[D6,LE]A simple lesson in Dyana Marsten (Closed)

Daveth arrives arm-in-arm with Dyana Marsten [url=from the Bartheld party][/url], and looks around the area. As expected, no-one around at this time.

"
We're alone."
he says, his tone serious, but gentle. I doubt this will be easy for either of us.

"
That we are."
Dyana says, likewise taking in her surroundings. Seemingly satisfied, she tugs on Daveth's arm and leads him towards a nearby bench.

Sitted, she places her mask on her lap, folding both hands on top of it, and looks at the young man besides her.

"
...Daveth."
She begins, the word almost a sigh. "
I know there is something interesting between us. Dancing, or facing each other in Cyvasse, the banter... I know it. I have to admit I didn't expect what happened back at the party, however."
She stops for a moment, licking her lips discreetly, looking at him, considering. "
What do you want to me... from me, with me, Daveth? What do you expect to get out of this? A fancy? Marriage?"


Dyana blinks one more time. "
Love?"

Daveth sits down next to Dyana, and, when she does, also takes off his mask. At which point, the full magnitude of what he'd done hit him.

By the gods! I did [size=150:1t0454j0]what?! In public, no less? Gods be good! Does the Night's Watch need a steward?

So, what happened to 'I don't care what the price is, don't let it end in disappointment here'?

But ... I kissed her, right out in public, where everyone could see! Including her family! And it's not like the mask provided any real anonymity - even people who hadn't spoken to me for five minutes could see through it!

That was one person, and she admitted that she saw you enter together. Besides, it was a Bartheld party. If there's not at least one noblewoman being roughly buggered in some bushes by a man who's not her husband by the end of it, it's considered tame. Sorry, but your visions of being the sole topic of conversation tomorrow are not going to come to pass. At most, you'll be included in the general rumour round-up.

Besides. That was a dance to remember. I did my part. Now it's up to you. Try to not fuck up.

Daveth looks down at his mask, sitting on his lap, as he answers, cheeks coloured from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment. "
You know, when we first met, at the Great Feast, I had no agenda. No, that's not quite true. I saw you, recognised you, thought you were attractive and could make pleasant company for a dance, so I asked you. That's it. I wasn't expecting ... to enjoy myself as much as I did. But I did. But I still had no agenda beyond enjoying your company for the arranged Cyvasse game."


He sighs briefly, and looks as if he's considering saying something, before continuing. "
But the day after the feast, I was negotiating with Lady Gwyneth and Ser Baelon about Coldbrook assistance against the clans. Actually, it was just over there."
he points to a relatively nearby patch of ground. "
One of the subjects that came up was the possibility of a more permanent, formal alliance. While Lady Gwyneth liked the idea, Ser Baelon pointed out that there were practical difficulties in making a suitable pairing. I mentioned your name as a possibility, fully aware I barely knew you, so the idea was ... impractical. Nonetheless, it didn't die, remaining in my head, slowly solidifying as a serious proposition as we spent time together."


Daveth begins gently stroking the feathers on his mask, like he would a pet. "
I had a plan, actually. I'd use the time between then and our proper Cyvasse match to get to know you generally, use my ten questions from our Cyvasse match to really get to know you, then make a decision as to what I wanted. A nice, steady, reasonable, rational approach."
he snorts in amusement "
This plan did *not* involve kissing you at a Bartheld party."


He turns his head to look at Dyana, and continues quietly. "
And yet, I don't regret it. It was ... honest. More honest than I usually let myself be, truth be told."


He looks back down at his mask. "
I'll ask you not to spread this around, but Lord and Lady Coldbrook are both in love. But not with each other. They both still love their deceased first spouses. They like, respect, and trust each other. But they'll never love one another. They married out of duty. Our house's position is such that I always figured I'd end up doing the same - my marriage would always be politics-first. It has to be - for our survival, I must always be 'Coldbrook' before being 'Daveth'. Honestly, I'd never dared dream that I might actually marry someone I could love.

"
But here was this idea that wouldn't die, in my head. A match that was not only politically useful, but even ideal, to a woman who I admired more and more with each exchange we had. And who..."
he trails off.

