"We have to stop," Shireen gasped, collapsing to the ground again. "I have fallen seven times today, the gods decree we must stop."
"My lady, you have fallen five times," Ser Richard gently lifted her to her feet again. "But we have to keep moving."
She hadn't removed her shoes since they'd left the beach and they were starting to come apart after all these days of travel. She wasn't sure how many days it had been exactly, it alarmed her how easy it was to lose track of that. There was the day that they had headed inland, to take shelter in wooded hills from a second storm. It had been far less than the one that had sunk them, but… She twisted in revulsion inside at the thought of herself then. She'd broken, the lightning at sea flashing before her eyes, behind her closed lids, the sounds of past and present crashing together and piercing her ears. Shivering and shaking it had taken the rest of the day for Aeriel and Allard to rouse her while Richard kept watch. Then there had been the day they slept in the cover of an abandoned barn, but had that happened the next day, or had there been one inbetween those two nights. And had it been two days since the barn, or three. She shifted the strap of her quiver which was digging into her shoulder tightly. "Too much," she whispered. "I can't go on."
They all looked at her, all able to cope better. After the trauma of the shipwreck had left her, Aeriel coped well with the travels, having been used to days on her feet in her time as an indentured girl in Pentos, Allard had the sturdy legs and gait of a seaman and Richard was a knight. "You have to, my lady," Richard told her softly.
She shook her head. She hated being weak like this, she hated the looks of pity she got, she hated that she was slowing them all down, but she couldn't carry on, and she was too big to carry. "The days are getting shorter as autumn progresses," Allard said, soft, earnest, but clear in his intent. "And the nights are getting colder, we have to move for as long as possible through the day."
"Maybe a short rest," Aeriel said timidly, she was also tired, they all were, days of rising and setting with the sun were wearing on them as well, but none as much as Shireen.
"No there is no time," Allard said, taking Shireen's other arm, "we have to keep moving."
"Yes, you're right Allard," Shireen said, pulling away from Allard and Richard's arms. She would not make them support her weight, she would walk. And so she did. Her heart leapt an hour later when she realised that the other three had slowed down so she could keep up with them.
They walked and walked, south and south along the coast, just praying for the time that Storm's End would emerge like a black beacon to call them in. But everyday the south was but grey cloud and fog and today was greyer and foggier than usual. Allard stopped them when the fields were cast in amber and glinting with moistened grass. "What is it?" Richard asked.
"Storm," he said, looking out to sea, where the greyness was pulling together in a great mass of rage. "We'll need shelter."
Shireen looked around, there was little nearby, no woods to take shelter in, and no villages that might offer them succour. If there had been any villages here, the storms of this country would have long ago ripped them apart. There was only one option. She turned to the west, where a line of hills peeked up from the landscape. Looking at the others, she saw it was their only option. But it was no option at all. "We'll never reach there before sundown," Shireen moaned.
"Yes we will," Richard growled. "Let's go!" He seized her by the arm and started to drag her west. It was impossible, the darkness would claim them, and then the storm, but still they tried, Allard and Aeriel followed on immediately.
No one spoke, all their energy went to their feet and they walked. And they walked. The first rumbles of thunder spurred them on as effectively as spears to the back. Shireen tried not to think about what would happen if they didn't reach the hills, if the lightning didn't kill them or the rain didn't drown then the chills would claim them. She shook her head. If there was no shelter in those hills it would be meaningless. "There will be something there," Aeriel assured her. That was enough and she pushed on. The darkness was wrapping around them like a great claw reaching out to grab them. Keep moving. The thunder was getting louder and louder. Keep moving. Shelter was close, it had to be. Keep moving. They weren't going to make it. "Run!"
She didn't know who'd voiced that, but they ran, and they ran, but it wasn't enough. By the time they'd reached the bottom of the hills, that now seemed to tower over them, the heavy rains were turning the ground to mud beneath their shoes. Aeriel cried out as her foot sunk into a brown puddle of filth. Allard dragged her out but her shoe was left to fester, there was no time to retrieve it and they started to climb the hill. All decorum was lost, they scrambled up the hill, using their fingers to grasp dew-damp grass and plants or dig into the softening earth. No time to find the easy way, they had to climb. They reached the top.
There was nothing, the hills fell down neatly into a nice little open stream with nothing to shelter them. "We're doomed," she moaned, all the pain and fatigue starting to flood back in. "We're-"
"They're!" Allard pointed onwards, towards where the stream curved around some other hills and disappeared out of sight. "Smoke!"
