NOTE: Hi guys!
Finally, we are at kingslanding! I know I took my time, sorry ^^'
But now things are about to take a very VERY serious turn. Some of you were worried concerning the wolves and their potential death. Well, I obviously can't say much about them without revealing my plans but let's say this: i love the wolves. Like Love them. So, of course, I'm going to talk about them a lot and as much as I can!
That's all I'm going to say about that ^^
Now the chapter! Well, I'm not really a fan of this one. I changed it a lot so of course, I like it better than what it could have been, but i feel like this could have been even better. I don't know how, but I'm not satisfied with this result.
I found it's a feeling I have for all the part I planned in Kingslanding. Well in this book at least. It's something that has to happen and I plant a lot of seeds in this part but I don't really like it... Not as much as I liked the part in Winterfell at least xD. But maybe it's because of the characters? I mean I love the Starks and I really enjoyed writing the chapters in Jon's head so there's that...
Maybe I should write with another point of view? What do you think?
Would you like to see a chapter with another character's point of view in particular? Tell me! Of course, all the story won't be in Kyria's point of view but for now, I didn't really think about writing with someone else, except in a couple of chapters. What would you like to see?
As always thank you a lot for reading, commenting and following this story, I really appreciate it and it's always a pleasure to see what you think of my work. I am not a very self-assured person so everything you say is very important to me and comfort me in the idea that what I do isn't completely useless or dumb.
ANYWAY that's it for the sappy moment for now XD Enjoy this chapter and see you down there!
OoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
CHAPTER 11: Kingslanding
Year 298 AC middle of the Sixth Month
Kingslanding
Kyria
Two months. Two months. To reach the capital. Two freaking months.
An eternity. A very long very tiring eternity. That damned city couldn't arrive soon enough.
The morning they finally saw the high Towers of the Red Keep, and the great city that lived under, Kyria could have jumped out of this three times damned cart to run all the way through the city, just to finally be freed from this party, and the travel she had to endure for way too long.
The worst in all this, was that if not for the queen and her damned pauses they would have arrived way earlier.
She was happy to see the city gates and the large entry that opened to the first horses of their party. The King soon disappeared into the city, surrounded by his Kingsguards and other loyal soldiers.
Loyal to whom, that was the great question.
The hideous wheelhouse of the queen entered the city, followed bit he other Kingsguard who had joined the party after Harrenhall. Kyria's eyes found the white head of Ser Barristan Selmy. Her heart squeezed at the memories of big hopeful eyes, begging her to read the stories of the knights.
She didn't talk with the old commander of the Kingsguard. Seeing him was too painful already. Like a reminder of the mistake she made, and the consequence it had on her family.
"Kyria?" asked Sansa softly from her right.
Kyria blinked and looked at the soft face of her little sister.
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, pardon me Sansa but- I thought about Bran," she confessed.
Sansa's face fell. She looked at the land around them, her eyes soft and sad.
Kyria bites her lip, feeling guilty for reminding Sansa of their dear brother, and what happened to this oh so sweet boy.
Sansa put her head against her sister's shoulder, and Kyria let her. From the corner of her eyes, she found Father's, who looked at them with soft eyes. Kyria smiled.
She thought she saw her father respond to it, but, a loud whine from Nymeria stopped her.
"Nymeria?" called Arya worried.
"What is it?" asked Sansa.
The great wolf was shaking his head, soon followed by Lady and Frost who each seemed to fight something.
It took them a minute to understand what the problem was.
The smell.
She should have known truly. With a city as big as Kingslanding, so full of people, how could it be otherwise?
Even more so, now that she thought about it, with the rich and the poor leaving so close to each other. Everyone shit and get dirty. But not everyone can clean it up later. As they passed through the Lion's gate, Kyria wondered how the city was dealing with the… waste of its inhabitants.
Not well apparently, if she could trust the smell.
"That's awful" complained Arya her sleeve against her nose.
"It's the smell of half a million people my girl," said Lord Stark from his horse.
Hm.
"Who would want to leave in a city that smells so bad?" asked Kyria with a frown.
"It's the biggest city in the country! It's where live the King. And the court." said Sansa.
"I wouldn't leave here, even if it means it's the same place then the court."
"I'm afraid Arya that it is what we are about to do," answered Kyria with a smile.
Lord Stark smiled.
"It's true. No matter the smell, we have to get used to this place. This is where we are going to live for at least six moons."
"That long?" whined Arya.
"I don't think we will be able to make the way back home before that. With everything that I might have to deal with," explained Father with a worried frown.
Kyria frowned. Half a year. Somehow she didn't think it was going to be so short. She had a feeling that she couldn't get rid of no matter what, that she was not going to see her home for a very very long time.
She didn't like this idea. It made her regret, even more, her decision to come here. If it wasn't for her family, she might have just given up and asked to be taken back home immediately.
But she had Father, Sansa, and Arya too. She had all of them to think of. Even if she wanted to go back home, she was sure that at least Sansa and Father wouldn't follow. One out of duty, and the other in quest of living the songs she was so fond of.
Kyria had hoped, maybe foolishly, that their argument about Lady and Joffrey on the road would have put some weight in her sister's head. It had. For maybe two days. Then the Queen had shown another wonderful dress and hairstyle and one of her ladies in waiting had done her sister the honor of talking to her. She was lost again then.
Also, now that she was thinking about it, the girl didn't talk about Joffrey anymore. Or at least not the same way she did before.
Maybe all hopes were not lost for her feather-headed sister.
"Oh! Kyria look! The market!" chipped the girl her eyes huge and shiny.
"I see that." smiled Kyria.
"Do you think we will be able to find new fabrics for our dresses? From Lys or Pentos?" she asked hopefully.
"Sure. It's a port." shrugged Kyria.
Arya frowned her little nose at the idea. Lord Stark smiled with indulgence.
"Don't make that face Arya if they have fabric maybe Sansa will be able to sew you a pair of trousers."
