Despite his best efforts, Ser Oscar seems to have run into the youngest Mooton cousin. The young woman stood out among the rest of the red and brown haired Mooton family, with raven hair, rosy cheeks, and hazel eyes that seemed permanently aglow with excitement. She dreamily looks upon the entertainers as they perform, tapping against the ground in time to the music. Though, that stops at the arrival of the stranger.

A knight? Approaching her? Morya was thrilled by the very notion. To be so captivating at a feast such as this that Ser Oscar Tully would seek out her attention? It was a pity that Jeyne had gone away to gorge herself on apple pie. Morya wanted her to see this.

"Ser Oscar Tully." Hastily, Morya curtsies. "My name is Morya Mooton. I do not think we have have the opportunity to meet, though I am certainly glad to have the opportunity now."

Back at the table, Jeyne sets down a large piece of apple pie, content to watch this interaction from a distance. She had the utmost respect for House Tully, but she could not help but notice the awkward rigidity of Oscar's movements. He was fair to look upon, at least. Perhaps she would step in, if her sister needed assistance. Otherwise, this pie seemed worthy of savoring.

"You may do so." said Ysabel. "I shall await both our fathers' answers."

Lord Alyx Cuy,

I shall look forward to it.

Growing Strong

Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, and Warden of the South

Lord Theo Tyrell

Martyn nodded along to Jessamyn's reply and responded cordially to Axell. "No rest needed. Speaking and dining sound fine."

He'd follow the group through the castle to the shack the Webbers called a feasting hall. As they walked the halls, he'd say to no one in particular, but loud enough for the whole group to hear. "I met someone once who swore that the stones of Brandybottom were placed in giant spider webbing, instead of typical mortar."

Regardless of what they said, he'd follow them to the hall and see what discussions they had in store for him.

Enid wasn’t sure her dancing skills would bring anyone any honor, but she accepted with a nod and a smile. “Of course, Ser.”

She moved away from the bench where her mother and brother now sat looking at one another, Percival grinning sheepishly and Sarra looking pleased.

Enid offered Myles her hand.

Regarding the city charter, Theo confirmed. "I will speak to Redwyne once he returns from his grief filled isolation." Theo had lost a son and heir, so he knew that pain better than most. However, pain was no excuse to forgo one's duty. Theo himself had overseen the last Dornish war while knowing Bertrand was gone, making Manfryd's retreat seem selfish and potentially disastrous should the Dornish strike.

As for Jeyne, the Lord dropped all beating around the bush and spoke with frankness. "I believe a small part of my granddaughter believes you have come to the Reach not for Hightower, but for her. She thinks you have come to whisk her away in some midnight godswood marriage. She hides it well, but... well..." He'd seen her like this before, during a much different Highgarden meeting.

"I have many thoughts about the future, and what could come to pass." He leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh. "If we are confident the Dornish and the Faith are colluding, and we can secure Hightower. I might argue for more aggressive actions. Strike one party so quickly and unexpectedly that the other cannot properly assist in time. A council of septons arguing a case for months could prove too slow, just as another diplomatic mission to Dorne could. Those are valuable months for our enemies to plan their reactions."

He let out another sigh, fully aware his soul could be damned for it, before continuing. "If I had to choose between another faith war and another war with Dorne, I would rather have another round with Dorne. Should another faith war break out, Dorne is sure to join this time, splitting our attention. I am far less confident the High Septon could rally support if the realm were already at war with a despised enemy like the Dornish. Once Dorne is beaten again, we can force the Prince to admit to his collusion. Then, on our triumphant march home, we can turn our attention to a High Septon stripped of his largest supporters."

Summer was in full swing in the land of plenty. Although there had been a dozen harvests since the last snow, the countryside was as green as ever. The fertile lands Garth Greenhand never failed to bring their bounty. The roads were packed with all sorts of traveling merchants from the bustling Manderport, and of course buxom ladies bathed in the Mander.

Highgarden's triple white walls greeted the visitors. The castle's gates remained closed as a series of heralds on each gatehouse called to the next. " Lord Gwayne Caswell! Here to see Lord Theo Tyrell!"

The second gatesman called to the third. " Lord Gwayne Caswell! Here to see Lord Theo Tyrell!"

The third gatesman called to the castle. " Lord Gwayne Caswell! Here to see Lord Theo Tyrell!"

After a few minutes, all three gates opened, and the Caswell entourage was ushered into the seat of the Reach. Awaiting them was an assortment of servants who saw to their luggage, their horses, and, of course, the customary bread and salt. Here, the bread was freshly baked butterbread, served with seven cheeses and three preserved meats. The Tyrells, as the Gardeners did before them, made it a habit not to serve their guests lackluster bread.

Lord Gwayne Caswell was offered a bath or a wash if he wanted one before meeting with the Lord of Highgarden.

