NOTE: Hi guys!
I'm trying not to talk so much during those notes as I noticed I may be doing that a bit much, so I will only answer the reviews for the last chapter and then go directly for the chapter itself ^^
Guest: thank you ^^ It's not so much that I don't want to write from Cersei's point of view, it's more that I am scared to ruin her character if I do ^^. I hate Cersei but her character is much more complex than what I could make out of it if I let my hate for her show too much. If you know what I mean? But I'll see if I'll try or not ^^
Shade: thank you so much! I'm so happy to see you liked the last chapter! I hope you'll enjoy this one too! I'm very pleased that you liked Kyria's conversations with Varys and her interactions with other peoples along the way. I tried to be as logical as possible with the different characters and how they should react to each other... I hope I did it well here too.
M: Thank you so much! I'm glad you liked this ^^ I hope you'll enjoy this one as much!
Aright I leave you alone now ^^'
Chapter 15: The Last Try
Year 298 after the Conquest eighth and ninth month
Kyria
"It was a boar..."
"… Poor King..."
"So sudden…. Too much Wine…. Too quick….."
"He won't last now…."
She needed to leave. She couldn't stay here. She couldn't. She couldn't listen to this. This was too much. Too much for her.
This couldn't be happening. She tried so hard!
Why? Why was this happening? What did she do wrong? When did she mess up? She should have stayed home. Robb was right, she should have stayed home!
Home was safe! Home was familiar. Why did she do this?
She couldn't stay here.
As the panic was overwhelming her, clouding her mind like mist, Kyria left the main room, deaf to everyone's call. She couldn't stay here. She needed to think. To think and to find something. She didn't have the time anymore to slowly come with herself and her fears. The King was dying. The King was dying and there was nothing she could do about that.
Once he passed away, it would be Joffrey with a crown on his head. Joffrey and his mother.
Golden head. Golden crown...
Rolling, rolling…
No. No this couldn't happen. Not now. Not ever. She couldn't let that happen. There has to be something she could do! She had to try! Try, convince, talk, anything! She came here for this. Precisely for this. To avoid this mess.
She was scared. Terrified. Of what it meant. The death of the King. She didn't want it to happen. It couldn't.
At some point, the girl started to cry. She wept as silently as she could against the soft fur of her always a faithful companion. The beast tried his best to ease his mistress's pain, liking lovingly her cheeks, trying to erase the tears with his soft wet nose. Growling at any feet who dared come too close to the door.
It was mainly thanks to Frost, that Kyria Stark finally get a grip on her fears. She stayed a moment longer against the back of the massive wolf. Her eyes closed. Her heart beating fast, even as her breath was calm again. She could feel the salt of her tears drying on her cheeks, but she didn't move to rub it out.
She could have stayed here for hours, if not for the little mouse that sneaked under her room. Little padding feet came to her view, small and familiar.
"Kyria?" asked the soft voice of her little sister.
Arya.
The feet kneel and the small round face of the girl appeared, her big eyes searching in her sister's face. Searching for what? That was one of a question.
"Did you cry? You look like you cried. You're not sad because of the King, are you? He was stupid and fat and- stupid! Why would anyone be sad about his death?"
"He was Father's best friend," she mumbled back, her voice emotionless.
Arya snorted.
"And he's the reason why Father is injured now. He's walking with a cane! Father! That would never have happened back home."
It could have in fact. I could have happened everywhere.
"Anyone can be hit with a spear, sister," she said.
Arya snorted again.
"Not back home. No one would dare attack Ned Stark. He is their liege, Lord. They respect him! Besides, our family is powerful in the North!"
In the North only apparently.
"Why did you cry Kyria?" the girl asked again.
"Why not?" she said back, not feeling very concerned. "Joffrey is going to be King. I think it's a good enough reason to cry."
Arya didn't answer that.
The silence lasted until one of their servants shyly knocked on the door, softly calling for dinner.
For one second, she fantasizes about the idea of calling the girl off and staying there. But it wouldn't change anything. In the end, she would still feel miserable. Worse. Miserable and hungry.
Pointless.
Arya grabs her hand, and together, they left the safety of Kyria's room.
Father offered them a tired smile, the lines around his eyes deeper than ever. On instinct, Kyria went to him and wrapped her arms around his tensed shoulders. He looked surprised. They had never been fond of physical manifestation of attachment. It was something that wasn't done. But if there was one time when it was permitted, it would be now.
"I'm sorry for your friend Father," she said softly against her father's head.
Father sighed.
"He was never fit to be a King," he said softly. "He wasn't happy as a King. Maybe it's for the best."
"But he was still your friend."
Father nodded.
"He was. A long time ago."
"A long time ago?" asked Arya. "I thought he was still your friend."
Father sighed again.
"That man we welcomed at Winterfell, was very different than the man I used to know."
"Different? How? He was the King!" said Sansa candidly.
Sometimes Kyria felt like she was talking to the wind with Sansa.
"He wasn't like that before the Rebellion." said Father. "he wasn't so… so lifeless. I think this place did something to him. Made him lose part of himself."
The funny thing was that this city seemed to have the same effect on him. He looked more tired every day. More...fading. Kyria kept her mouth closed.
"But why? It's the capital! And he was the King, the most powerful man in all the seven Kingdoms!" chipped Sansa with confused eyes.
Again, talking to the wind… From the corner of her eyes, Kyria caught Arya rolling her eyes very hard. She bites back a small smile. Father snorted silently and patted Kyria's hand around his neck.
"Anyway, we won't stay here for long," he said confidently, his voice suddenly way louder.
Oh, thank gods.
"What?"
"Father!"
"What do you mean?"
"No! I don't want to leave! I'm to marry Joffrey!"
"Girls!" cut Father, his voice caring in the middle of the high pitched screams of his daughters.
The smaller girls fell silent in the same motion, their eyes burning with the need to share their minds. Kyria bites her lips.
"We are leaving soon. End of discussion. I came here to help my friend. With my friend dying, we are not needed there anymore."
"But Father, I'm supposed to marry Prince Joffrey and to have his babies!" protested Sansa.
Father grabbed her hand in his. Kyria took this opportunity to sit next to Arya who was frowning.
"You don't want to leave either do you?" she asked softly.
Arya nodded.
"I like it there." she pouted.
It took Kyria a second to understand why.
"It's because of Syrio isn't it?"
Arya nodded with a stronger put.
"Mother won't let me continue my training," she complained.
Kyria couldn't deny that.
"But it's him I want!" cut Sansa, her voice high pitched and very annoying.