The girl's face lights up immediately. Sansa opened a round mouth, looking offended at the idea. Then she closed it, thinking this through. Kyria laughed. Gods did that felt good.
She still had a pleased smile on her face when the cart finally went through the gates of the Red Keep.
She took the time to observe the massive building for the first time, her eyes huge. It was impressive. Higher than anything she ever saw, the stones looked red under the sun. She couldn't say if they were also. It was strange to see.
"Are the stones really red?" asked Arya curiously next to Sansa.
"Yes, actually," answered Kyria. "A pale red."
"Why?"
"I don't know. Maybe to match the Targaryen sigil." she answered, actually thinking about it. "their colors were black and red after all."
"No one really knows everything about the red keep. We only suppose." said lord Father still on his horse.
"But why? It's stupid. Why build a castle if no one knows it completely?" asked Arya.
"Oh there was one person who did," said Kyria slowly.
Both girls looked at her curiously. She briefly found Father's hard gaze. Ah. He didn't want her to talk about the… the bloody history of the building of the red keep. Innocent minds and all that.
Wisely, Kyria kept her mouth shut. It would do her no good to anger her father.
"Who?" asked Arya. "who Kyria?"
"Maegor Targaryen. The third King of the Seven Kingdoms."
"It's Maegor who ended the construction of the Red Keep." remembered Sansa.
Kyria nodded, keeping for herself the other part of this peculiar story. That Maegor organized a great feast at the end of the construction, for the builders and other workers who created his castle. That at the end of this feast, he killed them all, to be the only one who knew about the keep and its many secrets.
Too bloody for young minds she supposed.
"Oh! I can see the gardens from there! Is there a Godswood in the Red keep?" asked Sansa, already forgetting their previous conversation.
She was excited to finally be here. In the place, she dreamed of half her life. Arya tried to look too, and the discussion was forgotten. Kyria looked at Father again. His hard gaze hadn't left her.
"Your readings are… peculiar." he observed. "where did you learn this about the Keep?"
"In the Library," she said simply.
He huffed, a smile curling the corner of one lip.
"Clever girl..." he observed with pride.
Kyria blushed.
Finally, the engine of torture that dared be called a cart stopped, allowing his passengers to jump out of it and finally move their heavy legs. It was a blessing. She immediately joined Frost who was panting loudly. She gently rubs his head.
"I know boy, it stinks." she cooed slowly. "don't worry, you won't have to go in town. You'll stay in the Keep or the gardens. It'll be alright."
Frost huffed, sneezed and licked her face. She laughed.
While she was taking care of her big friend's sensibilities, Lord Stark climbed down from his horse, joining Lord Baelish who seemed to wait for him. They talked a moment, while Kyria showed the wolves the right way through the Keep.
"Maybe we should put some leaches to those beasts?" wondered Septa. "it wouldn't be proper to let them walk freely in such a place."
"No!"
"They are no dogs we can just lock up when it suited us the best Septa. They are our companions. No one will put leaches on them." said Kyria, before Arya could speak her mind in any one of her… illustrated ways.
"This is not the north here young lady!" protested the religious woman.
"And we are not from the south," she answered.
No one was going to put chain on her wolf. Not on her watch.
"Septa." called Lord Stark before she could say anything else. "bring the girl and their wolves to the Tower of the Hand I will join you for the meal."
"Yes my lord," bowed the woman.
Thank you, Father.
Dutifully, the girls followed their Septa, Arya's little hand pressed in Kyria's larger one. Sansa was walking directly next to the woman.
They went through different large corridors, each one heavily decorated. The girls looked around them with large eyes, drinking in everything they could observe.
The place was wonderful. As they made their way to the great wall and the corridors, joined by occasionals choruses of "ooh" and "aah" to almost everything they could lead their eyes on.
"Look at the garden! Oh, Kyria look!" called Sansa as they made their way to the stairs leading to the Tower of the Hand.
"They're big..." observed Arya, not that interested by her sister's fuss.
"Yes, yes, of course, they are wonderful. But let's keep going my girls, we'll have all the time to discover the castle and its wonder later. Go on, go on, we are not close to the tower yet," ordered the Septa, pressing them to come with a wave of her hand. "The garden will still be here after your bath."
"A bath? But Father said we were going to eat!" protested Arya.
"Are you saying you're not tempted by a bath? To finally smelling something else than dirt and sweat and horse shit?"
Sansa squeaked.
"Kyria, do not talk like that." protested the girl.
"Why? It's true. How else do you want me to call that? Horse waste? Poop?"
Sansa puffed her cheek red. Arya laughed.
"Maybe a bath is not a good idea.," she confessed.
Kyria snorted.
"Lady too," adds Sansa flatting her wolf's back. "We could certainly make a road with all the dirt on our dresses,"
"Now that's a bit exaggerated. A little mount maybe," said Kyria, shaking her skirt. A large cloud of dust flew around her, very visible with the rays of sunshine.
Frost sneezed again. Shacking his big bead to chase away the nasty dust. Arya giggled.
It took some time to discover the infamous Tower of the Hand. The first thing Kyria thought about it: it was high. Higher than anything she ever climbed in her life.
That explained the endless stairs they had to climb.
Like the rest of the keep, it was beautiful. Full of light and great rooms. The columns were horned with beautiful leaves painted in vivid colors. Kyria took a minute or two admiring it. The windows were wide and larger than any of those back home. They didn't seem to have glass on it. It was more something like an open balcony than a window. Something utterly impossible back home. Not with the snow and the cold of the Winter. But, here, in the south...An advantage to bring in the light. The view of the city, the gardens, and the sea was breathtaking.
Truly breathtaking.
"Kyria! Did you see the balcony?" chipped Sansa, already in there.
"Look! I can see the training yard from here!" called Arya, her little hands grabbing the edge of the guard-rail.
"Ladies, please!" called Septa with impatience.
Sansa blushed and step away from the window, her hands quietly pressed in front of her, but Arya ignored the woman, too busy admiring everything her big eyes could take from the lands above them.
