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You insulted my dead father.

[Short. Simple and--? Oh. Frank catches her arm and looks over her shoulder. He takes in the scene with less shock. The man is on his knees, his lady has her skirts drawn up like a curtain for their pleasure. Her loose silken gown spilling open at the neckline.

She startled and then eyes Karen and Frank. A laugh crackles from her and breaks into a moan.]

They could use a guard, no?

[ She would've argued that she insulted his people - and for good reason - but she's too much in a state of shock to even continue that train of thought at the present.

'Oh Gods' is muffled into her hand before she's bowing her head to them, not even able to look and her cheeks and ears flushed from embarrassment at the laughter. ]

Forgive me -- I didn't mean to intrude...!

[ And she's turning and taking off again, pulling herself from Frank's grasp. This time she's running, skirts pulled up enough to allow her to do so. ]

[Are we all the people who came before us? The company we keep? Is that who we are for certain? Her own family cast her out. His people have done wrongs. Grievous wrongs. His father? Well, he did bring Frank Castle into the world. Thus far it hasn't proved to be a good and wonderful deed. All of that is on the back burner.

He looks away from the scene, eye following the flurry of red and gold.]

My lady--?

[She's blushing. Honestly blushing. Like it is a shameful thing to come upon. Like she's--.]

Hmmm.

[He stoops to get her glass of wine a few droplets marking the stone, red as blood and embarrassment.]

[ When she's no longer wrapped up in her own opinions about the world, she might be able to see beyond them. See things from a different side. But for now, she's far too busy trying to get back to the palace. Intent on going up to her room, party be damned, and lock herself in there for the rest of her days.

Or at least until she can say maybe those involved have forgotten.

She gets as far as the steps and trips midway, her knees connecting to stone and one of her shoes falling three steps down. The pain bites and throbs and she hisses out, trying to push herself back up, ]

Fuck!

Edited 2017-10-30 06:31 (UTC)

[The environment doesn't loan itself to be one of acceptance. Yes, she is in a new world and a new place... it is not quite sure of what to make of her either. Frank follows her retreat at a steady pace. He's not chasing her, just following and wondering what exactly is going on in her head.

(Besides the fact that she is a maiden still.) Rounding the corner through a curtain of foliage, he sees the flurry of fabric and finally breaks into a faster pace, not fast enough to stop her fall. In a moment's time he is kneeling beside her.]

Be still a moment.

[Because the stone is hard and her body is soft. No need to cause more damage moving quickly.]

Are you bleeding?

[ Her embarrassment spikes again when he's beside her again but it's not like she can get up and run away. So she stays where she is and shakes her head, not looking at him but her voice not anywhere as harsh as before. ]

I do not know.

[ They are but not profusely. Just scrapes. The bruises to her bones hurt far more. ]

[Frank is a gentleman and does not move aside her skirts to examine any damage. He's not a Maester. His expression is serious.]

Let me take you to a Maester.

[Now fully aware that she is unwedded, untouched and a Northern lady he stays crouched without a hand on her. While he could change the request to something more elegant he's at least considering her boundaries and honor. He can't carry her around like a doll. Yet.]

[ She shakes her head, ]

No, I'm fine. I just--I want to go back to my room.

[ Adding, bitterly, ]

I've made a fool of myself enough already.

Edited 2017-10-31 01:56 (UTC)

Can you stand? I'll take you.

[Frank stays crouched. She's not moving yet and it does not seem right to stand coldly above her.]

If there is blame to be had, I request my share.

[Because he brought her here as a means to woo.]

[ She shakes her head again, ]

The blame is mine. As is the fault. I would not let you share it.

[ She gingerly pushes herself up, knees aching and her barefoot connecting with the warm stone of the steps. Better at dusk, at least. Any earlier and it would be much too hot for her skin to bear. ]

I proposed to lead you here.

[And while he did allude to some romantic rendezvous, he didn't say there were some happening as they spoke. Since he is where he is, Frank recovers her shoe and positions it close to her foot.]

Are you well, my lady?

[Because he did catch a look of her pale, slim legs. Improper as it was, he could see her unmarked skin more red and scraped then they should be.]

[ The gesture, as small as it is, is enough to soften the anger she still felt towards him. Not much but enough not to snap at him. She carefully slips her foot back into her show. ]

My pride is more wounded than my body, my lord. I am fine.

[Is that a snap? It's hardly a scratch. The lioness has claws. Frank offers his arm again.]

I hope that they both will be well again very soon so that you can enjoy your new home as you see fit.

[ She doesn't take the arm but carefully starts making her way up the steps. There's a slight limp that isn't yet noticeable with how slow she's moving. ]

How long did it take for you to think of this place as your home?

[He follows. It's not like she can flee fast. If she were on an open plain, she would be an easy target were it not for the man behind that has some manner of claim if only based on proximity. That's not things go in Westeros. It's a civilized world.

Frank sighs.]

...many months. It was the worst after the sunset. I would wake at night and it was too loud. I missed the sound and smell of the horses and would creep to the stables.

[ She is silent until they reach the top of the steps, stopping long enough to say, ]

I miss the sound of the ocean. The waves crashing against the cliffside of the Rock. I thought I would get to hear it here but... I can't hear anything. At least nothing I want to hear.

May the nights be kind to you all the same.

[This might as well be a goodbye. Frank stays where he is. There is a party still going. And it won't be the last engagement if she and her kin stay in Dorne. A few days will pass until he requests a private audience with her.]

[ After that meeting, Karen had been more than content to stay in her room for the days after. Declining any other social gatherings and taking her meals in their quarters and citing how she was not feeling well if pushed.

When the request came to her from a messenger, she was honestly baffled. She wants to decline but her parents insist. He is a well-known figure in Dorne and has done quite well for himself. They are in no position to turn people away.

So she sits in the common room, waiting for him to be shown in, knees still sore when she walks but otherwise healing. ]

[Is she really going to stay locked away like that? Some sort of mythical princess in a tower. Dorne has had enough tragic ladies and the rumor mill was running with nothing to grease the wheels. Surely she's shamed. Surely she's in exile because she's with child and her family shared the burden. Perhaps her family is in danger and wish to be safe.

Frank didn't take stock in anything. Birds sing any song that is catchy.

He looks a little less fearsome then their first meeting, his beard more groomed and his robes a little more in Dornish fashion. There is a small air of surprise that she agreed to see him. And he gives her a cordial smile.]

Good day to you, my lady. I hope that the weather has been agreeable with your health.

[ That was her intention. Though it's best she remains ignorant of the rumors, however.

She gives him a glance when he walks in but then looks away, the anger she felt back when they were discussing his heritage flaring up again. ]

I wouldn't know. I've stayed inside.

[Frank's head bobs. The same as she was. Good. Maybe. He lightly clears his throat.]

I'd spoken to your father, there's been a cook in my employment and I care not for their technique. I come to find out they were trained in the kitchens of your Westerlands. He is at your disposal now.

[A small trifle, really. He tilts his head, studying her face even though her blue, blue eyes won't meet his.]

It's been as beautiful as it has been hot. Have you been trying to preserve your fair skin?

[ Her eyes snap back over to him, ]

Is that the only reason you're here? To give us a cook?

No. I came to have your company again.

[For whatever it is to her. It's a relief to have her eyes on him, though the disdain is scalding.]

My "company"?

[ Her tone is dripping with skepticism and she looks away again. ]

I'm sure there are plenty of other women here that would appreciate your "company" more.

Yes. Because we're talking.

[Frank tilts his head to one side.]

And many ladies aren't interested in conversation. And many are not so willing to argue with me. It's refreshing.

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