Gold cloaks arrive before the king does, marching in purposefully as the prince’s audience with his fellow hostages continues. Spear butts hammer on the ground incessently, making any further proceedings of the Dornish miniature court quite impossible. An officer accompanying the several men announces, “His Grace, King Daeron, approaches. All those but the Dornish prince Cadan of House Martell are to depart from these chambers forthwith.” It is an abrupt call to end things, likely a show of force and power more than a necessity.
Luckily, most got the point when the gold cloaks started moving in - Cadan had dismissed his current guest the moment the sounds were heard from below, but some were still lingering to see if this was another kidnapping of an innocent maid or something else. When their announcement is made, the Prince rises up and gives a dismissive wave with his hand, sending the last few out of the chambers. Then, standing like that among all the exotic furniture and other things the prince has brought with him, he awaits the approach of his new King with his gaze proudly kept in eye-height of whoever comes inside. When the king enters, however, the look only lasts a moment - long enough to look at the young man he once tried to reach in the shadow of Sunspear - before he bows down in respect and submission.
Daeron enters after a few moments, escorted by another set of guardsmen and the royal steward, Ser William Waxley. Once through the doors, he accepts Cadan’s bow with a precise nod, before turning his gaze to the gold cloak officer. “Your men may stand guard outside. See that no one disturbs us,” the king, glorious in his youthful vitality, says. The guardsmen depart.
“You seem well since I saw you so long ago in Sunspear, prince,” Daeron remarks, looking about the chamber while Ser William keeps a quiet post away and to one side. “You have found the Keep hospitable, I hope?”
“Thank you. You seem as strong as ever, your Grace,” Cadan answers smoothly as he straightens up. For the second question, he considers for a moment before he answers:“As hospitable as any of us can require, the good will that has been shown us from your Hand before and now from yourself your Grace goes a long way. It is my hope and belief that I and my people have made it possible, as the comfort of our stay here is dependent on both guests and hosts.” The Dornish prince manages a polite smile and takes a step back, an informal invitation for the king to enter further inside. The finest chair that could be found in the Dornish tower has been put out for him, while the prince’s side of the table has a couch for the Dornishman to sit in, if it should come to that.
Daeron smiles a moment and remarks, “Well said, Prince Cadan,” before he fixes those purple Targaryen eyes upon the readied seats and moves to take the fine chair for himself. “Is there wine? Ser William, if you’d be so kind to pour us something, I am sure I would appreciate it.” Beehind fine, pale lashes, his eyes regard the prince as he offers another brief smile. “I’ve developed a fondness for good Dornish wines. A good, bracing drink. With any luck, the trade over the passes will see more of them north of the Red Mountains.”
“There is always wine in my chambers, we have the same tastes, even if I have lately enjoyed the Arbor wines as well as the less common wines from further north, even some from the Westerlands, as unlikely as it may seem,” Cadan small-talks while seating himself after the king does. The wine is easy to find as well as the glasses, all close by in these chambers. Looking up after a brief study of the table, the Dornish prince nods again.
“I think many of us harbors that hope too, if it means that some of our people can be eased from suffering after the consequences of the war. Trade should bring in many much needed things for them, as well as the articles we might miss in our stay here.” He watches the young man in front of him with a thoughtful expression, trying to read him from what the king might display in the ways of feelings.
“Of course. If there is anything in particular you find need of, let Ser William know, and he shall see to it—consider it a gift from me,” the Young Dragon remarks, pleasant as can be and hardly like a conqueror to the conquered; or perhaps very like that. Ser William eventually delivers the wine before the two princes, and Daeron is the first to sip before giving his approval. He remarks idly, “A nice flavor,” and takes another swallow. Waiting for Cadan to first drink, he then begins to turn to more serious matters.
“I supposed that there might be questions you would have, or requests, on other matters besides your comfort here,” he says. “This matter of Cassella Vaith, for one.”
Cadan has somewhat of a frown but he keeps it largely at bay. “Personally, for myself, I simply wish to know what happened and if this can be expected to happen again, without notice. My other concerns that you heard are simply to allow me to can quell the upset feelings among my kin here.”
“Of course,” King Daeron says quite willingly. “As you say, I was not present. Yet as I understand it, my cousin and the lady developed a passion for one another. Aegon is ... strong-willed, and rash, and did not act as is best. Yet in the end, he impressed upon me that the lady was willing.” A pause, and then Daeron shrugs. “She is his paramour now, I suppose. Even Prince Viserys considers it a suitable arrangement, and assures the lady will receive all honor due her as paramour to a prince.” He is watchful, even as he takes another swallow of wine, purple eyes regarding the Dornish prince attentively.
Cadan looks surprised, an eyebrow shooting up at the mention of ‘paramour’. “Your Grace.. before I ask more about the event in particular, every time I have mentioned ‘paramours’ to Your people, they have been scandalized and assured me it would never happen here. Yet, I understand if it is only for the royal house, here it seems it is acceptable? Will a husband from these lands take her hand as willingly as if it had not happened?” He tries to keep his voice calm, but there’s apparently a honest and surprised prince that Daeron is dealing with right now.