"There are several rooms here my ladies. This way please." said the servant that was accompanied them.
A pretty blond thing, like the majority of the staff around here. She looked pale and stood as far as she could from them without appearing impolite. The wolves certainly.
"Thank you," said Kyria softly.
The girl nodded and turned on her heels, inviting them to follow her step into the corridor.
There were at least ten rooms on this floor. Six different bedrooms, including one for the Hand of the King, recognizable by its width, and five others, slightly smaller. Then there was a large solar, something akin to a dining room, and a small living place in the far end of the corridor, facing the sea. According to the decoration, it must be something for the women. To sew, or draw, or whatever else women were supposed to do in this place. Gossip maybe.
Kyria chooses to occupy the room the closest to the main room. To know when they had visitors. She knew her father was never going to include her in his new position, or anything related to politics. Or powerplay. So she had to manage on her own. Knowing when they had visitors could help in this aspect.
She let her sisters and septa choose their new rooms and closed the door behind her. Once alone with Frost, she waited a couple of seconds for the excited talk to go away a little before finally doing what she was dying to do since she left Winterfell.
She promptly collapsed in her bed, in the most unladylike manner she could wield. Finally! A bed! A Real Bed! Not a tent or an excuse of a mattress like the ones she experienced in the few inns they discovered during their travel.
A true blessing for her tired bones. She immediately felt all the tension on her muscle relax, slowly transforming her in a large puddle of gee. She was close to falling asleep when someone knocked on the door.
She may have done just so, for as she let the woman, a handmaiden as golden as the gilding of the wall enter, the sun was higher in the sky than for an average morning.
It was close to midday. And hot.
The girl bowed to her, her eyes nervously stopping on Frost's large body displayed on the cold floor of the room before going back to her. Hm.
"Lady Kyria," her pretty visitor said, "I am asked to take care of you during your stay here my lady. My name is Sara."
Kyria blinked. What? Handmaiden? For her? Why?
"I beg your pardon Sara, but I already have my handmaid," she said back, surprised.
The girl looked up, blinking two big blue eyes back at her. Her thick blond locks waving softly with the movement of her head. Again, a pretty thing.
"But my lady… The Queen requested us to take good care of our guests. You are the daughter of a very important man, you and your sisters must have a proper care."
"The Queen?"
Why would she want to gift us with another-
Oh. Could this be… No. Why would she do such a thing?
But… Ser Jaime did warn her after all. The Queen didn't like her. She felt insulted by her. Kyria had dared stand up to her. It was logic for Cersei to be wary of her now. To want to know everything about her whereabout.
But still… could she send her a spy? In her household? Just because of what happened on the road?
"The Queen send you?" she asked again, her voice slightly cooler.
The girl didn't seem to notice. She nodded happily like it was the best thing ever happening to her. Kyria immediately disliked her for this. Everything about her seemed false. Not at all sincere. Exaggerated.
Kyria sighed. She didn't like this. She didn't like this at all. Not being able to say anything that passed her mind in her private chamber was going to be annoying. But she didn't have a choice. She couldn't in good conscience send the girl back to her Queen. It would be an insult to the woman. And she was already on thin ice with her. She'll have to deal with it.
At least she was the only one the Queen was wary of. Or so she hoped.
"Very well then," she said with another sigh.
"Would you like to change your clothes? Take a bath maybe?"
Sara blinked her big eyes. Alright then, you want to play nice? Thought Kyria. Let's play nice.
"Yes, very much so." she smiled. "Would you be so kind and fetch for Maerys? She's my handmaiden, and she may have all my things,"
"Of course my lady," bowed the girl.
She disappeared so quickly some may have thought she vanished. Kyria sighed and dropped the cape wrapped around her shoulders. No wonder she was hot wrapped in this thing.
She couldn't go out of her dress on her own, the laces were on the back and way too tight for her to do anything about it. But she did pull off her boots. And her hair. The curls were a bit messy by the time she was done with it, but still, at least she succeeds pulling the pins out of her head. And oh didn't it felt good.
Kyria happily shacked her head, freeing a bit more the wide curls around herself. She chuckled then when part of it fell on her face like a big red curtain.
"Lady Kyria!" squeaked Maerys, appearing at the door, followed soon by a couple of Stark men, all caring her trucks. "Your hair!"
Kyria huffed playfully, pulling over one large lock to show her face again. She found the surprised face of her favorite handmaiden, whose gaze was traveling all the way to her thighs where her hair was puddling softly in a mess of curls.
"What my hair? I'm about to take a bath, the least I could do is pull off all those damned things inside."
"Y-yes but… they look..."
"Like a birds nest, I know..."
"You have… very long hair Lady Kyria" observed the new girl from behind her. Good gods, they had a smart one. Wonderfull. "Aren't they… too long?"
"I don't think so."
"But surely it must be-"
"I like them just the way they are Sara."
The girl didn't insist. Kyria happily paddled in the cool bath a couple of blond servants had prepared for her and let Maerys's expert fingers work on her head. Then, when her skin was cleaned of the dirt and strong smell of sweat, Sara's little hands applied a funny little lotion, smelling strongly of flowers. Maerys then gave her the dress Kyria had made along their way to the capital, helped with Sansa's expert embroidery and the handmaiden's silent support. It was strange, to have something so light on her. She felt like she would have felt completely naked in this dress if not for her petticoat and corset. But still. It was strange. She wasn't used to the feeling of silk against so much of her skin.
She had been afraid the dress might not fit. Fortunately, Sansa knew what she was doing.
"This is a beautiful dress my lady." complimented one of the nameless blond girls who had helped her dress.
They were far more than her usual dark-haired help.
"Thank you," smiled Kyria.
Another one spoke, freeing Kyria from the uneased feeling that kept finding her each time she looked at a blond head.
"Your father has returned from his reunion, my lady. They await you for dinner."
The girl nodded and make her way to the main room.
