#✻ interaction ╱ amir manderly

[mintharaestermont]

closed starter for : @amirofmanderlys context: during the lann's day celebrations, brianna bracken and minthara estermont decide to embark on a little game.

minthara had long ago lost her mask, but at this moment, that was the least of her worries. she was completely occupied by the little bet she and brianna had made with one another, pushing through the crowd as she scouted her next target. and then she saw him - the man who had vexed her so in the crownlands. she almost scoffed and turned away, but found herself looking back at him over her shoulder. she was loathe to admit it, but he was attractive, even if his personality was lacking. and so, she turned back around, and moved towards him.

she didn't call out, nor announce her presence. she didn't even think he noticed her until she was a few paces away. their gazes met, her eyes shining with mischief, and it was only then that she held out her hand, a silent invitation for him to take it.

[mintharaestermont]

"don't need luck, thanks," she puffed herself up with a false sort of bravado. determined to appear as though she was not at all bothered by his stubborn refusal to see things her way. she had barely taken a step, though, when his taunts reached her, and when she whipped her head around, there was a smirk on his face that had no business being there.

"get fucked," she spoke sharply and bluntly, just about restraining herself from accompanying the words with a rude gesture. she was on her best behaviour, after all, despite his many attempts to get her to lose it.

but there was nothing left to do. she had already given him her answer, and she would have to commit to it now until he was out of eyeline and she could slink back to the docks. with one last glare, she turned to leave again, before he pulled her back in with his next offer.

"truly?" minthara paused, waiting for some sort of trick, but none was forthcoming. and for the first time, she truly looked at him. what was more vexing than his general aura was the fact that he was not at all unpleasant to look at. there was something appealing about the set of his jaw, the curve of his cheekbones. features that did not belong to someone so annoying.

"fine. thanks." the offer had softened her somewhat. "if it will help you sleep easier." softened, yet still not above slipping in one last comment. and so she was turning again, and it was little wonder she was not dizzy from the back and forth.

but halfway to the carriage, a sudden whim came over it, and as she made to pass him, she paused. the journal in her hand was opened, and she rifled through it until she found the page she wanted. with little grace, she tore it from the book, folded it up, and handed it to him.

"a parting gift," and, for the first time since they butted heads, minthara let her expression grow into a broad smile. "as a thanks for the carriage." and then, she climbed into it and was gone.

❅

"good luck with that, lady estermont." at this rate, it was abundantly clear that their would be no way in which their conversation would find any middle ground; she was quick to become impassioned, and in all of his confusion at her reaction, there was also a certain amount of amusement he found in the ways it seemed as though she could be one way one minute, and another the next.

a small part of him found some strange enjoyment in continuing their back and forth interaction, to the point it had become abundantly blurry what it was they were actually arguing about.

"start saving your breath, you'll be needing it in a few when you're huffing yourself up to the red keep." there was a slight smirk that came over his features then, no doubt picturing her huffing and puffing along the cobbled stones all the way back up to the red keep. his words were called to her over his shoulder, and if she looked carefully, she would have seen the shit-eating grin that came over his features that came at the thought of leaving her stood beside buckets of sardines and trout.

still, to continue would be too much, and he had better things to do than stand here and continue the exchange with his own friend's sister - that would be inappropriate, would it not? a part of him seemed to refocus himself, remind him not to allow himself to become too casual or taunting with the woman, as irritating and amusing as she was. that thought danced in his mind, fleeting and fickle in the prevalence it held over his actions and his words.

his hand indicating toward the fish markets she'd need to be winding herself through, as though he were rolling her out a special red carpet, as he made eye contact with the manderly driver, as though to tell him he would be there in a moment. though not before he made eye contact with her again, this time something slightly lingering in his gaze; as though to think it was a shame for someone to look like that, and to stand there.

he did not try to hide the slight look in his eye that came over him as he looked over her, remaining stood outside of his carriage. as attractive as he found her, he found her equally as jarring - and he knew that he could not leave his friend's sister to be stood here in kings landing of all places. she hitched her skirts up and made it look as though she were ready to stomp off, when he called over to her. "you get yourself in here. i'll get the next one."

[daceystvrk]

closed starter for @amirofmanderlys

"lord manderly," she wished she could say that it was good to see him, but trepidation clouded her tone, her expression, for a large part of dacey feared that he did not bring with him glad tidings. not that his return was itself full of good news. only tragedy had awaiting amir manderly on his return, and that was not much of a welcome home.

"i am glad to see you returned to us." it was the kindest thing that she could say that still remained the truth. she was glad that he was safe, despite any anxieties she held about what his lengthy absence meant for the north.

there was once a time where she never would have asked the question she was about to voice, simply because she was too afraid to do so. for so long, her way had been to bury her head in the sand and hope that pretence was enough. it had been a long time since that had worked.

"is there to be war?" as blunt as the query was, it was softened by the way she spoke it, no less gentle than when she expressed her joy that he was back. "with skagos?" the signs were there, but she could not help but hope he would tell her otherwise.

[emiravmallister]

location: back in the reach before the war in the north began. a large celebratory gathering of the old way.

@amirofmanderlys

gentle tendrils of melody cascaded from her fingertips, a symphony that painted the air with fleeting notes and whispered emotion. the beauty of her music was inextricably woven with the delicate pleasure of observation. it was her chance to be a solitary sentinel, to relish in the ebb and flow of emotions, interactions, and life of her community unfolding. with each subtle pluck of the strings, she wove an unspoken ode to her family, friends, and community—those who had converged beneath a single banner of shared affection. for a moment she could be a silent observer of them all, getting to see the good, the bad, to see their lives, just getting to see them. all of them. it truly was one of her favorite moments.

time's passage brought with it a tender craving to rejoin the joyous revelry, to partake in the laughter and camaraderie. she had left her instrument case in the other room so she would quickly drop it off before heading back to the party.  however as she got closer to the room it was odd she thought she smelt something….burning?

stepping into the room she was met with a sight that would be comical if it wasn’t also dangerous. amir manderly totally unaware of a small fire starting behind him at one of the tables. seemed that he knocked over one of the candles there and it started to catch the table cloth on fire.

her qanun left at a nearby table, her senses surged with urgency. without hesitation, she surged forward, a swift embodiment of salvation. the flames, once mere whispers, now beginning to pick up more and more ferocity. "seni aptal!" words of exasperation leapt forth in a language of spontaneous vexation before she could even stop herself. she worked to try and stop the flames and eventually got to snuff it out before it could become even more of a problem.

as the last embers yielded to their control, a chuckle graced her lips—an echoing ripple of mirth that danced in the air. “a manderly starting a fire….i feel like there is some sort of joke in there somewhere.” she jestingly mused, a lightness to her tone. the aftermath, however, lay etched upon the tablecloth—a smoky testament to their shared moment. "perhaps we shall disguise the evidence, unless you're in the mood for an exciting foray into getting scolded at the party?," she added

[amirofmanderlys]

who: @calla-lefford what: a continuation of this thread, in a separate post because of tumblr

there were inklings of moments where the second son of house manderly could feel his patience almost being tested, as he waited by the open door with his hand attempting to hold it open; for with the way the wind had picked up, he knew should he let go, it would immediately swing shut. there came a moment where he looked upon the briefest of interactions, where the flame haired woman seemed to immediately push herself away from the guard that seemed ready and able to push her directly into the establishment he were basically hanging out of; he found himself wondering if it were normal for guards to put their hands upon the noble women they were supposed to be protecting in the westerlands.

he thought briefly of his own sisters, how much they had been in the company of guards, and the thought of a guard putting their hands on them even roughly for a moment was enough to cause him ire. how much power did even guards have over women in the land of elegant savagery?