"
Have you ever spoken with Ser Baelon about me? Might be interesting to do so. We first met at the bread and salt ceremony. I doubt I made a good impression - I was overwhelmed by the whole affair, and then came *the* Ser Baelon, in the flesh! I was ... intimidated, overawed. Not by his behaviour - actually, I rather liked him, even then. But just his presence, being everything I felt I lacked.

"
I've changed since then. Improved."
he looks up at Dyana again. "
In large part because of you."
and down again. "
Now, it's not just down to you. There have been others, wittingly and not, and even my own sense of pride and duty pushing myself. But I'd be lying if I didn't say that my desire to meet the challenges you sent my way didn't have their impact."
He looks up again, and this time he looks her right in the eyes. "
My desire to feel like I deserved to walk beside you."


Daveth sighs and shrugs. "
So there it is: an ugly mix of politics, passion and pride. Not pretty, but it's true. And I think that at this point you'd appreciate the truth over a beautiful lie. You ask me what I *want* from you? Marriage, probably. And, combined with that ... I would say, the *hope* of love, for I don't think either of us could possibly know if we would yet.

"
That, be it foolish or futile, is what I honestly want, Dyana."

Dyana is sitting there, listening attentively, lips pursing idly, looking at the Coldbrook besides her as he poured his heart out.

Now, Dyana, look closely at what you are doing, and see just how you're fucking things up for everyone around you.

When Daveth begins his short tale, she looks curious, thoughtful perhaps. She nods once or twice to herself when he mentions her sister - who'd mentioned the possibility of courting from the Coldbrook 'heir' to her some days before -, but her semblance grows pensive as he continues. She draws a pained smile when he, amused, mentions the brief kiss, and nearly grimaces as he goes through honesty, admiration, self-improvement, and the possibility of love.

By the end of it, she would be looking downright miserable, had she not at least tried to conceal her feelings. He'd nearly asked her in marriage just then.

A hand is raised after some hesitation, and it gently glides to the man's cheek, fondling his skin in its touch. Dyana takes a deep breath, then looks him in the eyes - makes a point of it, not wavering her gaze. "
Daveth."
Her tone is serious, and expectant. "
There are things I would... tell you. Things I believe you must know. But these are secrets of my soul, of my heart, that I share with no one. I... I need to know if I can trust you. Trust you to hold my secrets, and to not think ill of me for them."

Daveth opens his mouth to answer, but then his brain catches up. Wait! Actually *think* about the question. Can you *really* promise that? He pauses for a second, swallows, then answers, his words slow and deliberate.

"
I can promise to take your secrets with me to the grave, no matter how dire they are, nor what happens between us subsequent to now."
a pause as he takes a breath, and takes her hand gently in his, stilling its motion, and looks sadly at her. "
But, as much as I wish to answer your openness with full agreement, I can't. The worst thing I could possibly think of, impossible though it be, would be if you revealed yourself a kinslayer. While even that secret I would keep, I would without a doubt think less of you for it. So, clearly there is a point at which I'd no longer be able to keep my promise, and I cannot guarantee that what you have to tell me falls within that point."


He releases her hand, and gently strokes her cheek briefly in response, and gives her a sad smile. "
I can only make these two promises: that I will try my best to keep an open mind about what you say, and that it won't change the good times we've had together already. If that's not enough for you to bare your soul to me, I understand. I'd sooner not hear it than hurt you by breaking a promise about it."

Dyana looks into Daveth's eyes as he speaks, and lets both her own eyes and her hand drop when he is finished.

She stares into nothing for some time, thinking. Deciding. Considering. There is no telling what will come of this, but he deserves to know, now. He's treated you well, all the while you toyed with him. Further, he may not even think what you have to say as bad as you imagine.

She faces him again, bringing her hand up and lightly touching his, without really taking it in hers. She opens her mouth to speak, then hesitates, looks down, looks back up... swallows, rises her chin, creases her eyebrows with sudden certainty. "
I can understand you not guaranteeing your feelings. While I assure you that I would never, ever go nearly as low as a kinslayer would - the mere thought offends me -, I can not hope to divine what you will think of me, either. Good, bad, neither, or... I don't know."
She shakes her head briefly, as if casting aside a distraction.