She stood loudly, and left the room furiously, her cheeks red with anger and her steps quick. Kyria looked at her other sister, confused.
"What happened?" she asked, her eyes founding her father's on the other side of the table.
Father rubbed his face with both his hands.
"She does not want to leave and dissolve her betrothal with the Prince," he said simply.
Kyria blinked slowly. She didn't even think it was possible. The boy was the crown prince, to dissolve a contract with him might be dangerous for Sansa's reputation. As well as their family's. But then… the boy said they were his enemies. Maybe he'll do the job instead of them?
That said, she wasn't sure if this was better…
Gods what a mess…
"She's stupid! She knows how he is! He thinks we are the enemy! Why would she want to stay with this prick!?" she said furiously.
Father's eyes were sharp suddenly.
"What do you mean?" he asked sharply.
Arya blushed. "I heard him talk with the Queen. He said all the Stark are their enemies."
Father hummed pensively.
"I need to think."
Kyria blinked as Father stood up, ready to leave the room. She opened her mouth, to stop him maybe. Or to ask something. Anything. But nothing came to her mind.
She watched him leave the room, deep in his thought. A part of her was screaming to follow him, to talk to him. To try again, one last time to convince him to leave. Just leave this place without turning back.
It was foolish. He already said they were leaving. Why would she feel the need to convince him to do something he was already doing?
Unless… Her instinct had already fooled her. Preventing her about Bran, only to punish her later.
But they also helped her save Lady back on the road.
"Kyria?" asked Arya somewhere next to her.
In the end, she decided it without really thinking about it. Abruptly, she stood up and followed her father's steps, mumbling some excuse to her sister on the way.
She found him close to his chambers. His head low and his breath loud.
"Father?" she asked softly.
He sighed.
"Not now Kyria."
"Father please," she said again.
He sighed.
"Kyria..."
" I just need-" she sighed. Not angry. Don't talk while angry. "Father, what is about to happen now? What will you do?"
"Kyria this is not the time to-"
"But it is! Father, I told you what I saw! Your head falling from your shoulders, the King asking for your head-"
"Kyria I told you-"
"I wasn't talking about Robert Father!" she cut him right in his sentence. "The King had gold on his head. Under the crown. Like Joffrey." she said her voice quick and frightened.
She didn't like thinking about it. Talking was even worse. But it was so frustrating, to tell him the same thing again and again. And to see him not listening. Again and again.
But it didn't matter. He needed to understand. He needed to listen. This time she had to make him listen.
Father sighed.
"I understand those dreams are frightening you. But this is important Kyria. The King is dying. And with-"
He stopped a troubled expression on his face. Kyria blinked.
"With what?"
"I shouldn't talk about this with you. This is not something you should carry. This isn't your burden."
"But it has to be yours?" she said back. "Father, please. Let me help you-"
"I can't tell you this Kyria. This could cost you your life! This is treason."
Kyria blinked.
"So you can know a secret that could cost your head, but I can't?"
"You are my daughter Kyria. I can't ask you that."
"You are not asking! Father please-"
He cut her again, his strong hands on each of his shoulders.
"Kyria. You are my daughter. My girl. I must protect you and your sisters. Do you understand?"
She couldn't accept that. She came here to protect him. To protect them all. Why couldn't he know that? Why couldn't he understand? She explained it though! She told him of her dreams.
She told him and still, he couldn't listen. Why couldn't he listen? Why did this have to happen like this?
Father kissed her head.
"I know you are worried. You are wise to be so. Maybe more than me. But trust me, my child. Trust that I do what is right."
The honorable way. She could hear it in his voice. In the way, he looked at them. Gods she could practically hear him think. The honorable way. As if honor could save him here. As if everyone around him would do the same for him.
Why would he- Why was he so stubborn?!
"Do not trouble yourself, child. We are leaving this place, that I can promise you."
But he couldn't. He couldn't promise anything. Because he wasn't listening. He wasn't listening and she kept dreaming night after night, of the same thing. The very thing she was trying so hard to prevent since she left Winterfell in this stupid cart.
Why couldn't he listen!?
Don't talk while angry. Don't talk angrily. Not angry. Never angry.
"Why can't we leave now?" she asked finally. "We could leave on the morrow and be done with this place."
" Kyria I can't abandon the King on his dying bed." protested Lord Stark a strong frown on his face. " I wouldn't be better than a deserter on the battlefield."
Honor again. She tried very hard to control the wave of pure, hot fury that burned in her tummy.
"We know he's dying Father. He won't last! We could at least be able to leave right after."
"No Kyria," he said again. "The King gave me a task. Something to do after his death."
Kyria blinked. A cold chill suddenly running through her spine. What task? What else could this fat drunk ask from their family? From Father? He had been wounded already because of him. What else?
"What task?" she asked softly.
A part of her didn't want him to answer. She knew to dip down she wasn't going to like it.
Like often, her guts weren't wrong.
"The King named me protector of the Realm until his rightful heir comes of age," said Father solemnly.
Protector of the-
"What?"
Father blinked, his tired eyes glowing in the quiet light of the corridor.
"Protector of the realm? But- Father! You said we were leaving! You promised me not a second ago we were close to leaving this place for good!"
"I did, and I still intend to carry my word."
"And how can we leave if you have to rule for the little monster we call a Prince!" cried the girl.
"Kyria mind your words!"
"I won't! Father you promised!" she said again, louder.
It was childish, but she was sicked of being ignored and dismissed.
With another frown, Father guides her inside his office, shutting quietly the door behind him.
"You will lower your voice right now young lady," he said sternly. "I did promise that you were about to leave this city and I intend to keep this promise."
It took a full minute for Kyria to completely understand what her Father was trying to say.
"You plan to stay behind..." she whispered finally.
He didn't answer. He didn't have too. It was clear suddenly, so clear in front of her eyes.
"You found it."
"I found what?"
"Whatever it was that you were looking for. You found it and you want to act on it." she resonated softly. "that's why you're sending us away! It's dangerous! It's- Oh it's treason! That's it! The thing you don't want to tell me! That's what you were searching for sniffing all around the keep as a dog on a bone!"
"Kyria mind your words!"
"They are not my words Father!" she protested back. Fuck restrain! She was angry now. "Don't you understand? Do you even listen to me? Everyone in this damned city keeps coming to me with threats and words of advice that I am supposed to pass you, and yet each time you ignore me! What can I do to make you understand?"
"Understand what?"