"it is no issue, lady lefford." amir spoke, as the lady raised her hands to protect her gaze as she crossed the threshold of the establishment: his gaze remaining fixed upon the guards that seemed to follow her. he could tell they were leffords by the symbols they adorned on their armour, and his gaze flickered back and forth from the establishment, to calla, and then to them. almost as though he could see the seeds of this story being sewn; she had already been the subject of much gossip if what his older sister had told him was correct, and for her to find herself within what appeared to be a dornish tavern with a northern lord would be something else entirely. "unfortunately i know not how long we'll be here. consider this my first sandstorm." amir spoke with a sense of civility and fluency for a northern lord, no doubt reflected by the manderlys close association with the south.

all knew of it; and yet none doubted they were truly northern at heart.

he let go of the door when it were time for the guards to enter, turning on his heel and making his way further into the establishment. he had not expected them too to come inside. as he heard them follow, he turned toward them once again, a look of perplexion crossing his features. "how is it you intend to inform lord lefford his sister taking refuge here and not dead in the sand?" he demanded, remaining fixed in his position as he looked towards the guards. his temper was already on the shorter end, and with the way westerlanders often looked down upon he north, he knew it would not be long before this establishment was forced to witness something as tumultuous as the winds outside. he looked toward calla lefford, half wondering whether she were ready to send them back into the sandstorm. or if she preferred for them to stay. "you are in reputable hands, my lady. regardless of this tavern we've found ourselves in."

for he had taken a seat casually, despite feeling entirely out of place in where they were. he looked around, trying to ensure they were not in a brothel of some sort. that would be a disaster. "were you too making your way back to the old palace?"

[mintharaestermont]

minthara let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, the tension of the moment shattering. she was pleased with herself, relieved they had managed to avoid an argument. there was something different about it this time around. there were still issues, and perhaps they'd never really go away, forcing them to bicker their way through the rest of their lives, but minty knew how miserable she was without him, and knew that she was trying to be better, to approach things more rationally, communicate with more thought and less fire.

"just not when you're driving," she pointed out, though the lightness of her tone indicated it wasn't another swipe at him, but a joke. with the hand that wasn't linked with his, she reached out, brushing her fingers gently over the back of his neck, where hairline met soft spot at the nape.

"yeah," she responded. "yeah. we're good."

they had to be. since the day she had gotten involved with amir manderly, nobody else had measured up to how he made her feel. even when he wasn't in her life, she had only ever found herself looking at one other man, and that was more to prove to herself that she could - a wager she had well and truly lost. she was determined not to go through that again, no matter who would like to see it happen.

"then drive faster." the mischief in his expression was met with a challenge in minthara's own. they were nearly there, but getting out of the car and into a hotel room still seemed like an agonising wait. "i'm sure when we get there i can find something else to be jealous about." she withdrew her hand, picking up her drink from the cup holder and taking a nonchalant sip.

a cackle of laughter escaped her when he admitted to being sent edits of her, finding the idea hysterical. "good. as they should." she tossed her braids over her shoulder, wiggling in her seat a little to try and stop the backs of her thighs going numb. "i still can't believe you showed up to see it." it had been a surreal moment, made all the more bittersweet by the fact it was probably her last olympics to actually achieve her comeback. gymnastics had a shelf life, and retirement was looming.

❅

it were moments like this that truly mattered the most, moments where their ability to communicate was tested and only reflected whatever it was they had promised one another time and time again. when the voices had quietened and the passion had ceased, what was left in the exhausted voices of them both, staring up at the ceiling or curled up on the sofa of some hotel room: this was what they needed the most.

and so, despite the urge to respond to her initial statement about it just being a statement, he only looked sideways in her direction.

his expression was one that clearly said "are you being serious right now?" - but he said nothing, only looked at her. and then, just as quickly as it had begun to boil over, it also simmered down. that was the key he noted; sometimes saying nothing, and finding a way to divert her insecurities. and then he felt her hand twirl around his own, an indication that whatever wall was building was slowly falling again.

if it wasn't so dark, one would see the relief on his face.

"ask as many questions as you want baby, yeah? i ain't got no issue with you asking me anything." he assured her, letting his palm remain wrapped up in her own, coming up a hill and finally seeing the main lights of kings landing in the distance. his gaze flickered back down to the gps in the car, and he rolled down his window slightly.

"you're good. we're all good." and he meant it, because he meant what he said. they were doing it differently this time, listening to her as she reassured him. he did not need her to apologise over and over; he wouldn't make her do such a thing. and she was right. he would be fine. and then there was a slight grin that came over his features. a mischievous glint. "look at you. getting all jealous and shit. least wait 'till i can do something about it."

"aye, cut that shit out. you got gold at the olympics, with a comeback and a half. you think your fans ain't been sendin' me these tiktoks edits of you?" and he half scoffed, letting out a chuckle, his head shaking slightly as he reached to squeeze her thighs. "most of these man ain't nowhere near as talented as you. what, percival templeton is good at driving fast cars that do all the work for him?"

[mintharaestermont]

the true reason behind the carnival was a simple one, something to mark the changing of the seasons from dry to wet, a last celebration before the stormland rains battered the island for months on end. it seemed like something too ordinary to offer him, though, as though the simple act of mentioning the weather would dampen the moment. she was barely listening to the music, moving without thought whilst her attention remained entirely upon amir, gaze catching on the curve of his cheekbones and the glint in his eye each time he said something with a spark of mischief in it.

"obviously there's a reason," she said, solemnly - all together too solemnly, which made it plain that nothing she was about to say was true. she paused, both for dramatic effect, and to give herself a moment to think of something worth saying. "ancient tradition, goes back to the first estermonts. see, there was this pirate from the stepstones. horrid man, terrifying. used to raid up and down the island, stealing everything that wasn't nailed down - fish, wine, women, you name it." she paused for a moment to draw her breath, unable to keep the smirk from her face. "anyway, he tried to sack greenstone during one of my ancestors' wedding feast. waited until they were all deep in their cups to attack, thought it would give him the upper hand. only us estermonts get rowdy when we're pissed. ended up chasing him back into the sea in all our wedding finery, feathers, face paint, the works. so we declared ourselves protected by the sacred power of pleasure, and every year we commemorate it by drinking, dancing, and getting loud. never had a pirate make it past the reef since. can't be a coincidence, can it?"

minty didn't know how she got through it without laughing, though she somehow managed it. her skirts were still swaying about her ankles from when he had spun her, and she scoffed after he had spoke. "ain't no kindness in that, amir," she pointed out. "this is the westerlands. they can barely two-step in time with the music. throw a proper beat at them and i'm not sure they'd survive it without a maester on standby."

she adjusted her hand in his grip, ensuring their fingers were laced together more comfortably. "can't i be both? the island and the storm?" she asked, lighter than she felt. it was a question that she'd been asking herself more often lately, and one she never quite had the answer to. the estermonts by their very existence occupied space in two different worlds, and yet she was always too much of one thing and not enough of the other. "you're a sailor, aren't you? you know that the tide knows how to rage when it feels like it." she shrugged her shoulders. "no reason i can't have the sun on my skin and thunder in my chest, is there?"

she wasn't sure, in that moment, that she was all too bothered with what was polite and proper, but any thought of demanding he take her for his sailor's swill was pushed from her mind by the simplicity of his statement - i like talking to you. there was something about the way he said it that had her grin softening at the edges, as though he'd offered her a small, private gift. it was becoming abundantly clear that there was something about amir manderly, something other than his charm and his grin and the bravado of it all. "all right, then," she agreed. "something else."

minty fell silent for a minute,because she was thinking, reaching for something that was worth offering him. she wasn't the type to find herself lost for words, but something about being told to say something else had made her mind go stupidly blank. "more used to people telling me to shut up than keep talking," she laughed, more at her own expense than anything else. for the first time since they had started talking, she felt self-conscious. "feels weird the other way round. maybe give it a try, i might think of something worth saying then."