"I don't see anything," Richard panted.
"There was smoke, I saw it, come on, hurry!" He set off at a run. Shireen and the others forced their legs to move, pounding ceaselessly into the ground, the pain tearing at her muscles and her feet slipping on the wet ground. By now the rain was well and truly a falling, but not a storm, not yet.
They leapt the stream, Shireen didn't make the leap and splattered into the shallow, murky water. She dragged herself out, Richard hauling her the last few steps, and they ran on. She and Aeriel didn't have the strength to climb another hill, so they followed the stream around.
There was something, Allard had been right. A small rectangular building was set into the lee of the hill, backing onto the hill that would be hit by the storm. It seemed to emerge from the hill like a tortoise poking out from its shell, a small chimney near what would be the front of the building let out the curls of smoke that Allard had seen. They ran for it as another crash of lightning ripped the sky, it was coming, closer and closer.
She almost cried as they ran past a small field, shoots of vegetables poking from the earth and saw the front of the building. A seven pointed star was carved on the stone porch, and another painted on the oak doors. By the grace of the gods, they were saved!
Richard staggered up to the door and hammered on it with his fist. Nothing happened. He hammered again, still nothing. "Maybe it's abandoned!" Shireen called, barely heard over the whipping wind and savaging storm. Then she remembered the patch of growing foods.
Richard tried the handle, nothing happened, then slammed his shoulder into it, nothing happened. He hammered again. "Help us!" nothing.
Thunder rumbled again and a flash made them look around, the flash left a stark afterimage on the hills that were grey-going-black.
"What in the name of the gods are you doing out there?" They spun back around. A woman had opened the door a crack to see what was happening. She shut the door again and over the storm she heard the clatter of a chain. The heavy door opened once more and the woman stood back, beckoning. "Get inside, quickly!"
Inside, Shireen collapsed to the stone, gasping in exhaustion and shivering. She felt hands softly take her arm and begin lifting her to her feet.
"Leave her alone," Richard growled.
"I hardly think you're in a position to help her," a woman's voice scolded him. "Come child, to your feet." Shireen accepted the help and staggered up into the woman's steadying arms. "This way." Shireen saw that other women were helping Aeriel and Allard, while Richard shrugged off all offers and moved forward alone. "Maven, Jeyne, get more bowls for our guests, Corenna, some warm blankets." Shireen felt herself guided into a seat, her bowcase taken from her shoulder. And soon a warm woolen blanket was wrapped around her shoulders. "You sit there and warm up now, we'll get you something to eat." At the mention of food, Shireen felt her stomach groan. "Sounds like you need it as well," the woman quipped.
As the woman left to see to the others, Shireen looked around. The building they were in was long and thin, as she suspected it seemed to head off into the hill. At the side were three shrines, one to the Mother in the middle, one to the Maiden and one to the Crone. A long table was set towards the back of the room, it was set with bowls and spoons and there were still half a dozen women stood around it clad in the same shapeless grey wool robes of septas. But they quickly leapt to action. Several of them disappeared into the back and returned with even more warm furs and pillows and started laying them out by the fire. A commotion from behind made her look behind her, where the old lady who had opened the door was engaged in a heated discussion with Richard. "The war hasn't reached here yet, so you can surrender that sword, unless you want to try your luck in the storm."
"It's okay, ser Richard," she said, trying to smile, but her lips wouldn't move. "You too, Allard, your knife, let them have it."
Allard looked at her like she was the greatest of fools as he took the longknife out from under his cloak and passed it over to a nearby septa. "One of you would seem to have the manners of a guest," the mother said as the weapons were taken away. As they were placed against the wall at the back, one of the septas, the one called Maven, came over to her with a bowl and a smile. "Here you are, my lady," she pressed the bowl into Shireen's hand. It was a simple green soup, but the warmth of the bowl in her palms was like a poultice on a wound. Gratefully she ate without comment and the others soon joined her at the table, Richard and Allard looking around suspiciously.
"You have nothing to fear," the old septa who seemed to be in charge said. "We don't refuse travellers in need here, your swords will be ready for you when you leave."
"You're making us leave?" Shireen asked suddenly.
The septa, who had been so stern with Richard, smiled at her kindly. "No child, not while the storm rages. But since that could be a while, I suppose we should grace each other with our names. I am Alayne, septa superior of this motherhouse."
