A/N: This chapter marks a milestone for ITGOA. Both by being the tenth chapter and passing the one year anniversary of its publication. I want to take this time to thank all of the people whom have read this story. It warms my heart to see your support and hear from all of you (yes, even the criticisms. The spell-checking ones are quite handy). After nine chapters ITGOA has garnered 47 reviews, 275 favs/followers, and over 16,000 views. Here's to those numbers growing in the future!

Chapter Ten: Christmas

You know what makes for a novelty? Celebrating Spring on Christmas.

It doesn't account for much in Westeros. Christmas has no meaning here. Neither does December, at least in terms of the seasons. That said, there was something magical about the idea. Having a feast on Christmas Eve. Surrounded by friends and music and laughter. Drinking mulled wine by a roaring fire. And yet, and yet, it wasn't to celebrate the birth of a Messiah or a festival to distract you from the darkness of Winter. It was for Spring. It was to celebrate the return of sunshine and flowers and all things warm and wholesome. The entire concept is like a mushing together of Christmas and Norooz. It's nostalgic, really. It feels familiar. It feels like home.

Even now, on Christmas Day, Ashemark remains in a celebratory mood. The day is full of children's laughter and amiable vibrancy. The sun is shining and the birds are singing. Everyone is in good spirits. All in all, a fantastic way to spend Christmas Day.

Which is why this morning was spent on a terrace overlooking the mountains. Lounging in the sunshine with Ryella as each took turns in a sketching contest. The current challenge being 'what is the most interesting tower you've seen', issued by Ryella. Now, on one hand, there was a barrier that you actually had to have been there at some point (not that google images meant anything in this world). On the other hand, Jasmine had a couple good ideas up her sleeve that could win the match. (Though, win or lose, the sketch would win a spot in her chapter 'Architecture and Design'. So, really, one could argue that she was still being productive this morning.)

"Finished!" Ryella proclaimed. Turning her paper over for the other woman to inspect. The image was of a multi-tiered tower protruding from a stoney island. The final tier resembled a fat candle, a tower topped by what appeared to be a giant flame.

"It's… is it on fire?"

The young woman chuckled at Jasmine's thrown statement.

"It's meant to be. This is the Hightower of Oldtown. The seat of House Hightower as well as Oldtown's lighthouse."

"That's… incredible." Silly as it sounds, Jasmine's mind was still reeling over the size of the flames. The entire top was ablaze. Maybe it was an over exaggeration on Ryella's part? Or maybe the people of Oldtown have someway of keep the fire going without the entire castle going up in smoke?

"It is. It's also the tallest tower in Westeros. Some say one can even see the Wall from its top."

'While on fire, apparently. AND it's tall enough to see the Wall?'

Well, it was official, Jasmine has definitely lost this round.

"What did you draw?" Ryella inquired, craning her neck to see Jasmine's page.

"Well, it's not as spectacular as yours." She admitted. "But it is famous for it's intrigue." She moved the paper over to be better seen between them. "Behold, the Leaning Tower of Pisa!"

"Amazing." She heard Ryella breath. "They were able to construct a tower at such a queer angle?"

"Not exactly," She admitted, "it was an accident. The people who built it some centuries ago placed it on an uneven foundation. My art teacher says there've been efforts to hold it up. Digging beneath the soil, wires, and such. It will never be fixed; though, at this point, with the level of popularity it has I much doubt the Italian government would ever decide to fix its leaning quality."

"I suppose that could be a lesson in itself." Ryella suggested offhand. "Finding victory in its faults?"

"Huh. Not a bad lesson, at all. Didn't realize you were such a philosopher."

Ryella grinned. "There's more to me than a talent for drawing." She teased. "How old were you when you visited the Tower of Pisa?"

"I was sixteen at the time."

"Ah, not that much long ago."

"Pfft, I don't know about that." she stretched as she thought it over. "Sixteen. That's about a third of my life ago, in relative terms."

"You have a peculiar way of measuring time." Ryella noted with a jocular smile. "I suppose that would make my sixteenth year one ninth of my life ago, yes?"

Jasmine laughed at that. "One ninth? Seven help me, I feel so old!" Her hand pressed against in forehead, imitating a swoon.