❅

the music drifted into a different tempo, a plucked string here, a ripple of harp there, something dainty and very western in its bones, but lord amir manderly had never much cared for dancing by someone else’s rhythm. the beat was fine—light, floaty, inoffensive—but it wasn’t his. still, he adjusted his step, only just, enough to let the thread of their shared movement remain taut and unbroken as he led minthara estermont across the floor. she moved like she had a secret tucked beneath her ribs and it might escape at any moment if she laughed too hard. that, of course, only made him want to keep her laughing.

"carnival, is it?" he said, a grin already rising on his lips. “is there a reason it happens when it does back home, or d’you lot just pick a day and decide it’s time for feathers and half the island drunk before noon?” his tone was curious but light, teasing—like he was inviting her to lie to him if it made the story better. “because if there’s method to the madness, i’d love to hear it. if not—well. no shame in pleasure for pleasure’s sake.” he spun her lightly, just enough for her skirts to catch the air before he pulled her back in, close again, the press of her hand still firm in his.

“speaking of,” he chuckled, shaking his head as if already amused by his own imagining, lowering his voice so only she could hear; it was in that moment, seeing the way the candlelight reflected from her skin, he confirmed in his own mind he did find her attractive. “i’d kill to take over this music right now. give me five minutes and i’d switch it up enough to get the crackers on the edge of the floor bobbing their heads—then just when they start feelin’ themselves, switch. throw off the beat. leave ‘em lookin’ confused.” he was laughing now, not softly either, a warm sound that rumbled low in his chest as though the thought delighted him entirely too much. “it’s a kindness, really. man's just keepin’ them humble.”

minthara had said something about storms earlier, about dancing through them like it was a part of her, and that—he liked. that was the sort of talk that made him take a second look at a woman. but still, the smile playing across his face bent into something more mischievous as he leaned in slightly, voice lowered with fond amusement. “stormlander, is it? funny. ‘cause from where i’m standin’, you’re all island, minty. white sands, hot sun. the kind of girl who don’t flinch from heat, who probably learned to dance with the tide rolling in behind her.” his dark eyes glinted, like he could see it—the image of her barefoot and laughing on greenstone’s shores—and liked it enough to linger there a moment longer than was strictly polite.

his free hand, the one resting at her waist, flexed just slightly as they turned again with the music. “i’ll confess, i’ve got no rum aboard my ships these days, been cutting back,” he said, voice full of mock regret. “there’s nasty liquor for the sailors—burns goin’ down and makes ‘em forget the taste of salt—but i wouldn’t put that in your hands. tastes awful.” the look he gave her then was entirely deliberate: flirty, but not crude, warm with a kind of chivalry he’d been raised to wear like a second skin. “not that i’d expect you to get drunk with a man you just met. wouldn’t be proper.” and yet the grin that followed didn’t seem too fussed with proper at all. he swayed with her a beat longer, the rhythm easing between them like it had always been there. it was strange, how natural this all felt—how easily she kept pace with him.

his eyes dropped to her face again, studying the line of her jaw, the curve of her smirk, the spark in her eyes that said she was enjoying this just as much as he was. “so,” he said, voice softening with genuine curiosity now. “tell me something else, minthara estermont. not about carnival. not about storms. just something—anything. i like talkin’ with you.”

[mintharaestermont]

her lips twitched, caught somewhere between a grin and a laugh. there was something about the way he seemed to take everything in his stride with effortless confidence that drew her in, his way of countering her quite unlike anything she had ever really experienced before. it threw her off balance, but perhaps that was why she liked it so much. all who knew minthara knew she was a force, one that could be utterly unpredictable in its nature, but he was matching it, and for once, she found herself having to keep up rather than running rings around who she found herself speaking with.

she did not need to think, did not even hesitate when he took her hand and tugged her to the dancefloor, fingers weaving effortlessly with his own. "i don't need your help to dance," she snorted. "no rhythm," the look she shot him would have been reproachful, if not for the light still sparking in her eyes. "you ain't seen me at the estermont carnival."

the weight of his hand at her waist kept her in place, and they began to move. "i'm not worried," a toss of her head sent her hair flying over her shoulder. "i'm a stormlander, yeah? i'm used to dancing through storms. just wondering if you can keep up." it was clear from the expression on her face that she was thoroughly enjoying this, the playfulness, the competition, the way they were skirting around the edges of flirtation. it was a feeling that left her cheeks flushed, and in that moment, it was all minty could think about ; so much so that she did not notice the typical awkwardness or missteps that usually came the first time two people danced with one another.

what she did note was the weight of his hand as it encircled her waist, the way he stood a little too close to be proper, and she had to remind herself not to let the moment carry her away. when it came to it, she didn't really know amir manderly. this may not have been unusual behaviour for him, even if it felt to her like something far more consequential. she glanced up at him as they danced, doing her best to conceal what was running through her mind with the same playful smirk she had worn since they had encountered one another again, and the sort of confidence that matched his.

but when he spoke again, all thoughts of the façade of bravado was banished from her mind, because amir had once again thrown her for a loop. she did not need to examine the meaning behind the words - it seemed, to her, all too plain. it made the grand ballroom around them suddenly feel much smaller, much more intimate. her head tilted to one side, the momentary surprise on giving way as her mouth curled into a knowing grin, and she shifted on her feet to lean in to the warmth of his body as her hand gripped his a little more firmly. "utter disaster," she agreed. "could you imagine? i'd have to sit next to you at every family feast, watching you chew with your mouth open." her eyes rolled, as though such a thing were a trial to be endured. "think i'll leave you wondering what i'll call you, though."

the swell of the music took her briefly away from him, spinning out before returning to her original position, though her eyes never left him the whole time, her neck craning to keep him in her sights until she was once again in front of him, laughing in a way that was both loud and unapologetic. "rum?" she repeated, shooting him a look of disbelief. "more chance of finding mammoths in dorne than a decent rum in the westerlands. they ain't the type for all that," she pointed out. "unless you've got one of your northern ships tucked away somewhere filled with barrels of it, we'll have to make do with the shit wine and suffer."

❅

there was something altogether satisfying about the way her mouth hung open, caught between outrage and laughter, as he let the last beat thud against the table. amir thought he might like that look on her—a moment stolen from all the sharp edges, a glimpse of something unguarded before she locked herself back up tight again. but gods, he didn’t dwell on it. he had far too much fun watching her wrestle with whatever words were about to leave that smirking mouth of hers. he didn’t give her the chance to come up with a retort. instead, with all the confidence of a man who did not care for the whispers of a room, he took her hand in his own.

“come on then, minty of greenstone,” he declared, weaving their fingers together like it was the most natural thing in the world. “if you’re going to stand there swaying like that, like you ain't got no rhythm, you might as well do it proper.”

there was the barest flicker of hesitation before he pulled her towards the centre of the floor, but not enough to call it true reluctance. the others had already begun their dances, moving through the steps with the careful formality expected of them. but amir had never been one to move stiffly through life, and he had no plans to start now—not when the music was lively, not when the air felt thick with something far more electric than candle smoke. not when minthara was looking at him like that. "what, y'worried?" he teased, turning to face her, a playful light in his dark eyes as he set her in place with an easy press of his palm.