Sansa was already there, in a pretty pink dress that matched her pretty cheeks and bright eyes. She looked like a doll. The Septa was next to her, and from the corner of her eyes, Kyria could see Jory Cassel guarding them. He smiled at her. She smiled back, happy to know she could count on him to help and support her father. The gods only knew if he needed it.
"Your dress is very pretty Kyria!" chipped Sansa. "I knew the color would be perfect on you!"
"Thank you, Sansa," the girl blinked, her smile expecting something more. Right… courtesy. "This color suit you well sister. You're a delight,"
"Thank you!"
She looked so pleased no one would have been surprised to see actual flowers coming out of her head. Kyria stopped herself from rolling her eyes.
She knew her sister loved those things. But Kyria never gets the appeal of those meaningless conversations. Who would care at the end of the dress was of one color or the other? People were still going to mock you or find something wrong about you. Especially here, where some were already putting pawns in their household.
But Sansa looked enchanted, radiant as the sun bathed the room. Like she belonged here. A pretty winter rose in the summer sun.
"You are both very pretty my girls."
"Father!" welcomed Sansa, hugging him with enthusiasm.
Father's smile was joyful when his arms closed around his daughter. But there was something tense in the line of his shoulders. Something that hadn't been here earlier. The pin on his chest caught Kyria's eyes before she could question him. The Hand. It was official now. Did he already have trouble with the post? So soon?
"Is everything alright Father?" she asked.
Lord Stark looked at her.
"Yes, yes everything is fine. Don't worry Kyria."
Well… with a face like this, she might do just that.
Or not.
"Where is Arya?" asked Sansa before she could say anything else.
That was a good question...
"In her room for sure. Oh, this girl… I'll go get her." said the Septa with a shake of her veiled head.
Kyria looked at Sansa. The girl shrugged. It wasn't unusual, the little girl had taken this strange habit to disappear from time to time. She always came back and rarely harmed, so Kyria didn't really care. As much as she had been trying to help her sister grow out of her rebellion, she knew she was never going to succeed completely. Arya was still Arya. She'll never be as proper and perfect as Sansa, or even herself.
"What is she doing? She's often away recently..."
"I have no idea… She did it too sometimes at home. But I thought she might stop once away from Winterfell. What could monopolize her attention like that in a place she doesn't know?" asked Kyria, thinking through.
"I have no idea… Maybe she's exploring the tower? Like the liked to do at home in the woods."
Sansa's lip twisted in a pout.
"What?" asked Kyria.
"Nothing it's just..." she sighed. "I wished I could… I don't know discover the keep too. Explore."
"Why wouldn't you? We are here for a long time according to Father. And with your betrothal..."
Sansa smiled. It wasn't as bright as it had been before their trip, and the incident on the road with Lady, but she still liked the idea to be married to Joffrey. It was like she had forgotten the thing. Or didn't want to think about it. Kyria couldn't help but feel like her sister was still attached to her dream of becoming queen.
Kyria didn't know what to say. The situation was... complicated to say it lightly. Kyria knew she wasn't wrong about Joffrey, and her contempt for him. But Sansa… she didn't talk about it.
The young seer could only hope that those dreams were not going to hurt as much as she suspected when the prince crush them.
She knew it was foolish to hope so. But still. She hoped.
What else could she do anyway? She wasn't going to forbid Sansa from dreaming. That would be stupid.
"Oh Kyria, I forgot to tell you,"
"Yes?" she said.
"About Prince Joffrey and the Queen, did you know that back home when I went to see her in the main table she-"
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS!?"
Both girls jumped out of their skin. What in the seven- Kyria had just the time to turn around, when Septa Mordane appeared, looking furious. She was dragging along an equally furious Arya by the arm, her face red. On the woman's other hand, there was a long shiny stick.
No, not a stick, Kyria realized. A sword. Smaller than anything she ever saw, and somehow familiar...It took her a moment to recognize from where.
"Lord Stark!" snared the religious woman in outrage. "This little monster is- She's unbelievable!"
"Septa Mordane please calm down and explain yourself, what is happening?"
The old woman threw her arm in front of her, pulling Arya with it and put a hand on her chest, catching her breath.
"This little- Lord Stark this can not do! This girl can not continue to behave like some kind of savage in a place like this!"
"I'm not!"
"You are, young lady and you know it perfectly! Oh your poor lady Mother, if she knew-"
"And what did she do Septa?" cut Father his voice stern.
"She stole a sword!"
"No! It's mine! Don't touch it it's my sword!"
"Liar! You are a thief and a liar young lady! You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"No! I'm not lying!"
"Alright enough! Both of you!" ordered the Lord with a strong voice.
...Wow. Even if it was not her, Kyria felt chastised. She looked at Sansa, who was looking at her hands. She was not the only one.
They all fell silent. Father's eyes went from Arya's face to Septa's.
"Now, Arya, where did you get that sword?"
"I did not steal it! It's mine!"
"This is not what I am asking you Arya," said Father. "Where did you get it?"
The girl frowned but didn't answer.
"Arya."
"It's a gift! Someone gave it to me, as a gift."
A gift? Who would-
Oh. No, he wouldn't have… But then maybe he did. It wouldn't have been really surprising if she thought about it.
"Who?"
Arya shut her mouth and crossed her arms against her chest.
"Arya."
"I can't tell."
"Because it's a lie! She stole the sword! Oh, you foolish girl think of the poor knight you stole too! How can he protect us if you take his weapon! What is going on in this head of yours I'll never know!"
"I didn't steal it! It's mine!"
"It's not a sword for a knight Septa."
Three sets of eyes fell on her. Kyria tried to ignore the heat on her cheeks.
"And how do you know this Lady Kyria?"
"I read a book a while ago. Something about the different kinds of swords. This one is not a sword for a Knight. Or any warrior on this side of the narrow sea."
"And what is it?"
"It's a sword for Water dancing," she said, her voice maybe higher than usually. "A kind of fighting style common in one of the free cities. Braavos I think."
As she was talking, Father took the sword from Septa's hand and looked at it carefully.
