Hey! Technically ouches, back on track… Here we go!

Chapter Twenty-One – Shades and Traces

"Here Shaggydog!" Rickon called after his black beast of a wolf, through dusky and torch lit halls of Riverrun. Myra wondered when the boy would realize that the wolf was not exactly the delightful pet dog that he seemed to think he was. Though Myra did agree that on closer acquaintance Shaggydog was utterly endearing. It had been eight days since the night that the men sent by Tyrion Lannister had attempted to break Jaime out of Riverrun. Lord Edmure said that he had needed a break from his nephew and had asked Myra to watch Rickon almost every day following that rescue attempt. It had worked out well for Myra as she enjoyed spending time with Rickon, but it had not worked out so well for Lord Edmure as Myra was not deterred from visiting Jaime.

Myra required her distractions, with each passing day the fear that twisted her bones into knots grew stronger. Just the night before Myra had woken up in tears, breathless and near screaming. She had dreamt that she was in hall similar to Riverrun when a sudden gale of icy wind had crashed the doors open and Robb had come in with Grey Wind, both he and his wolf mangled with half a hundred slashes, both with eyes burning.

She felt exceedingly useless as all she seemed to do was worry from her place on the wayside. What she would not give to be one of the battle-ready Mormont women! What she would not give to be at Robb's side! At least then she would be contributing in some way, but alas Myra was all too aware that she barely had any skill with a blade and no one to teach her what took a lifetime to learn. Even though she was skilled with all of her practice at archery. Myra knew that she was not the most powerful of archers and she could not imagine how much strength it would take to fight in long battles with heavy armor and swords and shields. When her mother had passed, she had seen what happened to bodies and their contents, and she knew that battle required more than only physical strength. These facts, however convincingly rational, served to make Myra feel more guilty and incompetent than anything else.

"Rickon." With Silver at her side and Robb's cloak swishing around her, Myra rushed to follow the flash reddish-brown hair trailing a blur of black. "Rickon!" Myra breathed out harshly, as Shaggydog threatened to burst into the Great Hall, where people may have been gathered. Myra had not become any more comfortable surrounded by hoards of people. Even though most of the troops had left for the East with the Boltons, Freys, and some of the Tullys, Myra was just as uneasy with the smaller Tully forces that had remained at Riverrun. They never said anything disrespectful nor did they seem to dislike her but when Myra was in their presence they often cast curious glances or just plainly stared at her.

The troops had a look of wonder, as though they were trying to figure out something about her. She was sure that it did not help that most of them did not understand and did not trust, her dealings with Jaime. They also seemed insistent on calling her 'my lady'. Despite the fact Myra had said that the Northern men could address her as they wished, she continued to find the formality a little jarring.

Myra caught the collar of Rickon's shirt, making sure to avoid pulling on the long hair that reminded her so much of her mother's. Rickon finally stopped, just at the doors to the Great Hall as Shaggydog entered the large chamber. Myra's violet gaze remained stuck on doors, she tried to force out the images from her nightmare that had suddenly flooded her mind.

"Myra!" Rickon woke Myra out of her dream, as he twisted his body, trying to unwrap Myra clenched fist from his clothing.

"Oh!" Myra released him, "Sorry, little pup."

"Finally!" Rickon sighed in impatiently, rolling his deep blue eyes.

"I said sorry…" Myra defended herself. Rickon rolled his eyes again and began walking towards, the silent hall. "Here now!" Myra followed him in stride. "If someone says they're sorry and they mean it you should forgive them…" The Great Hall was thankfully empty and the torches were already lit in preparation for dinner. Myra had taken to eating dinners with Jaime, having to feed him for the most part in past weeks, she was also used to eating during the morning alone in her room and as needed to throughout the rest of the day if she remembered to do so. The last time Robb went away Myra had seemed to lose her appetite but now that he was gone again a hunger filled her which, at times, she could not control.

"All of the time?" Rickon questioned, as he searched for Shaggydog in shadows beneath the long wooden tables in the Hall.

"Well…" Myra paused for moment, standing in the middle of Hall with Silver, as Rickon carried looking under the tables "…depending on what they do…" Myra grappled with what she was trying to say "…you can forgive a person for anything, it doesn't mean you have to be friends with them, or that you even have to like them, or trust them again, or that they can avoid justice…it makes you bigger…"

This caught Rickon's attention fully, he turned to look back at her excitedly. "Really?"

"I mean on the inside…where it matters. You cannot judge a person just by how they look," she thought of her silver hair "... though it is tempting. Most of the time it is their mind and their insides that really count…"

"Oh…" Rickon turned back to looking for his wolf. "You mean like Bran? Here Shaggydog!"

