Chapter 47: Lands of Men, Words of Witches
Author's Note: Hey everyone! I know it's been a while; I've been moving and I am now pursuing my doctoral degree. Unfortunately, this means that I will write very slowly, but I am trying to get back on a schedule.
Thank you so much Diana for reviewing my fic, I love that you adored it enough to binge it! This truly makes my week!
Anyways, I have a few boxes to put away and a bath to take, but enjoy the fic ^.^
Tearing through another tower again? Bitch is mad… Lorhi had never dismantled so many towers in such a short time. No, not since the time of the Mad King. Then again, times were beginning to remind Lorhi of the "Mad Days"—that was what the masons called the reign of the Mad King Aery—mad days because they would feverishly build some new structure or monument that had come to the king in a dream.
Lorhi had served four kings now: Aerys, Robert, Joffrey, and now, Tommen. More like the bloody queen. Mad Queen Cersei! Long May she reign! He laughed to himself bitterly. When were the gods going to smile on the small folk? Lorhi threw another bag of clay and dirt over his back with a grunt. At forty and five years, his age was beginning to take its toll, his back and shoulders now popped, and he grunted louder at the force on his back than when he did as an apprenticeship at only twelve years of age.
And just as back in the days of his youth, Lorhi felt something in the air again. It was more than a breeze, yet nothing it felt more like a harsh whisper in the dark, crawling down his spine. An inexplicable unease. It was hard to sleep at night again too. Lorhi kept telling his wife that it was naught more than winter coming, she was almost a decade his junior, she didn't remember the last winter anyways, he told her. After a moon though, he was wondering who he was trying to convince that there was nothing to fear…
Cersei had annoyed the sparrows to the point the Kingsguard locked her in her room. Cersei complied as not to make a scene, she was not secure yet with the High Sparrow and her son's new household.
"Can I get your grace anything to soothe her nerves?" A man asked the Queen, who was now reduced to a heap of gold and black silks complete with a frizzy balding gold crown. But that did not irritate her the most. No, what enraged her the most was the fact that she could not stop shaking.
The cunt she gave power—the cunt who was too low born to deserve power—out of the generosity of her heart, betrayed Cersei Lannister—the Queen of fucking Westeros! D
Taking a break from his labors as the sun hit midday, Lorhi sat down to eat the bread and gruel his wife packed him for lunch. They weren't the richest, but they got along fine, sometimes, he even got to have some jerky when he worked and some pork at home—on occasion of course, but this was becoming a more common occurrence. As much as Lorhi complained about the queen, he was being paid handsomely along with the other men. Soon, perhaps, I'll have jerky most days, and maybe some fruits! He once had some melon that a noble had blissfully dropped from his cart after market. The cunt was so rich he didn't even notice the missing fruit—until he got home of course. He came back to market to look for it, but Lorhi had never tasted anything so wonderful in his life! His mouth salivated at the memory of digging into the melon, its inner flesh so soft and sweet. It was so juicy; it satisfied his thirst too.
Hearing a sharp crack, Lorhi turned around to see the queen ordering some men to be flogged in the yard for loitering.
So, this is a declawed lioness, Lorhi mused. Quickly, he put his food away, finished his beer, and went back to work in the bright sun.
Things were not so bad, truly. Lyra thanked her stars every day for her husband. They had their vices, that was sure. Lyra had a temper and tended to act before thinking, and Jaime despised ruling. Despite the circumstances of their marriage, Lyra felt happy with Jaime. Happy in a way that she fears she may not have been with any other man. Jaime let her have Night's Queen back and let her train—only when she is not with child though—how many women could say that outside of Dorne? Jaime even joins her during the evening spars after supper, and Bron trained Lyra in the afternoon when Rhaeynes laid down. If their little girl was still down after her training session, Lyra would fetch Jaime from his solar, and they would have a few moments to themselves.
In the evening—well, it is really night—when Lyra and Jaime finish practice, more intimate activities tend to ensue. On the harsh terrain of the training grounds where Jaime would disarm her, usually, his large frame would force Lyra down into a prone position. It caused Lyra to act more like a wanton beast than a lady—Arianne would just tell me that my dornish blood is showing. Lyra would look at Jaime, practically feasting on her like a man starved, and all the shame blooming in her chest was replaced with pride. Why should she feel such shame in bringing her husband so much pleasure with both sex and sword? Just because men claimed that women should be docile and gentle to soothe her husband, and women claimed that they were too weak or frightened to wield a sword did not mean that Lyra should feel unfeminine or undesirable. In fact, these seemed to be traits that made her marriage to Jaime blossom into a genuine relationship. Initially, they were mentally and emotionally connected, now, since they had bonded over mutual love of swordplay and the rush of a fight, they felt spiritually connected.
The spasms in her lower belly now turning into aftershocks, Lyra pulled Jaime up to kiss him, tasting herself. She could hardly wait to get him inside her.