"That this fucking city will have no rest until you die and doom us all!" she screamed right on his face.
His lips went white and his eyes burned with this anger she oh so rarely saw on his face. But she couldn't stop. Not now. She needed him to listen, to understand, truly understand this time.
"I tried and tried again but you just don't listen! You ignore me every time! Littlefinger threatened us and warned me, The Queen threatened us, Varys warned me- Jaime fucking Lannister warned me against his sister's anger! And you don't listen! You want to stay here to do whatever it is you want to do and you put us all in danger! Not just me, or Sansa and Arya, but Robb too! And Mother and Bran and Rickon! All because you want to be honorable and do the right thing! It's a viper nest here Father! You said it yourself! We are powerless here! We are nothing! You know that I know that and I spend weeks hammering it in my sister's head! But still, you want to stay! And for what?! Because honor commands it?! Honor won't save you here Father! They will do anything to broke you if it is what they want! Why is your honor more important than our lives Father? Then our family?! Tell me why!?"
"Enough Kyria!" boomed Lord Stark, his body radiating the authority of the great Warden of the North he was.
Kyria's jaw cracked shut by herself. Her shoulders were trembling, her eyes were burning. She couldn't tell if it was from the fury that inhabited her for all her speech or if it was the hurt of being shut out by her Father so violently. Like a little girl that made a mess.
She kept shaking. Anger, shame, sadness. She was powerless. Powerless and useless. She fought very hard not to cry.
"I know you are afraid. But you have to understand this my girl: in this world, our words mean everything. Do you understand that? I gave my word to the King. I have to keep it. I gave my word that I would do what was right. I will keep that word too."
"Right? Right for who?" she asked back. "Us? Them? What right could this be if we all end up dead?"
"We won't Kyria! I know this is difficult. I know you are afraid, but I know what I am doing you have to trust me, child."
"And you have to trust me, Father," she said, ashamed of the trembling of her voice.
Kyria could feel the burning of her eyes, the tears gathered under her eyelashes. She knew it made her eyes shiny and wet. She knew she must have looked pathetic. But what difference could this make? She was alone. He refused to listen. Just like Sansa, it was as if she talked to the wind. She wiped her nose and looked back.
"When you end up in the black cells for doing what is right, don't expect me not to tell you I told you so."
Kyria didn't let him say anything else. There was nothing she would want to hear from him now. Not today. Not after that.
She runs. Her hands were still shaking when she reached her room. Frost stood to welcome her his tail waving behind him. She pets him for a time. Softly brushing the fur of his head. The ones on his neck, his back. She watches her fingers disappear between the hairs. She thought of how his fur used to be so much thicker in the North. When the weather was not so warm.
After some time, she went to bed. She didn't bother for a maid and step out of her dress by herself. Then, her long hair cascading around her, she curled under the sheet rolled in a ball as small as she could. With her eyes closed, she could almost believe she was back home. In her room.
She didn't sleep much.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
On the following morrow, Kyria left her room with a clear mind and an even clearer set of course. She broke her feast with her Father and sister, speaking sporadically to each of them, not interested in the conversation they may have. Then, it was time for the girls' lesson with Septa Mordane. Arya wanted to escape like she often did, and this time, Kyria let her. Better even, she accompanied her. She knew the girl's intentions and seeing Syrio earlier than usual could only help her. She needed to talk to him.
They found the previous first sword of Braavos in his usual room, slowly practicing his moves with two of the wooden swords they used. Kyria smiled and removed her long dress. She was wearing a sleeveless southern dress, tied to the side like the one the Queen like to wear. It was easy to remove and even easier to hide her trousers and shirt under it. Her hair was tied firmly in a braid on her back, through her bottom.
Arya hadn't bothered hiding her boy's like clothes and was already going for the chest where they put the wooden swords.
"Well well," said Syrio, one of his swords pointed at Kyria. "Another boy today?"
"Apparently," she said softly.
Syrio smiled.
"Well, then this child will learn like its sister."
"Of course," she said again.
Of course, learn would have been a very pretentious word to use. Compared to Arya's always growing ease at the activity, she was pitiful. Not as much as the first time she joined them, of course. But still, it was pretty pathetic.
At least she could move without feeling awkward now.
"Good!" said Syrio.
"Is it true?" she bites back frustratingly.
"You don't think so?"
"I think I look like a bloody fool."
With one swift of his sword, Kyria was unharmed again. She throws her arms up to her head almost screaming her frustration. Behind her, Arya giggled.
"Seven hells, and you call that good?! I'm pathetic!"
"Are you child?" asked Syrio.
"How do you call that?"
"Lack of will," he said his smile gone.
Kyria blinked.
"Your mind is elsewhere. You are not thinking about what you are doing." he said walking around her. "if your mind is not in what you are doing, you die." his last word followed the wooden sword on her throat.
"I do have some problems running on those days," she said ironically.
"Problems? Troubles? What are those? Why do they matter in a fight? Are you fighting your troubles?"
"Not with a wooden sword-"
"No you re not." he cut her. "You don't fight troubled with a wooden sword. You fight men." he pressed the tip of the sword on her cheek. "You fight men. Then you deal with troubles. You can't do both."
Kyria bites back a swear.
"Why are you troubled?"
"My Father is in danger here. My sisters are in danger here. I am in danger here. And I don't even know if we will be able to leave."
Arya gasped behind her. Syrio looked at her.
"You believe in your gods don't you?"
Kyria blinked again. What did that have to do with everything else?
"The old gods," she answered.
Who else with the visions she had? Visions that strangely started the day she fell and hit her head. In the middle of the Godswood. Besides, green seeing was a gift coming from the Old gods.
Of course, it couldn't come from anyone else than the old gods.
Besides, she never liked the faith of the seven. Too many rules. Too many forbidden things. Too many vows to swear.
"Ah. The old gods. Do you know my gods child?"
Kyria shacked her head. She knew there were many religions in Braavos. More than anywhere else in the world. She couldn't pretend to guess which one a man like Syrio would follow.
"Syrio Forell have only one god. The only god that matters. Do you know his name?"
Kyria shacked her head.
"No? You should, child. The both of you should." his voice carried louder, as his eyes traveled from her to Arya a few feet backward. "There is only one god that truly matters. And we all pray him. Old and young. Religious or not. His name is Death."
Syrio took a step back, and held a sword to her, pommel in front of her.
"And there is only one thing, a child like you should say to the God of Death."
"What is it?" asked Arya on her back.
"Not today!"
Kyria blinked. Not today?
…
That made sense… oddly.