"I…" then it dawned on Myra that Rickon was referencing Bran's legs, not Bran's forgiving nature… or lack thereof… "Yes, little pup. Bran is more than just his legs."

"Found you!" Rickon exclaimed, playfully wrestling Shaggydog out from under one the tables. Myra grinned at the triumphant boy before her.

"You know, he runs away from you a lot… you must smell pretty horrible." She teased.

"I do not! Uncle Edmure's smell is worse!" He insisted. Myra laughed, as the boy continued, scratching behind his wolf's ear. "And it's not his fault he runs away... he just gets nervous sometimes…" Rickon's expression changed. "I do too…"

"Nervous about what, little pup?" Myra's voice was stained with concern.

Rickon shrugged, eyes focused on his fingers as they curled through Shaggydog's fur. "Everything's changing… home, father, even how Robb looks…" she tried not to let her countenance falter, as a sudden wave of pressure hit her at the mention of Robb. Rickon must have felt it as well, as he suddenly looked her. Myra tried to think of what say to comfort Rickon, she felt Silver nudge her leg.

"Come on little pup," she held out her hand and walked closer to the boy. "I'll teach you something…" following that statement Rickon recoiled, fear in his deep blue eyes.

"I won't learn the house words or any words…" he proclaimed, jutting out his chin though his body kept shrinking away from her.

Myra stopped halfway to him smiling affectionately down at the boy. "It's not that kind of learning, though now you mention it you should be studying that as well…" she spoke seriously but with kindness, gesturing for him to come to her, which he did.

The violet eye girl did not begin leading them anywhere, instead she sat them both down on one of the long benches by the tables. She took his left hand in hers and faced his palm up. "Hmmm…" she murmured tracing the lines of his palms.

"What? What is it?" Rickon asked clearly confused.

"Well..." Myra spoke softly, "you see these lines, on your hand?" She could see Rickon nod from the corner of her eye. "They are not just lines, the have meaning according to some…"

"Meaning?" Rickon asked.

"My mother liked to look at other cultures and see what was fun in them. She used to love looking at these lines and seeing what they said about our lives…"

"I thought you were like me, that you believed in the Old Gods."

"I do. But who knows if this has any power? I like said this is for fun. Think of it as a game…" Myra explained as she examined his small palm.

"What do they mean then?" Rickon asked clearly interested.

"Well, this line means your will be happy in love one day, these squares mean protection in your travels, these lines crossing here mean at least one, no... two big decisions…" she carried on with Rickon listening intently. As Myra's inspection drew to a close her violet eyes shifted to his face. "You see little pup… even if the power of the lines is just lore, what I see most of all in your life is change. If you ever feel scared of change again just look at you palm and remember that it normal to be scared and it's natural to change… and that I will be here for you in some way or another…"

Rickon was rubbing his fingers over his left palm "Is it the same with Bran?" He asked so softly that Myra had to lean into hear. "You don't talk to him…" he suddenly began rushing out "... is it because of the Kingslayer? Bran does not like him right? Is it because annoying Jojen is always around? 'Cause I get…"

"Little pup!" Myra cut him off before he turned blue from forgetting to breathe. She had not realized that Rickon had been so aware of Bran's distance from her. Two weeks after he had gone quiet she had stopped trying to get Bran to speak to her. She had not wanted to keep pestering him in case it made him stay away longer. Myra had knocked at his closed door when she had known that he was in his room just after Osha left him there. Myra had told him that she would be ready whenever he wanted to talk and that she cared for him deeply.

When she had gone to visit what was thought to be the last remaining godswood within the walls of Riverrun to pray, she run into Bran and Osha before the weirwood there. Bran had demanded that Osha quickly take him back to his room. Osha had shot her an apologetic look as she walked by and Myra prayed for a long time for everything that she could think of, then went to tell Osha that Bran would be in no danger of running into her at the godswood again. Myra did not want such a calming and holy place to be ruined for Bran because of her.

Myra felt foolish for not have seeing how much of a betrayal her association with Jaime could be taken as by Bran, who held such hatred for the man. "I…it…" Myra struggled. "Bran knows that when he is ready to talk to me that I am here and that I love him and you and mother… and I am sure, when I meet them soon enough, I will love the rest of your… our!" She quickly corrected herself. "Our family too…" Rickon nodded slowly, as Shaggydog in show of comfort nuzzled the boy's side and Myra thought of how to change the subject. "I thought you liked Jojen…" she tried.

"I did…" he huffed, patting Shaggydog's head. "I do, it's just…he says things and Bran lets him…"

Myra's violet gaze filled with wonder as she looked at the small boy in the huge torch lit hall. "Mean things?" She asked, Rickon shook his head. Myra tried to think of what he could be talking about and reached out with a guess. "So… you mean with his 'greensight'?" To which Rickon nodded. Myra disliked prying, but was concerned about what Jojen could have been saying that would disturb Rickon enough to keep him away from Bran. As such she asked, "What kinds of things little pup?"