Shireen smiled and was about to reply when she saw Allard and Richard staring at here, eyes wide and imploring. "I am Myrielle, Myrielle Caron."
"A pleasure, and what brings you here, Lady Caron?"
"I was fostered at Bronzegate, but my family sent for my return, what with the war."
Richard closed his eyes, clearly not happy with her story, or that she'd used her mother's name, as her own. Then her heart froze, were they not even south of bronzegate? Had she made such a simple mistake.
"The war began some time ago, it's rather late to be leaving now and with such a small escort?" Asked Alayne.
Shireen let out a breath, at least they were south of bronzegate. If she'd been wrong she didn't know whether she'd have cried more at being put out in the storm again, or that they still had so far to go. "The war has been spreading south lately, Lord Caron ordered her return." Richard said, speaking before Shireen had a chance to. She bent over her bowl, hoping her damp hair would cover her burning cheeks.
"But why no other escort? Only two knights, one sword, no armour and a handmaiden." Shireen saw the other septas backing away, clearly unsure about their visitors now.
"We received word that Lord Buckler was planning to hand Lady Caron over to King's Landing, as you are no doubt aware King Stannis' Queen is a Caron, she would make a valuable hostage. We left as soon as we heard, we didn't have time to gather much, and what we did have we had to give away when our horses died several days ago, this is what's left of us." Richard spoke calmly, his voice didn't waver. She prayed it was enough.
"Are you being followed?" Alayne asked.
"If we are, they haven't caught us yet, and won't in this storm."
"We are here to worship, not to war, I won't have conflict brought to my door."
"We'll leave as soon as we're able," Shireen promised, looking fearfully at the septa superior, "just as soon as the storm has passed, I promise, you can tell them nothing or everything as you wish it, just… please don't make us leave now."
Alayne looked at her, lips pressed tightly together. "What I said stands, while the storm rages, you can stay. Eat, warm yourselves, you may sleep as well. You can have beds in the dormitory," she said, looking between Shireen and Aeriel, "but this is a motherhouse, the men will sleep out here, we'll provide whatever covers you need."
"Septa superior, we have no spare beds in the dormitory."
"One of them can have mine," Alayne said."
Maven raised her hand. "They can have mine as well."
"That's quite unnecessary," Shireen said. "Please, keep your beds, Aeriel and I will sleep out here as well."
Alayne looked between the two girls and the two men. "There will be no defiling of this motherhouse with carnal acts, am I clear?"
Her face burned again. "You have my word, septa superior."
Alayne nodded, satisfied. "Finish your meals, then we'll have some warm clothes brought for you." She swept away.
Shireen returned to her food and finished the soup. Maven was on hand to take the bowl as soon as she was done, and as she took it away, Corenna stepped up. "If you'd like to come with me, we can find you some clothes for you."
"I… of course." She and Aeriel got up to follow the septa, subtly gesturing for Richard to stay when he made to follow them. Corenna, a comely woman, about thirty, led her down passed the table and into the part of the motherhouse dug into the hill. There were three rooms, a shared dormitory, a pantry and kitchen, and a storeroom. Inside, Corenna pulled out a few sets of septa's robes. "These are all we have I'm afraid."
"That's perfect," she said, pausing as Corenna didn't leave. "Could we have some privacy please."
"Of course," Corenna nodded, turning and giving them a moment of privacy so they could change. The robe was a little big, the hem slightly brushing the ground, but she wasn't going to demand another one, it was warm and didn't have a slash that bared her cleavage to any who would look. More than that, there was a special comfort that came from wearing the clothes of those who had given their lives to the gods.
"We're done," she said, and Corenna turned back to them, guiding them back to the main hall.
They returned to Richard and Allard, with the septa superior informing them that they had no clothes for men. Allard looked dark at the pronouncement, but Richard waved it away. "We'll have those blankets tonight, that's more than enough, thank you."
The septa superior nodded as a crash of thunder shook the building around them, the storm must be overhead now. "Girls, everyone, to bed now," the septa superior clapped and the septas got up and started clearing up the last of the mess on the table, taking it back into the motherhouse. "I will wish you the best night, Corenna and Maven will check on you once more before we sleep."
"Thank you septa," Shireen whispered back. "We'll be asleep soon, but first, if I may, I would like to give my thanks to the gods for guiding us here."
She nodded. "Of course, please," gesturing at the three altars.
Once she was out of earshot, Shireen felt fingers grip her wrist, not unkindly. "My lady, we should talk about our plans from here."