A moue of displeasure follows that query, yet Daeron’s voice is even. “Let them be scandalized—it is no scandal in Dorne, is it, for a man to love a woman? Your septons seem able to accept it, even if with chagrin. I do not see why ours cannot do the same. They will learn.” A long pause, and for emphasis he repeats—with an addition—the last sentence. “I will make them learn. Dorne is a part of the realm. Your customs may be different in some ways, but not in ways that matter.”
Perhaps it is an unrealistic stance for a king to take, considering the thousand years and more of enmity between Dorne and the lords of the Reach and the Stormlands. Daeron does not seem to think so, or perhaps he does not care, for all things seem possible when one is strong, and young, and a king. “In any case, this is how I see it. Shall it happen again, in the way it did? I would be very angered if it did, for as I said, Aegon acted wrongly. But it is done, and we must only make sure that it does not happen in that way again. Whatever forms are to be followed should be respected.”
Cadan listens, very interested and does not change his stance or expression at the apparent displeasure shown by the king. Instead, he follows every word, nodding now and then and seems quite pleased by the stance taken. “There are those who still see this as a great injustice, that she does not dare speak her mind to her people, that she was convinced under threatening circumstances. I doubt my people want to hear a relayed message from Your Grace through me.. Only something that publicly makes it known that this is not something acceptable but tolerated only this time would make the most doubtful believe your honest intentions. I believe you, sitting here in front of you, but not all my countrymen will.”
He seems thoughtful, then goes on: “I realize that a disagreement between you is unlikely to be made public, but is there some other way to show that the way it was done will not be tolerated again, so that no one will have to fear it? All they know now is that Prince Aegon seemed pleased to have his ways approved of, and that is what the rumors from nobles native to these lands have said as well..” The Dornish prince seems very respectful in his ways, trying to avoid offending the King with his words, and often casts his eyes down in a hint that this is not what he wants to say, but is required by duty.
“He is pleased, perhaps, because it was allowed at all, and that only after his father’s intercession. Now he may be with the woman he loves, and who loves him. She has been here and, I am sure, said the same to those who ask her,” Daeron replies, a hint of crossness now in his voice as he straightens in his chair. “A proclaimation saying that one of the Dornish hostages cannot love someone else… I do not see that as feasible. Do you?” Yes, it’s crossly put.
“For my part,” he adds, “I would never do such a thing. That is a large reason for why we are speaking, for I would know your mind on something that touches upon matters of Dorne.”
Cadan drops the subject, but it’s clear that he’s still concerned over the thoughts and opinions of his people. Instead, he nods and gestures an open hand gesture to the King, as well as inclines his head. “I do not.. What is it that I can assist you with?”
There is a longer pause, as the king takes a swallow of the Dornish wine in his glass. And then he says, “I have thought long and hard on what might help to strengthen ties between us. As you know, there are Dornishmen here in the city who are not hostages. Some are here for their own ambitions, but others think as I do, and hope to see Dorne prosper as it never had before, now that there is a chance for a true peace stretching from the Summer Sea to the Wall.” He lets that hang in the air for a few moments, deliberately, before Daeron proceeds. “It has been suggested to me that your sister, the Princess Ariana, shall soon see her fourteenth nameday. An auspicious time, some might say, for her to be betrothed.”
Cadan raises an eyebrow at the last of all that flowery speech. “My sister, betrothed? I fear I have little to say about her betrothal, if you shall ask any of us, only Prince Marence is capable of giving you an answer that you want. But if it’s merely informing me of a decision..” Cadan seems a tad bit defensive now, watching the other man with intense dark eyes.
“I was hoping for your opinion on the matter, as you would know your brother’s mind better than I,” Daeron answers, again a hint of displeasure in his manner. “And you are here, while he is not. So is she, for that matter, but it is not something to talk to her just now. It is a thought I have.” He waits expectantly to hear what he wants to hear, then. All the while, Ser William is off to one side, standing quietly, and not seeming to be surprised by much of anything that he hears.
“She is of age, but right now, if she was to be betrothed, I think some would take it as a sign that you wish to quickly consolidate your conquests and quell any uprisings by having her firmly attached to you and your loyal lords. Not that there is anything wrong, in fact it is a wise decision, but the Dornish can be sensitive to such things. Its something that is good to know if you wish to learn about our people.” Cadan nods slowly, taking a stance but trying to be reasonable.
Daeron nods his head briefly, the answer not being particularly surprising. Another slow slip of wine, gracefully done, and the glass is empty. He sets it down upon the arm of his chair, a slender finger running about its edge, toying with it, when at last he asks, “And they would feel the same even if she were to be betrothed to a king, to one day become a queen?”
Cadan watches him for the signs of delusions of grandeur, or just paranoia, but in the end, he simply narrows his eyes, then gives a small nod as they open up normally again. “I wager they will, only then they will see you as a man who has courage to at least show openly what he intends, not hide it behind his loyal subjects.”