She heard it before she felt it; the sword slicing through the air and the thud of the blade landing into the flesh of her brother's neck. Time slowed and the candlelight flickered for an instant but the scream of the woman in labour brought her back to the present. She smiled to herself as she remembered her Mother Superior's words 'You do the job in front of you and everything else can boil in the pan'. She sighed and returned to the struggling woman and her as yet unborn daughter.
Esther Stark emerged from the tavern and breathed in the clear, night air. It was a damn sight clearer and more palatable than the stale, beer soaked smog she'd just come from. Gods knew what her mother would have said if she could have seen her youngest daughter rubbing elbows with the great unwashed, birthing whore's bastards in the arse end of nowhere; but of course her mother would never have used such language.
She thought back to the image she had seen in the tiny upstairs room not so long ago and sighed again. She had known that it would be happening before the Winter finally dug its claws into the land and people but she had hoped she would have had a bit more time. It was time for her to make the long journey to the city she had avoided for so long and fulfil her destiny; gods how she hated that word but it was all she had heard for the first 8 years she had been learning her craft at the convent after Mother Superior had finally realised who and what she was. For the 6 years she had been out in the world it was all she could think of, even during the times when her life had been in danger or she had been dealing with the plagues that had swept through the towns and villages she ministered to, or the hundred and one other everyday triumphs and tragedies she had witnessed; all that time had seemed to be a countdown to this moment and now it had arrived the relief she hoped she would feel was nowhere to be found, she just felt the raging anger grow.
She supposed she should have felt sadness about her brother's brutal death far away in King's Landing but after many years the blow he had dealt her when she was 10 years old still bit deep and the vague knowledge of what was to come dulled the possibility of grief. She heard the tavern door bang and turned to look at the beefy face of the landlord, twice her age and twice her width but still cowering like a child facing a mother's wrath.
"Er…Er here is 7 coins for your..er…trouble…Sister" he stammered and proffered his huge paw with the coins nestling in the giant palm like stars in a very grubby night sky. She thought about prolonging the man's misery, he was, after all, a whore mongerer, but she had neither the time nor the inclination. She took the offered coin but could not leave without giving the man a small word of advice.
"Thank you for the payment but be warned when I return, and I shall return, if your whores are not better looked after and your beer less sour I will make your balls shrivel like walnuts and your cock wither like rotting fruit."
The landlord's face screwed itself up into a rictus of fear.
"Yes…yes…of course Sister. Thank you Sister." he managed to stammer.
"Good. Now can you direct me to the King's Road? Oh and it's Mistress not Sister." Esther said, already looking beyond the terrified man and into the moonlit landscape. It would be a long time before she was back at this gods-forsaken place but she knew the landlord would never again mistreat his whores or his customers again. She may have been young for a Sister of the Moontides but the red belt, the moon trio tattoo and, most importantly, her reputation that preceded her ensured that no one dared cross her.
She hefted her bag onto her shoulder and set off in the direction the terrified man had pointed, safe in the knowledge that should anyone be stupid enough to attack her they would be left with a serious handicap for the rest of their miserable yet thankfully short lives.
The landlord went back inside the tavern, carefully closed the door, wiped the sweat of fear from his face and never again abused his workers or cheated his customers and considered himself very lucky to have escaped with his life and manhood intact.
Esther tried to shift into a more comfortable position as the cart rocked and rattled its way towards the city. She took out the black rolling papers and tobacco from the special, leather pouch a grateful father had made her after she had saved his son's leg. As she assembled the smoke, she looked to skyline and saw the city getting closer. She felt the anger rise again as she thought of what she might find inside the walls; she had heard about the poverty, starvation and disease that was already rife amongst the ordinary people and the less obvious but more poisonous rot she would find amongst the new King's court. The stories of his viciousness were already filtering through the towns and villages outside of the sprawling city walls. She struck a match and dragged deeply on the cigarette, she blew out a plume of grey and tried to get comfortable again.
Before the cart reached the North gate she hopped down and thanked the driver. He refused to take the money she offered in exchange for the ride as she knew he would; no-one charged a Sister because you never knew when you might need one and you only needed their help if you were desperate; the cart driver also had the feeling that this Sister in particular was not the kind that you tried to take advantage of. He watched as she walked off the road and into the scrubby woodland that flanked the road, the red of her belt and hair standing out against the dark of her clothes, finally blending into the shadows until she was gone. She never looked back and he shook the horse's reins and rumbled on a little faster than was necessary, eager to be away from the woman he had travelled the last half of the road with.
Esther did her best to shake out the creases from the only dress she owned. It would be easier if she blended in with the crowds inside the city and the uniform of the Moontide Sisters was as easily recognisable as the armour of the King's Guard. She repacked her bag and set off towards the gate and into the city. The gate guards did not give her a second glance, just another peasant trying to escape the war that had been inevitable the moment Robert Baratheon had drawn his last breath.
She walked through the packed and crowded streets dodging the filth and grime that caked the pathways towards the house of the only person she knew in King's Landing but also towards the future that had been a long time coming.