Shireen placed her hand on Richard's. "We will, but first I will pray." Something in her tone made him nod and eventually release his grip. Shireen dropped in supplication before the altar of the Mother, pressed her palms together and whispered her thanks. "Almighty mother above, thank you for extending your kindness to us, and guiding us to this place of shelter in our hour of need. In return, I promise to you that I will bring a donation to this motherhouse, and return their kindness, unasked for and undeserving with mine own, unasked for, and should it ever come under need, I shall assist it as much as I am able. Please, almighty mother, continue to watch over us. I know I am weak and far from your ablest servant, but whatever I can do, I will."
When she was finished with her prayer she got up and Maven, stepped forward. "My lady Myrielle, I have left a washbasin on the table if you wish to make use of it."
Shireen glanced at it and smiled, suddenly feeling the grime on her face, hands and feet. "Thank you Maven." The woman was only a few years older than Shireen, perhaps twenty, with astute eyes and a kind smile.
"My pleasure."
Maven retreated, and Shireen knelt before the altar of the maiden and the crone, thanks to the gods came before a bit of dirt. Just as she was finishing her prayers to the crone, Corenna approached. Her eyes were wide, and her face pale. "Is something wrong?" Shireen asked, reaching out for her, but she recoiled like a snake had shot out at her.
"I… no… nothing's wrong," she swallowed. "I w-was just coming to tell you that we're going to the dormitory now and ask if there was anything more you needed?"
Shireen shook her head and wondered what had put such a fright into the woman, was it Richard, he could be brutal and the pox scars on his face leant him an air of intimidation. She would speak with him. "No, thank you Corenna, I hope you have a pleasant sleep."
"You as well." She retreated, leaving Shireen and her group alone.
"My lady, we need to talk about our options," Richard said as soon as they were alone.
"Did you do something?" Shireen asked.
"I'm sorry, my lady?"
"That septa, she was scared by something, did you do something to her?"
"No, my lady, we didn't speak, I paid her no more heed than I did any of the others."
She would ask her again in the morning. "Very well then, what should we speak about." She folded the robes beneath her and sat down on the floor with the others.
"How long we plan to stay here," Allard said, leaning in, they were alone, but couldn't help but whisper. "Do we leave when the storm has passed, first light, when?"
"We can have a day here, surely," Aeriel whispered, looking at Shireen's feet. "It would be good to rest a little, we have been walking non stop."
Embarrassment flushed her face, but her feet were screaming at her. "Please, can we not have one day, a little longer."
"Princess, it won't make it easier, better to just keep walking, I promise." Richard said. "And besides, we don't know who in this place will keep secret that you are here."
"But they don't know who I am.
"Perhaps, but they know who you aren't. Lady Myrielle, escaping from Lord Buckler," Allard fixed her with a gaze.
"What do you mean?" she asked defensively.
"My lady, you spoke like a child when asked if they ate the last cake with the equivalent of crumbs on your lips." She didn't know if it was possible for her to go more red. "If they didn't see through that, then they are more cloistered than I thought, but I doubt it. And those who didn't will start wondering who could possibly be here, and I promise they will come to the worst conclusion they can think of."
"Master Allard is right," Richard agreed, looking at her sympathetically, "we have to leave as soon as we are able, as soon as the storm lets us."
"I… I know," she whispered, wanting to cry. "I'm sorry. You shouldn't be stuck with someone so pathetic." What had she done but hold them up since they found her? Nothing.
"My lady," Richard reached out tentatively, not quite touching. "We don't say it to be cruel, or to demean you, you remain our princess and our lady, we only do this to look out for you. If it was in your best interests to stay, we would."
She looked up at them, Richard was looking at her with a tenderness that was alien on his hardened features, Aeriel looked apologetic and Allard glanced away in what appeared to be shame. "Yes, my lady," he said, the kindness of his father seeping through, "I'm sorry, the way I spoke to you was, unbecoming, forgive me."
"There's nothing to forgive," she replied, trying to smile at him, but not able to make her lips move. "You are going beyond what I could expect of you, thank you, all of you. I'll try not to be such a burden on you, going forward."
Aeriel slipped around Shireen and wrapped her in a hug from behind, her thin arms secure and warm, and she fell into them, hiding in the hug. "It'll all be well, princess," she whispered into Shireen's ear. One of Aeriel's arms reached out.
"That isn't appropriate," she heard Richard say. She reached out an arm of her own.
"My lady, Ser Richard is right," Allard said.
