Rose

Rose Serrett was enjoying a rare lie-in when she heard a knock on her door. For a moment she considered sending whoever it was away, her sheets were warm, and her eyelids were heavy, and she wished for nothing more than to stay in bed until noon at the earliest. It was probably something important though, if it was good enough reason to come straight to her. Usually anything mundane would be handled by the castellan or one of his understudies.

Reluctantly, Rose rolled out of bed, running a final mournful hand over the plumage of the peacock embroidered on her bed clothes before her bare feet touched the soft, carpeted floor. She stretched her arms out, and called out for her handmaids. There was a soft commotion behind her, and she turned to find all three girls emerging from the sewing room. They were all the scions of House Serrett's vassals: Maria, a short, bubbly girl with big blue eyes set in a heart-shaped face, and sandy brown hair that fell just past her shoulders, was from House Leith, while Karya, green-eyed with flowing blonde hair, always worn down as far as the small of her back, and Liane, who shared Karya's eyes, but wore her own blonde hair in a small bun, were Foytrees. Their home was further flung than Maria's, as far as twelve leagues from Silverhill, their castle was built upon a flat plain upon a lower peak near the edge of the Westerlands. "Did you sleep well, my lady?" Karya was always the first to speak, and the boldest too.

"I would have slept better if I were not woken, Karya," Rose said, not bothering to hide her displeasure. "Liane, find out what my visitor wants of me."

The Leith girl dipped into a quick curtsey. "At once, my lady," she said, hurrying to the receiving room.

Rose turned her attention to the other two girls. "Karya, Maria, I think I shall wear my blue dress today, the one with the green highlights, and an emerald pendant." Rose occasionally wore nothing but her house's royal blue, decked out with sapphires and lapis rings, and only slightly more rarely, only the green favoured by the house she had married into, but most often, she chose a mixture of the two. I am both Serrett and Blacktooth, after all, I should not favour one house over the other.

Maria set about picking out smallclothes, chemise, girdle, hose, stays, and gown, while Rose and Karya made for the dressing table on the wall opposite her bed, between two large windows which gave a commanding view of the surrounding valleys and mountains. Rose sat before a large vanity and observed her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was bound up in a coif that she wore in to keep it being tousled by sleep, but wisps of black hair had escaped and now drifted down to frame her face.

"My cheeks are awfully bland," Rose complained. "Some rouge, I think, otherwise I'll look like a corpse." She gave herself a thorough appraisal, and despite some less satisfactory elements, she was pleased. My beauty was always going to fade as time passed, the gods are kind to make the process graceful. Some features in fact seemed to improve. Her cheekbones were more pronounced now than they had ever been. "What gossip is circulating this morning, Karya?" Rose asked, as she started to apply the makeup.

Karya shrugged, not even bothering to stop dabbing red powder on Rose's cheeks. "Nothing of interest to you, my lady, apparently the bard his lordship invited is sleeping with Freia from the kitchens, a few of the squires have made a bet to be the first to take Bethany's maidenhead, and everyone thinks that Ser Desmond is going to knight his squire this afternoon." Rose had to agree with Karya's assessment, none of that was worth knowing. Ser Desmond's squire was no one of great import, the younger son of a cousin of Lord Leith, only in such a position because his merchant father pulled enough strings to make it so, and the boy's blood made it remotely possible. "How will you be wearing your hair, my lady?" Karya asked, as she retrieved a pot of lip balm from a draw and started to apply it to Rose's lips.

She waited patiently for the younger girl to finish, she would do herself no favours by talking and causing an accident. "A simple braid, I think." Rose most often wore her hair in a simple manner, it took far less time to arrange in the mornings, affording her more time for her duties.

Liane returned in a flurry of skirts to the sound of slippers patting against stone and then carpet. She hurried over to the dressing table and dipped into another curtsey, holding out a small, rolled-up parchment. "One of Maester Bryce's attendants asked me to give you this letter."

A letter? I got out of bed for a letter? Rose sighed heavily, taking a mournful glance over her shoulder. Her bed was hidden behind its canopies, she knew it was too late to decide to go back. "Very well," she took the parchment, hastily unrolled it, and made to give it little more than a cursory glance before it was discarded until she read 'Dearest Aunt,' right at the top, and soon after recognised her niece's hand. She slowed down, a letter from Joanna was common enough, but one from the younger of her nieces was almost unheard of. "It's from little Ellinor," she announced, to a chorus of oohs and ahhs.