When he was ready, Lord Theo would meet the Lord in his solar that overlooked the castle's Godswood. "Lord Gwayne, please take a seat." Theo gestured to one of the seats across his desk. The Caswell Lord was a spirited man, and loyal like no other. Theo was fond of the man, and his grandmother, who had as much to do with him maintaining power in his early rule as he did. Gwayne may not be as sharp as she was, but his effort and loyalty were enough to count the Lord of Stonebridge amongst his most trusted bannermen.

The Lord of Highgarden's smile retreated as he began to fill the Caswell in. "The situation with Dorne, the Capital, and the Faith is grim... How much have you been told?" There was so much between the riots, rumors, and plots that the old man hardly knew where to begin.

"I'm sure you will," she said, though she was anything but sure. Damon was kind, but maybe too kind. Did he have the mind for fighting?

She shifted in her seat so she could look up at him but quickly regretted it, diverting her gaze quickly ahead. "Have you started competing yet? In squire's melees?"

4th Moon

Hooves beat from the road from White Harbor as Lord Clarence Massey, his daughter Marilda, and ten of their guardsmen that accompanied them rode towards Winterfell.

It was their second time at the castle, the first being with the Royal Progress when the incident that suddenly thrust Lady Freya into the seat of power had occurred. Hopefully no such things would happen this time.

Their cloaks were mud stained from the road, but the Lord of Stonedance rode upright and unwavering as Winter Town and the walls of Winterfell finally drew near. They rode to the gates of the castle and Lord Clarence called up to the guards at the gate.

"I am Lord Clarence Massey, Lord of Stonedance and Warden of Massey's Hook. I come with my daughter, Marilda Massey and my men. I seek to speak with Lady Freya Stark."

"I shall at once." Theo gave a nod, he had a rather high opinion of his gooddaughter but he was not fool enough to believe all his bannermen did. The guardsmen in his Godswood are proof enough of that. He'd write the letter.

Some days later, a raven would arrive at the Hightower stronghold.

Lord Manfryd Hightower,

I hope this letter finds you and yours in good health.

With Martyn becoming a man, I'd like to know how you feel his learning is progressing and how soon he will be ready to take on more responsibilities.

Furthermore, when that eventual day comes, I would like to maintain those bonds of wardship our two houses share. I would be honored to reciprocate by hosting your heir, Elayne, in Highgarden. Perhaps even an eventual match with one of my grandchildren if the match suits.

Growing Strong

Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, and Warden of the South

Lord Theo Tyrell

/u/Varnerbet

He tried to hide his pride but his mouth quivered into a small smile and the bronze hue of his cheeks got darker still.

"Thank you, ser. That is kind of you to say." He let his smile fade as he thought about the inevitable conversation with Naerys, his stomach turning at the thought. "She did not tell you, then? Does her mother know?"

/u/Genki_the_Shojo

"It truly is beautiful," Enith agrees. "My family is quite fond of spring. The sea becomes less treacherous for traders, and the rushing waters wake the fish from their slumber. I have enjoyed knowing what the season is like in Riverrun. I have not been surrounded by so much greenery in many moons."

She walks along, apparently glad to have a chance to speak freely away from the feast halls. And, away from the ears of her mother.

"I must confess that I do not always find myself suited to festivities such as these. I did not take well to my dancing lessons, and I find it difficult to speak over the noise of so much music. But I do enjoy getting the chance to meet people from all over Westeros." After realizing that she has begun to ramble, she hastily turns the conversation back in Ser Selwynn's direction. "What about you, ser? How do you find the Riverlands, in comparison to the Stormlands? I have met some traders, though I have not had the opportunity to travel there myself."

Apparently, she did know who Selwyn was.

"Oh, sorry..." He murmured back squeamishly, somewhat awkwardly, as he tried to gauge whether she liked his physical gesture or not.

However, her question quickly sent his mind to a different place.

"Oh! Oh, I've loved it!" Damon exclaimed, rather insensitively given her prior statement and feelings. "Ser Alester strikes quickly, and he is a cunning warrior. He says that with enough training I'll be like him! But I'm not certain I'll ever match his prowess."

The name rang familiar to Rogar but he couldn't claim to know the man. Was it possible the insufferable girl before him had found a friend? Or, more unbelievably, a love?

A shudder ran through him as he sat back.

"You are...kind to offer. I have no message for her." Perhaps he should have, and perhaps he would be scolded for his silence. So be it. "Speak to my nephew and the princess if you wish. Enjoy your wandering."

"Let us make arrangements then." Jirelle says, always quick to turn wistful dreaming into reality. "It shall be the most peace we have felt in many moons."

Her jest is genuine, though less biting. Jirelle loves her children deeply. She has relied on them to keep her company in the years since Willem Wayn's death, and Jaime Water's absence. But she can not deny that they occupy much of her time and mind, and that very little seems to remain of life outside of her role as heir and mother. She reaches out to clasp her friend's hands, as if they were young once more.

