Tell me, if you would: has the Dowager Lady Rebekkah returned to the Fortress of the Sevens as of yet?"
Roslyn merely nods where she takes the words as part dismissal of her own, not pressing further as she buries her fingers in her skirts instead. She answers, instead, "I believe she still resides in Stonebridge, ser, but I admit I have been—distracted in my time spent here by other things."
Rygar inclines his head in a short nod at the answer in regards to their grandmother. "Distracted," he echoes with briefly raised brows, mutely inviting explanation.
Roslyn takes her chair again, a moment's pause to order her thoughts carefully before she explains, "I have met with the Lady Rosanna Groves that has been spoken of. It was mentioned as a possible match, I believe?" She pauses, looking for confirmation from her knightly cousin with a steady glance. "She is an intelligent lady. Helpful, quick witted. I have made further moves to invite the young lady and her brother to the Sevens."
"Ser Rutger had discussed the possibility," Rygar confirms briefly. "Improved ties to that House have been much desired since driving the Ironborn from the cape. The failure of the bastard's gambit will damage the machinations of the Mallisters and their Terrick vassals, gaining the Groves would be greatly to our gain."
"I believe she could be interested in a suit, it is her brother that worries me more, as her current keeper," Roslyn offers in judgment, her fingers twisting together in an idle gesture that sees a slight color to her cheeks as well. "Lord Kittridge? I do not know what he thinks of the possibility of a match, and if he is the one who reports to Lord Groves—." She stops, gaze seeking out Rygar's as she waits for his opinion.
"Ser Kittridge Groves fought for the Royalists," Rygar notes in initial answer, eyes ticking briefly more narrow as Roslyn'd cheeks color and she toys with her gown. "He is a gentleman of rather.. consistant values, what best serves his House will not be lost upon him. If they attended the duel, the state of the cape is to their attention, and the state of the cape greatly favors us, cousin."
"Then I suppose we have done all we can for the moment, until such a time as Lady Rosanna may accept our invitation to the Mire," Roslyn concludes simply, smoothing back out her skirts as she quickly settles back to a cooler reserve. "Do you have ought you need to speed your recovery, cousin? I would see you have everything, before Lord Riordan and I leave for home."
"I am well appointed, lady cousin," Rygar notes simply in response to the inquiry. "Should aught change while yourself and Ser Riordan are in the Mire, word shall be promptly sent."
As Roslyn rises, she nods quickly before saying politely,"I am sure my lord brother will appreciate that, ser." With a rustle of skirts, she retreats towards the door to ease it open even as she adds, "Gods see you on your feet soon."
"I bid you a pleasant travel to the Sevens, lady," Rygar returns with a short dip of his head. "Whatever the Gods wish to see, I care naught. My family, and this towen shall see see me on my feet all the sooner."
The words startle a momentary laugh, amusement crinkling Roslyn's gaze where it is cast back towards Rygar for a moment. But then she bows her own head and slips from the room.