Looking up at them she extended her other arm to Allard. "Come here, please."
"My lady."
"Come," she said.
"My lady,"
"Princess."
"Come." She beckoned them and at last the came over. Gently, still trying to maintain some decorum, they joined the embrace. Shireen wrapped one arm around the knight and one around the sailor, feeling their hard, lean bodies beneath their still damp shirts. "I'm sorry. Thank you," she whispered, pulling them in and closing her eyes. She knew they would have to pull apart to sleep, but for now, just for now, she let the feeling of them around her keep her safe from the troubles of the world.
The town burned around her. Like great maws gaping at the sky, tongues of fire lashed out amid cackling crackles of splintered timbers, smoke, hot and black hissed into the air, like the corruption of the world, burned away in the fires of anger and hate and wrath untamed.
She walked through the town, her bare feet burning on the melting grass, but despite the heat and the smoke, her eyes were open and searching. They were here, somewhere, and she had to find them. Whoever they were.
A townhouse fell into itself, the walls no longer able to support the roof and from the ashes emerged a great serpent of smoke, eyes burning gold and green, wreathed in scarlet fire. It's eyes fixed on something in the far distance, off where Shireen was going, and it lunged, the monster dragging the flames in a blanket of fire, a scar across the night sky. She had to go where it was going, she knew that. So she followed it, but stopped when she heard a great roar. The snake reared up and collapsed, crashing into the buildings and letting the inferno grow even further. She picked up the pace, she had to get to where the snake had been. Why? She had to.
He stood in a burning garden of the mystical dead. The snake lay to the side, layer after layer of skin sloughing to the ground and rotting away, a pride of great lions, with bleeding eyes scattered around amidst the collosal corpses of three great dragons, the scales and bones decorating the ground, their skulls broken and ruined. He panted amidst them all, his armour black and scorched, two great antlers glinting with bloody gold, his hammer dripping black gore. He turned his head to the sky and roared the anger and rage of a lifetime of misery and pain.
"He needs to stop," she knew it, and pushed forward, the fires roaring and pushing her away. But his unbridled rage was too much.
The armour of his belly was ripped open and he was spilling out, but this pain was not what drove the warrior, no it was a delight to him, other wrongs drove him to this destruction.
She pushed forward, the flames licking at her clothes, curling her hair and burning her breath. She had to reach him, he needed help. Her skin scorched to black, turning brittle and breaking. She had to reach him. She screamed. He didn't hear. Her fingers brushed off his armour, the tips breaking and crumbling to ash. She pushed on and wrapped what was left of her arms around him. "Calm, they can't hurt you anymore, not here uncle Robert."
The fires fell silent, leaving the garden of the dead silent in the rain of ash. He looked down at her, panting heavily.
"Come," she said, taking his armoured hand in her fingers returned to flesh. She led him away in silence until the ruin of the town was far behind them. When the grass was green and the trees in bloom, they sat down on the grass.
He didn't remove his helm, but then why would he, he was a warrior here, it was all he knew.
"You're angry."
"Of course I'm angry, you should be angry."
She looked down at the grass. "I know I should," she said, "but I hate anger."
"Then hate," Robert told her. He looked back in the direction of the burning town. "My hate burns hot and it sustains me."
"Does it?" Shireen asked. "Nothing looks sustained here."
"I don't want them sustained," he said. "Targaryen, Lannister, all the other snakes that coiled around me in life, here I can kill them. I was always good at killing."
She shrank away. When Robert was like this, he was scary. "Your Grace-"
"I'm not Your Grace anymore, I'm Robert the warrior here."
"Robert the warrior," it felt wrong, he wasn't meant to be the warrior, he was meant to be the king? Had they been wrong about that all along? "I need your help."
"You need something killed?" He laughed. "If I was still alive I could do that for you, other than that, you've come to the wrong man."
"My father." The laughter died.
"What about him?"
"He needs my help, but I don't know how. Can you-"
"And you think I do? You think I'll be able to help you with Stannis? I don't know what made you think that. I never understood that man, or what he wanted from me. He wanted me to be his father when we watched our parents die together. When we were in council he wanted me to be his king and he wanted to be my king, when I give him a castle he complains that I should have given him a different one. He wanted me to tell him he'd done a good job when he had and when he hadn't. I make one mistake and he lords it over me with every look and comment, but anything I do for him, give him a castle, give him a fleet, give him a high position in court, and he burns over it for years. But I win rebellions, as rebel and lord, and he complains that I don't recognise his part in it while saying I shouldn't be praised for winning?
