All trademarked items in this fanfiction is owned by their respective copyright holders (A Song of Ice and Fire by George R.R. Martin, Aoki Hagane no Arpeggio by Ark Performance, etc). The ones owned by me are past and future OCs, plot, and author's thoughts. This fanfiction is made solely for entertainment purposes and not intended for any material gain..

A Capriccio of Winds and Earths

Kekkon 6

Around Jon, the feast was in full swing. There must be easily a thousand people in here… maybe even two, he thought as he gazed towards the seats of honor. The king was seated front and center, flanked by the queen to his right and Tyrion Lannister to his left. Tyrion's wife Lady Hamakaze sat beside him, with Lord Lannister beside her.

Jon had sent a silent prayer to the Old Gods for them.

Different from the lords at the honored tables, the food at the low tables are served occasionally, with large plates laden with heaps of food brought out at regular intervals. Each food item was marvelously made and fresh out of the kitchen. There were slabs of meat coated in breadcrumbs then fried, chicken coated in flour and baked, thick spicy stew of mutton and roots, steamed whole amaimo tubers, soft whitemeal buns, jugs of every conceivable beverage Jon could have thought of, and more.

"S-sorry, is this seat empty?" A soft, almost meek voice asked from behind Jon.

"Sure, have a seat. My friend is serving my knight now. We just swapped so he won't be returning for a while," Jon said. The owner of the voice sighed, then sat. The lad wasn't much older than a page's age, and had an air of noble bearing about him. Jon took note of his lightly tanned skin, straw-blond hair, and dark violet eyes.

"Thank you. I finally switched with my knight's other squire…" the young squire said. "I am Edric Dayne, Ser Beric Dondarrion's squire."

"Ah… er, I'm Jon Snow, Ser Sandor Clegane's squire," Jon said. He could feel his nape going cold.

"Jon Snow, you said? Son of Lord Eddard Stark?" Edric's face quickly lit up like a torch.

"Aye," Jon replied. "You… know of me and him?"

"Of course I do! Your mother is my father's sister! Mama and Papa both love my aunt very much and that includes you!" Edric said while taking a few loaves of fresh buns and a slab of fried cutlet. "Mama used to tell stories about Aunt Ashara and your father, and how I have an older cousin up north. I mean, what are the odds of meeting you here?"

"What are the odds indeed," Jon replied, chuckling. "I… was only told about my mother recently, too."

"Come to Starfall sometimes! Veiss shall show you around If I am not there in furlough. Maybe even visit your mother's grave… Papa had a carving of her made and put on her gravestone. I was told it was very lifelike!" Edric said.

"Veiss?" Jon asked, a little confusion in his words.

"Yep, Veiss Sand. She is a bastard who came to our house's protection around the time your father was at Starfall," Edric said after swallowing a mouthful of bun and cutlet. "I think she is Nuncle Vorian's daughter. Mama loved her like her own."

"So… squire Dayne," Jon said after a few minutes of relative silence. "Will you compete in the squire's tourney?"

"Ned, please. Everyone calls me tha-... oh right. Er, Edric will do," Edric said. "I think not, Ser Dondarrion said I am too young still. Bennard is entering though."

"Is he Ser… Dondarrion's other squire, then?" Jon asked after he swallowed a mouthful of chicken.

"Yes he is," Edric corrected. "He is near enough majority that I'm quite sure Ser Dondarrion will knight him if he does well in the tourney."

"Haha, Ser Clegane just told me and Renfred to try and win something," Jon said after a chuckle.

...

Syrio Forel put his mug down. He was fortunate enough to obtain a helping of imozake straight from the first cask on the stage. Stronger and more harsh than even that infamous Black Rum, the former First Sword mused. Before other musings came to his mind, he was tapped on the shoulder by the charge he was escorting, a Red Priestess named Melisandre.

"Yes Priestess?" Syrio said, his Low Valyrian lilting like the Braavosi dialect oft was described.

"Wait here. I shall try to gain an audience with The Lady Kirino," Melisandre said.

"As you say. This one would not be far from this table," Syrio said.

With the departure of his charge, Syrio went back to his favorite pastime, watching the world revolve around him. He saw a commotion in the far corner of the room, likely from a drinking game between men clad in green and other men clad in red. He spied a burly man, likely one of these armored Westerosi knights, trying stealthily to follow a coy maidservant. He spied movement very close to him, before a young lady in queer clothes tripped on his foot.

"Oh… many pardons good sir… er, man," the woman said.

"It is of no concern, little lady. This Syrio is a little concerned about your health however," Syrio said. Her brown hair looks a few shades deeper than a typical Reacher, but the shape of her eyes are much more slant, he thought.

"Ah, I'm o-kei," the lady said.

"Then please, have a seat for a while little lady Okei," Syrio motioned to the vacant spot on the bench he was sitting on. "If just to catch a breath."

