Candles and a roaring fire fend off the chill and the gathering twilight in the Lannister Manse. The carpeted floor muffles the sounds of approaching footsteps - the Lannisters have visitors tonight! A servant shows them in, a trio of men dressed similarly.
Ammon Massey walks with the servant. He is not dressed in his squire’s rainment this evening, but wears a quilted black doublet with the Massey sigil embroidered on the breast: a triple spiral, red green and blue on white. The two men with him, guards by their dress, also show their allegiance to House Massey.
Galan Lannister waits for him inside. He’s wearing a fine green broccade with the Lannister Lion etched out in gold on his chest. He greets Ammon as he arrives, “Ah, Ammon, welcome to my home. Thank you for coming out here. Would you care for something to eat? We have some boar leftover from our dinner two nights ago.”
“Thank you, Ser Galan, but no. We’ve supped.” He smiles mirthlessly at the Green Lion and sighs. “Wine perhaps? I could use a cup of wine.” And with that, Ammon is moving into the center of the room. The guards remain by the entry.
“We have wine aplenty.” Galan nods, making a gesture to his servant, “Well then, I have the Salon prepared. If you will?” He gestures up the stairs, leading him.
Ammon nods, following the older man up the stairs. “I suppose you know why I’m here, ser,” he says as they climb. “I saw your father yesterday.”
The salon is well appointed and comfortable with chairs and couches applenty that look inviting. Galan takes one of the more regal-looking red velvet chairs that sit accross from each other, turned to the hearth, “I knew, though I was not informed of the result of the meeting.”
The squire sits in the other chair. “I was told that Ser Galan Lannister is a man grown at six and thirty and can speak for himself,” he says sardonically. “And so I am here, that we might speak together.” Ammon takes a moment to study the Lannister before launching into the conversation. When he does speak, it is in a rush.
“My sister would marry you,” he says. “And from all accounts you seem willing to marry her. My lord father has instructed me to speak with you about it. To - negotiate, as it were.”
“I am aware of it. First, I have one request that may seem… unusual, but I find it’s rather essential to my starting negotiation position.” Galan leans forward. He waits to hear of Ammon consents to hear him out, putting his fingers together.
With a wave of his hand and a nod, Ammon gives his silent assent. He remains leaning back in his chair and sips his wine actually.
“I would know what the agreement was between Lord Massey and Ser Luthor Rivers for Pennei Massey’s Hand.” He leans back, elbows on the sides of his chair and fingers intertwined.
The salon is filled with the squire’s laughter. “I must confess, I do not know my niece’s dowry,” Ammon says as he stares off into the fire for a moment. He looks at Galan again as he continues, “I was off with Ser Dagur when Pennei married, I never even attended the wedding. I would tell you if I did, ser.”
“Hmm…” Galan says considering, “Well then, I suppose I should start by asking what you would consider a fair dowry for Lady Doryssa. I believe we both know what I have to offer to her in return.”
“Answer a question for me first, ser, and then we will get on with it.” Ammon sips his wine again before he asks, “Why Doryssa?”
Galan gives a small shrug, “I believe she’d be a good wife and good mother. She loves me dearly, I believe and would be quite devoted.” He says honestly, “And I do believe our children would benefit from having such a caring mother.”
“And what of you, ser? Do you love her dearly? Will you be a devoted husband and father as the septons say one should be?” the squire asks, leaning forward in his chair.
“Of course.” he says immediately, “Ammon, there is one thing you should know about me.” he leans forward trying to make his point, “The rumors of my womanizing are greatly exaggerated. I admit that yes, I do enjoy the attentions of women, who doesn’t? But, there is much difference between that and what everyone assumes.”
Ammon leans back in his chair, nodding. “Lions have greedy appetites, I’m told. And those from offshoots of the pride doubly so. What is it you require for my sister’s hand?” he asks and sips his wine as he waits.
Galan nods, “Very well, I want lands mainly, somewhere pleasant. And not just the domain of some Landed Knight with a keep and a cottage. I mean a proper castle with incomes of at least five thousand a year.”