"i’ve got my steps down. i’d bet i could dance through a storm and still come out with my pride intact - all whilst i'll have you enjoyin' yourself.”

his hand found its place at her waist, the other still tangled with hers as he led them into motion. it was too easy. too seamless. he didn’t even have to think about it—his body moved with hers, the rhythm as natural as breath, and it caught him off guard in a way he did not examine too closely. because that was the thing, wasn’t it? talking to her had been easy. too easy. and now, falling into the steps of this dance, it was just the same. he did not stumble. neither did she. they moved through the crowd as though they had been doing this forever.

his grin sharpened at her words regarding her mother, he found himself chuckling as he ensured to stand too close against her body.

"y'know," he mused, voice dipping lower, just enough that the words were meant for her ears alone. "it’s a good thing we aren’t kin, as lovely of a woman your mama probably is." he let the words settle between them, let the meaning sit there, unspoken but clear. his grin was all confidence, all teasing ease, as though he wasn’t saying anything of note at all. "tied together by blood or law. horror." he laughed then, full and warm, shaking his head as if the thought itself was too absurd to bear. "much better that i can call you lady minthara and not have to suffer the weight of being related to you." he tilted his head, considering - that was not what he meant by such things. he would not expand, or explain. he might tilt his head, watching her with a knowing gleam in his dark eyes before exhaling a dramatic sigh, as though suddenly stricken with some great and terrible thought.

"though, i suppose we’ve wasted enough time talking about tragedies that never came to pass. let’s discuss a real one instead." he could pause there, just long enough to catch her interest, to make her wonder. then, with the same air of mock solemnity, he’d shake his head and declare, "the absolute state of your wine choice, minthara. truly, i expected better. where the rum be?"

[mintharaestermont]

minthara raised an eyebrow at his teasing, the corners of her mouth twitching as though she was deciding between a smirk and a laugh. the crowd parted them briefly, and still, she did not let him slip away, turning to look at him until he was back at her side with the same spark in her eyes that had been there since they started speaking this night. it would have been easy enough to do - to allow herself to be swept away, and yet she did not want to. she wanted to keep talking to him, to extend the conversation even though there had been the promise of another to come.

"oh, i don't have you figured out at all. annoying, really," she admitted, her tone dismissive. "that's actually an issue, you see, because usually i got everyone worked out. you, though," she paused, raking her eyes over his figure unashamedly, her words taking on the same tone his did when he had used the same on her earlier in the conversation. "you ain't fitting in any of them boxes, amir manderly. but i'll get there. i always do." it was a promise and a threat in one.

i'll give you one right here, he said, and minthara laughed again, sure he was joking. "steady now," she said, cheekily, though she allowed curiosity to carry her to the vacant table he made his way to, tucked into a corner of the room untouched by all but the servants. "what you doing?" she asked, but stepped closer all the same, head tilting as she tried to anticipate what his next move would be. was he going to scratch it in to the table?

there was no scratching. his next move had her chuckling, nodding her head and swaying her body in time to the beat he drummed on to the table top. it was only half-mockery - she found herself genuinely wanting to move to it, until the words tumbled from his mouth, in an accent that was such a perfect mimicry of her own, and she suddenly stilled, mouth hanging open a little as she listened to him speak words that came from the top of his head, cracking himself up all the way.

for a moment after he had finished, minthara said nothing. a breath of silence, and then she was cheering, loud enough to draw attention, but she cared not whose. she was laughing again, one hand braced upon the table to hold herself up, and when she spoke again to give her feedback, her accent was stronger, the tones she would use if she were back on estermont with her own people, rather than leagues away in the lions' den. "you bin practising yuh greenstone accent since di las time wi meet, manderly." she managed to get out, before she was laughing again.

"you got something about you, i'll give you that," the grin was still wide on her face, and she took another sip of her wine to compose herself a bit. "you just raised the bar on this, you realise that? i ain't about to go banging my hands on the table, but next time we meet, i'll need to have something up my sleeve to top that."

she had let confidence and bravado carry their conversation, but when she looked upon him again, minthara could not help but feel a sudden surge of something that wasn't entirely familiar. it wasn't shyness, or uncertainty, far more akin to anticipation, but still not quite on the mark. it had been he who had broached the idea of seeing on another again, but in that moment, she found herself hoping for it, even though this meeting was not yet done. she knew not when or where, but she would see him again, would make time to capture his attention next time she saw him in a crowd, and hope he still wanted to give it to her.

"now cut that shit out. my mother has too many children. keep talking like that and she'll get all confused and try and take you back to greenstone with us."

❅

amir’s grin spread wide, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards with genuine amusement as he caught the flicker of certainty in minthara’s tone. the way her eyes met his, unflinching and steady, had a way of settling and intriguing him all at once. there was something about her—sharp as a stormlander gale but wrapped in a warmth he wasn’t sure she even knew she carried. “you think you’ve got me all worked out, don’t you?” he teased, tilting his head and letting his voice take on a mock-serious tone.

“northman who can’t handle his drink, can’t keep his wit sharp under pressure, gives away his carriages, and, what, now you think i’ll need hours to pen a verse worthy of your standards? insulting. absolutely insulting.” he stepped to the side to allow her to push through a bustling crowd first, standing behind her, though he maintained her eye contact each time she briefly turned around to look at him until they were able to walk in step once again.

he gestured grandly with his drink, nearly sloshing some of it over the rim before catching himself; it was enough to make him laugh as he looked down at the drink, making sure he did not send any flying over her skirts. no doubt that would be enough to end this interaction with the swiftness of a click of his fingers. “but here’s the thing, lady minthara. i don’t owe you a poem next time. i’ll give you one right here. right now. no quill, no parchment, no hiding behind drafts.” amir tilted his head, flashing a grin that was all cheek and confidence as he set his drink down.

he then approached a vacant table where some serving staff were dealing with the tables. "i'll be quick, i'll be quick." he assured the servants who spoke of how they were needing to use the table to sort the desserts, and instead he pushed up the table cloth, as though he would use the wooden surface to play a beat. amir leaned forward, his grin widening as he lifted his hands and began drumming out a steady rhythm on the table with the flats of his palms. the beat was infectious, but able to heard only by the lady who he ushered to stand closer to him. his warm dark gaze stayed locked on hers, full of mischief.

and when he spoke, he had suddenly adopted the estermont accent of green isle with such perfection it was enough to make him laugh himself.

“minty estermont, stormy and wild, but mi cut through yuh banter wid a smirk an’ a smile. sea breeze nice, but mi frost nah mild, mi tek yuh sharp words an’ flip dem in style.”

his fingers tapped out a sharper rhythm, and his grin grew wider, leaning into the fun. his laughter slipped from him as he spoke, one hand resting on his torso.

“talk yuh big talk, yuh quick wid yuh wit, but mi fire nah cool, mi nah back, mi commit. call me bold? yeah, dat suit me fine, ‘cause mi melt yuh storm vibes wid one good rhyme.”

he ended the beat with a soft thud, leaning back and raising his eyebrows in challenge, his grin still firmly in place as he moved around the table; he didn't care who heard him speak, as this was amir to his core. “what yuh say now, estermont? yuh ready fi surrender?” he was still using her accent, and the laughter still slipped from the bottom of his stomach as he passed her another goblet of wine.

