[center][color=E8600C][h1]Gabriel Martell[/h1][/color][/center][hr][hr][center]Interacting with Myriah and Toran ([@Emma], [@Obscene Symphony]).[/center][hr][hr]
Tiras' response to Gabriel's question was slowly articulated, almost reticent. The boy knew that all highborn men and women have their secrets, even [i]he[/i] had a skeleton or two. Knowing it would be unwise and rude to pry, he simply nodded once and went on petting Onyx.

A minute later, princess Myriah entered the room with a gleeful attitude that instantly brightened the atmosphere, and the sun seemed to fill the room once more with a radiance that reflected in her violet eyes. His cousin's very image was stunning, and were she not the princess, Gabriel would be absolutely smitten with her. Alas, she was also his cousin; though whether technically a third or fourth, or the Seven knows which, was beyond him sometimes. The Martell and Targaryen lineages were now intermingled with one another, making them all family. Historically speaking, it was a tad ironic, but it also seemed destined.

Gabriel was the last to stand on ceremony after she had entered the room. He had been there for three days already and had plenty of interactions with the princess up to that point, so there was no need for a repetition of extensive formalities. Instead of greeting her aloud, he quietly walked over to stand near his cousins. It was both to seek comfort for his introversion as well as a politically savvy move. If there was one thing he could borrow from his Martell heritage, it was that power can also come from multiplicity. Mors Martell and Princess Nymeria... and now the Martells and the Targaryens.

[color=E8600C]"Good morning, Princess,"[/color] he said with feigned shyness in front of the others, ensuring he didn't push the "family" act too far, lest he come across as a cheeky brat. He glanced at Toran from the other side of Myriah with eyes and a devilish smirk that seemed to secretly convey that he was having fun now.