Cersei mocked him as a lion without a paw, but he's still Jaime Lannister. Lyra remembered watching him at tourneys and secretly marveling at his martial and sword prowess. Lyra had resented him for failing Elia and her daughter, Rhaenys, but there was no denying his abilities and talents. He was gifted, even now, missing his sword hand, if he wasn't, he wouldn't have been able to disarm her as he had only moments ago.
Locking her into a parry, Lyra went to kick Jaime's legs out before he threw her off balance and took her sword. Before he could aim it at her, she pulled her dagger and spun away to his side, only to be blocked and disarmed again. Jaime must have found her disheveled appearance and the thrill of the spar to be quite arousing as these sessions usually led to the position they were currently in.
Even from her angle on the ground, Lyra though Jaime a sight to behold. Sweat making his dark golden hair stick to his brow and neck, some of it running down his chiseled chest as a couple of the buttons of his coats had been loosened. His breath fanned over her forehead when she ghosted her nails over some of the scars
Eyes going from bright green to dark, Jaime started to look at Lyra as if she were a treat about to satisfy his hunger.
"You've done better before, I've seen it, what's gotten into you, my lady?" Ser Addam asked Lyra after a pathetic excuse of a bout. Ever since her dream, she had been preoccupied.
Again, she was back in King's Landing; again, she was back in the storage room with the dragon skulls from the reign of the Targaryen kings. This time though, instead of Brynden, Lyra saw a mountain lion slaughtering its way through the halls with a sword in its jaw. This lion, instead of the Three-Eyed Raven, now led her to the skull, and this time, the skull came to life, hot-molten fire breath coming out of the disembodied head. Lyra looked into the flames of destruction and despair…
The lone wolf dies…Lyra thought she heard Uncle Ned's voice…she thought she'd long forgotten it…
But the pack survives…the grave voice reminded her.
"Where's ye head at, Lady Lannister?" Bron snuck up behind Lyra, Long thin dagger at her throat. Defeated, she surrendered, Night's Queen going to the ground. Forcing out a snort of anger, Lyra lightly patted at the dirt with her boots before straightening up and taking her sword back from Bron.
"Bad dreams again, m'lady?"
Lyra's blood went cold as the words left his mouth—how did he know? Ashara!
"You're fucking my handmaiden and now, you gossip with her?!" Lyra felt betrayed by her longest friend. Pillow talk truly did yield terrible results, just as mother always said.
"My lady, please," Bron practically begged her to calm herself, no treachery had been committed; Ashara only confided that Lyra was being plagued by nightmares again. The woman did not even know what to do for her friend. "Lady Ashara heard tale of a witch who lives in the woods, she has gone herself with some other ladies—"
"Maggie the Frog is nothing but trouble," Ser Addam intervened before Bron could finish.
"And she is known for being a seer, a prophet, a healer even. A lady was having troubling dreams, but after goin' to the witch-lady, she hasn't had trouble since." Not that Bron believed in magic and prophecies any more than the knight opposite him, but Lady Lyra seemed to be like any Northerner—superstitious. He hoped that seeing the woman perform her empty rituals would be harmless so long as she did as promised and put his lord's lady's mind at ease.
"You seem to have heard of her Ser Addam, pray tell, what have you heard?" The aging knight straightened, and with a misty look in his moss-green eyes, he recounted the story he heard.
"The woman was married to a spice lord from Essos, Lord Tywin—may he rest in peace—made her husband a lord, he was known for being a good negotiator. Apparently, he is the reason for such strong trading ties between Essos and Westeros, at least, this is what some say…Maggy has always dealt in cures, even when she was a lady at court, eventually, she began to make love potions for the other women, until Lord Tyran put an end to it—he threatened to banish her and her husband for bringing disgrace to their liege lord in the form of spreading falsehoods and superstitions…and then Lord Tyran was mauled to death by a lion whilst out hunting with House Lannister. The odd part is, Lord Tyran was in the middle of the party, the lion went directly for him, while ignoring all of the other Lannisters around them. We weren't even in the crags…" Addam added that last part in a whisper. "It is believed that Maggy can do more than folk cures, potions, and the occasional spell, she is also believed to be able to influence and view forces beyond the physical realm of men." Addam's eyes flashed with fear and reverence after he finished speaking of this woman.
"If you go Lady Lannister, you must take care"
Pretending to go out to Lannisport for some of their freshest fish was easier than Lyra thought. The winds were getting colder, and Lyra now had to wear an orange-gold woven shawl with her warm finely spun ivory woolen dress. Her hair whipped around her and Lyra regretted not having it braided or pinned up while Ashara, Bron, a couple of soldiers, and herself, trekked through the almost-bare woods just outside of Lannisport.
A wicker-looking hut made from various branches, carefully twisted and curved to make the walls and roof seamless. Maggy's hut looked and felt exactly as Lyra thought it would; earthy, creaky, and dark. Something familiar, yet nameless, clung in the air too…Lyra swore she was feeling magic. Magic of the Old Gods, the magic that Old Nan used to tell tales of. Magic that punished and cured, a light side and a dark; two sides of the same coin.
Lyra approached the ragged wooden door to the hut carefully and knocked.