"This is Mikken work. Arya who gave you this?"
"It was a gift… from someone back home."
"Who Arya?"
"I promise to keep it a secret!"
Father made a noise with the back of his throat. He looked at the sword again, testing its weight in his hands with great attention. Then, to the Septa's outrage, he hands the sword back to Arya.
"Take it," he said.
"Lord Stark!"
"But careful Arya. This is not a toy."
"I know! I'll be careful I promise!" smiled the girl. "I can really keep it?"
"On one condition."
"What?"
"Do you know how to use it?"
"I'm not stupid."
"Lady Arya!"
Sansa hides her mouth in her hand and looked at Kyria. She couldn't tell if it was from embarrassment or amusement, but her eyes were shining. Kyria bites her lips. No matter how many times she saw it, it never gets old. She knew she shouldn't, but there was nothing funnier than Septa getting angry at Arya while Father defended her. The expression she made when she tried to control her fury was wonderful. She always took the more interesting colors.
"Do you?"
"Yes! Stick them with the pointy end." she pipped proudly.
Kyria exploded. It just busted out of her chest, like a cracking fire. She dissolved in a puddle of giggles against Sansa's shoulder.
"What? Why are you laughing? It's true!"
"Yes- Yes I know it's just- I think there may be more in swordsmanship than just-" she tried to explain between her laugh.
It wasn't even that fun, but the face she pulled while saying it, was hilarious. At least for her. She had looked so proud. Like she was repeating a lesson well learned. But again, maybe she did.
Father smiled and pat Arya's hair fondly.
"We'll talk again later Arya. Now go put your sword away, your sisters are waiting for us to start their meal."
Arya flew out of the room. Septa looked at her, still unhappy by the conversation, and vaguely excused herself from their meal. Once the woman out of the room, Kyria giggle again, this time with Sansa who seemed more gifted in self-control.
"Will you really let her keep the sword Father?" she finally asked, wiping a tear from under her eyes.
Good gods, she needed this!
"Yes, if she is careful with it," he responded while sitting in front of Kyria.
"But- She could hurt herself?" worried Sansa.
The oldest smiled.
"I think she could have been hurt for a long time now."
Sansa looked at her.
"What do you mean?"
She bites her lip. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to talk about it with Father in front of her.
The man seemed to have read her mind, as he said:
"Do you know who gives this sword to your sister Kyria?"
...Well, she had been a bit obvious. She needed to learn to keep her mouth shut.
"Well… I don't know it for sure but- I may have a little idea… maybe?"
"Who would do that?" asked Sansa. "Mother would be furious if she knew it."
"Well… I see only one person..."
"Who?"
"Jon." sighed Father. "Of course it's Jon."
"Jon?" repeated the redhead beauty. "But- He left for the Wall last year when could he-"
She didn't end her sentence, her lips forming a little 'o' when she realized what it means.
"If Jon asked her to keep it a secret she could have done so since then. She's stubborn enough for that."
"It's possible," said Father.
Sansa opened her mouth again, but the sound of hurried feet against the floor stopped her. Arya came back in the room with a wide smile on her face. She hugs Father closely for a second before sitting on her chair.
"You'll have to learn how to use this sword Arya," said Father.
"Will you teach me?"
"I'll find a way."
Arya smiled wider. Nothing could make her lose it that day. Kyria and Sansa exchanged a glance. Now that was interesting.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
The iron Throne.
She had wanted to see it almost since she knew she was coming. A part of her couldn't help but feel curious about it. This was the main subject of everyone's desire. Or at least it felt like it. Every nobleman, woman or child wanted to sit on the iron throne in Kingslanding. It was the reason why they lived so close to a city that stank that much. It was the reason why everyone was scheming. For the Power.
And the one who sits in the Iron Throne had this Power.
The Iron Throne. Legendary. The last remaining symbol of the Targaryen's extinguished power and wealth.
A thousand swords of Aegon's enemies, brought to him after his conquest of six of the seven kingdoms to be melted in one single chair. A proof that Westeros had bowed in front of the great Conqueror, and his Dragons. A proof that no one had dared to try to defeat him.
Well, almost. History tended to forget Dorne. Or the North even. Thorren had to bend the knee to save the North after all. Aegon didn't conquer it. No one ever did. Except for the Stark.
The Iron Throne. So many stories talked to it.
Kyria thought about all of then as she stood in front of it. She thought about it, as she heard Septa Mordane's voice explaining to Sansa what was supposed to be her destiny. She had wanted to come with them, out of curiosity more than to hear what their dear Septa had to say about that.
Now that she was looking at it, in the empty Throne room, there was only one thing in her mind.
"What do you think Kyria?" asked Sansa, taking her arm.
Kyria slowly blinked and looked at her sister.
"It's wonderful, isn't it? Impressive also," commented the Septa. "it is said that only a King worthy of the crown can sit on the Throne and leave it without any scratch from the swords. They are all as sharp as the day it was forged."
"Are they?" Kyria asked distractingly.
"I think it quite… intimidating." confessed the sweet girl. "what about you, sister?"
"Boring," she said. "Boring and old."
"Lady Kyria!"
"There is no more than a couple of hundred swords in this. It was said to have been made with the Thousand sword of Aegon's enemies," she said. "A lie apparently."
"Lady Kyria, this is not a thing to say in such a place."
"Why not? Saying it somewhere else wouldn't prevent it to be the truth. The truth is the truth, no matter what."
"Wise words my lady."
The three women turned on their heels, already bowing. In front of them, a small bald man, covered in silks and heavily perfumed. His hands were hidden in his large sleeves and he looked at them with small dark knowing eyes.
"Lord Varys." presented the Septa. "These are Lady Kyria and Sansa Stark, the new Hand's daughters." she then turned to the girls. "ladies, this is Lord Varys, Masters of Whispers in the great Council."
"A pleasure my Lord," said Sansa politely.
Kyria only nodded.
"The pleasure is all mine dear child." smiled the man. " I couldn't help but heard your conversation, about the throne." he then said.