Rickon was determinedly looking away from Myra and at Shaggydog as he spoke now. "Just things… He sees things and Bran believes him, but when I said I saw father in the crypts at home he told me to shut up… but then he told Jojen that he saw the same thing as me…" That took a moment for Myra to register.

"When did you see him?" Myra asked, wondering why Bran would deny such a thing to begin with.

"At the camp while I was sleeping, the night before we found out…"

Before she could help herself, Myra felt her mouth fall hanging open in a circle. "Oh…" was all she could think to say caught unawares.

Rickon nodded. "I've seen more but he didn't believe… there was Jon cold, Ayra covered in blackness, a shadow crumpling someone, a tick called Reek at home, and an old man with not enough seats for his children happily toasting and digging into grey meat…" he had been speaking slowly though Myra felt as though he was racing through his speech again. She was trying to look encouraging and open, meanwhile her mind was racing. She could not bear to think of the horrible things Rickon was seeing at night... not just Rickon but Bran and Jojen as well. They were too young and it was not fair.

Myra wished she knew how to defend them from it and protect them from these visions. She almost scoffed at herself for that. She could not even protect her herself from the flames the burned her in the night nor the red mist that haunted her eyes in the day. Even so, though she was sure that hers were just… just had to be nightmares, she more than anything wanted to save the boys from the similar terror she suffered each night.

Rickon did not respond to her silence he continued with what he was saying. "I think they're better at it. I heard them. They see more and…" Rickon's voice wavered, "he believes him…"

It became clear to Myra that this was not only about the visions, but about feeling betrayed by his brother. Probably much as Bran was feeling by her, Rickon was feeling hurt by his brother's blatant overlooking of him.

"Oh, little pup…" Myra wrapped her arms around the boy, she could see a streak of water on his silent face. "I'm sure that Bran does not know that he has hurt you this way…speak to him and maybe you be able to forgive him and Jojen…"

Rickon sniffed, leaning into Myra's hug though his blue eyes were still turned away from her. "I will…and maybe Jon too…"

"Jon?" Myra's voice thick with confusion, broaching this new subject wearily as she had thought their conversation had been dwindling down as dinner approached.

Rickon nodded. "He didn't come when father and my sisters were taken, and when Robb went to war, and when Winterfell was…"

Myra pursed her lips, struggling for words, wondering if it was her place as she remembered her last speaking in encounter with Bran. Nonetheless, she looked to Silver and ventured. "Robb said your brother loves you very much…" Rickon nodded. "Do you know the vow of the Night's Watch?" Rickon shook his head. "It is very strict, little pup. Very strict." She said again to be sure he grasped what she was saying. "Your brother must have a lot of honour, to make himself stay there… because the love that you know he has for you," Rickon's shiny eyes finally moved to meet her "...that sort of love just doesn't go away… do you understand?" Her lilac gazed searched his to see if her meaning stuck. He nodded. "Good," she smiled. Rickon abruptly turned to hug her in return.

"Myra..." he began after a spell of quiet.

"Yes little pup?"

"What are the vows exactly?"

"Truly Rickon?" Myra tsked then chuckled. "Tomorrow you start studying…"

"No..." he whined, causing Myra's body to shake with a laugh as she felt him slump in defeat.

Following dinner Myra took a tired Rickon up to his bed, helping him wash his face and change into his night clothes. She listened to the memories he had of his sisters and brothers and tucked him into bed as she did every night, as she would have done for Bran if he would have allowed her to. Afterwards, Myra spoke a quick 'goodnight' to Bran door, whispered a prayer to the Gods for the boys' sleeping minds to no longer be haunted and made her way down to the dungeons with Silver by her side and Robb's cloak still wrapped around her body. Now that she knew of how Bran may have been feeling she knew that she should perhaps not be visiting Jaime, but she had developed a rapport with him. She would have felt awful if she suddenly cut him out of her life. From personal experience she had found that it was not a good feeling.

Myra had to commend Lord Edmure's resolve to keep her away from Jaime. He had allowed the chains some give to let Jaime lie down and allowed his hands to be moved to his front in the hopes of appeasing Myra. Jaime had suggestively noted how having his hands before him allowed him to relieve himself much more easily in more ways than one. He also stated that after stabbing the Mad King he had taken a seat on the Iron Throne and ever since then he had a pain in his ass, so finally being able to lie down was a blessing. Jaime was funny and Myra had grown accustom to laughing at whatever it was he had said that day before she fell asleep, which was a far better method of reaching a restful night than worrying for Robb. Even if in her dreams the same worry found her anyway. Silver too had become a little easier around him, just a little though, she still growled and watched him when his voice rose or he moved or sighed or sneezed.

