the unbowed bow.

"You're a princess?" Purple eyes widened. "My Papa is a prince!" She seemed proud of this connection, though there was little to it - or perhaps she was just stubbornly proud of her papa. "Are you really going to be in the Tourney?" She asked then, skeptical, but compliantly taking Ceren's hand and allowing herself to be led to safety. "I didn't think girls were in tourneys. But you look like a princess from a story that would be in a tourney. Are pants comfortable? They look not." Apparently the daughter of Aerion Targaryen was a talker.

The babbling took them back to the Tullys, who little Lyrianne did not know to be her relatives. Still, she was an agreeable sort of child, and so she offered a daisy to the other little girl. "Hello," she said, falling back on her newly-developed plan of meeting people so they wouldn't be strangers, an end-run around her mother's rules of which she was very proud. "I'm Lyrianne Rivers. D'you like daisies?"

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Kyra remained as she had been in, completely still and in the longest state of concentrating her short life had known. She didn't even hear her cousin addressing her.

Edword on the other hand had been dividing his attention between Valcour and the stranger and his niece. He'd caught the salute and smiled, returning it in kind. He gestured towards Kyra as if to say he was welcome to come meet her when he was done with his meeting.

"Ah, yes. Kyra, when you're done with your task say hello to your cousin." He crouched in front of Lyrianne and then smiled. "I'm your Uncle Edword, and I've waited a long time to meet you." His smile was kind when he looked at his niece, pride was starting to swell a little more in his chest. He looked up at Ceren before he stood again. If the girl was anything like her mother he'd need to be standing in order to fend off her embrace.

"And you have my gratitude for fetching my niece and keeping her out of way of your skilled arrow. Though, I doubt she was in much danger."

Kyra, for her part was still standing silently waiting to be relieved of her task. Edword hadn't ever seen the girl so still, and if it weren't for her standing, he'd have assumed she'd stopped breathing long ago.

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As Ceren led the babbling child back across the yard to the Tullys, only one phrase she'd said was spinning through the Dornish Princess' mind. My Papa is a prince... Ceren's obsidian eyes swung down to the girl, scrutinizing suddenly, and her stomach turned. Rivers -- a bastard of the Trident, surely. My Papa is a Prince...

There were only three princes in Westeros. Aydin Martell, her own brother, was the eldest. Viserys Targaryen, who was only fifteen. And Aerion Targaryen -- she looked up from Lyrianne Rivers, her eyes scouring the yard as though she expected Prince Aerion to be standing there, laughing at her, but he wasn't. She made an off-handed reply to Lyrianne about how pants were no less comfortable than gowns, depending on what activity one was engaged in while wearing them.

By the time she'd arrived before Edword Tully again, her expression was perfectly warm and charming, and she smiled apologetically to the Lord of the Trident, and took the bow from his daughter's tightly gripped hand.

"Thank you," she said to Kyra, and looked at her father again. "And you're welcome -- I'm Princess Ceren Martell. It's nice to meet you."

Hakan, from across the yard, frowned at his charge's shifting expression, but said nothing of it. Likely no one else in the yard knew her well enough to have noticed it, and so he made a mental note to ask her about it later. A sidelong glance of rich eyes to Valcour Tyrell, and his eyebrows rocked a notch upward.

"I would," he said thoughtfully. "If I thought I could actually worry her. Sadly, my skills with the bow are no match for her highness's."

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That comment earned Hakan the full deliverance of Valcour's consideration as he turned towards the man. They were hawk's eyes that devoured the Bastard of Starfell from wide shoulders and strong calves, sometimes the darkest gold and other times the hint of green depending on how the light hit them. A slow grin crawled up his face and he laughed, suddenly, like the crack of wings striking the sunburnt sky to carry over the practice field.

"Then I'd have not a chance. Best leave her ego in the hands of babes."

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"To be honest, my lord," Hakan murmured, and the ghost of a wry grin dashed briefly across his mouth. "I suspect they could do more damage to her ego than you or I ever could."

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"It is very nice to meet you Princess. Are you going to compete? Or..." At this point he'd taken a step back so he could see the other two men in his periphery vision. They seemed to be just speaking, and they were too far off to hear anything but the low tones in their voices. Though, the fact his niece was running around was probably what was making him so paranoid. Still, he stayed on guard.

Kyra at this point had turned to tackle her cousin in a very unlady like hug before Edword could stop it. He couldn't help but laugh as he watched Kyra let go.

"I'm going to get an arrow. I'll share it with you." Kyra, who didn't want anything to do with her sister, suddenly realized that it was possible to like another girl around her own age.

"If she can make it." Edword teased gently. "What if she doesn't hit a bullseye?"

"She will." Was the confident response from his daughter.

Edword looked back at Ceren, and gave a gentle smile. "Well, I think you might have a squire if you keep this up."

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A fragile half-smile dented Ceren's lips, her eyes falling on the two girls for a moment.

"Well. I certainly can't miss the bullseye now, can I? With all this faith?"

She gripped the bow and lifted it from the ground, turning to walk back to where her arrows had been thrust into the earth. She loosed one, and held it up to the two girls as if to say, this will be the one, and then she swung it down, let it meet the bow's belly, and notched it. The smooth wood of the shaft drew easily across the skin of her guiding index finger, and then she lifted the bow and pulled the arrow taught against the string. The orange and red feathers brushed the slope of her cheek again, and she directed her gaze at the target as though there was nothing else in the world.

The fluid ease with which she drew the arrow, faced the target, and released the bow spoke of years practicing and a power of will that could overcome naturally denied strength or feminine frailty.

The arrow's head drove home, directly into the center of the bullseye, and Ceren Arrowsong smiled.