"Do you understand, child?" Kyria nodded. "Good. In position."
She obeyed. Syrio hit again, and Kyria twisted her body to dodge the hit. Then she hit, to the left, to the right. Syrio changed the way he was holding his sword, and Kyria took a step back.
"Good. This child is learning," said Syrio.
Then he hit again, and Kyria's sword fell from her hand.
"But there is still a long way to go," he said with a smile.
Kyria sighed.
"And what of the other child?"
Arya jumped. She happily took the sword and position her feet to face the Braavosi. They fought and Kyria stayed right where she was, watching them silently. Her idea still fresh on her mind.
For that, however, she needed to wait until the end of this session.
She watched Arya move smoothly, softly, mimicking every move Syrio made. She lost of course, but she lasts longer than Kyria did.
"Good." Syrio said. "did you see, child?" he looked at Kyria again. "where is the difference between this child and you?"
Kyria took a minute to think.
"She's smaller."
Syrio laughed.
"That she is. Smaller target. But I am taller and I beat you too. Why is that?"
Kyria frowned.
"I don't know, you're better than me. You're a fighter. You fought for years. I'm a beginner."
The wooden sword hit her before she could even see it coming.
"Aouch!"
"Being a beginner is no excuse. Do you know why you lose?"
"No I don't." she snapped.
"You lose because you don't move enough. You are weak. A weak little child with no strength in her arms. You'll never win against a grown man. Not even against a half-grown one. Your only chance is to be quicker, and lighter than the man in front of you. And you can not do that by staying grounded on those two feet of yours." he pat the tip of his sword against her head. "you have to be quick."
"I have to start chasing cats that's what you are saying don't you?" she said with a humorless smile.
Syrio smiled too.
"If it works girl, that's what matters."
Arya snorted behind him. It was funny she supposed.
They trained for another long hour before Syrio called it a day. Thank the gods. It was way past time for them to eat. Her mind was already busy when she followed Arya to the door.
"Not so fast Child." called back Syrio.
She stopped, turning on her heels to face him again.
He looked grave.
"People are talking around," he said gravely.
"They are." she agreed.
"Syrio remember what he promised you, child, not so long ago."
Her heartbeat harder in her chest.
"So do I.," she said softly.
He nodded.
"Once the fat King gone, you may not be able to leave the city like you want to."
"I know. Father wants us to leave as soon as possible, but he plans to stay behind."
"And you don't want that."
She shacked her head.
"Syrio will keep his words," Syrio said. "Ask the child to come with her little needle next time."
"Needle? Why?"
"It is safer for Syrio to hide it, than for a child to keep it in her room, where everyone can find it."
Kyria blinked.
"But what if we leave and you can't? Arya won't abandon it, she'd rather die than do such a thing."
Syrio smiled. He looked oddly proud of himself for some reason.
"I am a Dancing Master. What harm could do a dancing master?" he said slowly. "And what questions could people ask if a Dancing Master from Braavos has a little needle from Braavos with him?"
Kyria smiled. It was true.
Syrio's eyes studied her carefully.
"What is it child?" he asked.
She blinked.
"What?"
"You are still chased by your troubles. Stubborn thing you are."
She snorted.
"I'm afraid," she confessed. "For my sisters. For myself."
"What is it that scared you?"
"If we don't leave this place, if Father is arrested, or killed, or send to the Wall for one reason or another, Sansa will be kept here as a hostage. Arya too, for the time being. She's just a child. But me..." she hesitated.
It was something she hadn't even thought. Something she tried to ignore for days. Something she was afraid to voice, she for she couldn't even admit it to herself.
"I'm not a child. I'm off age, or almost. I'm scared of what they might to with me."
"What could they do?"
"Marry me off to one of their loyal lords. Someone cruel and as unpleasant as they can find around here. This court is full of them." she said with disgust. "Or they could give me to Littlefinger or another of those men who hold brothels."
"Why would they do that? You are a noble-born child," he said.
"And I'm smart." she snorted. "They know that. They might want to… break me."
There. She said it. Her greatest fear. That they might try to break her. Rape her, beat her until there was nothing left of her mind, her will...Herself.
"Simple." said the man.
Kyria blinked.
"What?"
"You are scared that they try to break you. They might try. You are scared that they might sell you to the first awful man they may have under their command, they might do just so. You are scared to be apart from your sisters. They will certainly do that. So what? It's simple."
"How is it simple?"
"Don't let them break your will," he said with a large smile.
Kyria blinked.
"And how am I supposed to do that?"
The man shrugged.
"Don't let them and they won't."
Why was he-
It took her a moment to truly understand what he was saying. Don't give up. He was telling her not to give up. She didn't know what to say. What to do.
"The Queen won't leave me alone. Not until I'm out of her way. And she knows I will do anything to protect my sisters." she said again.
"Don't let them break you and they will never win," he said cryptically, nodding his curly head with each word.
Kyria blinked. It sounded so simple. She could almost believe she was able to do such a thing when he said it like that. But it was not simple. How could it be? There were so many things they could do to her. So many things they could try. And she was pretty sure there were even more things she was not thinking about it.
It could go wrong in so many ways… How would she not break at some point? How much could she handle?
No. No, she couldn't think that. Not yet. There was no point thinking that. Not while it was still only a possibility. She couldn't think like that.
"Your troubles are persistent," observed Syrio. "We will talk again. Tell the child to bring her needle."
She nodded vaguely. She left the room with a lot more to think, then when she entered it. She was worried. She was scared.
She needed to do something.
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Kyria didn't act until late in the evening. As much as she longed for some peace, she couldn't do that. She had to play the big sister.
Right after their meal, Sansa dragged her on the courtyard close to the White Tower, where the Kingsguards had their headquarters. Here in the sand, there was a large training yard, where the majority of the soldiers were training.
Kyria watched it all with skeptical eyes, listening to Sansa's excited babble as they made their way to the place, wondering if this was some kind of joke.
According to Sansa's squeaking voice, the prince was going to train with his soldiers and had invited her to watch him. Kyria almost asked her to repeat. The prince training. That would be something she wanted to see. As a lady, of course, Kyria never trained with the men. It wasn't her place. But she did have brothers who loved to train. And she had been able to watch them. She knew what a warrior looked like, even if he wasn't as bulked as northern men tended to be.
And for all his… qualities, Joffrey was not built like a warrior. He was built like a child, with skinny arms and skinny legs. All slim and almost feminine looking. Those arms wouldn't be able to swing a sword, she could bet her life on that. Even her arms were bulkier than his. And that was saying something!