"
I am not... opposed to what you come seeking of me, Daveth. I cannot, at this time, encourage it, or promise you anything. But I am not opposed to it."
She lets some air through her nose. "
Still, you must know some things before you even think of this, yourself. That you will take what I tell you to the grave is reassuring, and important to me, for it's been difficult enough to not led rumors spread as it is. I will hold you to it.

"
First, I am not a maiden."
Dyana nearly falters on the words, inside her own head, but they come out clean. "
To some women, that may not be important. But as a Marsten, there are those - many - that would recriminate me for this. Still, I am not as young as my sister, or my cousin, or yourself, and I have been with men before. Not... many, but not just a single one, either."
She looks appraisingly at him before taking a deep breath and continuing. She takes his hand and lowers it to her lap, holding it between her own.

"
And the other thing, I... I am moved by your admiration, honestly. The way you speak of me, and look at me, think of me... I can't say I have seen many others with feelings as honest as yours seem. But."
She shakes her head slightly once more before finding the will to brave on. "
But you speak of love, of hope of love, and I can't help but think... you don't know me, but... I should..."
She blinks at him, once. "
I do not know if I can truly love a man."
Dyana says, giving the last word an odd inflection.

Daveth slowly nods at her first confession. That's actually what I thought she was going to say. Kind of hoped I was wrong, but it figures. Wish I'd been able to figure out how much that really matters. But I guess I always hoped I wouldn't have to. But then she carries on, giving her second confession. Daveth stares blankly for a couple of seconds before he finally twigs, and he can't hide his eyebrows raising in surprise before getting his face under control again.

Okay, wait, WHAT?!

Don't freak out.

WHAAAAT?!

Focus, control. This is important. Now, *think*.

Hey, you maybe found the one woman who *won't* end up in Garret's bed before the end of the first year.

No, don't think about that. Now, she's just told you about some *deeply* personal things, and currently you're sitting there with your mouth hanging open like you're after flies for dessert. So, keep it simple. Someone's just confided a secret in you. What do you say?

"
I understand."
he replies, in a somewhat distant voice. "
Thank you for telling me. I can only imagine how much courage that took."
a brief pause. "
I'm sorry. It's a lot to take in."


Daveth frowns slightly, like a thought managed to cut at least partly through the fog in his mind, though his voice still seems rather distant. "
I don't need to know details, but are you properly protected against blackmail about this? All those involved have their lips reliably closed, by whatever method?"

Daveth Coldbrook wrote:"
I understand."
he replies, in a somewhat distant voice. "
Thank you for telling me. I can only imagine how much courage that took."
a brief pause. "
I'm sorry. It's a lot to take in."

"
I know."
She smiles softly at him, somewhat disheartened by the subtle impact of her revelations, but endearing nonetheless. "
It's a lot to take out, too."
Her heart pumps fast, but not as fast as she'd think it would.

Daveth Coldbrook wrote:Daveth frowns slightly, like a thought managed to cut at least partly through the fog in his mind, though his voice still seems rather distant. "
I don't need to know details, but are you properly protected against blackmail about this? All those involved have their lips reliably closed, by whatever method?"

"
He who has the highest chance of threatening me thus has just recently sworn to take what I said to his grave."
Dyana says, and her smile warms ever so slightly as her emerald eyes look into his own. "
I understand if you need time to think, away from me... or even if you do not want to see me again."
Her face grows serious again, though with a tint of sorrow. "
I ask only that you keep your word about this, Daveth."

I'm not sure what I feel.

Really?

Yeah. I'm just sort of numb.

Okay, then. Let me make something clear for you. The Coldbrook-Marsten alliance is still a smart move for your house. Right?

Right.

Which means, if you're not willing to marry her, the next obvious thing to do would be to see if Garret would. Meaning you'd potentially see her and Garret together, kissing, staring into each other's eyes, getting all sweaty and moaning together under the covers.