[mintharaestermont]

she gave no response to his accusation of attempted murder, just a sweet smile that was almost completely at odds with his words. she knew not why, but every laugh she managed to coax from him felt like a victory. without knowing exactly when, she'd begun measuring the night by the sound of his laughter, rather than each song the musician played or the distant toll of the bells or how many times she'd refilled her cup. it was just the drink, she told herself, making her loosen her guard, and yet, it was difficult not to notice the way his smile tugged at the corners of his mouth, or the way his hair moved when he walked, or feel a flicker of satisfaction each time his eyes lingered a fraction longer than they should.

her steps slowed a little as she adjusted the glass in her grip, swirling the contents absently. "there's no rulebook, but if there was, calling me a liar and acting like i'm about to do you in at the first opportunity would probably be top of the list. you're playing with fire there." the way her eyes flicked up to meet his again was anything but serious. "anyway, ain't you northmen supposed to be able to take your drink? you can't be letting a stormlander show you up, yet here you are pulling faces like it's the worst thing you ever put in your mouth."

she took another sip, the drink going down a little easier now. it was more to keep herself steady, to prevent herself from letting out another laugh now that he had pointed it out. her lips pressed together, as though trying to hold it in, but it was a losing battle. it was something in his words, the way they seemed to have so effortlessly fallen into this rhythm with one another. he spoke as though he had her figured out, but she could not quite put her finger on him, though she knew she wanted to. "you'll be waiting a while. i admit to nothing." she looked at him again, and what she was holding in spilled over, face splitting into a wide grin. "all right. maybe you're not wrong."

she had not pegged him for a writer himself. it was strange enough that she had shared this with him in the first place, but the fact it was something they had in common made it even more bizarre. but it made sense - there had been no mockery in his tone when he spoke of her writing, the way she had always expected there to be if anybody went through her books and read what was written there. curiosity twisted at her. she wanted to read them, even if just to know him a little better, to get a glimpse into his head.

minthara blinked, his offer coming out of the blue. before she could truly consider his words, she was responding, her mouth running away with her as it so often did. "yeah." she said. "yeah, you'll see me again, amir manderly. don't you worry about that." this time, there was no trace of any teasing in her voice. she spoke with a sort of certainty, as though crossing paths with one another was a given. "and when you do, you owe me a poem."

❅

amir’s laugh came again, unbidden and unrestrained, a warm, genuine sound that filled the space between them as he shook his head. he took another sip of the so-called “western swill,” grimacing through it this time without complaint, before finally letting the cup dangle lazily from his fingers. his dark eyes flicked back to hers, catching the light in a way that almost made him pause. "attempted murder." he taunted in a lower voice, just enough for her to hear; suddenly finding that there was a casual, shared ability to cause laughter from fall from the other. he found himself willing to laugh around her, and he knew not why.

“so now i’ve got to stay on your good side, after that? didn’t realise there was an official rulebook for this sort of thing,” he said, his tone playful but edged with mock incredulity. his grin was lopsided, teasing, as if the very idea of following someone else’s rules amused him; his hair falling to his shoulders as he continued to lead their walk around the edges of the hall. “you attacking me for not being a drunk? what, are people addicted to liquor from your end of the continent? fix your standards."

his hand made a vague motion towards her, as though indicating the spark in her eyes that the drink has brought to her; even as he spoke, laughter came from his mouth.

why the fuck had lucerys estermont not mentioned the fact his sister was this? her? he heard the booming of the music in his ears as he looked upon her, momentarily going quiet; a half scoff coming from him as he did so. it trailed off relatively quickly, holding her gaze before his throat cleared. “besides,” he continued, shifting his weight slightly as they walked, “you’re not vexed. don’t think you could keep a straight face long enough for that. even now—” he gestured towards her with his cup “—you’re trying not to laugh. look at you; i'll wait for you to admit you enjoy this as much as i do.” his tone softened just enough to blur the line between playful and earnest, and he gave her a quick side glance, his lips twitching at the corners.

her more serious shift didn’t go unnoticed, though. amir felt the weight of her gaze on him as she said she understood. her tone wasn’t heavy, but it carried enough gravity to make him pause for half a beat. he glanced away, then back again, resisting the urge to delve too deeply into whatever she might have meant by that. instead, he kept his own tone light, careful not to tip the balance of their banter. did she seriously not know any other who engaged in such activities? was it looked down in kings landing or something?

"that i do." he responded, his tone confirming with a nod as he took another swig of his drink. "i'll strike you a deal - special offer. never done before. you ain't reading anything unless i see you again after this."

[mintharaestermont]

"calling me a liar now. just when you got on my good side." the look she gave him might have been stern, if not for the way the candlelight highlighted the playfulness in her eyes. it was not a night for argument, the fire in her belly a warm hearth rather than a blazing inferno. "starting to think you just like being on my bad side, actually." and despite her protests, she liked that he was challenging her back, that he had a counter for her every retort. it tugged at something within her, sparking a flush of excitement as she tried to anticipate what he would say next.

"some western swill." even the drink here tasted like they didn't truly want you to enjoy yourself. her face wore a grimace, until he began to laugh, and before she could really begin to think about it, she was laughing too, slim fingers pressed to her mouth and gaze dropping downwards as though to conceal it. "and how am i to know you can't hold your drink? not my fault if you're sloppy on it." she had made her distaste for whatever it was the were drinking plain, and yet, she raised her cup to her lips again and drank, as though it were now a challenge.

when he spoke again, her gaze shifted up from the ground to settle upon him, something more serious coming over her. their eyes would meet, and he would look away for a moment before looking back, but her own remained on him, weighing up his words and tring to deduce if they matched what it was she felt. "yeah, i get it," she said, when she spoke eventually. for now, there was no more than that which needed to be said. not here.

and then they were slipping back into something more casual, something easier to talk about. or at least, something he made it easy to talk about, even when she'd never breathed a word of her writing to another. not to lucerys, the sibling she held most dear to her. not to brianna, who had known minthara for so long she'd lost count of the years.

"yeah, well, it's like i said. you got me wrong." she repeated the words, not a tease this time but something she felt was utterly truthful. their first meeting had been a tense one, and it was clear that as much as she felt he'd misjudged her, maybe she'd got him wrong, too. "not sure what it is i or we or anybody else is calling it. it just... is, i suppose."

he mentioned others, those he could introduce her to, and the look she gave him was half-interested, half-uncertain. "no," she said, all too quickly. "i mean, yes. maybe. but not now. not yet." she knew it did not make sense. she was someone who everyone thought as brazen, who did not care what others had to say about her. in some instances, that was true, but not here. not with this. "i don't even have the guts to hear my stuff being read out loud. think that would be too much for me. but maybe one day, yeah?"

her head cocked, suddenly focusing in on something he said, the confession that they were not so different. "you write, then?" she asked, and curiosity poked at her then. "do i get to read anything? or you gonna keep it to yourself?"

❅

amir raised an eyebrow as minthara nudged him with her elbow, his lips curling into a grin that was half amusement, half mockery. "innocent as a lamb, yeah?" he scoffed, shaking his head, his shoulder length dreads moving as he did so. he wore them loose, rather than tied up or styled in a certain manner, usually falling before his dark gaze. "i’m not sure i believe that, you know. lying to my face, madness." his tone was playful, but there was a hint of skepticism beneath the lighthearted words.

when she handed him the drink, amir took it without hesitation, eyeing the contents with mild curiosity before taking a sip. his face immediately twisted in confusion; it were strong.

"what the fuck is this?" he muttered, but the look on his face shifted quickly to amusement, a loud genuine laugh slipping from his expression now - he cared not if anybody turned to see him laughing, looking down at minty estermont. he had not meant to curse so casually, "gods damn, if you wanted me to get drunk and embarrass myself, you could’ve just said so." he shook his head, though there was a smirk tugging at his lips.