But she was curious. Sue her.
So she let herself being dragged to the training yard. In the name of scientific curiosity. Next to her, Sansa was floating a good foot above the floor in her happiness. Since the day Joff put this three damned necklace around her neck she was determined to wear it all the time, with everything she could find. Today it was a pretty pink dress that made her, even more, look like a doll than usual. Which, again, was saying something. Sometimes, Kyria wondered if she even wore it at night. She wouldn't be surprised if she did.
She seemed so happy Kyria would have sworn she sparkled. Like a diamond. With red hair.
They found the Prince before the yard, wearing what looked like battle armor, ridiculously full of gold. It could have looked just like one of the Kingsguard's armor, without the cape. And the symbol of the Kingsguard sculpted on the plate. And the knight inside too.
"My lady Sansa!" he said looking cheerful.
Yuck.
"My prince." Sansa chipped right back, bowing prettily with her pink cheeks and shiny eyes.
Good gods weren't she a pretty little fool.
"Your grace." Kyria bowed behind her sister, controlling her features in a serene expression.
He immediately loses his charming smile. How surprising, she thought dryly.
"Lady Kyria. I didn't know you would join us," he said, a dangerous edge on his voice.
Kyria bowed her head again.
"Sansa was so happy to come here today, she keeps telling me about your kindness to her, and the joy it was to be betrothed to you. When she asked me to join you this afternoon, I couldn't say no."
She adds a little smile, as innocent as she could, in the hope to appease the boy. His nostrils grew like he was sniffing something awful, and his mouth twisted in the wrong way so, for one second, he looked more grotesque than handsome. Not that she could find him any charms what so ever, but that was not the point. Kyria blinked, and he was smiling again, eyes bright and almost dreamy in his boyish way.
Again, Yuck.
"Well then, you are welcome to join us, my lady. I was just about to join the men in training."
"I'm sure you'll be brilliant my prince!" chipped Sansa.
Joffrey snorted.
"Of course I will. I am a prince. Soon to be a King."
"Of course your grace." chipped Kyria dutifully.
He puffed in satisfaction. He even smiled at her.
Hun. Flattery could certainly get her everywhere with this one. Handy trick.
Gallantly, the crown prince offered his hand to Sansa, leading her to a safe place, where they could observe the training without risking to take a bad hit somewhere.
With Kyria's luck those past days, that could happen.
She would have loved to say she was surprised to see the boy sit next to them, in one of the chairs, under the sunshade. But she wasn't truly. One could wonder why he even bothers wearing armor, to begin with.
Sansa sat prettily in the middle chair, her dress softly arranged around her legs, looking everything like one of those southern ladies with her heavy hairstyle that rolled on her head.
She seemed to have learned magic while here. Judging by the hairstyle. For the love of all the gods she could name, Kyria swore she would never understand the logic behind those things. How something so… geometric could stay in place in someone's head? She barely could convince her hairs to stay in their braid for more than one hour!
"This place is wonderful." sighed the girl, looking around with big blue eyes.
"It is," agreed the Prince. "A good Training place."
As if you ever trained here.
"Do you come here often your grace?" blinked Kyria in all innocence.
She shouldn't do that. She was playing with the fire and she knew it. She really shouldn't do that. But somehow she couldn't help herself.
Fortunately for her head, Joffrey didn't notice. Or didn't cared. Or understood. Whatever. His eyes were always traveling between Sansa and the training yard, a childish excitation vibrating through his body. What was he hoping for? What did he want to see so much?
"As often as I can," he answered after a time. "A prince has a lot of things to do in a day."
"Of course my prince." smiled Kyria.
She purposefully didn't mention actual training. The conversation would have ended up thee if not for the third person around the table.
"Do you train often with your men your grace?" chipped Happily Sansa, "Father do that from time to time. He said it's important to know your men's strength-"
"Do you compare me with your barbaric northern men?" cut Joffrey, his face reddening with anger.
Sansa stopped right in the middle of her enthusiastic babble. Kyria winced. That was painful to watch.
"N-no I just- I just thought-"
"Nothing. You didn't think. I'd be surprised if you even knew how to. You're a woman, what could you possibly know about these things anyway?" he dismissed her contemptuously.
Sansa blushed and looked down.
"We woman do not know much about the art of war my Prince." said Kyria, succumbing to her need to defend the poor girl, " But do have brothers," she added after a moment of the dramatic pause. " Our Father loves to give them lessons of wisdom during our meals together."
Joffrey's burning eyes went right to her.
"And why should I care about your Father's opinion? He's not my Father."
"Not yet your grace." she said softly. " but you are to marry his daughter after all."
His face turned redder. Kyria bites the inside of her cheek. She should have shut up. She shouldn't have say anything, to begin with. Enemy. He thought them to be his enemy. Reminding him that he was supposed to marry in their family was a very bad idea.
He didn't answer, and the silence was heavy between the three of them, but honestly, how could they start another conversation after that?
Kyria looked around her, at the soldiers in the field, the knight and others, at Sansa who didn't look up again for a long time, at Joffrey and the rage pulsing out of him.
They stayed like that for a long time. An eternity. Enough for Kyria to be bored to tears.
She looked with barely disguised exasperation as her little sister chirped like a little bird, sucking the prince's rare attempt of affection -or something close enough to fool her – like a man dying of thirst would dry a river.
He was good at pretending, she could give him that. He sounded like one of those knights in the songs Sansa loved so much and it was pretty ridiculous to see, but Kyria kept her mouth shut. It wasn't the time, nor the place to say something. Even though she was dying to do just that.
It would almost have been called a success.
Until Sansa made another mistake.
"I wish we could stay here forever..." she sighed dreamily, stars in her eyes.
Kyria felt her spine stiffen, her attention sharpening, focusing on the next work coming from her sister's mouth. No… No, she wouldn't do that? She wasn't that dumb? She couldn't be!
"What do you mean my lady?" asked Joffrey, batting his eyelashes at her -Seriously?-.
"Father wants us to go back home," confessed Sansa.
Fuck. So she was dumb. Wonderful.
"What?"
"What my sister means," hastily cut Kyria, in a desperate attempt to salvage the mess. "is that we may have to go back home soon. Arya and I at least. You see, our little brother Bran woke up and is getting better day after day, but we still want to see if he is truly alright. Besides, it wouldn't be proper for our mother to miss Sansa's wedding."