"You know everything don't you? I know you do because when I was young I knew everything too." Jaime commented this night, once Myra had settled next to him.

"You thought you knew everything no more than a week ago…" she grinned, her tone jokingly remorseful. "Are you suddenly an old man?"

"It is all in relative terms," he drawled out. "You're not yet seventeen and I have will have three and thirty years in the coming months... your King willing of course." Myra's nose twitched at the sour tang he added to his remark, as he continued, "I'm old enough to be your father and as such am not young, not around you…"

"Odd. You act like a child enough…" returned snidely, as his chin moved in such a way to make Myra certain he was resisting biting his thumb at her. Not that the action could have very effectively considering where his hands were shackled before him. "Truly though, you do not seem to be only a few years younger than Lady Stark. At times you do not seem as old as Robb or Lord Edmure, though they are younger than you are…" pausing to think on what she was saying, Myra noticed Jaime's mouth move to speak, she continued before he could say anything. "But maybe that comes from their being sure of who they are…" Myra smiled to herself, reminiscing fondly. "My mother always said age happens when one stops learning and changing… she was obsessed with schooling herself as well as me, finding new mysteries in and interpretations of things. 'Nothing is ever as simple as it seems, Myra.'" She mimicked her mother's voice. "'There are many reasons for everything, no reasons for some things, and whether right or wrong those reasons all worth consideration. There is always something new to learn even in the familiar'..." the silver haired girl laughed at her poor technique at imitation. Jaime chuckled along as well, probably laughing at the only dreadful voice she was able to muster.

"My mother…" Jaime began warmly but stopped. She saw his small sad smile drop completely, he scoffed humourlessly, shaking his head at his lap "… you know? All I can scrape together from hearsay is that the Mad King was licentious in his want of her." His tone resonating with disgust. "I don't even remember what she could have taught me…" he snorted bitterly again "...isn't that pathet… what are you doing?"

Myra did not know why but as he was speaking she had a sudden urge to compare palms and before she knew it she was pulling his bound clinking hands before her. "Sorry I just…" Myra trailed off, distracted by how similar their palms were and were not. Excitement filled her as she pointed out marks on his palm "See this!" She smiled at his open palm. "It's nothing pathetic. This gap here… see, you are very lucky and this here means a successful and happy marriage…" she pointed at the end of a line, but then frowned "...but the circle means unhappiness in an earlier relationship…" his hand flinched and Myra, realizing how intrusive and inappropriate she was being, suddenly got a hold of herself. She dropped his hands. "I'm sorry. That was rude…" She turned head towards Jaime, who had cocked his head to an angle and was looking at her with a mix of interest as well as a little annoyance.

"I-" she began, but was interrupted.

"You know of the Orphans of the Greenblood?"

Myra nodded, though she was puzzled by his odd mention of them. Myra had been taught that when Nymeria, the warrior-queen, fled from the Valyrian Freehold of cities in Essos she had landed her ten thousand Rhoyne ships South past King's Landing in Dorne and along the Greenblood River. Some Rhoynar intermingled with the Dornish, while the 'Orphans of the Greenblood' did not instead choosing to continue to practice their ancestral traditions.

Jaime carried on. "What you just did with the lines on my hand. They do as well… Where did you learn it? Your mother?"

Myra nodded again. Could it have been that her mother had been from Dorne, from Essos… maybe the mother who had birthed her had been Dornish as well.

His green eyes roamed her face as they had done times before. "Funny…you have neither of Dornish nor Rhoyne colouring… are you sure your mother was your mother? What was her name, perhaps I knew her?"

"Her name…um, Rhelia…" Myra felt strange that Jaime had become close to figuring out that she had an adopted mother, but not half as strange as she felt speaking her mother's name. Myra had only ever heard her mother's name once or twice when the older woman played out exchanges from her past life.

"Rhelia…" Jaime let the name float in the air a moment, before stating, "It doesn't sound familiar…" he actually sounded frustrated by the mystery of Myra's linage "… no last name?"

Myra shook her head. "Forget about that. I told you, I do not wish to know..." Myra tried to change the topic. "So…tell me about the palm interpreting Jaime Lannister…"

"No such thing…" he replied.

"Oh, I was not aware of that…" she paused. "How about the palm interpreting Jim then?"

There were a few breaths of silence then all at once Jaime's laughter echoed right down the sparsely lit halls of the windowless dungeons.

Please let me know what you think… About the story, the grammar, the direction of my personal life.