Ryella didn't seem to fall for her faint. "Twenty-four is hardly old."

Jasmine opted to ignore her. Wrapping an arm around the teenager as she playfully bemoaned her circumstance. "Here I was, believing I was in my prime; but, alas, I am but a flower wilting against time!"

"Jasmine, please-"

"Fading under the glory of your youth and artistic talents!"

"I'm hardly younger than you-"

"There! I fall into the darkness, a hag! With only the Crone's light to lead us elders from that dreaded. Black. Night!"

"Oh, hush, you!" Ryella snickered and shoved the older woman away. The two of them bursting into laughter as Jasmine nearly fell from the edge of the divan.

"Sounds as though you two are having fun."

Jasmine, now lying upside-down over the divan's narrow armrest, grinned at Margaery's inverted image in the doorway. "The best! Though Ryella's being cruel to me."

"I am not!" Ryella laughed.

"Showing off because we're old."

"You were complaining about your age. I said nothing off the sort."

"She's so mean, Margaery."

"Of course she is, Switzer." The third woman teased.

"Care to join us, Margaery? We are holding a sketching contest."

"I wouldn't fare well in that sort of contest." Margaery admitted. Jasmine righted herself and made room as Margaery walked over to them. The new woman grabbing hold of the backrest as she lowered herself onto the seat. "Though I hope, instead, I could interest the two of you to come hawking with me."

"Hawking? Now?"

"It is Spring." She asserted to Ryella. "I asked Melissa, but she insisted we stay inside. A waste of a day, don't you think?" She eyed Jasmine at that remark. It was a bait, and she knew it.

'But that's not what Ryella meant…'

Jasmine and Ryella looked to each other, then to Margaery and (most importantly) the large swelling beneath her turquoise dress, then back to each other. Their eyes communicating silently.

'Should you tell her or should I?'

"But, Margaery," Ryella hesitated to say "you're with child."

"I'm aware of that." She snapped, perhaps a tad too harshly.

"Riding is dangerous for an unborn child; and you're not the safest rider-"

"I'm an outstanding rider!"

"-known for being reckless because of your skill." she scolded.

"You worry too much." Margaery dismissed offhand.

"Margaery, are you still asking others to go hawking?" A male voice interrupted the conversation as Donnel walked onto the terrace.

"So what if I am?"

"Margaery," he pleaded, "we have been through this. You can't ride in your condition. Melissa says you'll need to wait until after our child is born-"

"Oh, what does she know? You understand, Switzer, yes?"

Jasmine threw her hands up casually in surrender. "Actually, they have a point."

Margaery glowered with betrayal. "You're willing to agree with Melissa?"

"Hey, we might not get along, but she has three children and a fourth on the way." Jasmine pointed out. "She knows the limitations of pregnancy better than any of us. She's not even as far along as you. If she's avoiding it now, it's definitely not safe for you at this point."

"My pregnancy is not so harsh that I can't-"

"Margaery, you look like a melon with legs!"

Margaery went silent as blood rushed to her face. Her husband, on the other hand, started snickering. Even Ryella was forcing back laughter. Though, honestly, what else could be said? Margaery was a tiny little thing. Short and lithe. Factors that made her pregnancy more pronounced. She was nearing the end of her second term but already looked ready to burst. Looking at her in this state was like watching a pregnant kiwi. It'd be a wonder if she didn't pop open any day now.

"A-a melon?! I am not a melon!"

"Yes, you are." Donnel remarked. He walked behind the divan and wrapped his arms around her. "You're my sweet melon." He added that with a kiss on the cheek. An act that somewhat quelled her outrage. Though she held a stubborn pout as her hand unconsciously smoothed over her protruding belly.

"This is the last time we're having a child, husband."

Donnel rolled his eyes. "It's only the first."

"And the last." She insisted.

He smirked. "I make no promise of that." He took one arm beneath her legs and hoisted her up into his arms. "Though, for the time being, perhaps I can interest you into taking a different sort of mount?" He teased.

Jasmine snorted at that, as Ryella, once the meaning dawned on her, blushed a deep crimson. Margaery rolled her eyes, but then her husband whispered something in her ear. She blushed, and used her free arm to punch Donnel in the shoulder. Though there was a smile on her face, so that was progress.