"valid. everything about tonight’s been a little off anyway, you know what i'm saying? this whole thing is mad out of place. the west ain't it for me." he held her gaze for a moment as they walked, and he found himself needing to ensure he did not look in her direction for too long: despite his outgoing and extroverted nature, it was not often amir found himself speaking at length with people he did not know.

her words about writing caught his attention again, but this time, his reaction was more offhand, casual. "you know, i never took you for the type. didn't peg you for the poet, the rhythm-maker, whatever it is we want to call it." he gave a mock serious look, his grin never faltering. still, he could not help but move his gaze to look back at her time after time, inwardly beginning to realise he was doing so. why was he looking at her so much?

why didnt lucerys ever mentioned his sister before? he probably did, and amir had never found himself listening.

"but i guess it makes sense. i mean, you’ve got a certain... vibe. i can see it now." he found himself looking straight now, having to tell himself to look straight forward, he didn’t pause as they walked, instead leading her through crowds. "look, i get it, though," amir continued, a little more straightforward now, though still with that same casual, teasing tone. "it’s not easy putting your stuff out there. but you’re not the only one with... something to hide." he gave her a quick glance, his lips curling into another quick smirk. "but you know what? we’re not all that different, you and me. i get it. and i’m not about to make a scene over it, but there are others. let's just say i meet with them. if you ever wanted to come, let me know."

it was enough to cause a slight grin to cross his features; most would not assume he speaks and associates with people regarding art and creativity. he was a sailor, he was the golden of house manderly - not an artist. the parchments scattered around his room would say otherwise.

[mintharaestermont]

her eyes rolling, but she was still smirking. she did not know what it was about tonight, the way he was able to amuse her time and time again, bringing a laugh to her lips so easily. "dangerous, am i?" as the walked, she stuck her elbow out, using it to nudge his own arm. "nah, you got me wrong. innocent as a lamb, me." that was an exaggeration, but it would not be a lie to say that there was a soft centre to minthara. the trouble was, she wore her less complimentary traits a little too openly, and so it was easy to miss.

"anyway, if you're stuck in the lions den and need protecting, who would you rather have at your side with luc's scabbard? him or me?"

it was clear she had no idea where she was leading him. they'd moved to the outskirts of the ballroom, and now, were walking laps around the edge, her steps slow and unhurried. when an attendant made to pass them by, she grabbed two drinks from their tray, holding one of the glasses out to him. "think it's wine," she sniffed it, took a gulp, then made a face. "shit, no, that's not wine. i have no idea what that is."

and when she glanced at him to gauge his own reaction, and saw the way the candlelight illuminated cheekbones and the definition of his jaw, she could not help but look a little longer.

"that wasn't what you were going to say," she was pointing out the obvious, fingers tapping on the edge of the glass she still held. "there's no compliment in not being like anyone else. so no, that isn't what i'm waiting to hear." exactly what it was she wanted him to say, she did not know, but it were a game now, and minthara estermont had never been very good at losing, nor at letting things lie.

she wasn't used to talking about her writing. the idea of anybody attributing her words to her was deeply embarrassing in ways she couldn't really verbalise, too much like being perceived. there was a part of minty that braced herself to be teased about it, but it didn't come. instead, amir did something far more surprising. he understood, putting into words the exact rhythm of the piece she had left him with at their last meeting. "it's either the sea or the storm, for me," she tried to sound casual about it, but her words were a little too quick, as though the words were desperate to burst out of her and be heard. "end up sitting there trying to match the rain or the waves to the words in my head. it helps."

her grin returned, but rather than respond right away, she looked around the room, until she made eye contact with brianna. she gave a small shake of her head. the game they had begun to play that had led to this conversation, she was giving up on, allowing bri to claim victory. "curious about my friends, are you?" her tone was laced with a faux sweetness, her attention turned back to amir. "well, i've ruled out the lions. too much roaring, hurts my ears."

his question gave her pause, her steps slowing slightly. "no," she admitted, a little more cautiously than she intended. "nobody even knows i write like that. so don't go telling everyone. especially not luc. he'd make fun of me for it."

❅

the golden hues of the ballroom swirled around amir like a restless tide, the laughter and music a symphony of indulgence. yet, his focus remained fixed on minthara estermont, her presence cutting through the revelry like a ship slicing the waves. her braids shimmered under the chandelier’s light, and her indigo eyes glinted with mischief that sent a thrill straight to his chest. she was bold—brazen, even—and he found himself grinning as she showed him her empty palms, her tone dripping with playful audacity.

“safe?” amir chuckled, his voice rich and teasing, folding his arms across his broad chest. “safe ain't exactly the word i'd use around you, my lady. you’re dangerous, with or without a knife. i’ve learned that much.” his grin deepened, a flash of white teeth against his dark skin, but his eyes softened as each grin that seemingly faded was seemingly replaced by another.

"i don't know, your filleting knife could be strapped behind you. perhaps you've stolen luc's scabbard."

he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial murmur, the scent of salt and sea lingering faintly on him. “you, though…look at you, already ready to pull out your filleting knife. damn.” his grin turned lopsided, as though caught between amusement and admiration as he let out an actual laugh, both of his hands going up as though to mirror his with hers. “you’re not like the others here, are you? is that what you're wanting to hear from me?" he was joking now, for he would not give in and tell her what he was going to say.

her earnestness when she spoke of her writing caught him off guard, momentarily quieting his usual easy demeanor. it was rare to see someone so unguarded, and he found himself drawn to the way her eyes lit up as she spoke of her father’s ship. he nodded slowly, letting the moment linger before responding. “makes sense now,” he nodded along with his words, his tone remaining warm, though not as though he were joking in this matter. “your words—they carry the rhythm of the tide. i like it. i only fully realised it when i was reading it myself, each verse matched against the sound of the waves smashing against the rocks.” his gaze lingered, a touch longer than was proper, before he straightened with a chuckle, breaking the tension.

“well, i was planning my escape route—y’know, before the lions pounce—but maybe i’ll hold off. wouldn’t want you facing the night alone. besides,” he added with a smirk, "i'm curious to see what other lords you decide to go and make friends with." he re-circled back to the very beginnings of this interaction, the way in which she had suddenly put her hand out as he walked. there was something more to it, he was sure. despite the joke, he indicated for her to begin walking forwards with one of his hands, knowing he would walk along with her.

"have you ever spoken to anyone about your writing?"

[mintharaestermont]

her movement was somehow both lazy and theatrical, raising her hands in a gesture reminiscent of a surrender. what she was actually doing was showing him the palms of her hands, highlighting the fact that they were empty. "as you can see, i left my filleting knife at home today. you're safe."

it was as though their previous meeting had not been what it was, as though her parting words had not been to tell him to get fucked before stealing his carriage back to the red keep. it was audacious of her, but minthara had never lacked for boldness. if he held it against her, he didn't show it. the scowl he wore last they met had been replaced with a smile, eyes glinting in a way that was playful, not malicious. she would not apologise for their last meeting, but she was enjoying this one far more.