"Do you remember when she came to visit?" Maria asked, having finished laying out Rose's clothes. "She was so adorable, and that hair. I can't wait to have a daughter of my own."

Karya and Liane made assenting noises whilst Rose read the rest of the letter.

Dearest Aunt,

I hope this letter finds you well. I write to you because I am afraid; Father has sent Devan out to put down a group of bandits, and I fear he will not be safe. He only has fifty men, and they're only guards, Father said himself that they weren't soldiers. I've heard such terrible stories about these bandits, I dread to think what they would do to him should he be captured. Can't you give him some help?

Kindest Regards, Your Loving Niece, Ellinor Blacktooth.

Rose pursed her lips as she finished reading. Fifty men? I heard those bandits numbered in the high hundreds. What is Sam thinking? "Has my husband returned from his morning ride yet? It appears I must speak to him." Rose wasn't confident that she could convince Royle to commit more than a couple of hundred men to their nephew's cause, but that would be far more suitable than the fifty Sam had seen fit to provide him with.

"Yes, my lady, he'll be in his study," Maria affirmed. Her brother, Lucas, was Royle's squire, so she was always the best person to turn to for information on her husband's whereabouts.

"I'll pay him a visit when I am dressed," Rose decided. She took one last look at herself in the vanity, looking far better for the light application of makeup. "Come, let us begin."

The moment Rose emerged from her bedchamber, it was as if a mustering call had been sounded throughout the castle, and even on the short walk from her chambers to Royle's, two people approached her. First was a page on business for the castellan, a young boy, no older than ten, he bowed clumsily, but apart from that he was the image of good manners. "Good morning, my lady, Ser Galton says he needs a definite answer to his question about the stockpile, he said you would know what he meant."

Rose suppressed a sigh, she knew exactly what the castellan meant. He needed to know how much of their harvest was going to be stored away for winter. Rose thought it a simple enough matter, her mother always taught her that it was best to set aside food enough to last enough years of winter as there had been of summer, that would mean at least nine years of crops set aside. Royle disagreed, however, he thought Rose's belief in winter lasting as long as summer was superstitious nonsense, and wanted to sell half of it. It would make a good deal of money, she was sure, but what good was money if they were starving in their halls? "Yes, yes, of course, tell Ser Galton that he'll have his answer before the day is out. I need to speak to Lord Royle about it first." The time crunch was not something she appreciated, it took time to turn Royle around to a certain view, especially when it involved losing money.

"I'll let Ser Galton know that you and his lordship are still undecided." The page made a swift bow, and ran off down the hall once again.

Rose didn't get more than a few paces down the hall before she was intercepted by Septon Theo, on a rare trip outside of his sept. "Lady Rose, I have seen you so rarely in the sept recently, you never used to miss your morning prayers before. Has something changed?" Theo was an elderly man, with thin grey hair and a kindly face covered in wrinkles. He reminded Rose of her grandfather, especially when he smiled, and small crows feet appeared at the corners of his eyes. "I understand that the challenges of managing a household are numerous, and so very important, but no more so than giving honour to the gods."

Rose favoured the old man with a smile. "Of course, septon, I haven't forgotten. You'll see me in the sept for afternoon prayers, I promise. I hope the gods will forgive my short absence."

"Of course not, my child," Theo assured her. "The Mother is merciful, and the Father is just, they will welcome you home with open arms. If you wish to make amends in the best way possible, the Seven love the youngest and most vulnerable of their children. I will be making Silverhill's monthly contribution to the local community in the coming days, a gracious donation would be appreciated, both by the Seven and by your people."

Rose pursed her lips. Royle simply refused to make such donations, and was rarely happy when she made them, he wouldn't be pleased if she made one now, and she would need to avoid antagonising him to force through the crop storage she wanted and still persuade him to give Devan reinforcements. "I shall think on it, I promise, but I am not a rich woman in my own right, my lord husband has the final say in such matters. Even if in practise I have to manage the entire household, and every now and again he'll butt in with some absurd scheme to save money when I was doing just fine in the first place.