"My wife and I are going to retire for the rest of the morning." He grinned as he began walking away, Margaery still in his arms and a wicked giggle on her lips. "You women have yourselves a lovely day."

"Y-you as well, cousin."

"Try not to be too loud!" Jasmine joked after them as they fled the room. "I love those two!" She laughed. "So much fun to have aroun- are you alright?"

Ryella seemed to be lost in thought, a frown on her face. "Oh, pardon?"

"Are you alright?"

"Oh, yes, I am." She tried to dismiss any worry with a renewed smile on her face.

"Ryella."

"I am well. I was only… thinking."

"Uh-huh." A voice of sarcastic disbelief.

"They are wonderful together, aren't they?"

Jasmine's eyes shifted back to the now-empty doorway and nodded. "That, they are. Is that why you were frowning just now?"

"Jasmine, this isn't one of your massage sessions."

"I'm not asking you as my client, I'm asking you as my friend." She gave a smirk and a wink. "Even if I was, I have a policy on client-confidentiality."

Ryella fought not to roll her eyes (and failed), but sighed as she hugged her legs to her chest. "It's… it's a shame Margaery wouldn't want more children. She and Donnel are happy together. Perfect, even."

Jasmine hummed. Ya, she could see where this was going. Comparing the golden couple to her own situation wasn't a healthy outlook. Here they were, off for some Spring-time sexy-time, yet when was the last time Ryella and Daven did something like that? Ever? Far as Jasmine is aware, they don't even share the same bed.

"To each their own. She might be happier just being with him, or she might enjoy having children. Remains to be seen. But it wouldn't be right to force her into a life she doesn't want." ...Well, that doesn't help much, does it? Ryella's in that exact situation.

"I know. I just can't help but wonder. You understand, right?"

"Mostly." She shifted. "Though, Ryella, you've never told me why things are the way they are between the two of you."

Ryella seemed at conflict with herself. Deciding on what to say. "I don't want to talk about it."

"If you talk about it, maybe I can help?"

"There's nothing you could do that would help." Her voice edged with frustration. "I'm sorry, Jasmine; but there is nothing I could tell you that could change how things are between my husband and I. Do trust me on this."

She sighed. There was an air of finality that marked an end to the discussion. Jasmine took the cue and gave her friend a reassuring hug. In that moment of silence, a thought dawned on her.

"I just remembered, I have something for you." She got up out of the divan and walked back into room. From a nearby table, she fetched a cloth wrapping that had been left when she first came to the room, and return to the terrace. "Here, we are." she placed it on Ryella's lap.

"What is this?" The teen woman asked.

"A gift. In my homeland, it's tradition to give gifts on the seventh day before the new year." she explained. Fingers wrung together nervously. "I don't have much, but I wanted to make you something." and what better time to offer it than when you need to cheer said person up.

Ryella blinked, dumbfounded. She looked down to the cloth and gently brushed her hand over it. Curiosity peaking, she covered the cloth to reveal a white fabric. She pulled it upwards, the fabric seemingly grew longer and longer as it was uncovered. Ryella stood up. The gift trailing down from her hands, unfurling into a white and gold dress decorated with small, embroidered images of grapevines, apples, leeks, and a colourful variety of foods all throughout the hem.

"You-you made this?" She asked in astonishment.

Jasmine smiled. "That, I did. Though Nella and Wenda helped me work on the measurements and embroidery."

"These… these are the sigil of my House."

She grinned outright. "Yup! It seems a common fashion choice here, so I wanted it to match that idea. Do you like it?"

Ryella continued to stare at the dress. Turning it over to inspect it further. The images of fruit and vegetables danced along the hem as a breeze swept through the terrace. Then, within a heartbeat, Jasmine was wrapped in Ryella's arms.

"I love it! Thank you, Jasmine, thank you!"

'Whoa. Okay. It wasn't worth that much praise, was it?'

Her eyes glanced down at her friend's face. A smile lined with tears. Her heart soften at that moment, as she returned the hug.

"You're welcome, Ryella. Merry Christmas."