*Now* how do you feel?

...Like I *really* want to punch Garret.

And there's the beginnings of an answer.

"
I gave you my word."
his voice slowly becoming more normal, more focused. "
That is absolute. May my gods strike me down, or Stranger take me, if I lie. No excuses, no 'letter over spirit' wrangling. Absolute."


A momentary pause, and he looks at Dyana, resolute. "
I'm spying on Ser Theomore Tullison. I'm not trying to pretend that's in any way equal emotionally. But I haven't told anyone else. I managed to repair relations between our houses over a conversation with Lord Tullison involving an unintentional slight to his uncle. If he knew I'd been *spying* on his uncle, it would likely permanently destroy relations between our houses, and we can't afford to have an enemy house who's that well-connected. It could well mean the utter destruction of our house. I used the alias 'Javik' where necessary. With that information loose, I'd be exposed quickly enough."
he looks at Dyana to make sure she understands why he's telling her this.

He swallows before mustering the courage to ask the burning question. "
Have you ... ever loved? Romantically?"

At Daveth's reassurance, Dyana smiles resolutely.

At Daveth's revelation, she perks an eyebrow, narrows her eyes... and then realization strikes her like a hammer. She listens silently, then nods resolutely. "
I trust you."


At Daveth's question, Dyana draws a sharp breath, then raises her head slightly. Her eyes wander to the side, and then to the other side, before settling on him once more. It looks as though she's trying to convince herself, or decide... still, she soon answers.

"
Yes, I have loved. Have you ever?"

Daveth considers his answer for a moment before shaking his head. "
No. I've lusted, admired, respected, crushed on, and a half-dozen other things besides to various women. But I don't think I could say I ever *loved* any of them. I was always the shy, bookish scholar following in my brother's wake. More interested in my studies than forming new relationships."
with a smile "
It was always up to Garret to drag me away from whatever book had captivated my interest to meet new people. If it weren't for his efforts, no doubt I'd have spent the entire tourney in the library. Not exactly the best attitude for falling in love."


You know you have to ask. However much you fear the answer, you *have* to know.

"
You say you have loved."
the trepidation mixed with determination clear in his voice. "
...Do you still?"

Dyana raises an eyebrow - not a perk, or an involuntary reaction, but deliberately raises it -, taking on a knowing semblance with just a tinge of mischief to it, as it was.

Whatever it is that may have gone through his head when I told him, one thing you cannot deny: Daveth does have some nerve in him.

Her head shakes slowly in negation, though she no longer smiles. "
No. Perhaps I would have liked to, but it was not to be. My love is... a thing of the past, now."
Her head cocks to the side slightly. "
I have lusted, admired and crushed on some people before, too. We all have, I imagine. But I think I only ever... loved... one of them. And in all honesty,"
she shrugs, "
it didn't work out very well. But it was enlightening, at the least, and intense."
She looks at him searchingly.

"
I hope you come to know the feeling."
Though her mouth forms a line now, her eyes smile. "
Does this answer please you?"

Daveth frowns as he considers, then shakes his head slowly. "
No. 'Please' is not the word. Losing one of my crushes, for whatever reason, certainly hurt, and I had friends and family to turn to afterwards. To hear that you went through a much more painful experience without having anyone you could turn to and be honest with for solace does not 'please' me."


He sighs. "
But I would be lying if I didn't say that your answer did, I would say... 'relieve' me."


He pauses a moment, pondering, before shaking his head. "
Regardless, I can't just pretend this changes nothing. I need to think carefully about what everything you've said means, sleep on it, and pray for guidance - which I'll do silently, so don't worry about my gods gossiping. And I can't do that properly here."
You're still much too distracting.

He looks up at Dyana again, with a small smile. "
But one thing I can tell you for certain now,"
and he gently strokes her cheek briefly with the back of a couple of fingers, "
I don't dislike you."