Well, that was surprisingly direct.
"Oh, we were just-"
"Observing a lie."
Kyria felt her cheek flush with embarrassment. Said like that it was quite insulting.
"Oh do not be embarrassed. It is true after all, that the Iron Throne is not really what some might expect it to be. It's always… smaller. Some might think that a thousand sword could be more… intimidating."
"Something like that." agreed Kyria.
The man nodded and looked back at the Throne. Kyria took the time to observe him.
She felt wary. Like with everyone around here truly, but this man. He was the Spider. The one who knew everything about everyone. The master of spies and secrets. She didn't like him. And yet, it was not as with Baelish, who was rubbing her the wrong way.
She needed to be careful.
Somehow, she started to feel like it was going to be a common recurrence.
"I will leave you to your lessons then young ladies." said the man after some time of silent observation. "I'm afraid I just interrupted you."
"Don't worry Lord Varys, we were done here," said Kyria with a smile. "But thank you, for your consideration, regarding our education,"
"Oh it is a pleasure," answered the man, a tingling light in his eyes. "educated young people are the true treasure of the crown,"
Of course…
With one last bow, the man leaves them, slowly fading in the endless corridors. Sansa turned wide eyes to her sister.
"What… why were you saying those things? What were you talking about?"
"Future. Knowledge" enumerates Kyria thoughtfully.
She left there, abandoning a confused Sansa and her Septa in front of the Throne room.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
There were a lot of things to see in the Keep. Inside, outside, in the gardens, even the city itself. Everything was interesting. And wonderful in a way.
The keep was wonderful, so full of life, of thing to do, to discover, to learn, to see...The gardens were wonderful, full of life and large enough for their wolf to properly enjoy the outside air.
Their favorite place, of course, was the Godswood. She had been surprised to discover such a place that far south. There was no weirwood, not like back home. Not even like the one she found on the road. But it was big enough and… somehow, it was enough to feel like the old gods were here.
There was the library, no doubt the best place Kyria ever visited.
If there was one thing she liked more than anything else, it was the Library. She fell in love with this place. So big, so full of books, about so many subjects. Many more than she could ever read in a lifetime. Or two.
There were entire sections designed to each country of the Seven Kingdoms, the legends, the tales… There was one about each one of the free cities of Essos, about the empires that prospered there, the Valyrian, the Ghiscary one, the Dothraki see, Yi ti, Ashai… So many lands she barely knew, so many things she could learn.
It was mind-blowing. She could happily have spent all her life in this place. Buried in those books. She could have spent her life here and be perfectly happy.
Living in the keep wasn't so bad.
It would have been perfect in fact, or at least close to, if not for the rest. The people… The people felt wrong. She could still feel the Queen's eyes following her, observing Sansa when she was walking around in the gardens, eyeing the wolves like a contagious disease. She could still see Joffrey parading in the corridors like a peacock in vibrant red, or gold. Smiling at her sister, with this glint in his eye. One of those we rarely like when we know where to look.
She could see Father, coming back from his day with dark circles around his eyes.
Some days it was easy to forget why she was here. Some days she forgot everything. It was so easy. There were so many things to think of, so many distractions.
Like tourneys. When Father announced the Tourney in his honor, Sansa's excitation had been more than anything she ever saw in the girl. She was so happy, so excited at the mere idea of admiring knight send her straight to heaven. It was her wildest dream.
The thing she wanted more than anything since she knew it was going to happen.
"Oh, Kyria that'll be wonderful! Imagine! Our first tourney ever!" she pipped pulling Kyria's hand with every word.
It almost hurt. Those archery skills were starting to have an effect on her.
"Yes… wonderful..." she answered, more to sue the girl than anything else.
"Aren't you excited?"
"I don't know… I'm not sure about Tourneys… Watch people try to hurt themselves all day..."
She never gets the appeal of it. Watching people fight… well, she did that at home with Jon and Robb when they were training. But they never wanted to hurt the other. Those men in Tourney… some of them died sometimes.
She didn't get the appeal in seeing someone die for glory. Who cared about glory once you're buried under tons of dirt?
All in all, the experience was mixed. It probably would have been better in other circumstances.
The best thing about it was the discovery. Every day was something new. A place, a street, a shop. Of course, she was rarely alone, but good gods if it wasn't wonderful to learn all those things.
"Why are you going outside all the time Kyria?" asked Sansa one day.
"Why not? Don't you want to discover the city?"
The girl frowned.
"It's dangerous outside of the keep. The streets are dirty and- and there is thiefs walking around..."
"Who told you that?"
"The maid… and Septa too,"
"Well yes, but that does not mean we have to stay locked up in the Keep all days," she responded with a shrug of her shoulders.
Sansa nodded. Kyria looked at her, then at the people around them.
"Would you want to come with me?" she asked innocently.
"Me?"
"Yes, you!" she smiled. "We could bring Arya with us if you want. Or go by ourselves."
Sansa hesitated for a second. She bites her lip and looked through the window.
"It won't be dangerous?"
Kyria shacked her head.
"Jory will send men to come with us. And we'll have our wolves! Come on Sansa, you'll like it!"
She accepted. She didn't look enchanted by the idea, but for now, Kyria couldn't ask more. Besides, she didn't like the Queen's always following gaze on her sister. And the hate in her cold green eyes.
They went to their tour the following afternoon. As Kyria expected, there were a lot of things to see in the city. The shops, the grand Sept, and the people, of course. Sansa spends a good hour in one of the shops, her hands buried in colorful silk and fabric. The delight on her face when she looked at her new piece of fabric was priceless.
Along their walk, as Kyria was looking at a slack full of fascinating pieces of iron forged in pretty jewelry, a flash of red caught her eye. She looked up, alert. Next to her, Frost sniffed the air around them curiously. Was that-
"This way my lady," said a man at the end of the street.
There were a couple of men in light armor, shielding other people from curious gazes. They seemed in the middle of a discussion, and Kyria looked at them for a time, curious to see what caught her eye in this picture.
