Owen's Room

[Marie]

The room given to Ser Owen Lannister

[Marie]

Queen Rhaenys arrives at Owen's room, accompanied by the Queensguard Mearn Merryweather.

"Ser Owen, a word," she said.

[Ser Beric Dayne]

"Of course, my Queen," Owen said with a flattering smile and a deep bow. "Pardon the mess, I'd no awareness of who might come a calling," he said, waving a hand about the room, which was littered in weapons and and armor that he had been in the process of cleaning.

"Do take a seat, your Grace, if it suits you," he said pulling out one of the two wooden chairs in the room for her. "I have a bit of pear brandy, if you'd honor me with a drink. I've been carrying it since I departed the rock. Sort of a strange sentimental thing I suppose," he smiled. "I'd tell you it tastes divine, though I've never actually tried it."

[swedishchameleon]

Ser Mearn placed himself close to the queen, as she sat down. His hand ever rested on the hilt of his sword, some had to do with the Ariel-business but he was also weary of westermen.

[Marie]

She sat opposite him and debated whether to try the drink.

"I'll have some," she said at last. "But I hope you will not make yourself thirsty on my account."

[Ser Beric Dayne]

Owen laughed. "It's been naught but a small burned to carry for these past three years. What better use could it have than to be consumed by a Queen," he said, a cheery glint in his eye, though he was still not entirely sold on a second Targaryen dynasty."

The sight of the white cloak fondling his sword was enough to drive that from him as quickly as it had arrived. "Surely you'd like a taste as well, Ser, Mearn is it? You look so grim," he said, shaking his head. "I give you my word as a Lannister that I have no dobious thoughts of harming our glorious Queen," he said as he poured two small glasses of the clear liquid, the bottle hovering over a third as he waited for the knights response.

[swedishchameleon]

"I am on duty, Ser Owen." Ser Mearn answered with a small smile as Owen used the word grim. "so I have to respectfully decline your offer of the brandy"

[Ser Beric Dayne]

"Suit yourself, good Ser," Owen said, corking the bottle and refocusing on the Queen.

[Marie]

"You are most dutiful, Ser Mearn," Rhaenys told the knight. "I am pleased I chose you."

She turned to Owen and waited for him to sip his own drink first.

"I wish to discuss a matter of great import with you."

[Ser Beric Dayne]

"By all means, your Grace," Owen said politely, swirling the brandy in his glass and giving it a sniff. "Well, it is certainly pear, and quite strong, though I'm not connoisseur of drink." He took a small sip. "Hmm, quite good," he smiled. "It was a parting gift from my sister."

[Marie]

Finally she felt safe enough to take an equally small sip. It burned all the way down her throat.

"Potent, but I like it. What do you think of marriage, Ser Owen? Are you betrothed?"

She certainly hoped he wasn't.

[Ser Beric Dayne]

"I don't think of it often," Owen said, "it's been rather difficult to think of such things these past few years." It was then that he realized what she was actually saying. She didn't come here to hear your philosophy on the institution, fool, he thought to himself as he took another drink. His heart was beating fast, he could feel it in his chest. He hadn't been this nervous staring down the others at the tip of his lance.

"I trust you have something in mind, then?"

[Marie]

"I do," she said. "Have you met my sister, Princess Kyma?"

[Ser Beric Dayne]

"I've not had that pleasure," he smiled, though nervous teeth.

[Marie]

"She is very beautiful, though fiery. I won't lie to you, ser. My sister can be difficult at times, but she would make any man a worthy consort if he can win her heart."

She gave him a smile.

"Kyma is a little older than you to be sure, but I think you might just manage to win her over. Will you try?"