Sansa blinked at her, ready to open her mouth again but one glare from her sister stopped her. Why couldn't she just shut her mouth? Stupid girl. Kyria hated what she just has done. Telling the boy about Bran was the last thing she would have liked to do, but good gods for once couldn't she have thought about what she was about to say BEFORE saying it?
"Is that so?" said Joffrey pensively.
Kyria changed the subject, but the damage was done. She could see it in the way he was pensively looking at them, in the glint in the back of his eyes.
Suddenly, a horrible thought crossed Kyria's mind. What if this was exactly the reason Joffrey had to invite Sansa today? To make her say their father's plan?! If it was the case the girl made a horrible mistake. A terrifying and very stupid mistake.
Oh, this was bad. This was so, so bad! Why it was Sansa who was betrothed to this boy? Why did she have to be betrothed at all!? Couldn't she have just stayed at home?
Well, life would have been easier if they all stayed home, she kind of covered that now...
The said girl didn't seem to notice there was a problem. She seemed a bit troubled for a moment, but quickly, she forgot everything about her confusion and was back to her happy chipping. Kyria didn't talk again, busy as she was observing the boy prince and the different expressions that crossed his face.
He was back looking at the field, his eyes greedily following a knight who seemed very much eager to beat the shit out of his squire. He looked at them for a moment, ignoring Sansa's silly talking, until his face dropped in disappointment and promptly looked for another victim of his strange attention.
What was he expecting? What could he want from this?
"My prince?" called Sansa softly.
Ah. So she had noticed the prince's lack of attention. Finally.
"My prince? Are you listening?" she asked her voice slightly stronger.
"What?" snapped Joffrey, looking at her with an annoyance clear on his face.
Sansa blushed.
"I- well… that is- you- you seemed lost in your thought for a moment and I-"
"What of it?" his tone was just as agreeable.
He does not want to talk to you, you foolish girl thought Kyria rather unkindly.
She immediately felt guilty for that. But good gods couldn't she take a hint? She was so determined to gain the boy's attention. It was as if she wanted very much to ignore everything that could prove her the boy's indifference. Why? Why did she want so much to believe in a lie? What was the point?
Kyria didn't understand. She couldn't. If someone, her betrothed or a man she might love talked to her the way Joffrey was talking to Sansa she would have left ages ago already. Of course, it was good for Sansa to be a devoted wife. But why couldn't she see that marriage was no song! Once she was bounded to this boy it would be for life, and he would be able to do everything he wanted with her.
Why did she want to leave in such a way? Kyria knew she wanted to be happy. How couldn't she see that Joffrey could never make her happy?
Pensively, Kyria watched as her sister tried to please her betrothed. She watched as the boy grew more annoyed and impatient each time she opened her mouth. She watched as his mask of polite young prince fell more and more from his face as the day grew shorter. When he finally decided their afternoon needed to end, the tic of his jaw was painful to see. And Sansa seemed completely unaware of all of it.
It astonished Kyria. How someone as smart as Sansa -and she knew she could be incredibly smart when she wanted to – could be so blind? So stupid?
She was so deep in her thought she almost misses it when the girl starts her scolding. By this time, they were already halfway to the Tower of the Hand.
"Why did you lie to the Prince?" she accused her, her voice full of anger.
Ah.
Well, two could play this game.
"Because it's not his business if we want to go or not," she said coldly.
"But it is! He's my betrothed and He's to be the King! Of course, he must know if Father wants to take me away from him or not."
"That's not what Father wants to do Sansa don't be dramatic."
Well, technically it was exactly what Father intended to do. Although did she needed to make it sound that dramatic? Seriously? She sounded like Father had wanted to steal one of the statues of the gardens!
"Yes, it is! He told me he wanted to end our betrothal! He said he wanted to find someone better. Someone strong and brave and gentle!"
"Lower your voice sister, all the keep does not need to hear about our business." hissed Kyria anger slowly building in her belly.
Gods but was she annoying when she wanted to be.
"I don't care if everyone hears me!"
"Well, then you're stupid!"
"I'm not! How dare you!" she cringed, her face red with anger.
It didn't look good with her fiery hair.
"For god's sake Sansa! Don't you know anything about discretion? Lower your voice!" said Kyria, the anger in her voice making it harsh in her forced whisper.
"Why should I do that!? I'm to be Queen! Why should I care about discretion?!"
"Because we are not safe here! What are you, blind?! You're not the Queen, you're not even a princess, you're a little girl who thinks way too high of herself right now!"
Kyria opened the door, and almost pushed Sansa inside the room.
"Don't be stupid! Of course, it's safe it's the capital! I'm the prince's betrothed, no one would dare hurt me!"
Kyria had to stop walking to be sure she heard that right. Oh, how she wanted to slap her right now. She never wanted to hurt her family. Ever. But right now she could give anything for someone to give this stupid little girl a good slap in the face.
"My gods Sansa do you even listen to me when I talk?! Do you even pay attention to anything that is not your stupid prince or the crown on his head?! Of course, they would dare hurt you in the capital! Father was the Hand of the King and they hurt him in the middle of a street! And he's a man! A warrior! You're just a little girl why wouldn't they do the same to you?!"
"No one would dare hurt a prin-"
"If you finish this sentence I swear to you I am going to slap you, you little fool!" growled Kyria between her teeth.
Sansa's mouth shut itself immediately. Her face took another interesting shade of red, but Kyria was tired of her little game.
"I'm tired of you Sansa. I spend half the time on the road here warning you to be careful, to think before you act, to think farther than the appearances and you just don't want to listen! We are living maybe the most dangerous time of our lives in this place and you persist in thinking everything is well as long as your precious prince smile at you from time to time."
"That's not-"
"Shut up! You shut your mouth and you listen to me now! I'm tired of you ignoring me! I don't care if you don't want to hear what I have to say, you will hear it or the gods help me I will slap the words right through your airy little brain!"
"Now you're not fair! I do listen to you Kyria-"
"If you truly did you wouldn't be saying the things you just said to my face!"
Kyria's voice resonated a moment in the empty parlor. Sansa's eyes blinked multiple times, her surprise clear on her face. She didn't expect her normally so calm sister to act this way. Kyria took a deep breath, aware of her failure at keeping her temper in check.
"Listen to me, Sansa. We are not safe here! This is the last place we could ever call safe. Everyone around here is after one thing and one thing alone: power! And they'll do anything to have it! Anything! Even hurt or use naive little girls like you! We talked about this already Sansa! Father has a very high place in this court, and if someone wants to hurt or blackmail him the very first thing they will think of is hurting us! This is what I meant when I explained this to you sister! This is exactly what I meant!"