"Is everything alright Kyria?" asked Sansa next to her.
"Yes, I just- I thought I saw something here..."
"What?" she asked, looking in the same direction.
She didn't see a thing, as the men had disappeared in the crowd.
"Nothing..."
She must have dreamed it…
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Sometimes, late in the night, Kyria thought about home. Winterfell, what she left there… Her discussions with Robb. Their plans.
She thought about her purpose on this trip, the reason why she came to this place. It was hard, to think about it. After Bran…
She would have loved for all of it to be a mere coincidence. That Bran fall had nothing to do with… whatever was happening to her. Some times, she could almost convince herself. But then she looked at the tourney coming closer and closer every day, at the King just as drunk and foolish and… whatever else he was she didn't want to think about. She thought about the Queen and the look she gave them, the Prince who seemed to pout in his room most of the time. Or at least when Sansa requested to visit him. Which was not as often as she might have thought…
And most of all, she thought of Father, and the tired face he now showed every day. Dark circles always a bit more dark around his eyes. Day after day.
Even if it wasn't true. Even if everything was just… some hallucinations or nightmares caused by her strange mind or whatever… Something was still happening here. The truth was, she still had no idea how to make things right.
She wanted to talk to her father… but to say what? What could she say?
She knew… well, she thought that something bad was about to happen. To her father, to her family… It didn't matter to whom. What mattered, is the sad thought that it was the only thing she knew.
"I don't know what to do..." she whispered in the night.
She heard a whimper somewhere in the room. Then a wet nose snuggled her cheek. With a breath from her nose, she gently scratched her wolf ears. Thank the gods for Frost. She felt safe with him around.
Some night she couldn't sleep at all, haunted by her own words and actions and visions and possibilities and so many things at the same time.
So many things…
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
"Kyria?"
She jumped out of her skin.
"Arya!"
The girl giggled.
Kyria tried to ease up her heartbeat. What was wrong with this girl and her unstoppable desire to snick behind their back like some kind of shadow?
"Why do you always do that?"
The girl shrugged, still smiling. She seemed strangely excited.
"I have to show you something!"
"What?"
She bounced on her toes like an excited little bunny.
"It's- Father- He found me a teacher!"
Kyria blinked. What? A teacher? What was that about? Why would Father-
…
Oh.
Ooh...Would he?
Of course, he would… if she could keep the sword he would ask her to learn how to swing it.
"A teacher?" she repeated.
She nodded eagerly.
"What teacher?" asked Sansa, stepping inside Kyria's room wrapped in a pretty blue dress with flowers around the collar.
Somehow, with each day passing, Sansa's dresses seemed to be prettier and prettier. She seemed like a fish in the water around here.
At least she was still enjoying their company.
Kyria was scared of that sometimes. When Sansa had her afternoons with Myrcella, or when she saw the Queen or the Queen's ladies talking to her. She didn't want this place to change what they had. Arya, Sansa and her. And she knew Sansa had dreamed of this place almost all her life.
"A teacher!" said Arya again, her face twisted with meaning.
A meaning Sansa didn't get apparently…
The little girl rolled her eyes with exasperation and grabbed her older sister's hand.
"Come I'll show you!"
"Wh- Arya wait!"
Sansa followed them with quick little steps her face confused. Kyria wasn't much better. She had an idea but...
"Arya, would you take two minutes to explain what is happening here?"
"You'll see! It's amazing! I didn't believe it when Father introduced him to me but he truly is amazing!"
"Who Arya?" asked Sansa. "Your teacher? But what is he teaching you?"
"I didn't like it first. I mean it sounded kind of pointless, but then he tried to teach me things and I felt like I made some progress!"
"Arya stop for a minute and explain!" asked Kyria.
The little girl shacked her head. She looked ready to burst with excitation. It may have been kind of funny if Kyria had any idea of what was happening. Why would a teacher be so exciting? Even one who teaches what Kyria thought he was. She could have taken the time to think about it more seriously of course, but she was too busy trying to follow Arya's steps without falling pathetically on her butt. For someone so small she did have some strength in those arms. And legs. And everything else.
The little girl leads them to a room around the middle of the tower of the Hand. It was a big circular room pretty much empty with large balconies allowing a great view of the city. In the middle of the room was the oddest man Kyria ever saw in her life.
He was small, with heavily curly black hair on the top of his head. A small beard around his mouth and wooden swords on his hands. His skin was darker than anyone she ever met, and his eyes were large and just as dark, heavy with wit and knowledge. He took a second to look at Kyria and Sansa, as a merchant look at a new cow. Kyria felt herself flush under this gaze.
"You are late boy. I said midday," he said finally.
He had a heavy accent that made Kyria blinked several times.
"I brought my sisters," responded Arya proudly.
"As I see..." he said with a nod of his head.
Kyria and Sansa exchanged a glance. So he was a swordmaster… But was it enough for Arya to be excited? Well, of course, she was about to be excited. But… that much?
"And does those boys want to learn too?"
"They could! We learn things together!" said Arya.
"We are no boys!" cut Sansa scandalized.
"And Syrio Forell is no Dancing Master. Does it matter so? You are here to learn how to dance."
"Dance? With wooden swords?"
"Are you from Essos sir?" asked Kyria.
"Syrio Forell was the first sword of Braavos for eight years," he responded proudly. "Now Syrio Forell is here. And he teaches little boys how to dance."
The tip of his wooden sword pointed Arya who beamed at her sisters.
"Father asked him to help me train. To learn how to use Needle properly. I thought you would want to learn too. Like with the bow back home."
"Arya… learning to shoot with a bow is something. Learning to fight with a sword..."Sansa looked at Kyria as if she might help her find a way to end that sentence.
Kyria didn't talk. She wasn't against it. On the contrary. It was a good idea… First sword of Braavos. She knew what it means. Or she thought so. At least she read about it in her book.
"Water dancing. You practice water dancing," she said to the man. Syrio Forell.