"I understand, my lady, the gods only ask their children for what they can afford to provide. I remember one inspiring young man who would come to my old sept in Wickenden to help serve meals to the poor. He was no better off than those who came to eat at the sept, but he always put their needs above his own. I did what I could to help him, I taught him to read from the Seven-Pointed Star, and took him under my wing somewhat. I wonder what became of him when I left, he had promise as a servant of the Seven, perhaps he even rose to replace me as septon in Wickenden." Theo started to ramble, as all old men seemed wont to do. Rose had little enough interest in listening to the wistful stories of the elderly at the best of times, when she had somewhere to be, she had no patience for it at all. Theo paused for breath, and Rose pounced on the opportunity.

"I'm sorry, your holiness, but I really must go, my husband and I have much to discuss." Theo made a soft tone of agreement, and said his goodbyes, shuffling to the side so Rose could make her way past. She walked slowly until she was out of earshot, then began taking long strides again, hoping that would be the last interruption of the morning. Blissfully, it was, and she slipped into Royle's chambers without any further incident.

Royle's receiving room was almost bare, the only true decorations to speak of were a gold statue of a peacock, complete with turquoise gemstones, and a bronze bust of some long-dead Serrett that Rose had never learned the name of. The walls were painted with a dull green that sapped what little light there was in the room. Would it have killed the Serretts to put a window in here? The sun was high in the sky by now, and this room still needed candles. That's not very good for saving money, is it Royle? Lighting this room must cost a small fortune. Rose smirked to herself and moved on, leaving the dreary room behind.

Royle was sitting at his desk, poring over a parchment as if it had the secret to eternal life written on it, his sandy brown hair looked dishevelled, as if he had been running his hand through it many times. He heard the door open, and looked up, frustration eminent in his deep green eyes. "I told you, I don't- oh," he paused when he realised it was her. "Rose, I wasn't expecting you." He stood as she came closer and held out a hand for him to kiss. He hadn't shaved that morning, and the stubble on his chin scratched against her hand momentarily. "Did you not say you would be sleeping late this morning?"

"I did, and I would have done, if I hadn't been woken up for a letter." Rose took a quick glance down at the parchment. "What are you reading?"

"Nothing really, apparently we underpaid the Lannisters for last month's taxes. Tywin himself has penned a letter warning me that this disobedience will not be permitted. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a musician playing the Rains of Castamere down in the hall." He scowled down at the parchment, and reached up to scratch a long thin scar across his forehead. "Gods Above, no one is allowed to make a mistake these days. I've already dispatched collectors to retrieve what we missed, Tywin will have his gold by the end of the week." Royle pushed the parchment to one side, and rang a bell at the corner of his desk, shortly afterwards a serving girl hurried in. "Bring us wine, I have a feeling we might be speaking for some time." He watched the girl go, and gestured for Rose to sit across from him. "What was this letter you received?"

Rose took the seat she was offered, and cleared a space on the desk for her future wineglass. Royle kept an especially messy desk, though he always seemed to know where everything was if he needed them. Organised chaos, that's what he calls it. "It was from my niece, but we can discuss that later. Ser Galton needs to know whether we will send our harvest crops to market or store them for winter. I told him I would have an answer for him by tonight."

Royle looked unimpressed. "Why does he need to know now? Men are still planting crops, the citadel has given no indication that this winter will end any time soon. There isn't any need to make such a decision now." He shrugged his shoulders, looking out one of his windows, down into the yard below. "Until we receive a white raven from the citadel we will continue to sell our excess produce, I don't think that requires much argument."

"This summer has been very long, Royle, the winter that follows will be too. If it lasts as long as summer, we won't have enough food stored away to last all winter. That is why Galton wants to start now." Rose saw him roll his eyes, but she made a concerted effort to keep her cool. "I know you don't believe in that 'superstitious nonsense', but what's the worst that can happen? If winter is as long as summer, and we survive just fine, perhaps even with a little extra to sell at a premium to houses with less foresight, or it isn't, and we can sell it before the first harvest of next summer is collected."

"It would lose value being left in a store room for so long," Royle complained. "We would get a far better price if we sold it now. We would lose a great deal of money for the sake of your peace of mind."

