who: @fiadhvance when and where: both the brackens and the vances attend a grand tournament at riverrun to celebrate the official end of the lyseni conflict. ronan participates in the joust as expected — and to try and impress fiadh.
the feast hall of riverrun was alive with light and sound, the banners of the great houses fluttering in the glow of torches, their sigils painted in rich colours with tints of silver, bronze and gold. ronan bracken moved among the crowd with a knight’s poise, but his heart was hammering louder than the drums echoing in the vaulted chamber. in his ear he could still hear the roaring sound of the crowd, the rush of his beating heart as the sound of his steed's horse thundered beneath him.
sweat lingered beneath his outer gambeson, though it had nothing to do with the day’s joust. no, this was a different battle entirely.
he’d spotted her near the dais, clad in a gown the color of lillypads and clouds, her sunkissed hair catching the firelight. lady fiadh vance, stood like a figure plucked straight from one of her beloved tales, as though she’d wandered into the hall from some enchanted glade. the way she smiled, soft and unguarded, made him feel as though he might crumble entirely - as it always had been able to do, since he were naught but a green boy of summer.
his boots carried him forward before he could second-guess himself, cutting through the chatter and clamor. when he reached her, she turned, her gaze lifting to meet his. for a moment, he could swear the world narrowed to just the two of them; it were hardly unseemly or unfamiliar to see the two speaking to one another, considering their shared communal links and the families histories which seemed to run closely to one another.
“lady fiadh,” he said, his voice as steady as he could manage, the corners of his mouth unable to stop themselves from turning upward. there were others that were dotted around her, and in all his focus, ronan had not even noticed his own sister stood nearby.
“i’ve come to return yer favor.” he held it out to her—a simple ribbon, pale blue, that had been tied to his arm during the joust. it was wrinkled and slightly smudged from the clash, but he offered it like it were the rarest of treasures; only that which he had asked for before the entirety of the realm. “it served me well out there,” he said, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips and the embers of fires danced in warm, dark eyes. “reckon it helped me keep my seat, even when omer was determined to knock me off it.” and he had, eventually. he was not going to think about that; ronan bracken had always been a sore loser.
his voice lowered slightly, a strand of dark hair landing over his dark gaze as he looked upon her, the way it always did when it had grown out to this stage. "or should i be thankin' you for givin' it to me?"