"Oh… did you just… ahahaha!" The lady erupted into laughter.

"Did this Syrio say something amusing?" Syrio asked as the lady took the seat.

"Oh, no, not in that way Sirio-san," the young lady said. "My name is not O-kei. O-kei is a mere… language expression I think? Yes, a quirk carried from my language. My name is Makie, Makie of the Osakabe family."

"Fascinating. My proper name is Syrio Forel," Syrio said. "Not Syriosan."

"Oh! Pardon me, it's another quirk of language," Makie said. "We add a -san behind someone's name as a mode of address. It's something similar to 'goodman' or 'master'. Like, Hyuuga-san, Suzu-san, or Jon-san."

"In all these years that is an expression Syrio had not known," Syrio said. "Where do you hail from? This one professes that your name and style is foreign to this one's knowledge."

"I… was born on a steelship, I guess. My… family are… retainers of the house Kirino," Makie said. "I was under the wing of Hyuuga-san for a while, but now I work under Amaha-dono."

"This one sees," Syrio replied. "This Syrio hailed from Braavos, born and raised!"

"Oh, fascinating! That's the city with the giant statue is it not?" Makie said.

"That it is! Braavos is also the only Free City in Essos that abhors slavery," Syrio said, before he flagged a server for a refill. "Let us drink for this meeting!"

"Ah… I hope Syrio-san would not be offended if I drink juice?" Makie said while pulling out a small flask from inside her voluminous sleeves, almost like a sleight-of-hand trick. "My health is easily disrupted and I must watch my food and drink."

"Of course not!" Syrio said as he raised a toast. "To health!"

"Kanpai!" Makie replied.

...

Brienne sighed after she finished her mug of imozake. The past year and a half had been quite different, so to speak.

Her father had been adamant that she would find a suitable groom in Prince Tommen's Tourney at first. When she arrived at Tarth with one of the small steelships, her father Lord Selwyn Tarth was said to have been ecstatic at the possibility that her daughter had landed herself one of those foreigners with queer ships. Needless to say, the aging stormlander lord was disappointed that his only surviving daughter had arrived to beg for permission to essentially be a squire.

The negotiation was quite intense. Lady Yamato stayed almost a fortnight in Tarth, hammering a deal in which Brienne would study under the new Swordheart for three years. In exchange for that, Tarth would get agricultural support, new crops, and a possible manufacturing deal down the line. The last time Brienne was there, fallow fields normally too poor for wheat had been blooming with amaimo. His father, long harangued by the importation cost of food to Tarth, had been mollified if not outright happy by the development.

Now all she had to do is find a good man and settle down. Find a man with a good head for finances who is willing to take the Tarth name, Lady Yamato used to say. In exchange, I'll make sure you can lead the army if ever comes the time Renly calls for his banners.

"Aah, my baka deshi!" The familiar holler of her martial arts teacher sounded.

"Is it time to swap, Sensei?" Brienne replied, making a move to stand.

"No, Lady Yamato is fine. She's with Kasumi, some woman from Essos wanted to talk to her in private," Owari said, stopping Brienne.

"I wonder what it was," Brienne mused.

"Probably trade. We're shaping up to be an agriculture player with our crops and expertise. Someone from across the ditch would take notice sooner or later," Owari said as she flagged a server for a mug of ale.

"Word is spreading nowadays," Brienne remarked after a chuckle. "I think even Father is warming up to the notion of Yokoyama opening a base of operations in Tarth."

"Master Willard seemed to be amendable for a move, too," Owari said. "Maybe you should give him a home, y'know make a family or something."

"I can't! He… I mean he's a good man and all…" Brienne raised her voice defensively.

"At this point Selwyn-dono would take all comers if it means his grandson from you could secure Tarth succession, baka deshi," Owari said. "I mean that last man she chose for you, he's just vile. Not to mention a horribly inept knight, if a clumsy apprentice can break three of his bones."

"You… have a point Sensei," Brienne conceded.

"It's time for the bedding!" Someone shouted. The crowd goes wild.

"Huh, what does that mean I wonder," Owari said.

"That would mean… that the bride and groom both would be disrobed as they are brought to their room," Brienne said. "Traditionally, their relatives would try and defend them… female relatives defending the bride from men and vice versa."

"Well come on then, baka deshi! My cousin is about to be disrobed and we shall defend her honor!" Owari exclaimed as she thumped Brienne's back hard enough to make a noise.

"H-hai, sensei..." Brienne replied.

"It's a good time to gauge our progress in the fist arts besides!" Owari said as she advanced towards the scene, cackling.

A/N: Finally I mustered something. About damn time.

A small list of phrases (may be updated later):

Amaimo: sweet potato

Imozake: alcoholic drink made from sweet potato, functionally shochu. Note that it's not quite as potent as vodka.

Baka deshi: dumb apprentice