The Tourney at Ashford

Kevan arrived in advance with a big basket on top of Tymagon in which bottles, jugs and jars were rattling. He picked up a picturesque spot on the high ground above the current amid gentle shade of a few pines, and kicked the cones off the general area before setting the picnic up. Bread, cheeses, roasted lamb, smoked venisons and a bit of early spring produce, and wine, of course. The place still smelled of spring rain. He waited leaning against the pine, staring around at the view with a stupidly happy smile defining his expression.

Pines were an appropriate choice. They were different to the northern ones around Ironrath, but similar enough to feel homely to the approaching Forrester siblings. Marqus's trusty courser Rhill trotted along with brother and sister riding easily along. The sound of their voices wafted towards Kevan, growing louder as they approached.

"Afternoon Kevan, good to see you! That's a fine looking spread if ever I saw one."

He swung down off the horse and offered a hand to Arwyn.

"I thought we would all be hungry and thirsty after tactical efforts!" Kevan turned around the tree using it as a pivot to welcome the arriving siblings. His gaze beelined toward Arwyn, seeking a glimpse of her gaze. "War is a resource-heavy endeavour, even if just waged in our minds."

She takes Marqus' hand with her left, stepping down from the stirrup to the ground with his help, her dress settling around her as she lands, heavier than yesterday's. "You're quite right about that," she agreed with a smile. "Thank you for the hospitality. Speaking of which, good job, both of you, at the war game."

Marqus laughed so hard he had to slap his quads. "I was bloody shite sis. Held on to the end but the Prince crushed me even though I payed attention to the rules. Still, got to speak to him so I guess that's a thing."

"The only good job I did was not making him waste his time on me for too long." Kevan laughed. "If there are lessons in this, one of them is that it's hard to win a game against someone who invented it." He gestured for them to join him at the picnic site, trying to catch a gaze from Arwyn at the nearest opportunity.

"Well, the nice thing about games," she says, spreading her skirts to take a seat, meeting his eyes with a smile. "Is that they're wonderful learning experiences. If you learned from them, you did a good job. You both gained something without having to take more than a minor bruising to your pride."

"I guess it's something to toast." Kevan poured wine for all of them once they were all seated, trying not to stare at Arwyn's graceful descent. He brought the beakers with Arbor to their hands, then raised his. "To wounded prides and lessons therein."

"I'll drink to that!" Marqus raised his beaker and took a mouthful of the Arbor. "To lessons in everything."

With a grin he looked at his sister. "You did rather well little sister. I guess all those games we used to play really paid off eh?"

"To lessons in everything," she echoed her brother with a grin before taking a drink

"Ah ha," she chuckles, turning a little red. "I didn't do that well. I don't know warfare itself well enough. I guess so, though." She looks over to Kevan. "When I was young, I wanted to help my brothers defend our home, and I always used to compete with Marqus."

"I see astounding similarities between the relationship you and Marqus have, my lady, and the one I share with my sister Maera. I've long been accustomed to living with an ambitious girl not shying away from activities that matter more in this words and project strength and confidence. I am both ashamed and overjoyed that you've proven my inadequacies in today's war games. But not really surprised. Maera has long demonstrated to me that men are often the dumber ones!" Kevan laughed, cutting bread in slices for them between wine sips.

She chuckled and shook her head. "Truth be told, I bet Marqus would've seen though what I was doing purely because he knows me well. He's been the subject of many an ambush during our childhood," she replied. "Sounds like your sister is quite the spitfire, and I mean that entirely complimentary."

"She absolutely is." Kevan laughed, passing portioned picnic snacks to them on wooden plates. "You have to meet her at some point, both of you." He hid a smirk behind a swig from the beaker.

Arwyn accepts hers with a nod of thanks. "I look forward to it." She considers. "Though, speaking of families, we might want to discuss a bit the possibilities how ours might be able to help one another. Nothing set it stone, of course, we both have things we need to wait on, but laying out some potentials might be a good way to start."

"We definitely need to do that." Kevan agreed. "I admit I am not too familiar with the current situation of your house and its pressing needs."

She takes a few bites and a sip of wine before continuing, "So... to give you a bit of background first. Before the Blackfyre Rebellion, there was a big dispute between various Northern Houses about who had the right to harvest ironwood from the Wolfswood. There's other ironwood in existence, but not like the size of the trees and the number of them there. It nearly erupted into war before Barthogen Stark decided to resolve the situation by recreating House Forrester to manage them. A few careful marriages and agreements dissuaded most of the Houses who were still trying to make claims except House Whitehill. They lay claim to half our lands, and now they're busy saber-rattling at us and threatening to press their claim violently."

