A Time for Kith and Kin
Eight Day of the First Month 293 AC
As you leave, Xor cheerfully joins you on your way, and his walk on two feet is still a touch unsteady... Well, this night of all times no one will call it into question. Along the way he proves quite curious about your doings in the Dimwell Delving and the lands of the Peerless Empire, discussing matters of history and lore as well as the current politics of the realm with equal elan. He even offers to read the book about the Deep Ones first, just to be sure that no subtle influence of the Far Realm lurks within its pages.
"If you would like to come when next we visit I would be happy to take you," you offer, knowing well the gentle scholar's love of exploring new horizons.
"If it's not any trouble..." you can clearly hear the yearning in his voice.
"It is no trouble at all, my friend," you declare firmly. The Peerless Empire's laws may be both strict and harsh, but they are not capricious. There must surely be a way for Xor to visit once he proves his good intentions.
***
By the time you arrive back at the keep the moon is already high in the sky, but not quite so late that supper for you and your closest friends and family cannot be arranged. You would like to say you planned it from the start, and through the auspices of Hestior and the servants who had fallen naturally under his purview you can even do so with some hope of being believed. The table is swiftly set and and dishes that had been left on a warm plate for the past few hours are brought out. There's even a fine wax-sealed bottle of Dornish Red from Tyene to celebrate obtaining the spell-scroll through which Elia Martell will hopefully be brought to life, fully sealing the alliance with Dorne.
Seeing the flush in Waymar's cheeks as the two arrive together, you innocently ask the Dornishwoman, "Did you have another to share out just between the two of you?"
"Not even Dornish Red is
that fine," Tyene quips back, unperturbed, which unfortunately does very little to help Waymar regain his cool.
Teasing the two of them will be rather tricky, you realize. Things that might get a slight rise out the Dornishwoman would likely send poor Waymar fleeing. Before you can set about properly solving this conundrum your mother enters, drawing your attention way.
She looks... more anchored in the here and now, looking at things squarely, the air of confusion which she had carried in the North dispelled almost in its entirety in this more familiar setting. You are glad to see beneath the polished smiles a spark of contentment growing. As you speak of your journey to the realm of stone and all the odd things and marvels you had seen there, she interjects less often than your friends, but when she does speak it is not without insight into the minds of rulers and their advisors, be they mortal or not.
As time passes and the conversation flows lively and cheerful you are pleasantly surprised to see Xor, whom you had introduced, truthfully if incompletely, as a foreign scholar make a rather good impression upon her, particularly when it comes to light that he knows quite a few Westerosi songs which he is more than happy to sing with his accompaniment of spirits.
"I rather miss playing the harp," your mother admits. "I have not played in... well, I suppose it's been over ten years, but for me..."
"You know, Viserys gifted me harp for my fifth name day. Could you teach me to play?" Dany asks loudly, to keep her from dwelling on such matters.
"I suppose I might, but there is still much I have to remind myself of," she admits.
"I'm sure you'll do marvelously," Dany declares with a determined glint in her eye before whispering something to her.
Your mother looks at first rather daunted but then nods to herself and steps out to stand by Xor's instruments, and there she plays a wordless melody of wonder, so perfect in every manner that you guess at once what
power Dany must have gifted her by dream-wrought sorcery. Yet as you listen almost spellbound you hear far more than sorcerous insight in that song, there is passion soaring and joy abiding in its making.
All around the table heart-felt applause bursts out, a perfect end to a marvelous day.
What do you do tomorrow?
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OOC: That was a near-crit on a perform roll. It turned what would have been masterful song anyway into a musical marvel.