[Day 10] Is this the Romance Section? [Balon & Laena]

When she arrives, Laena glances over the books arrayed on the table, and permits a small smile. Now this, *this* is the man who impressed me when I spoke to him. Using the location to his advantage - books to emphasise his politics, as well as emphasising our common language, and that he's no uneducated brute. It's not subtle, but it doesn't have to be. It's a statement. Not to mention, he's being polite and considerate. Is he preparing me for bad news, I wonder.

"Thank you." She gives a small gesture of greeting, then takes the offered seat. She considers the offer of a drink for a moment. She dismissed the possibility that Balon may poison her deliberately, but was it possible that someone had poisoned his wine, and she would just be collateral? After a momentary consideration, she rejected it. He was skilled, but were he murdered, plenty others would be inspired by his 'martyrdom' and take his place. He was more dangerous dead than alive. So, the wine was probably safe. "A cup of wine sounds nice, thank you."

When it's poured, she takes the proffered cup, and leans back into her seat, without lowering her head any more than necessary. The increased distance helps reduce the impact of his increased size relative to her. Taking a light sip, she seems to savour the taste, but actually is just focusing on detecting any strange flavours in the wine which may indicate her analysis to be incorrect.

Concealing her lips with the cup, so as to make her expression harder to read, she waits, letting him fill the silence first.

Laena's reaction to his joke is concealed by the cup.

Bad news, as I suspected. Ah, well. Laena lowers the cup slightly to reveal a sympathetic smile. "It's fine, Ser Balon. I knew it was a tall order when I asked, but I saw no harm to either of us in asking, with the feast providing what seemed at the time a good justification. I see no reason for you to waste more time, however." She waves a dismissive hand. "Your efforts are appreciated, don't blame yourself for my asking the impossible. I'll try to be more reasonable in the future."

A sad look crosses her face momentarily, before she says "Your secret is safe with me." with such solemn formality and gravity that she has to be similarly flippant.  Surely?

I was bored, and it sounded entertaining. She doesn't say that, though. When she does, she responds in Valyrian. "When I feel lost and without solid ground, I lash out. Ideally at someone responsible. Failing that, at someone deserving. And few are more deserving than her. Why, have you heard from one of your friends about what vengeance might be heading my way?"

"Yes." She replies bluntly, still in Valyrian. "It's untenable. Ashara loves me, Aerion loves me, my children love me, but none *need* me. Selsa and Roslyn do a much better job raising my children than I do. Were I to die today, they'd all be *sad*, but none of their lives would significantly change for the worse.

"I'm not *necessary*.

"Nothing I do there actually *matters*. To anyone.

"All I do there is get *older*.

"So, yes, when I'm crossing a bridge to a place where I will be *needed*, where I will actually *matter*, and then just as I feel I'm almost there, the bridge gets washed away beneath my feet, and me along with it, you can bet that I feel lost, at least for a while, until I can find my own feet again, and find a new bridge to cross."

She permits him to see a small smile at his jest.

"What makes her so deserving? Adultery and murder." She responds bluntly. "What, did you think I just made that up? The adultery at least I got confirmed as being definitely true by an independent source. The murder is speculation, albeit speculation which perfectly fits the pattern of behaviour, but the rumour lost a lot of the nuance of what I actually said.

"It's like pulling the legs off of spiders. Dealing with feelings of powerlessness by seriously impacting the life of something else. Screaming 'I exist' into the uncaring void." She shrugs. "Maybe, with your life, you've never had to deal with feelings of powerlessness haunting you, in which case, I don't think I can help you understand."

Laena's ears prick up when Balon mentions he couldn't ask for the favour of the woman he wanted. "Lady Denyse was not your first choice, then? Who was, out of curiosity?"

Laena blinks at that, and there's a few moments' pregnant pause. She thought he liked her, but she hadn't expected him to say it so bluntly. And she wasn't sure how to respond.

"Thank you." She finally managed, in lieu of anything clever.

She felt the weight of a man's life in her hands, that heady brew that she was in a position to, if she had but the wit and will, influence a man's life. Improve it, if she wished. Destroy it if she wished, too, though she'd have a hard time competing with him in this particular case. Maybe, just maybe, she could change this man's currently-projected descent into a stable orbit. A Ser Robb Reyne, rather than a Ser Otho Bracken. But to do so, she'd need to get beneath his skin.

She taps her fingers against the cup briefly before speaking again. "I'd like to ask you a strange question. It has, I imagine, many different answers. I want the first one that comes to your mind, no matter how it may sound. Just one, mind. No contorting the language to an endless sentence. Just one answer.

"Who, or what, are you?"

"Hmm." She files that detail away thoughtfully. "Determined. Synonyms include single-minded, purposeful, and unwavering. And you say that your purpose at this tourney was to find a wife.

"If I may ask, when did you take your first step at this tourney to accomplish this goal? And what was it?"

She frowns a little at that, and slightly shakes her head. Not what she was after. Words to family and mere thoughts weren't important.

A sickeningly naive sentiment she'd expect from the man. If loyalty were eternal, spouses wouldn't cheat so often. And love fades to indifference terrifyingly quickly and easily, unless measures are taken by both participants to keep it alive.

Something about his words made her feel a strange discomfort. Not his little slip, nor his reaction to it - that was, if anything, encouraging, that he didn't have his psychological barriers up to her. She tried to figure out what it was.

Unfamiliarity.

She'd been lightly flirted with, certainly. But pretty much as soon as she was of an age for things to be serious, she'd pursued Ser Vernan, and married him. No-one obviously said anything serious after that, and she'd only recently come out of mourning.

This was the first time - actually the *first* time - she'd been seriously pursued. Every time before, she'd been the hunter. Though, were she not a Great Bastard, this would be normal.

Being normal is fucking weird. She concluded.

She doesn't correct him that she was actually present at the dance. That would be a distraction, and not an important one.

Having let him finish before she responds, she takes a sip to try and organise her thoughts. "Firstly," she begins with a grin. "When you talk of ladies being more attractive for their inheritance than their personal qualities, you're talking about Lady Daena Roxton, aren't you? A man like you would find the opportunity to own Widowmaker more enticing than owning the land that would come with it, wouldn't you?"

She frowns. "Out of curiosity, why didn't you ask your mother for help with the inquiries? She can be difficult to get on with, no insult intended, but her birth house would open doors, and, no insult to your father, even with our brief meeting, I could tell she was considerably more politically astute than her husband. Approaching a lord through his wife can work, depending on the lord, and good mothers will move the heavens for their children, given the opportunity.

"Okay, now to the main point. You've mentioned a few things you've done to help narrow down who you *want* as a wife. But what have you *done* to make lords more inclined to consider you a suitable match for their relatives? House Blackbriar is, no insult intended, not much more significant than House Starkwood, and you're not in the line of inheritance. Meaning you can't rely on your House to sell you, it depends almost entirely on your personal deeds."