The Tourney at Ashford

"The Dornishman's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Dornishman's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing.

The Dornishman's wife would sing as she bathed,
in a voice that was sweet as a peach,
But the Dornishman's blade had a song of its own,
and a bite sharp and cold as a leech.

As he lay on the ground with the darkness around,
and the taste of his blood on his tongue,
His brothers knelt by him and prayed him a prayer,
and he smiled and he laughed and he sung,

"Brothers, oh brothers, my days here are done,
the Dornishman's taken my life,
But what does it matter, for all men must die,
and I've tasted the Dornishman's wife!"

That was Kevan after a few mugs of ale drunk without company. His voice was not bad, but not exceedingly good either, though with just enough playfulness in it to make the piece belong well in a place like that. With a broad smile he put an end mark on his impromptu 'performance' by taking an honest swig, some of ale trickling down his chin.

"Good singing, lad. You'd 'Ave made a great minstrel." Walder grunted from behind his own pint at the bar.

What's this? A tavern?

Marqus grinned as he walked into the Dirty Dornishman. He'd been a regular visitor to several pubs up north and now Kings Landing.

There was singing and drinking and general cameraderie. Home...

"Evening all." He strode over to the bar. "Ale for me, and another for the singer."

"Alas, my friend, my career in music would be short-lived. I have no luck being born a bastard who can do what he pleases and go out on quests to prove himself and be knighted. I am the eldest, and beholden to my father's will, however off the mark it is." Kevan blurted, as the alcohol had already compromised his sense of what should not be food for honest words. "Join me, and beer with me." He looked to Marqus. "You too, my lord. Thanks for the ale. The next round is on me."

Marqus walked over and put the ales on the table before grabbing a seat. "So you're heir to something then? Cheers!"

He raised his mug. "I'll stick with the questing and such. Being second born has its advantages." With a grin he took a gulp and let the taste roll around on his tongue.

"My sister rubs those advantages in my face all the time." He accepted the mug and half-drained it at 'Cheers!' "Cheers. To the Burrow. I mean I am the heir to the Burrow. In Silver Hills. Near Dornish Marches. I'm a Dunn, in other words. Son of the Lord Commander, Thaddeus Dunn. Kevan." Kevan felt he got this presentation backwards even if he ultimately included all the relevant thing.

"Well met Dunn, Kevan Dunn, of the Burrow!" He raised his mug again with a grin. "Here's to your inheritance and teasing sisters, bless their hearts."

He took another big gulp and wiped his mouth with the back of one well-callused hand.

"Lord Commander you said... Like at The Wall? Oh, and I'm Marqus Forrester, pleasure to meet you Kevan."

He offered his hand across the table.

"Teasing sisters, bless their hearts." Kevan repeated after Marqus as the hand was grasped and shaken. He then swigged the other half of his mug. "And well met. Ah, Marqus, since we talk sisters. Your Beautiful sister suggested we should team up for things." He rubbed the side of his face. "I guess teaming up for drinking is a good start!" Kevan laughed with abandon, but then pulled himself back on the subject. "Yes, a bit like that. At least when there was a war with Dorne. The Dunns guarded the Reach from southern menace for many years."

"Wait, you met my sister already?" He raised a questioning eyebrow at 'beautiful', it wasn't something he'd associated with his own family. "What sort of things?" He raised his mug. "Well, here's to beginnings anyway." He chuckled and drank.

"So what do the Dunns do now? Since Dorne is part of the Seven Kingdoms?"

"I did!" Kevan laughed before he started coughing from trying to do it right after drinking, something he fixed with patting his chest. "She told me about your travels and that you want to get properly knighted, just like me." He needed to wait for another mug to toast since he had emptied his prematurely. "Well, father is still keeping himself prepared fro a Dornish betrayal. For better or worse, he hasn't really moved on."

Marqus chuckled. "Did she now? Well, I can't say I'd be sad if that came to pass. Might never live it down back home of course. Don't really have Knights up North. Or at least not Ser's anyway. You're looking to knighted yoursel' then?"

The mug was lifted. "Cheers to that, aye." Now they both need more beer.

"Sounds like your father's being prudent, since that's your family history. Also it's hard to change tradition. I guess you'll have a better chance at that since you'll be in charge one day?"

"Where I come from it's worse than being a virgin, to be still a squire at my age. I am a fucking good fighter, and I will prove it soon enough. My father is just delaying fucking everything, his own coming here included. He behaves as if time was about to adjust to him."

Kevan shook his head and downed another ale.

"Call it prudence if you will. But yeah, my prudence will be different. Featuring more timeliness."

There was a pause while the next round arrived and he drank it thoughtfully. "There aren't any bloody Knights at all where I come from. Maybe that'll change eh?" The ale tasted pretty good by this point.

"Plenty of Knights here Kevan. Why not get knighted before your father arrives? Use the time wisely, eh?"

"It sounds like a great idea!" Like all ideas at some point of inebriation. "My Maester is looking into it, and I do too. Do you have anyone in mind?"

Marqus thought about that for a while, discarding ridiculous ideas. "Has to be someone important. To show its not a joke like, knighting a northerner. Guess I should think about it some more now the ideas out there, and not just in my head." He gave a grin and took another swig.

"Yeah, a knighted nobody would reflect poorly on both of us." Kevan agreed after a swig. "My idea is to win something during the tournament to impress, and then leverage with it."

Marqus nodded encouragingly. "Aye, makes sense. What though? What's your best shot?"

"The grand melee, I think. The real combat is what I've been groomed for by my father." Kevan admitted without false humility.

"Excellent!" Marqus raised his mug. "Sounds fitting for a future Lord Commander of the South. Let's train together some time! What's your weapon of choice?"

It was clear that the northern lad loved this sort of talk, and he felt a sense of cameraderie for Kevan Dunn, which wasn't entirely beer-induced.

"Long blades. I am best with a bastard sword." Kevan brightened, apparently feeling more or less the same about having a sword pal. "We have to train together, yes!"

There was a knowing smile. "Us two, we're like long lost brothers or something." He chuckled. "Favour a long blade and shield myself. Ironwood of course. If you need a shield there's nowt better than an Ironwood shield, and best in the Seven Kingdoms comes from House Forrester."

He said it in his father's manner, which made him chuckle even more. "Nice, looking forward to sparring with the future grand melee champion!"

"I totally agree! We can fix the brotherhood issue if I marry your sister or you marry mine!" At this level of ale that felt like a natural course of action. "I believe you, and I will tell as much to anyone who asks, that there is no better shield than an Ironwood shield, and best in the Seven Kingdoms comes from House Forrester!" He actually repeated it aloud, to the whole room, patting Marqus on the shoulder with strength in case anyone had any doubt who was the Forrester here. At the compliment he pushed his chest forth after downing a mug of ale. "You bet! If I earn your sister's favour, I'll be unstoppable!"