Waiting a moment, they heard a rustling before the door opened, revealing an old crone.
"Lyra Stark," the old woman smiled, eyes bagged, dull, yet wild. A once maybe pretty face, now wrinkled and withered, Maggy smiled with crooked crusted teeth, "I was wondering when you would come to see me." The door opened wider, and Maggie walked back into the smokey dimness.
Motioning for everyone to wait, Lyra stepped in, "Shall I close the door ma'am?" Lyra was a guest in this woman's…hut after all.
Maggy could feel faint traces of magic in Lyra's bones. Some of it, the young lady had from the moment of birth, and some, blessed by the Gods. "Please do."
The door closed and Lyra was in a warm, suffocatingly warm hut, surrounded by candles. An acrid smell hung in the air, different from the magic outside; this magic felt darker.
"I see that the God's have blessed you with a little magic," Maggy lit a pipe, and handed it to Lyra. She initially refused, but Maggie warned her that it would help her read her dreams more accurately.
"Which Gods?"
Maggie's mouth slowly creaked into a crooked smile, "all of them."
"I don't understand, the Old gods or the New?"
Maggy didn't answer, she only puffed on her pipe. Jagged yellow teeth clung on to the old black wood pipe. "I was a pretty young thing once." She said, almost answering Lyra's thoughts of her uncomeliness. "It's easy to be young and pretty though when you eat and live well." An almost prideful smile showed itself on Maggy's face, "my husband was absolutely mad for me. My handsome, sweet, naïve husband…bah! If it weren't for me, we would have been swindled from every deal." Maggy let out a restrained "hah" and took another puff. Her dark eyes becoming redder from the smoke.
Lyra smiled at Maggy, the stories were often far more exaggerated about an odd person, Maggy seemed relatively harmless so long as one followed her rules. Of course, not many higher-ranking women would even consider seeing themselves as guests seeking help in this woman's home. Lyra couldn't imagine the mistreatment.
"Maggy," Lyra began, "that is what you want to be called right? Maggy?"
No response, so Lyra took it as a "yes".
"How's the Golden Lion' cubs?" Maggie suddenly asked. A laugh on her face.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Oh! Don't be stupid, that's not you! You know exactly who I'm talking about."
Lyra stopped for a moment before wanting to smack her head, she means Jaime and Cersei and their children. "Myrcella and Joffrey are dead, Cersei is going insane…but you already knew that didn't you?"
Only a smile changed on Maggy's face, "I wanted to know if he told you or not. I'm surprised. Even more so that he can feel attraction to any other woman. What's your secret?" Maggy twirled some of Lyra's silky hair.
Lyra didn't want to linger on Jaime's incest. "My dreams—my nightmares—what do they mean? How can they stop?"
"Oh, they don't stop dear, you're a vessel for destiny, you're only along for the ride," she said with a mocking tone.
"Okay, then, what does it mean? What am I supposed to do?" The dreams were instructions that Lyra didn't completely understand.
Sighing so deeply, some smoke lingering in her lungs leaked, "give me your hand."
Lyra complied. Maggy took the bandage off one of her freshly cut fingers and sucked it into her mouth. Humming, her eyes stayed closed, but Lyra could see her bulging eyes moving beneath the thin skin of her lids.
Everything then stood still, even the air in the hut seemed to still. Then, Maggy's eyes shot open, and she cackled like the mad woman she was.
"The bride of the Bright Lion, destiny has chosen you to face not one, not two, but three queens! The Queen of Gold, the Queen of Ice, and the Queen of Fire!" Maggy Cackled on. "The Lone Wolf becomes the Bright Wolf when ice becomes fire, the great battles are coming, and you better be ready Lyra Stark!" Her eyes rolled back into her head and a boney finger was pointed at Lyra's breast. "You will become the lord you and those profiting from you have longed for you to become, but it will come at a high price: at dire times and high of costs, you will wield a sword brought here by destiny for three centuries. Magic must meet magic in your last fight."
"and that fight," Maggy neared so close, Lyra could smell her sour breath, "is coming as soon as winter." Maggy cackled madly.
That night, Lyra waited a good hour before tucking into dinner rather slowly. Her mind weighing heavy on her visit with Maggy, Lyra mostly ate for Rhaenys. She would have to put her on solid food soon though, after a moon of intense training, it was becoming harder and harder for her body to produce enough milk.
Jaime finally sat after Lyra was half-way done, gravely silent as well.
Giving Lyra a sad smile, he finally spoke, "It appears my sister can't be helped. The king is dead, and so is Queen Margaery. The Tyrells are advancing on the West and King's Landing."
Author's Note: How did you like Maggy's scene? I thought she was fun to write. I feel like her interaction with Lyra would have been creepy, but a little more lighthearted than the one she had with Cersei because Lyra at least shows Maggy some reverence.
Btw: I'm writing Lyra as an ENFP, how do you think I'm doing? Or does she seem more like a J? I feel like she's definitely an intuitive, but I could also see her as a sensor. What do you all think?