Ammon’s laugh is rich and hearty. “Five thousand a year?!?!” he asks, between chuckles. “Sweet Galan, the Crownlands are not the Westerlands and Massey’s Hook is /certainly/ not Lannisport. A keep and cottage? Would that I could promise you a /tower/ on a small spit of land jutting out into the narrow sea. Perhaps some lands near to the Kingswood? You could guard the smallfolk against bandits.” He laughs again, his cheeks reddening. “But five /thousand/ dragons? I’m sorry, ser. That’s quite impossible.”
Galan does look a bit riled at the rousing laughter, “It is a bit much. I must mention though that I have need of both land /and/ income.” He grumbles the last bit, “Even if it is just a tower with a small spit of Land.”
The squire smiles. “Land, is possible, ser. Something by the sea? Or does the Kingswood suit you better?” He sips the wine again, draining the glass. “Incomes from the land would typically be a bit less than a tenth of your price - four hundred, say. With an increase after your first child, perhaps more if it’s a boy. And in addition, there would be other - stipulations.”
“Stipulations?” Galan takes a long drag of his wine, “And what would those be? If I may ask.”
“For the lands to be yours in truth as well as name, you would have have to swear your sword to House Massey, of course. Mayhaps my lord father would see fit to grant you a place at Stonedance if you so wished it - master at arms, say.” His wine refilled, Ammon takes another short sip. “In addition to that, we would insist on a jointure to be paid out by the Lannisters from your father’s revenues - 100 dragons per year.” Ammon pauses to study Galan.
Clearing his throat, he continues. “And a dower. The Lannisters would provide an income of 150 dragons per year. You would have complete control of this income of course - but it would continue to be paid to Doryssa in the event of your death.” And then the squire slaps his thigh. “And there is one final thing, a personal matter.”
“Master-at-arms… for Stonedance?” Galan scoffs, he’s nearly mocking, “So I could teach all the little Massey children which end is the pointy one? I think not.” He shakes his head, “I would be the laughingstock of Casterly Rock if I accepted any offer that would require them to pay a dowry for me, Ammon. Come now, let us be serious.” He leans back, crossing his arms, “And what is the personal matter? I would know.”
“And what better offers are you getting from the Lannisters, ser?” Ammon asks, with a raised brow. “And master-at-arms was a suggestion, not an offer. My lord father must still approve of this. And that personal matter goes hand in hand with all of those little Masseys.” He coughs softly into his hand. “I am the third surviving son of Lord Allard Massey. My brothers Maslan and Harmon sit before me - - and Maslan and Lady Kalyra breed like rabbits. My inheritence will be a pittance.”
Ammon clears his throat, looking around the room. “The day may come when the word of a Lannister would stand me in good stead. Were that day to come, it would be comforting to know there was a Lannister who would speak for me. /If/ that day comes. I’m not of a mind to sit back and wait for it.”
Galan thinks about it. “The personal matter you speak of is of no problem. I know you to be a stalwart and worthy individual, and I would happily vouch for you.” He nods, “As to the rest… it’s not enough, a jointure is… an insult to Lannister name.” he shakes his head, “I will think on your offer, speak with my family and your sister.”
Ammon purses his lips before replying. “A jointure is common, ser. We would be willing to forego the dower. But the jointure - surely you can see the need. It would be a payment the Lannisters made to /you/, not to my family. It would be of great benefit to yourself and my sister.”
“Common, perhaps, but I’m a Lannister of some repute. Saying a jointure is /common/ does not exactly enthrall me to the idea.” He gives Ammon a smile, “I will think of it, speak with my family. I don’t think either of us expected to come out of this meeting with a solid agreement, am I incorrect?”
Ammon chuckles. “Of course not, ser.” He rises and extends his hand to Galan. “Well then, ser, I will take my leave. Speak with your family, I will speak with mine. And perhaps we shall meet again on this.”
“We most definitely will. Do not take this to mean that I hold our sister of little value. I want to see this marraige as much as any of us.” he stands and puts his arm on Ammon’s shoulder as he moves to escort him out. “Tahnk you so much for your roll in this.”
“I am honored to do my duty, Ser Galan,” Ammon says as he makes his exit, his two attendants in tow.