The girl blushed at the memory of the said discussion. She didn't stay embarrassed long, unfortunately.
"That does not explain why you lied to the prince about us leaving!"
Good gods was she even real? How could someone be so dense?! How was this even possible?
In any other situation, Kyria would have been impressed.
"Really Sansa? After everything?"
The girl blinked and opened her mouth, but Kyria didn't want to hear anything she might have said.
"No. I'm done with this. If you can't figure on your own why you have to keep your mouth shut around this boy I won't spend more time explaining it to you."
She left. She was tired of this.
Of leaving arguments with anger burning inside her. Tired of always being the one with the great speech about carefulness and warnings.
She was done with all of this talking to the wind.
It was only later, once her temper flattered down to a more manageable level, and her head cleared away the could of anger, that Kyria allowed the guilt to flourish inside her.
Alone against the door of her room, she pressed the heels of her hands on her closed eyes and pictured Sansa's pained face. She gathered her expression, as she almost threw up all her ire and anger right on her, like puke.
She felt bad. She felt bad that she caused her little sister's eyes to moister that way. She felt bad to be the reason why she was certainly crying right now.
But Sansa was foolish. And stubborn in her ignorance. And she was truly tired of it.
And it astonished Kyria that no one never told her how utterly naive and stupid she acted. Mother, Father, Septa. All of them, indulging her in her fantasies like a small child toddling in a room full of very chewy papers ready to be destroyed by his grabby little hands.
Protection could only be that much of an excused. And, from what Kyria gathered in her oh so short experience, ignorance was no bliss. Not for them. Not now.
But to see this face, haunting her like a bad dream… Was it the right thing? Couldn't she have found something else to say? Another way to make her see?
She couldn't duel on this all night. She didn't have the time, or the luxury to stay in the past. Not now. She had things to do. Things that couldn't wait anymore and she knew it.
She stayed in her room that night. She didn't want to have to face anyone else. She wanted to stay alone for a bit and think of what was supposed to happen next.
She sat on the chair and let the cold realization of her intentions chill her hands. She let the meaning of it strangle her breath and wet her eyes.
She hated it. She was terrified. Because she knew, dip down what it meant for her to do that.
She knew the risks, the meaning, the questions and dangers that would follow that. And worst of all, she knew what it meant for her purpose here. For the mission, she had given herself. She knew, but she couldn't help it. She had to do that. She had to do everything she could. And everything she could be very little right now.
The King was dying. And a part of her knew that with his death, the last remnants of control she had about the situation were about to disappear.
But then again, she never really controlled anything, to begin with…
Her finger shacked when she closed them on the quill. She closed her eyes.
She knew.
She was giving up hope.
Oh, the irony….
But she didn't have a choice. This needed to be done. Before it was too late.
Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.
She smiled, feeling biter sweet at the memories attached to this sentence. It was for situations like this that she said of it the first time… Maybe she had hoped a bit too much.
She took a deep breath and started writing. The scratch of the quill against the paper easing the tension inside her.
To Jon Snow, Brother of the Night's Watch.
Brother,
OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo-GOT-oOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoO
Two days later, the King was dead.
She woke up with a heavy heart. Images of the rolling head fresh in her head.
She broke her fast with her family. Sansa's stubborn silence acknowledging that the last days indeed happened.
Father with a lifeless voice announced the Death of the King and their imminent departure from the capital. Kyria welcomed the news with indifference. She didn't meet her father's gaze. She didn't believe him. She still wanted to leave. Of course, she did. But she had lost hope to do that when Sansa opened her mouth.
This couldn't be so easy. Not anymore.
Sansa didn't protest at the news. It gave Kyria enough courage to look at her. Her eyes were on her plate. From where Kyria was, she couldn't see her expression. But her eyes stayed a minute longer on her tiny white fist, closed around her fork.
"Could we go say goodbye to Syrio Father?" asked Arya eagerly.
Kyria thought of the letters hidden inside her corset. She needed to send them. She had carried them around since she wrote them. It wasn't safe in her room. But she couldn't keep doing that. By one way or another. Maybe she could give them to Syrio… He said it himself after all. Who would question a humble Dancing master…
Father took his time to answer.
"You can go. All three of you. But you must stay together, do you understand? And you come right back here as soon as you are done."
"Yes Father," said Kyria, echoing Arya's voice.
"But Father-"
Arya's eyes were huge and pleading. They cut Sansa right in the middle of her plea.
Kyria remembered Syrio's demand right before their leave. Needle.
"Arya, take Needle with you," she said as her sister was running past her.
"What? Why?"
"Trust me."
The girl frowned but nodded after a very long heartbeat. She ran back to her room and came out again a few moments later, her tiny sword in her hand. Wisely, Kyria took it from her and sneaked the sword under her southern dress. Attached right under her breast, the thing was invisible under the fabric.
"Why are you doing that?" asked Arya loudly.
"We are supposed to go dancing. Ladies do not wear swords," she answered easily.
They found Sansa in the parlor. The girl didn't talk, nor did she look at Kyria. But she didn't protest when it was time to go.
Syrio was waiting for them.
"Welcome children!" he called happily, a wide smile on his face.
"Syrio!" called Arya running to him with a frown on her little face. "We are leaving today! We won't be able to come back for another lesson!"
"We came to say goodbye," added Sansa.
"Did you?" said the master, his eyes founding Kyria's maliciously.
Did he have something in mind?
"Well, the day is still young children. I doubt you will have to leave right now."
"I don't suppose so..." said Arya slowly.
He tosses them the wooden swords. Arya caught hers easily enough. Sansa had a bit more trouble.
"Then you'll have time for one last lesson." he decided.
"Do we?" hesitated Sansa.
"I don't see why not," said Kyria, retrieving her dress and the sword hidden under it.
Syrio's face opened in a wide-open expression. He held a hand for her and took the sword with a careful hand. He took his time admiring it. His eyes slowly rolling on the cold steel of the tiny sword.
"It is good to work. Not as perfect as it could have been was it made in Braavos, but still. Good enough for a little child like you." he said then, his eyes to Arya.
"Why did you want to see it?" she asked.
"I want to keep it with me."
"WHAT!?"
Kyria grabbed her sister's arm before she could even start to claw out the man's face. Judging from the growl that came out of her, she was very close to do just that.
"NEVER! Needle is mine! She's mine! You won't steal her from me!"