Dyana inclines her head a bit to his touch, and speaks softly. "
You don't dislike me? Now that's a relief there, isn't it?"
Her eyes seem rather more tired than when the two of them arrived here. "
Don't worry about my painful experiences, though. As I said, they are past, and I would live through everything again to become the woman I am now. Not that I presume to be some sort of great woman,"
she shrugs, "
but at least I know who I am, and that's worth the world for me."


She takes her hand in his, lowers it, presses it tightly for a moment. "
I like you, Daveth. You are still young, but I know you will become a great man. Don't stray from your path, however hard it may be. And even though you seek to improve, stay true to who you are, in here-"
she points a finger at his chest, towards the heart - "
and you shall have anything you want in your life.

"
And thank you. For understanding."

Daveth nods slightly. "
Thank you, for trusting me."


He stands, slowly. "
I imagine that regardless, I'll see you at the Grand Ball tomorrow."
a pause. "
Forgive me if I choose not to dance with you again then. It means nothing except that I doubt I could top tonight's performance any time soon, and I'd sooner have our last dance here be special."
he looks up to the stars and speaks in a wistful tone. "
Tonight was ... very special."
he looks down at Dyana, smiles, and extends a hand to her. "
Though permit me to be a gentleman, and escort my lady companion back to her pavilion."

"
It was something."
Dyana says warmly, then places her hand in Daveth's and lets herself be guided by him.

"
Of course, you have my permission, my dear gentleman."
She smiles faintly. For most of the remainder of their walk, she keeps silent. Out of nothing, however, she bursts out something.

"
I'm the Knight of Stones."
She blinks, almost surprised by herself, then looks at him. "
It was I who unhorsed two men in the joust as a mystery knight, who took a heavy blow from Ser Addam Tarly, who broke three lances against Ser Errik of the Kingsguard. I will fight in the Grand Melee the day after tomorrow."
Her eyes look at Daveth with some confusion, as if unsure of what the hell their owner is doing.

Daveth nods, seemingly unsurprised. "
You fought well, then. Congratulations. Sorry I missed it. I ... dislike violence."
a pause. "
No, that's not quite honest."
he looks straight at Dyana, and in a determined tone, "
Watching violence makes me feel physically sick - before and after is fine, but witnessing the act, even in controlled circumstances like these, just turns my stomach. It was bad enough before, but got worse when Joren died."
his voice betrays his frustration and shame. "
The thing that every noble man should be able to do, to at least some extent, and that my own house *specialises* in, is something that I not only have no personal capability in, it's something that I can't even *watch* without risking losing my lunch. *That* is the kind of man I really am."
He examines her face carefully for her reaction to his counter-revelation. "
So, when it comes to the violation of gender roles and acting against the spirit and traditions of your house,"
he continues, in sadly amused tone, "
believe me when I say you are not the only offender. But while you do so from a position of strength, to the benefit of yourself and your house, I ... don't."


She clearly makes a great man, and you a great woman. Shall I fetch your petticoat and corset, Lady Daveth?

He then frowns. "
How did you *manage* being a mystery knight without an accomplice?"
his tone seems more impressed than genuinely questioning. "
If you used your own horse you'd be discovered quickly enough, so you'd have to buy a horse, stable it, collect ransom payments. There's a *lot* of talking required, that's a lot of opportunities for your gender to be discovered. And yet, obviously, you pulled it off."

At Daveth's confession, Dyana's brow furrows... her cheekbones rise slightly, and she has that look of someone struggling to accept or understand something - sort of the same as squinting into the sun. "
Really?"
She asks, cocking her head to the side. "
You risk losing your lunch by merely looking at... tourney violence?"
Her eyes blink a couple times, then turn to the side. "
You... said you had learned some of the healing arts. Doesn't that interfere? I can only imagine... it all sounds unnecessarily unpleasant. Still, you don't lose much by it. I don't like violence, myself, though oft times it cannot be helped. You either bring violence yourself, or accept it when others impose it onto you. Which is why it's important to be able to defend oneself."


Dyana looks at him again. "
Do you have no interest in overcoming that, in learning the weight of a sword, if only to be able to hold your own when the day comes?"