"asked your driver whose carriage i was in, and he said lord amir manderly. that's you, no?" her head tilted, sending her braids falling over her shoulder. it was a name she recognised. she'd heard lucerys mention amir before, though she had only half been listening. whether she had given him more than her last name the last time they had met, she did not recall, though if he listened to luc with more care than she did, she doubted it would be hard to guess which of his sisters she was. "go on, though. what were you going to say. me, though, what?" there was challenge in her eyes, as though daring him to finish the thought.

and just for a second, all her playfulness slipped from her expression, replaced instead with a sort of unbridled enthusiasm, and earnestness that was not common to her. her writing was a secret she kept well, even from lucerys, even from brianna, who knew most everything else about her. nobody had learned of it, nobody but him. it might have been the drink talking, but it was hard not to get a little excited about that. "yeah, i do." she nodded her head as she spoke. "think i spent half my childhood on the deck of my dad's ship. hard not to take inspiration from that."

minty smirked, lifting a finger to tap her lips as though deep in thought. "right now? i'm talking to you. don't think the lions are ready for me. don't know where the night's taking me yet." her hand shifted from her mouth, tucking her braids back behind her ear. "keep me company? only if you feel like delaying your swim."

❅

amir manderly’s laughter faded into a curious hum as he looked down at minthara estermont, her indigo eyes shimmering like twilight seas. his hand, rough from years of gripping swords and ship wheels, still tingled faintly from the warmth of hers. her sudden reappearance—and the nerve to jest after their last meeting—caught him off guard, though he kept his grin. "suspicious?" he echoed, his voice rich and lilting, like the wind off the northern coast.

"nah, careful. last we met, you wanted to gut me over a book like them fishes you had me walking through whilst you sat comfy in my carriage. you can’t blame a man for being cautious." there was a grin on his face as he spoke, and his own orbs seemed to light with the lightheartedness of it all.

his gaze flicked over her, the candlelight catching in her dark hair and lending her a glow he tried—and failed—not to notice. she looked different tonight, not in the way of dress or demeanor but in something subtler. or maybe it was just him. maybe the south, the rum, or the music had softened his sharper edges. "turtles and merfolk," he mused, his grin shifting into something more thoughtful. "i’m a man of the sea, my lady, never out of my element near the water, i'll swim from the lions if i gotta. you, though…" his eyes glinted with mischief.

"hold on...how you end up knowing my name?"

her mention of the poem made him pause. she had untangled her fingers from his, but the weight of her words lingered like an invisible tether. his grin remained, and he crossed his arms, leaning slightly toward her, his voice lowering to ensure others did not hear them. "that," he repeated, as if testing the weight of it. "was a clever piece of work, i’ll give you that. i recognised the rhythm, the beat. you write like a sailor chants to the tide. you do that on purpose?"

amir’s gaze lingered a moment too long, drawn to the curve of her smile and the spark in her eyes. he caught himself, straightening with a faint chuckle. "but what brings you to the westlands? chasing lions? or just passing through to see who you can challenge next?" he teased, his tone warm, his mood lighter than it had been in months.

[mintharaestermont]

there was a part of minthara that wanted to whip her book back open, to read its contents to him and show him how it was supposed to be read. there was a rhythm to the way she wrote, but in her absence, there was no guarantee that the man she had hastily paid to speak it had done so correctly. she twitched, halfway to doing just that, then thought better of it. "perhaps another time," she muttered, though somehow she doubted it. she wasn't a bashful person, but neither was she confident.

her eyes shot up, a frown blooming on her face. "no." she snapped. "luc is my brother." it was a distinction only a younger sibling could make. "don't tell me you're one of his dumb little buddies. i knew that boy had no taste." she did not mean it, but somehow in her attempt to gain the upper hand on this man, lucerys had been caught in the crossfire.

in her life, minthara had known women who could rise above such goading, carrying themself with dignity, letting perceived slights roll from their backs. her twin sister had been a little like that - but not minthara. it was not in her nature not to bite back, and so when he issued yet another order, bite back she did.

"don't need to look at my own like anything. they leave my stuff alone," she pointed out. there was something baffling about the fact that somehow, he still seemed to think she were in the wrong for her reaction, but the action itself was excusable. there had been no apology issued, nothing more than a half-hearted explanation that she did not believe.

"no?" there was a coolness to her tone now, for she had resigned herself to the fact that there was no reasoning with him. "seems pretty patronising to me, when you know i was telling the truth, that the book is mine, to still speak to me as though i don't have the right to ask for my own belongings back - or raise my voice when my request is denied. or does the benefit of the doubt only extend to those that you consider your own?"

a dilemma presented itself. she needed to get back to the red keep somehow, and it was a long old walk. choosing to get in the wagon somehow seemed like admitting defeat, but neither did she want to give him the satisfaction of not getting in the wagon. a true quandry. in the end, sheer stubbornness won out. she need not go all the way, just wait for the cart to pass her, then return to the docks to await the next one.

but for show, she tucked her book under her arm, hitched up her skirts, and made a show of looking like she was about to march back to the keep, just because he suggested an alternative.

"no thank you. i'll walk back."

❅

"yeah…lots of people wanted to read it themselves, try to add their own rhythm to it. different than the vocalist." he continued, and for a moment a part of him wanted to tell her he thought it was awful. that would be a lie however; he thought it refreshing, a change; something was different about it, and now he looked at the person opposite him - he knew what. so instead he kept his comments vague, not giving away his own opinion.

"you mean you're telling me that you are luc's sister?" amir asked, as though he needed it to be confirmed a second time; his gaze looked upon the stranger again, as though he could not for the life of him work just how the two were related. it would have caused him to grin and to laugh, if they were not already wrapped up in the overall irritation of their discussion. the raise of her voice, borderline shrill, only caused him to become increasingly more irritated.

and yet, now he truly did not want to cross any lines to offend her. though, she seemed the type to find offence at anything. perhaps he should have simply walked from the situation, and yet, her ability to double down caused him to look at her as though she had grown another head.

"yeah. don't look at my people like that. i don't know how people speak to attendants where you are from, but keep it to your own." he continued, using words that were similar; and he knew this would only further spark the irritation and argument that was brewing. he should have ended it, dropped the matter. instead, he decided he would respond the very same way.

estermont - the name being one he was not expecting, considering when he thought of the seafaring family of the land of storms, a loud stranger was not the face that sprung to mind. rather, the only estermont he had ever known the entirety of his life was lucerys, whom had always been a force of reason and morals within the wider group. what a group it ended up being, multiple personalities; sometimes he found himself wondering whether he had outgrown his closest companions, whether it were possible to be friends with people whose morals were so different to his own. what did that say about him?

the thoughts lingered in his mind, his tone continuing to remain stubborn and irritable; he wondered if she were being dense intentionally. what did she think she sounded like?

"telling you something you didn't like to hear doesn't mean i was lecturing you, or being patronising…my lady." his formality was obviously sarcastic and scathing - all parts equal stubbornness and equal irritation. what was it she was trying to say? why did she keep repeating herself in referring to where he was from? go on then. where is it you come from? why did the question stump him? why did he not know whether to answer northern? rhoynish? northern rhoynish?

he turned now, noting that some attendants were readying for a wagon to return to the red keep. "there's a wagon approaching returning to the red keep. you getting in, or is that patronising to ask?" he asked, this time a hint of mischief in his words - amusement. as though he wished to see her get more irritated.

[mintharaestermont]

"well, you were." in a mood like this one, it would be easier to argue with a brick wall than with minthara estermont. resolutely stubborn, once she had decided something, a stranger like the man before had not a hope in hell of changing her mind. "estermont." she wasn't sure why she told him her name. she supposed he should at least know who he was arguing with.

something shifted in his gaze. it was a look minthara had seen before. she had said something that had cut a little too deep. it wasn't unusual, for her, but this time, she was utterly perplexed - because she could not for the life of her think what she could have said to offend. not when all she was trying to do was get back what was rightfully hers.