She didn't pause, however, before she freed a second arrow, fast as the wind, notched it, drew the bow, and launched it to pierce the target directly beside its brother.

"Two arrows, for two girls," she said, lowering the bow, and walking toward the target.

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Last edited by Ceren Arrowsong on Wed Jul 25, 2007 9:19 pm; edited 1 time in total

Lyrianne seemed to entirely forget Ceren, and thoughts of pants and tournaments and princes, when Edword crouched down in front of her. The scope of her attention was ever limited, a prism-pointed ray of light that could only ever devote its brilliance to one thing at a time. She heard what he had to say, her young mind processing, trying to remember her mother's stories. Yes, this could only be - "Uncle Edword!" She beamed. "Hello!" Then: "You look like Mama." This did not truly surprise her, but it did fascinate her to see a family resemblance between individuals that did not bear the starkly distinct Targaryen markers.

"Are you my cousin?" She asked Kyra, smiling more shyly. Her Targaryen cousins were mean and dangerous, but maybe her Tully cousins would be nice. At least Kyra was little, like her. Little and launching into her arms. Lyrianne giggled, and hugged her back. Perhaps she had a real family after all! As Kyra offered to share her prize, Lyrianne nodded eager acceptance and, happily, slid a daisy behind her cousin's ear. Another was tucked into her own hair, a third saved for Ceren, their heroine. Each arrow shot provoked a delighted gasp, and then she was trading her little flower for a much more militant prize. "Thank you!" She beamed, her adoring smile inherited from her father.

A father who was, as it happened, striding onto the field. "Lyra! There you are!" Anxiety becoming relief becoming frustration - any father would recognize the tone. "Why must you run off and frighten your - " And there was Ceren. Uh oh.

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Last edited by QueenAlysanne on Wed Jul 25, 2007 9:22 pm; edited 1 time in total

When Ceren went to take her stance, it was possible for her to hear a pin drop. Not only had Kyra held her breath, but her cousin as well. Edword, for his part, was studying her with the scrutiny of a warrior. He'd never been one for bow hunting even when he'd left the riverlands.

As the arrow hit the first target the thump that sounded was accompanied by two tiny gasps for air, and before they even had time to react the second arrow was free.

Edword joined in on the clapping, respect suddenly abounding for the Martels. If this was how they trained their women, then he feared the dessert was not the biggest obstacle to get across.

"I told you Daddy! I told you!" Kyra, who was hardly without a smile, thought her face was going to split in two. She'd never been so amused, not even when Edword took her to train.

"Indeed you did." He looked up to Ceren and the corner of his mouth tipped up. 'Thank you'. he said across the distance. There was no other words for making his daughter so happy.

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Ceren had just handed over the arrows and had a flower tucked into her ear; the morning, she presumed, could not have gotten more interesting. As she straightened, however, grinning a you're welcome to Lord Edword, she heard Aerion's voice. Having already tempered her expressions after the revelation of Lyrianne, Ceren was perfectly capable of turning her head to smirk at Aerion, but not able to dispense the coolness in her eyes.

Lightless, obsidian eyes that were not, in the least, pleased to see the Targaryen prince coming toward them.

She shrugged, though, took the daisy carefully down from her ear, twirled it, and glanced to Hakan, still lurking in the shadows with the stranger.

"I should get back to practice," she told Edword, apologetically, and slung her bow over the narrow curve of her left shoulder, then turned to walk away from the group of them.

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"Looks as if they managed not to," Val's smile was closer, really, to a smirk to observe the two bullseyes. Yet then he tilted his head, curious in his observance of Prince Aerion and, now, wasn't that interesting?

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Hakan's hawk eyes had clearly noticed the arriving Prince far before anyone else's, for he seemed unruffled by the sudden entrance. His gaze, instead, stilled on his Princess.

"Did you come all the way from Highgarden for a practice range, my lord?" Hakan asked, after a moment.

The Bastard of Starfall, it would seem, was sharp not only of reflex and sight, but also of mind and intuition. For the son of Tyrell stood standing to the side, observing, and Hakan suspected he was not here to observe his cousins, as that seemed -- to Hakan, anyway -- a useless and generally silly practice.

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"I grow weary of Highgarden's ranges," he said glibly, still as a corbie in his steady observance and his dark attire still dusty from the road. "They never seem to improve my shoddy at best work. It's possible I came to lay my eyes on an archer of particular skill, and now it seems I have."

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With Kyra and Lyrianne happy, and his interest securly peaked he couldn't hide the frown when he heard none other than the fliandering idiot Aerion. Though, his frown turned slightly less when he heard what he couldn't mistake. A parental tone of caring. Of course, that still didn't excuse him from being an ass and ruining his sister.

However, since he loved his sister and he knew she loved Aerion, the result suddenly was a smile for the Prince. And then a wave. "She's here, my Lord. Safe and sound with her cousin."

After that his attention turned back to Ceren, and her leaving. She obviously knew what was good for her, staying away from him. "Of course, I'm sure we'll see you at the Tournament. Thank you again."

Kyra, who was a bubble and ball of sunshine at this moment due to the arrow looked at her Uncle who was crossing the field. But she had no idea what her father was talking about, he didn't look like a donkey at all. In fact he looked like any other man, with a few differences.

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"Princess Ceren has studied for many years," Hakan felt free to inform Ser Valcour. "But she has much to learn."

His warm, dark eyes shifted to Val, and held there for a moment.

"Surely my lord saw how her elbow lifted before the last shot, as if in agitation. Though she made the bullseye, the arrow would have pierced a shoulder, or an arm, not the heart. She will have recognized as much herself, and be discontent with the result."

Hakan Sand was just full of useful information.

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