"And if we were to sell until we received a raven, we would lose our lives for the sake of a few coppers." Rose gave him a sweet smile, not unlike one she might give a child who had made a fool of themself. "We aren't poor, we can manage the financial burden of a few missed crop sales."

"One would think a woman born to a poor family would understand the necessity of fiscal responsibility," Royle grumbled.

"I assure you I do, my dear. What I do not understand, however, is counting coppers for no good reason. My parents used to argue about things such as these for hours when I was a girl. I didn't think it would be a concern when I married into a house as rich as yours." Rose sat back in her chair and stretched her arms, still a little stiff from sleep. "Our lost revenue won't be any higher than a few hundred dragons, that's nothing, we could save as much in candles every year by installing a window in your receiving room."

"This is going nowhere, what letter did you receive?" Rose considered refusing to change topics, but Royle already seemed agitated, and if she wanted to persuade him to give Devan more men, he would need to be at least somewhat calm. If she had to choose that ahead of delaying the storage of crops for a week, then so be it.

"It was from our niece, Ellie, you remember her don't you?" She half-expected him not to, even when Devan had been his squire for four whole years it seemed as if Royle hardly remembered his name.

Royle rolled his eyes. "Of course I do, she's the younger one, always handing out blue carnations to anyone who'll take them. What did she write?"

"It would seem your former squire has been given a military command. Fifty men to root out and destroy the bandits on the Gold Road, Ellinor is worried about him."

"You mean Devan? Good for him, I suppose," Royle didn't seem impressed. "Fifty men isn't a lot, but I suppose it's the best that Sam can round up in peacetime. The gods know if he called his banners Tywin would match the blue lions' fate to the red."

Rose shuddered, that was not something that bore thinking about. "Yes, well, it isn't a lot, I think it would be considerate if we were to bolster his forces. You wouldn't miss a hundred and fifty, would you?"

"Probably not, but I'm not sending any Serrett men out to die because Devan wants to play soldiers. If he fails, he fails, it's no problem of mine." Rose opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off before she could even begin. "I know what you're going to say, the answer is no. I'll happily listen to what you have to say with regards to the harvest, you know about such things, you've proven as much. In matters of combat, you know nothing, it is a man's field."

I know a good deal more than half the men whose counsel you trust, you chauvinistic pig, Rose thought angrily. "Surely you could-"

"No!" Royle snapped. "I have spoken, no Serrett men will leave this castle to help Devan on this foolish project of his. I care naught for this pointless endeavour, and I will take no part in it." He made a heavy sigh, and lifted a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I'm sorry, I should not have spoken in such a way." He reached across the desk, trying to take her hand, but Rose pulled it back. "I'm sorry, truly, I am, but you must understand, the command of soldiers is my responsibility, and mine alone, I cannot and will not budge on that."

Rose couldn't think of anything to say to get the conversation back on the right track. Often it is best to retreat, when you are no longer able to achieve your goal from prolonged battle. Rose stood abruptly, and made to speak when a side door swung open. "Your wine, m'lord," the same girl who had come before entered, with two wine glasses and a pitcher of arbor gold on a wooden tray.

"Thank you, pour us each a glass," Royle said, gesturing to the desk.

Rose shook her head. "That won't be necessary. I was just taking my leave. Thank you for your time, my lord, I shan't occupy any more of it." Rose left the room with a flourish before Royle managed to speak, stormed through the ugly receiving room, and slammed the door behind her as she left. It wasn't often that she was completely rebuffed, and she didn't like the experience. I need something, something that I can use. She looked around, and saw that Karya and Liane had followed her and were waiting outside the door. "You two, come with me," she tried to keep her tone as normal as possible, but she must've failed; the two sisters shared a quick glance before hurrying to obey. "Girls, how is your father these days?" she asked, her mind already whirring.

"He's very well, my lady," Karya said apprehensively. "Why do you ask?"

"I'd like you to write to him, I think he would be very interested to know that House Serrett is going to be increasing taxes and the quantity of crops we demand from them this harvest."

"Are you really going to do that?" Liane seemed appalled.

"My husband just told me as much," Rose told her. "Let your father know, and find Maria, I want her to do the same." We'll see who budges in the end, my lord.