"And now he is fighting the great rebellion, the one that finally killed me, the one that risks bringing House Baratheon down for good, with you at his side." His hand lashed out and seized her wrist. "You will kill them, won't you."
"I-" she tried to pull away but his grip was too strong. "Uncle I-"
"The Lannisters! You will kill them all, they all must die for what they did to me, to us!"
The mists were closing in, Robert was fading.
"You must!"
"My lady, you must wake up."
Shireen gasped and thrashed as a hand was placed firmly over her mouth.
"Please my lady you need to get up but stay calm, I'm not trying to hurt you." She just recognised the voice of Maven but could barely make out any shapes in the gloom. "Nod if you agree to stay quiet, and I'll remove my hand."
Slowly, pushing past the fear, Shireen nodded. "My lady, I'm sorry, but you have to leave, right now."
"What's going on?" She whispered into the dark. Had dawn even come? There was no sound of the storm, the fire had burned down. How long had she slept?
Maven helped her into a sitting position. "The septa superior has gone for the hetmen from the local villages, they're coming for you, you have to leave before they get here."
"What? Why?"
"Help me with your companions," Maven said, she went over to Allard and shook the captain gently.
"What's going on?" She demanded.
"There will be time, but you all need to get up, there isn't much time."
The disturbance woke Richard, who saw the shadowy figure crouching over Allard and leapt to his feet, reaching for the sword that was no longer at his waist. Immediately he reached out and seized the septa by the throat. "Explain yourself!"
The septa clawed at the hand clutching her neck, gasping for breath. "Richard, let her speak," Shireen told him. He relaxed his grip, but didn't let her go. "Why has the septa gone to collect men? To kill us, capture us, why?"
Maven reached out and pointed at Shireen's left arm. "Sister Corenna, when she came to you last night while you were praying, your robe had slipped down your arm, she saw."
"Saw what?" Allard demanded, looming over the septa.
"My greyscale," Shireen whispered, her right hand going to her wrist.
Freak! Die! Monster! Abomination!
"The sister superior left through a back entrance, but if you leave now you can run."
The gods have cursed us, better that they had let them die than keep them alive.
"Where are our weapons?"
"This way, hurry."
"My lady, we need to get up, we won't be able to cut our way through a rabble, not in this state."
The hells will take us all, we should get rid of them.
She hadn't heard those voices in so long. Her parents were so quick to silence them. But she'd still heard them, crying herself to sleep with Lyonel to hide from the hard looks and the barbed tongues. After years of growing up with them, the looks had softened, the smiles had come and those who still hated had left or been removed. When she visited elsewhere, she was certain to keep the scars hidden. Not since she was a child, but it had happened, and it was happening again.
"Here my lady," she weakly took the bow case and clambered to her feet.
Maven unlocked the front door, pulling it aside. The pale blue of early morning dappled the sodden grass.
"You have to go, now. She'll be back soon."
"Why?" Shireen asked, as Aeriel Allard and Richard left the building. "Why has she done this, she said we were welcome."
"Because the septa superior doesn't know who you are. Princess Shireen."
Her eyes widened and she stepped back from Maven. "How?"
Maven smiled. "Before I came here, I was Maven Estermont. I have only seen two people with hair as black and eyes as blue as yours. King Robert and Lord Renly, My one week at King's Landing with my parents, my last week before I took my vows at the Great Sept, I remember it well, and I remember seeing the King. Perhaps for his mother, he met with us for one dinner with Lord Renly."
"And my father?"
Maven shook her head. "No, Lord Stannis was not there, I don't know why. But I remember Lord Stannis married a lady Myrielle Caron, and had two children, a son called Lyonel, and a daughter called Shireen, and that the two of them were both fine archers." She nodded at the bow case. "I also heard rumours that they had been afflicted Greyscale."
"But… why help us, you didn't have to do that?"
"I've also heard of the kindness and faith of Lord Stannis' children. And I saw your faith last night. I know you don't deserve to be hounded for something that is not your fault."
"I-"
Maven took her arm and gently pushed her through the door. "Go now, princess."
Not waiting for thanks or acknowledgement, Maven shut the door and she heard the lock rattle shut again.
She turned to the others."We should go," she said awkwardly.
The other nodded, not looking her in the eye. Had they seen her reaction to Maven's revelation?
They stepped out onto the grass, their feet sinking into the mud oozing up around them.
"Which way is south?"