"Quiet now child." scolded Syrio, the sword pointed at Arya wiggling form. "Who says anything about stealing? This little needle would be no use for me. Way too skinny, way too small! No this is your needle and it will always be this way." he said with a nod.
"But you said you wanted to take it from Arya!" voiced Sansa, confusion was written on her face.
"I did." he nodded. " I knew for some times now that you would leave. And Syrio Forell is a man of his words! I vow to train you, child. I will do so until you learned everything you could from me."
It took Arya a moment to understand.
"You're coming with us!?" she squealed excitingly.
"I do. But!" he said, cutting the girl as she took her breath. "We live a dangerous time. Good little girl whose Fathers walk in so thin ice are not allowed to have weapons."
"What is the meaning of this?" said Sansa.
"Now we don't want your father's enemies to find anything that might convince them of his… dangerousness. And a little girl with a little sword is very good proof. So, Syrio Forell will keep the child's needle with him until it is safe enough for the child to have it again."
"But I hide it in my room!" protested Arya.
"If Father is suspected of anything, they will look everywhere Arya." Kyria's voice was law.
"That's stupid! Father would never betray the King It's his friend!"
"The King is dead."
Arya blinked owlishly, not getting why it should make a difference, but Syrio didn't let them think about it too much. With his strong voice, he ordered them to make themselves at ease for their training, while he put the little needle away.
Kyria and Sansa were paired together, while Arya was with the master. Except for the first discussion, it felt like any other session. Sansa was as graceful always, but her moves were clumsy. Kyria couldn't say if it was because of her lack of habit, or her growing body, or even the strong feeling that stormed behind those eyes from time to time. Their argument of the day before was not forgotten.
"You lied!" accused Arya, her voice loud between the sounds of wood clashing wood.
Sansa turned her head with curiosity. With a satisfied smirk, Kyria took the opportunity for what it was and hit the girl's sword hand with a quick movement.
The sword was dropped immediately.
"Aouch!"
"You should have paid attention," she said.
Sansa frowned.
"It's not fair, I was not looking."
"And now you are dead," said Syrio, his body playing with Arya like a leaf in the wind.
"It's not a real fight I'm not-"
"Oh, but it is a fight. And now you are a dead girl."
"Not today!" screamed Arya with an energic throw.
Syrio laughed. So did Kyria. That was a good way of using those words.
"What's so funny?"
"It's something Syrio taught us," answered Kyria.
"Not today? It does not make any sense."
"It's what you should say to the god of death when you face him. Not today," she explained.
Sansa nodded pensively. Kyria looked at her. Maybe she should talk to her? Maybe it was worth a shot, now that she didn't feel so angry…
"!"
Kyria tensed immediately.
"Kyria?"
"Sh!" she snapped.
With a wave of her hand, she quickly made her way to the large windows. Her heart was huge in her throat. No. No, no-no.
There. Gold, and white and red.
"The Kingsguard," she said slowly. "A Kingsguard is coming here. With half a dozen red cloaks."
"What?" asked Arya behind her.
Kyria didn't even think. She turned and looked at Syrio, fear in his eyes. He was already moving.
"Put your dresses children. Quickly. Kyria, help me hide the swords."
"What? Why?" whined Arya behind her.
"Now."
His voice was commanding, and more serious than ever before.
Kyria put her dress on without even thinking about it. The petticoat was tricky to put on her own but was starting to get used to it by now. Arya had only a skirt to put around her legs. Kyria thanked the old gods for her growing paranoia that had her force her sister to always look like ladies even when they went to see Syrio. Most of the time, Arya just put a skirt on her usual outfit, but it was enough.
Sansa helped her sister, silent and quick.
Syrio just had the time to hide the chest in the far corner of the room, when the door busted open. Ser Meryn Trant of the Kingsguard stood in the center of a pack of red cloaks, all armed and dangerous looking.
Kyria moved and stood in front of her sisters, her arms grabbing both hands.
"Kyria-" started Sansa.
"Ladies, your Father is asking for you," he said with a rash voice.
Kyria felt her leg wobble under her skirt. She locks her knees to stay as straight as possible. A cold hand gripped her heart. No. No, no no no please no...
Syrio took a step in front of them.
"And why Lord Stark would send Lannister men to summon his daughters?" he asked.
"This no concern of your Dancing masters." grunted the Kingsguard.
"Oh is it?"
"Syrio please," said Kyria behind him.
She didn't miss the dangerous edge in the way the red cloaks around were caring themselves. Slowly circling them like lions a prey. She had to act. Quickly. Control Kyria, control!
"We'll come with you," she said with all the assurance she could gather.
"Kyria-" hissed Arya behind her.
"Shut up." she hissed back as the men were surrounding them. "you shut your mouth, both of you and you let me talk. Whatever happens, we stay together. You hear me?"
Sansa nodded immediately, but Arya pouted still.
"Arya-"
"I don't want to go with them," she grumbled.
"We don't have a choice, Arya." Kyria tugs her arm. "You stay behind me you understand?"
"Yes alright!"
"Shut up!" grunted the Kingsguard in front of them.
Kyria shut her mouth, her hand gripping tightly on Arya's, the other arm around Sansa's. They slowly made their way to the Throne room, Syrio on their heels, and there was only one thing she could do now.
She prayed. She prayed this had nothing to do with her dreams. She prayed she was wrong to be scared of the meaning behind the absence of Stark men around them. She prayed it was her father behind this summon, and not someone else.
But she knew. Syrio was right. Father would never send those men.
Her grip on Arya's hand was tighter. She ignored the cold tear rolling on her cheek. She knew what it meant. She knew.
Too late… It was too late.
I failed.
TBC.
So what do you think? Good? Bad? Awful?
I'm very nervous about this one... I feel like Kyria spends the entire time being angry at everyone and everything! It's making her annoying, and I don't want her to be annoying! But on the other side, she's a teenager and she has a lot of things to deal with so I guess being annoying is kind of part of the deal? Besides, I don't think she'd been that way since the beginning? Is she?
Now I'm confused. And I think way too much about it.
Now, this chapter is the last one in Kyria's point of view, at least for a time. As I said before I struggled a bit about this but in the end, I decided it would be good for the story and the character's development to see what happens next from different points of view. So we will step back from Kyria for a bit and concentrate on the others! I'll try to variate the characters as much as I can but I don't feel comfortable enough to do a lot of them for now.
I hope it will be enough ^^'
Anyway, thank you a lot for your support, for following and commenting on this story it means the world to me. You are the best and I really hope I won't disappoint you with where the story is going ^^
See you next time!