She sits back a little and explains, "My father prefers to handle it diplomatically so the Starks don't need to get involved. So we're hoping to find either some form of political backing, or someone of status to head North for a while to talk to them."

Her blue eyes met his. "Would you be willing to lay out your situation in detail, as well?"

"It's complicated, but I'll try. First of all, the Dunns have a timeless tradition of being the defenders of the Reach from the Dornish threat, and our identity and welfare has long hinged on that. Hence the lords of the Burrow carry the title of Lord Commanders and are first and foremost military leaders. Many old treaties with Ashfords, Tarlys and others recognise that role and put the obligation on them to support us with resources necessary to provide credible defence. All along the Dornish Marches and the Silver Hills we've been doing it for generations."

He drank some wine.

"Now that Dorne has been tentatively incorporated many in the Reach believe that our defensive posture is redundant, many nobles of my house included. This puts a strain on the old obligations that sustain us and while we're getting by, there's not telling how much more it can last. But my father is not among those who believe that the peace with Dorne is permanent and once they get the opportunity they will prove themselves as hungry of the riches of the Reach as they have always been. So we have two options to pursue, either agree with others that our old oath has come to an end and reinvent ourselves or keep protecting the Reach regardless and keep deterring invasion despite naivete of other lords."

He smirked begrudgingly.

"In the end, we also depend on how politics goes, whether the Dragon Princes and the liege lords believe that Dorne is or isn't a threat, and make public claims about it."

Arwyn listened seriously, nodding at key points. "I can imagine what sort of position that sort of uncertainty puts you in. It would be hard to tell precisely what's needed until you know your path."

"It would be much clearer if father was around at the tourney but something has... delayed him. I sent a rider yesterday. I won't say I am not worried. A stalwart and unrelenting man like him has enemies. After the events of today..." He shrugged. "On one hand, vassals of my house here, and my cousins, look to me for leadership. On the other, I can't ignore that they have quite pro-Dornish dispositions. Hence the best I can do is bide my time while building some political clout to swing things this or the other way once push comes to shove. Certainly a war with Dorne would vindicate my father's long-standing position and restore our role."

"That is very concerning," she replied, eyebrows knitting a little in concern. "I wish I could do more than hope for his safety beyond what you've already done."

"It would, if Dorne started it." She nodded. "That must put you in a difficult position, with your family's vassals leaning one way and your father strongly the other. Right now all we could say tentatively is that we can try and support whatever position you take once the situation becomes more clear."

"I am leaning toward aligning interests for a war, and I think Prince Baelor would support it. There's been a spike in banditry in our lands and all things considered I think it just might be inspired from the outside to put us in trouble and corrode our war readiness. Soldiers wither if they don't fight on the battlefield but play hide and seek with ruffians. There's only so far tourney and jousting can go. And the Reach is the granary of the realm, a subject of envy. But after today I think that our enemy might be to the east rather than to the south." He frowned, but his gaze brightened when he met Arwyn's. "This might be just the thing I will need. I want to do what it takes to align the interests of our houses. If the situation down here permits I want to be the one to ride north with you, to reinforce the legitimacy of your claims."

"I see... If there was a way to determine for sure, that would be even better, but timeliness may be a factor." If Baelor supported them, at least their allies weren't as likely to look at Dunn as restarting the war with Drone just to keep or enhance their position. Whether it was true or not, politically, didn't really matter, but it nagged at her Northern upbringing. "... Yes... Today may well have far-reaching consequences." The last made her smile, despite the rest of the conversation. "That would make quite the statement. It would go a very long way in doing so, I think, so I hope it does."

"There is a very good chance our alliance may be founded on a genuine sentiment in addition to political considerations." Kevan looked between the siblings, ending by bowing his head to Arwyn. "At least I'd have a chance to prove that Dunn commitments don't change with the change of weather." He smirked at his own remark.

"I hope so. It's a good chance to develop personal bonds," she replied with a nod, smiling, laughing a little at his comment. "True enough. Not fair-weather friends?" She adds to it.

For a moment Kevan got caught up in his own imagination as he pictured them together in how he envisioned a godswood, before a Maester, making the vow to each other in the name of the Seven, from that day to the end of their days. His absent smile made it clear that he was daydreaming in some fashion for a brief moment, but it soon ended with a slightly apologetic chuckle and an intent look at his heart's chosen.

"Not at all." He was able to say. After a pause he needed to get his mind back onto more political tracks, he briefly bit into a lumb morsel. "Do you know your father's opinion on the Dornish question? It's far removed from the problems of the North, but then Dorne has a deserved reputation that can be judged on moral grounds."