Christmas gifts weren't common in Jasmine's life. Hannukah, sure. Though the lunar calendar remained an unusual concept, so the idea of reliving her family's holiday felt difficult to tie in to a specific date. Still, the idea of giving a gift to her closest Westerosi friend had been stuck to her mind for the past month, so she had made the effort to bring a touch of Christmas spirit. It wasn't a mutual gift-giving, but that was to be expected. It wouldn't have been a surprise, otherwise. So Jasmine had been content to play Santa Claus for the year. A gift to her friend, none for herself.

'Then again,' she thought as she spotted Lady Sybelle walking alone through a hallway, 'maybe life provides in own sorts of gifts on Christmas?'

"Good day, Lady Marbrand." Plastering a jovial smile on her face as she greeted her.

"Good day, Switzer. I hope your morning has been well."

"Wonderful, thank you for asking. Ryella and I were having a discussion of architectural feats in Westeros." Her eyes flashed quickly, finding the hall to be empty. "My lady, I was wondering,"

Sybelle's shoulders was stiff.

'Crap, too soon, too soon. Fall back!'

"Ryella showed me an image of Hightower. I must ask, just how large is the flame at its top?"

Body language relaxed. The lady even seemed to smile. Good, she saved herself, then. "Large enough to be seen for miles like a moon in the night. Hightower is a beacon of light for all voyagers, from land and sea alike."

It sounded to Jasmine like Sybelle was reciting that description. Then again, Hightower had been her home, once. It was only natural she took praise of her House and home to heart.

Jasmine nodded her head in ascent. "The way Ryella described it, it's amazing that such a large flame could burn without damaging the castle below."

'That's right, reel her in slowly. This is just an innocent conversation.'

Lady Sybelle gave a small chuckle. "We Hightowers have had a long history of keeping that flame. My grandmother once told me that magic was worked into the foundation and the castle is protected by that magic."

'Huh, that's... actually pretty cool. Wonder if it actually is, like Winterfell or the Wall?'

"That's very cool. Fascinating, I mean." She paid mind to where they were walking. There was maybe another minute or two before they'd no longer be alone.

'Screw pretense, just go for it!'

"To be protected by magic, Hightower sounds enchanting. Especially when you consider DamonhasbeenLordforsixmonthsnow." The last part ending in a hurried rush before she could regret saying anything.

And regret she did, to a small extent, as Lady Sybelle turned to face her and shot a withering glare.

'Niiiice segue.' Her thoughts betrayed her sarcastically.

'What else should I have gone with? "Hey, your husband's been dead for six months now, so what gives?" '

Damn it. This was going to end in fire and brimstone, she could feel it. Still, she persisted. "It's been months, my lady."

"What of it?" Oh, she knew exactly what this was about.

But, damn, what could she say? They were out in the open. Words needed to be chosen carefully. "Must things need to continue as the were? Surely times have changed, now."

Her nostrils flared. Sybelle looked to each side and found no one. She calmed herself somewhat and quipped an answer. "Nothing has changed. The problems of my husband were not shouldered by him alone. There are others this would affect."

O-kay… so… were all of the Marbrands involved in this? Seems a little dramatic. "Surely they can see reason?"

"Switzer, I told you once that quarrels left unresolved will only fester with time. Unfortunately, Marbrand men are known to be stubborn when it suits them; and, in the years that have passed, this fight has rotted to the core."

'Greaaaaat. So this is going nowhere fast.'

"I understand. Apologies, my lady, I won't press the matter further."

"That's appreciated." Sybelle spun on her heel and began walking again.

Jasmine trotted to catch up to her. Hoping to find something else to break the silence. Things were so much easier this morning with Ryella and hey wait a minute!

"On a different topic, I don't suppose you could tell me what caused the marital issue between Daven and Ryella?"

Sybelle gave an annoyed huff. It seemed rather undignified from her usual state, even in an angry one. "Switzer, those problems are one and the same. As I've said, I will speak of this no further."

Jasmine paused where she stood. Dumbfounded.

'What? I mean, HOW? How are those issues related? That doesn't even make any sense!'

She would have asked Sybelle to clarify, but the lady had turned and left through a door before Jasmine had a chance to collect her thoughts.

'Ugh. Why does family drama have to be so annoying!'