"more specific on what?" her brows furrowed. "how patronising you're being? why don't we start with 'don't be looking at my people that way'?" she dropped her voice, mimicking his own tone. what else could he have meant? there'd been little else, beyond demanding her book back. she took it now, with surprising gentleness, making sure it was still in one piece before holding it defensively to her chest.

when he finally revealed what it was that he had taken offence to, it did not do anything to ease her confusion. if anything, it made it more pronounced. "well, if you're surprised that i'm not bullying random serving girls, it doesn't speak much for the women where you come from, does it?" was she missing something, or did he just have issues? "go on then. where is it you come from?"

her nerves were on high alert. she knew he had seen something, but wasn't sure exactly how much. it wasn't that she was opposed to people hearing her work - what she was opposed to was people knowing it was her. but then, she rarely came across people who were even interested in the sort of things she liked to write. the odds of him connecting the dots were low.

but not zero. minthara flushed, clutching her book a little tighter to her chest. unlike his query about the women where he was from. this time, she understood him perfectly. she knew the night he meant, knew where he had heard the words she had etched on to the page. but unlike him, she had not been there to hear it for herself.

minthara raked her eyes over him. her previous anger had evaporated. it was not contempt that she looked at him with now, but suspicion. she was trying to figure out exactly how much she should say, and how much she could trust him to keep to himself.

"i wasn't," she said, eventually. "wanted to be, but... wasn't." she didn't want to tell him that she had been so filled with nerves that she hadn't even been able to go near the place, how much she had wanted people to hear her words, but not had the stomach to face the embarrassment that came with witnessing it. this was the first she was hearing of the feedback her writing had received, and for the first time since she had realised her book was gone, she smiled tentatively. "yeah?" idly, she wondered if he meant in general, or by him. "must have made an impression, if you can recall it from a mere glance."

❅

"ain't nobody dishing out orders or talking to you like you're a child, lady…." his response was casual, watching as her warm, dark gaze flickered from him to the woman. his voice trailed because he did not know who she was, or where she was from. her comment was not meant in any other way other than what she genuinely said; a flippant comment clearly alluding to the fact they were strangers, but considering the questions regarding identity and belonging that plagued the mind of the younger son of house manderly, there was a defensive streak that immediately lit within dark orbs.

his hand remained on the book; he would not ever think of keeping it for himself. he passed it to her the moment she extended her hand for it back. it was in the sunlight he noted her features, silently noting the fact he did find her attractive: hues of honey, of caramel, of a complexion that immediately made him more comfortable. it was not always the case, but in recent months, it had unconsciously become so.

but perhaps because he was tired of hearing the stereotypes of old way women; hearing of them apparently being overly pious, submissive, he decided to make his next comment. not even entirely meaning it. "yeah, hold on, i'm gonna need you to be more specific on that." he uttered - whilst there was some irritation in his dark warm eyes, there was also the hint of some amusement flickering in them. because whilst he knew what she truly meant, he wanted to see this loudmouthed woman momentarily struggle.

tired of hearing their names in the mouths of young knights and lords who found themselves strangely drawn to them, as though they could never leave well enough alone. or did she mean women of the north, who were often likened to men; as though there were not great, noble women of the north who did all they could? his sisters, the princesses dacey and cassana, would he need to go on?

"what you mean, women where i'm from?" amir asked, his tone tainted with a slight hint of arrogance, an increasing amount of defensiveness, and a slight part of himself simply wanted to see what it was she would have to say back. because if his guess was correct, she would have something to say back. he had another question to ask about what his gaze had briefly looked upon on the page, a genuine mistake that came with bending down to pick up the book: he understood the importance of privacy when it came to creation of art.

what he was shocked about, was recognising the art. the words rang true in his ears from his night in a tavern some nights ago, where experimental poetry was put on a showcase; and whilst he had not noticed if she was there, he recognised the lines. he remembered laughing and hitting the table alongside jalabhar mooton and lysano prestayn, their table being loud that night. he remembered being impressed by the intelligence of the word play, by the delivery.

"i know." amir responded, as though he were trying to insist her that he had not seen anything more than a single line.

there was another question on the tip of his tongue, and instead he fell momentarily quiet. he found himself looking at her, a slight grin coming over his features as he pictured it. her, being behind the work he had heard that night. that had made him think of his own, and how he too wanted to try and explore more linguistic techniques. perhaps even be the one to perform his own work, someday - what place was that for a lord?

for the master of ships upon the council of king owen stark? but her…it must have been her. what other explanation was there? she said it was her work. "i don't know if you were there to see it in person, but it was received well. really well." his words were left ambiguous, though he hoped she knew he was referring to.

[mintharaestermont]

"it was just a question," she felt like she was being chastised. she needed to get out of the car, growing more restless and irritable with every mile. "what, i can't ask a question now?" except it was never just a question. it wasn't that she didn't trust him. it was that she didn't trust the people around him. his little girl friends were one thing, but when she knew even his brother didn't like her, it was hard not to let insecurities creep in.

she took a breath, but unlike her agitated huffs, this one wasn't a display of her annoyance, but her effort to bring her temper back down to an even level. he wasn't looking at her, and that was usually a sign that he was getting pissed off, too. and right now, minty didn't want to fight with him. he already didn't want to be here, and she wasn't trying to make it worse for him than it needed to be. she was also very aware that if she pushed him too far, she'd be sending him off to reunite with people who'd love to take him from her, all while their fight was fresh in his mind.

"i'm sorry," she repeated, only this time, she sounded genuine. as if to prove her point, she twined their fingers together and lifted their hands to her lips, pressing a quick kiss to his palm, before letting them fall to rest on her lap once more. "don't be mad. i just worry."

she made a face, knowing what he was getting at, but not wanting to dwell on the subject right now. there was a time and a place, and sitting in his car after a drive that had already gone on far too long wasn't it. "you're gonna be okay, though." she pointed out. "me and luc are here. and your brother, and your friends." enough familiar faces to surround himself with, and avoid the people who would amplify what he was feeling.

"please," at that, minthara let out a snort. "it won't be like at home. half the people there have medals of their own, they're not gonna care that i can do a backflip."

.

the small annoyed sighs that slipped from her lips each time he needed to reverse out of another dark road in the hammering rain were noises that he attempted to drain out, instead focusing on the sound of the music that came from the speakers of the car; silently rapping along in his own head almost to try and tell himself that she was not getting irritated at him, but rather the journey. she was tired, and wanted to get out of the car and into a comfortable bed.

not once had he even considered it was the consistent pinging of his phone that was putting her on edge.

and then he heard her voice, and knew where this was going to go; he almost stifled an exasperated sigh that came from him as he gripped onto the steering wheel, knowing from one word this was hardly going to go well. no, it could go well. he could squash this, before anything started. they weren't going to fight, not about this.

"i'm driving, yeah?" was his response, knowing that it too were strained as he continued to stare straight ahead through the rain. it had a double meaning, the first being that he did not know who was texting him because he was driving, and the second being he was not doing this. not whilst he was driving. "if it was important, they'd call. you right - i am busy." he affirmed what she said, whilst also diverting it.

he felt her hand drop on his own, and he moved his thumb to lightly trace her palm, still not having looked at her. he was worried he would look at her, see her annoyed facial expression, and find himself getting pissed off. no, he was handling it well; it didn't need to be anything more than this. "i don't fuck with this place baby, you know that." because he knew all too well that despite their parents money, or whether they got here through scholarship, they still weren't on the same field as the others.

"but it'll be good. they get to be in the presence of a gold winning gymnast." he was half teasing now, looking over at her briefly as he turned the wheel with one hand.