Daveth Coldbrook wrote:He then frowns. "
How did you *manage* being a mystery knight without an accomplice?"
his tone seems more impressed than genuinely questioning. "
If you used your own horse you'd be discovered quickly enough, so you'd have to buy a horse, stable it, collect ransom payments. There's a *lot* of talking required, that's a lot of opportunities for your gender to be discovered. And yet, obviously, you pulled it off."

She smiles slyly, her head shaking with exaggerated sarcasm. "
Who said I did everything alone, Daveth?"

Daveth shrugs, not able to meet Dyana's eyes. "
I used to be okay at tourneys. I never really liked them, nor was interested in them, but if I'd had the inclination, I could watch. ..."
he sighs. "
Then ... Joren. And since then..."
he shrugs again.

"
But it doesn't interfere with my duties particularly. Whatever it is that sickens me, it's not blood or wounds. I can tend to them well enough. If a man were to deliberately cut himself in front of me, it wouldn't upset me at all, no matter the severity of the wound. Well, at least not in that way. It's only when the situation is chaotic, and the Stranger lurks nearby that my weakness shows."


He finally looks up at Dyana's face. "
I have had lessons in the sword when I could not avoid it. Though I admit I have little ability to show for them. You have, so tell me: using just the violence you bring with you, what faith do you have that you can defend yourself against a Kingsguard? And what about against an ordinary knight of the realm, who happens to have brought a companion or two? And what happens when it's not your violence that fails you, but your perceptions, and the first you're aware of incoming violence is a dagger in the back? And what if the violence is more subtle than that? An additive to your drink, or a small cut in a saddle strap? Will your swordwork protect you then?

"
The truth is no matter how skilled you are, you will never be entirely safe from violence. What matters far more than any one person's skill is having friends, family, companions, and allies strong, united, and willing and able to protect you. Or, failing that, avenge you."


Daveth finally locks eyes with Dyana, confidence restored. "
You ask me if I'm interested in protecting myself better? I already am. With every deal I close, with every friend made, with every dragon made for my house, with every man healed, I strengthen my house and protect myself all the better. *Family* is my sword and shield, Dyana. And they are more formidable than I alone could ever be."

Dyana Marsten wrote:She smiles slyly, her head shaking with exaggerated sarcasm. "
Who said I did everything alone, Daveth?"

Daveth gives a small bow of apology. "
I stand corrected."
he says with a small smile.

Dyana listens, nodding as Daveth explains the particulars of his 'weakness'. Joren, if she remembers correctly, was a Coldbrook who died in a tourney... his brother?

As he goes on, she looks at the distance in front of them, absorbed in thought. Having friends, family, companions, allies to protect you...

"
Do you know how many men from the mountain clans I have prevented from reaching Marsten lands, Daveth?"
She looks to him again. "
Three hundred, two and forty. Three hundred, two and forty swords, spears, daggers in the back that didn't reach my sister, or my cousin, lady Isobel or the folk at Hartsbridge. And I say 'prevented', and remember this number, because each of these men is dead. I do not know how many more I have sent fleeing back from failed raids, or kept into their mountain gatherings in fear of coming down upon us.

"
I did not kill them all myself, of course."
Dyana's eyes turn dark, and she inspects the Eagle mask she's still holding. "
I have killed eight and tirty men in my life. The rest were felled by men under my command. I know the value of family as sword and shield, Daveth. I am the blade and the bulwark of my own. I did not arrive three days late to this tourney by loitering;
there were those who would take advantage of our entire family moving through the mountain passes to descend upon us. The mountain clans would kill even the Lord Arryn if he was found poorly guarded.

"
I know it is not expected of women."
She looks up at him again, and her eyes are a bit misty for some reason. "
But if one man with a rusty dagger and murderous intentions got past me one day, and somehow found his way to my little sister..."
Her head shakes, albeit unwittingly. "
We cannot assure ourselves of everything, I know that. But I'd rather see those I love prepared for all they can, than know that any failure of mine could spell their demise.