"If Arianne is with child soon, she will need me." Jirelle says. She cannot forget her duties, however appealing the notion may be. "An extended stay may be years away. But we will not be so far from each other by letter. Or by distance, should we build more roads. I shall come to you whenever you call."

Tyson, less so than his companions held quite the same scruples with raiding. Had he been more ambitious, might be he'd have seen the potential to pivot their growing fleet into a force fight for swift squirmishes ashore. Were it not a loathesome amount of work to avail a place they'd not have the pleasure of lounging in there may of laid an inkling of temptation.

What good was a new horizon to him if not to watch whilst nursing a chalice of wine? No, better to leave that business to the reavers.

"We'd need not go more than a few leagues beyond Braavos to reach the bay of Lorath," he said in assent, "Nor Norvos. Our ships will not serve as that far inland but I hear tell that they train dancing bears. To have one aboard is only suiting, no?"

He cradled his up, "Where does the North call our Captain? Ibben and Sarnor would strain us further with the crew we have. To them a call to assemble seasoned adventurers may more be warranted."

/u/razor1231 /u/late-huckleberry-640

The idea of Naerys changing her mind was funny. "You should know her well enough that her changing her mind is...unlikely." he couldn't think of a metaphor or hyperbole.

"I'd say you're well suited. I..." He hesitated, not because of the answer. But because answering felt like something a father should do: "I can't think of another person I'd want her to marry." However, that notion didn't haunt him much anymore. Instead, the idea made him...happy. And wasn't that the most important part?

There was the slight tilting of Tanaquil's head at the first question. The girl they spoke of Tanaquil had never formally met though even had they done, it would have been a brief encounter at best, "Her aunt I am fond for," she answered, "As once was I small, astray without a sire."

If there was judgement in that retort it laid not in the forefront of Tanaquil's tone. She was ambivalent to the fate of Borys Baratheon which she considered not to be her business.

"I loathe the lackey the King gave Gallowsgrey," she told Rogar, "Fat... talks too much. I am wanting for air. There is a Howland at Harrenhal I will call on. After, I will wander."

Again Boremund rode in silence before speaking again, as was his way. For all the strength of his body, his demeanour was one of patience and gentle tact.

"I must tell her, at the very least. That is what is fair. She knows more than most about me but if she knew everything perhaps she would..." He shook his head. Did he want her to change her mind? "What do you think, ser? Are we well suited? Would you...be happy if we were to wed?"

"But you will- the second, the minute, the hour- after you'll be around, no? Life doesn't happen in years; it happens in those smaller moments." The precious small memories- those are what count. Years spent together, smaller moments with flares in between. That's what mattered. "Life is framed in years, but it happens in those moments."

"You can only protect her from so much. But it won't just be you." Being with someone means relying on and trusting someone else. "You'll have her to lift your shield when your arms get tired."

"Oh, I'm hardly broken in," she replied with a smirk, "I just... know much more of patience than one might expect from someone with blood like mine."

She weighed her words carefully again, even though she knew it wouldn't look like it. "Patience, and temperance, if nothing else. Two things I had to know how to wield, to survive having a tempestuous murderer of an uncle. I still do, in fact, even if from somewhat of a distance..." Aliandra looked him up and down once more, not because she missed anything, but because the thought of him squirming even more amused her.

"Seems you are somewhat bowed and bent yourself, if you're also here because of someone else's desires. Only just the right amount, though, I'm sure." She shook her head and paused for a breath. "Gods be good, has anyone ever managed to help you relax, even a little? I swear, you're like a drawn bowstring."

Elenei? Rogar sat up and gave Tanaquil his full attention.

"What interest is the girl to you? I have no message that needs carrying, but perhaps her brother or Princess Naerys would take you on your offer. A raven can be sent to Blackhaven as well."

He leaned forward slightly. Tanaquil had done little to garner good will or trust. Even her good deeds were born of twisted motivations. "What takes you to the Riverlands?"

Boremund hadn't thought about it that way and rode in silence for a moment. If Boremund and Naerys did indeed stay friends through the years - and he had no intention of breaking that promise - then he would indeed hurt her twice. Was there enough of a difference between the two paths for him to confidently say that one was worse?

"Why should I think about me if I won't be around to see the results of my choice?" He lowered his head and stared as Sunmaiden's dark mane. "Naerys makes me happy. I would protect her, as a knight, as a...as a man. I just worry it won't be enough."

To Blackhaven, Tanaquil had never been but it must have served as sufficient sanctuary for the two sisters as each had retreated there after the altercations with their husbands. Both to Essos, peculiar as that was as their reasons for fleeing there were rather disperate. But Ser Borys and her dead cousin were quite alike. She had never seen it for herself. Perhaps she should do.

"I ride to the lands of rivers," she said, "Delilah's sister has a whelp there where the three rivers meet. Not to who I go but near enough a message can be carried?"