That evening Jasmine found herself waiting outside the kitchen door. Body leaning against the wall and foot tapping with semi-impatience as voices melded in varying tones beyond the wooden frame.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

In.

Out.

In.

"Good evening, Switzer." A merry cheer interrupted her thoughts. Through half-lidded eyes she spotted Anders and Damon approaching round the corner.

"Good evening, Anders. Lord Damon." She nodded to each of them in turn, being sure to push off the wall a moment for a slight curtsey.

The greetings were interrupted by a man's growling voice through the door and a woman shouting frustrations. Damon and Jasmine's bodies tensed at the noise, while Anders raised an eyebrow curiously.

"Gendel, again?" Jasmine nodded. Andres chuckled in spite of the situation. "What happened this time?"

"At this point, I've given up trying to guess." she shrugged. So much for the celebratory mood. Wasn't bound to last, where those two cooks are concerned.

Damon's face soured as he rolled his shoulders back. "I will take care of this."

"Now, now brother." Anders held him back. "We're here to relax. No more work this evening. Wait here a moment." Anders moved passed his brother and slipped through the door.

The shouting didn't seem to subside. Whatever Anders was planning, she wasn't sure.

"Are you waiting on one of them to finish?" Damon asked politely.

Jasmine shook her head. "I was hoping to get a pot of tea for the evening. Though I suppose I'll have to wait some time." The two of them stood in silence a moment. The arguing keeping a steadily loud volume.

"They would likely be too distracted in their bickering to notice your presence if you went now." The lord suggested.

Jasmine shrugged absentmindedly. "It's possible. Though I find it's better to avoid fights in places where a knife is easily accessible."

Damon offered a smile "Wise words."

"Experienced ones."

They stayed a moment longer. Anders was sure taking his time.

"Are the two of you continuing in the celebrations?"

Damon breathed a light groan. "At my brother's insistence. He seems oblivious that I have duties to attend to, or is adamant that I ignore them."

"Perhaps he just wants you to rest for the night? You've been working hard."

He huffed at the comment. "So he tells me. Still, to govern is an arduous task. It does not end when the sun sets or the snow falls. Whether I sleep or am awake, I am a lord, always. ...I just hope I can be as good as my father once was." He seemed to catch himself at that moment. His body shifted into a defensively refined position. "Forgive me, such words are unbecoming."

"Not at all, my lord." She pushed off the wall and stepped towards him. "Though, if it's all the same to you, I think you're doing a great job; and are shaping yourself to be a good lord as well."

Something in his posture seemed to lighten at that comment. Moreso as he thanked her.

'Anders was right,' she thought, 'he needs a night off.'

At that moment, Anders came through the door. Sneaking out two bottles of wine like a thief in the night. He winked at Jasmine as he shut the door and muffled the shouts on the other side.

'Cheeky bugger,' She thought, 'acting like a spy completing mission impossible.'

He tossed one bottle to his brother, who fumbled as he caught the unexpected throw. "A bottle of Dornish strongwine for you, and hippocras for myself." He flipped his head over Jasmine's way. "You're welcome to join us if you like."

"Thanks, but I'll have to decline." She smiled, though held back laughter at Damon's visibly relieved face. "Save that wine for yourselves. Otherwise you'll need another trip here, tonight."

"True." Anders clasped an arm against Damon's back. "Come brother, it's time we get you well drunk." The brother in question groaned, but resigned to his younger's lead. They each said their farewells in turn, with Anders half pushing his brother through the hallway.

Jasmine grinned at the sight. With Damon shouldering responsibility as lord of the castle, and Daven's naturally serious disposition, Anders somehow found ways to lighten the mood with his devil-may-care attitude to life. Keeping his brothers in check from going too far off the deep end. Well, if only a little bit.

'What those boys need is someone to balance them out.'

From behind the door, a sound of metal came crashing; almost drowning out the shouting. Breaking from the previous thought, she sighed in exasperation.

'Looks like I'll be waiting here awhile.'

A/N: For those of you wondering, Norooz (or Nowruz) is the Iranian New Year, which takes place on the first day of Spring. A celebration that's hard to pull off in a world where the seasons don't have a steady pattern, but worth celebrating when the opportunity arises.

So, could anyone guess Ryella and/or Margaery's Houses from their dress descriptions?