"
Have as many people watching your back as you can, I agree. But carry a dagger of your own, and keep looking over your shoulder. We cannot solely rely on others to defend us, forever. Even if they do a good job of it, the day may come when we find ourselves alone and in need of action. Even for you, with your deals and your friends and your dragons."

Daveth sighs, looks about for a second, ruffles his own hair awkwardly, then snorts. "
Can you believe I'm a *diplomat*?"
he asks, rhetorically. Turning back to Dyana. "
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to denigrate your abilities. You are deservedly proud of your accomplishments, and your family is lucky to have you protecting them. I . . ."
he sighs. "
Unlike your sanguine countenance when you did the same, I felt defensive when I told you about my ..."
he waves his hand like he's searching for the right words, then shrugs. "
Thing. And that made me aggressive, when it was uncalled for. So, sorry.

"
I mean, you're right. Personal martial power is important. The day that I'm cornered alone by a single common soldier is the day that I die. But should we need skilled swordsmen, we have literally hundreds available to us, of excellent quality. It's everywhere else that we lack people."
his voice betrays his frustration. "
We have *me*. And I'm not good enough. If I were, I wouldn't have let myself be outsmarted by a fucking *twelve year-old* and Joren would still be alive."
his voice calms somewhat, instead sounding rather drained. "
So, I can't spare the time it would take to turn me into any kind of competent warrior. Because my next failure could wipe us out entirely."


He looks Dyana right in the eyes. "
Like you, I'm prepared to risk my life for the sake of protecting my family. Our battlefields may be different, but our oaths are the same."

Dyana shakes her head. "
I am not proud of my accomplishments. Not exactly. Of my skills, perhaps... but my deeds are duty, and none of them are worthy of a lady's pride."
She sighs briefly. "
But it's alright. I understand what you are saying, and I am sorry to have ruffled you, or messed with things that are none of my business. I don't even think... you need to gather personal martial power, as you put it. I only thought you maybe could overcome the illness that takes over you on such situations."


She shrugs, and waves it off. "
But I know nothing of such things, and I don't mean to intrude on how you lead your life, Daveth. I worried for you, but you sound confident that the path you have chosen will not lead you to harm you cannot prevent. May it be so."
Dyana tries to smile warmly, but she seems somewhat embarassed.

Daveth shakes his head, with a small smile. "
Never apologise for well-meaning advice. Not to me, at any rate. And I'm sorry if I seemed ungrateful. For the duration of this meeting, given what we've shared, the implicit agreement is that there's no such thing as 'none of your business'."
he sighs. "
The problem with being honest with one another is that the truth is ... often messy, and painful, and emotional. And rote responses and the lies we tell ourselves get in the way.

"
The simple truth, Dyana, is that I'm *not* sure that I'm not heading for disaster. But I always have to prioritise my time based on doing the most good for my family most efficiently. And my heart tells me that learning new much-needed skills, or improving existing ones, or making deals, or whatever, will pretty much always be a higher priority than attempting to work out what's wrong with my head, with no guarantee of success."
he gives a half-smile and places a hand on her shoulder in a friendly gesture. "
And a very sensible young woman told me recently that if I stay true to my heart, I shall have anything I want in my life."

"
Of course, Daveth. As I said, I hope all of this turns out well for you."
She says with a smile.

She opens her mouth to say something else, but a page with Marsten colors hurries along and stops by her. "
Lady Dyana!"
The boy says, then fumbles a piece of paper to her hand and scurries off.

Dyana glances at Daveth, then unfolds the paper and takes a sharp breath. "
Fuck it."
She says simply, turning to him. "
Something's happened, Ser Baelon calls. I have to hurry."

Daveth nods. "
Then let us both hurry to your pavilions, and say our goodbyes on the move."
he says, already beginning to move in that direction.

"
Once again, thank you for ... everything this evening. It may have been painful on occasion, but I would not exchange it for any other. And I hope to at least see you tomorrow, at the Grand Ball."


(When they get to the Marsten Pavilions, Daveth would kiss her goodbye on the hand, swiftly, then make his way back to his own pavilions, and /scene, unless you wish to say anything particularly response-worthy to that.)