Syrio nodded.
"I do. You are a clever boy."
"I read the more gifted water dancer can fight without disturbing the water. So light and graceful it's like they are not even here."
He nodded again, a wide smile on his face. Sansa blinked.
"We could observe your practicing… at least today?" she proposed.
"What?" asked Sansa. "But-"
"It does not mean we are going to practice too. We are sot dressing for anyway. But I'm curious."
Sansa pouted a little but didn't complain anymore. Arya smiled and turned to her master. The man held Kyria's gaze for a moment, a calculating glint in his eyes, then he concentrates on Arya again.
Sansa and Kyria watched them for two hours. Kyria couldn't stop watching them. There was something hypnotic with the way Syrio Forell was moving. Arya, of course, didn't have this level of grace. But she had a good technique already. It did look a lot like a dance. Beautiful, gracious, light and deadly.
Sansa jump next to her when Syrio called it a day. She seemed to be just as fascinated by the experience as Kyria was. She hoped it convinced her to try it.
"So? What do you decide? Do you want to learn how to dance children?" asked Syrio Forell.
Sansa looked unsure, but Kyria didn't have to think about it.
"Why not? It's a beautiful dance."
Syrio smiled. Arya hugged her. It was a good day.
On the morrow, Kyria put on some pants she usually used for preserving her modesty while riding. She took the habit of wearing them under her skirt after the incident with Jon and Robb back in the day. In case something like that happens again. They used to be Robb's and despise her having grown a little since the time he gave them to her, they were still too big. But comfortable enough not to bother her while she'll practice. Or so she hoped.
She followed Arya to her lesson. Syrio Forell didn't seem surprised to see her. He gave her a wooden sword and put her in the right position. The thing was heavy in her hand but she did manage to hold it approximately the right way.
"I couldn't hold it without dropping it the first time. It was too heavy." noticed Arya.
"This child is older. More strength. The target is bigger." observed Syrio.
"The target?"
He nodded.
"When you hold this sword. You are the target. Your opponent will try to hit you. You have to hit first. Water dancing is grace and lightness. But also speed. A water dancer is quicker, more agile, than other dancers. He moves. Constantly. Have you already tried to catch a cat child?"
Kyria shacked her head.
"That is how fast you have to be. If you catch a cat that tries to escape, you are fast enough to be an interesting opponent."
"Only interesting?"
"All things in due time." smiled the man.
Arya giggled.
"You will practice against me first," he announced. "Then the child and I will teach you the moves. But you have to understand how to move against someone first."
Kyria nodded, and the practice begins.
It was… awful. She was awful at it. Like, really awful. She lost count of the times she fell after the twentieth, and Arya must certainly have won a couple of cramps with all the times she laughed at her account.
"Well we certainly have work to do." observed the Braavosi master.
"You think?" snorted Kyria from her post on the floor.
Arya laughed again. But it was another giggle that caught her attention.
"Sansa?"
The girl stopped laughing and blushed furiously. She was dressed in one of her old dresses, something Kyria didn't saw in almost eight-month, way before they left Winterfell.
Sansa looked down at her finger and took a deep breath.
"I thought- maybe I can… I don't know… try too?"
"You want to try?" repeated Arya.
She shrugged shyly.
" I- Well I liked it when we trained with the bow back home, and- And I think this… way of moving is very pretty so I thought..."
"There's nothing wrong with trying something new!" smiled Kyria.
"Well girl, you are welcome," announced Syrio.
Before she could change her mind, Sansa had to a wooden sword in hand. To say she looked awkward with it would be a euphemism. She didn't seem able to swing the sword properly, but she looked determined. For now, that was enough.
The following day, Sansa was back with them. As was Kyria. They soon followed Arya every time she went to her practice. They didn't end up practicing every time, as neither of them was as gifted as their little sister, but they liked to watch her train. She looked brilliant, and more at ease every time.
"She's good at this..." observed Sansa one day.
"Just as good as you with a bow," responded Kyria.
Sansa blushed.
"Maybe..."
Kyria smiled but didn't insist. It was a tough subject, and she knew that. As gifted as Sansa was with it, she didn't like people saying it to her. Sometimes Kyria felt like there were a lot of subjects she couldn't talk with Sansa. Joffrey, the bow… It was tiresome.
But she was willing to shut her mouth if her sister needed it. Besides, it wasn't her place to lecture her on whatever she felt like she needed to. Since her fall, it was the longest time they had without any dispute between them. All three of them were in good terms, and Kyria didn't want to ruin that.
Kingslanding was wonderful, so many things to do, so many things to learn.
So easy to forget everything else...
TBC.
So? What do you think? Good? Bad? Awful?
I'm so happy to finally see Syrio! What did you think of my idea of including Kyria and Sansa to those dancing lessons? I didn't really think about it when it happened. I just did it xD The characters kind of took control of the hole thing and before I could do anything Arya was showing her dancing master to her sisters. I kind of like this idea. Like the bow training. It's a way for them to have more options when things will turn badly ( because they will, let's be honest xD)
What do you think of Kyria in Kingslanding? I hope I didn't disappointed you in there. I really wanted to show that despite her intentions ot protect her family, she didn't has any idea how to do that and she's not very active in her search of a way. Bran being hurt despise her intervention kind of hit her hard. And so she does not want to try again and take the risk of things being even worse.
I'm not sure I made that clear in the chapter... It's a complicated thing, to translate the confused thought of a teenage girl trying to save her family while dealing with her own tendency to drama. Because yes, Kyria is dramatic as fuck XD
I never wanted to shade her in some kind of perfect girl who does everything right and has no default. SO I try to make her as human as possible with all kinds of faults and mistakes and stupid things to do, think or try. I don't know if it's really... well efficient.
I hope you enjoyed this chapter anyway. Do not hesitate to share your opinion with me I always appreciate it! I know I don't answer to all the comments I receive on this website and I'm sorry. It's wrong of me and I'll try to change that.
See ya next time!