233 AL
Betha shifted uncomfortably as her women fussed over the fall of her skirts. She kept her gaze upon her husband's kin, however. "To be frank, good-brother, I do not understand a thing you are saying. 'Tis not a wife's place to question the decisions of her husband." Leastwise not in company and certainly not just as he'd ascended the throne. Aemon leaned his head forth in what appeared to be a nod, but she could well see he would go no further before her ladies. With a small frown she sent the lot of them to their embroidery and cards and the gods only knew what else.
As was his wont, the good maester reached for his ale unhurriedly. Biting the inside of her cheek, Betha reminded herself that she could not very well demand that he get straight to the point. She hadn't, it was true, the natural patience the likes of Princess Elaena displayed even on her worst of days. On the best of her own days, Betha rather thought she'd like naught better than to throw caution to the wind and simply begin speaking frankly. Alas, a queen had a very strict set of rules to follow. She would not shame Aegon and she would show those pesky mealy-mouthed lords of the realm that they weren't even half a whit above them.
"Of course, Your Majesty, far be it from me to suggest such," the man answered smoothly. Aemon Targaryen held a dignified sort of look upon his face, though some amusement still broke through. She wondered how difficult it was for him to hold back such natural responses. Then again, the man was an odd one. Likely as not, he hadn't too much difficulty. "But surely a wife ought to counsel her husband, offer him her own perspective and, why not, temper his actions." He placed his cup upon the table, turning it ever so gently between his beringed fingers. A particularly large stone shone with borrowed glow. "Would you not agree?"
Fancy that, Betha smiled, unable to help herself; a man who had never been wedded thought he knew the ways of the married folk. "I suppose it would be churlish of me to deny as much. But then, who is to say Aegon might listen? Husbands are, in my experience, as frightfully set in their ways as any other man." She took up her own cup and sipped at the concoction within. The soft taste of alcohol uncurled upon her tongue, hidden just behind the sweetness of fruit. Much as she would have otherwise enjoyed the drink, she could not do so in the presence of Aemon, at the very least not until she had learned what his purpose was in coming to her.
Though he and Aegon were not far apart in age, theirs had never been a particularly close relationship. He was not as bad as certain other brothers, yet all the same, he was to be regarded with suspicion. She leaned back in her seat, the cup lowering until she held it fairly in her lap. Her already frayed patience disintegrated with each passing moment. "I do wish we might stop this pretty dance. Your Grace well knows the steps weary me."
That finally saw the other's mask fall. "Very well, let me then reach my point 'afore I come to regret my impulsivity." Hardly that; Betha doubted the man had once in his life followed an impulse without thinking it through. All the same, the maester took a deep breath. "I have come to you not for myself, but for Lady Aelinor."
"Ah, her." Betha glanced away from Aemon's all too discerning eye. "I thought I heard she suffered a bout of ill health. It is to be hoped she will be well soon." What else could one say in such a situation? Frankly, Betha thought the less she knew of the woman, the better. At least until the worst of it blew over. "Naturally, if I can make her more comfortable, I should very much like that." Truly, her heart bled for the woman. In her way. Lady Aelinor had fallen just as far as that husband of hers.
"Should you?" questioned her guest. That made Betha snap to attention. Had she walked into some manner of trap? "That is just as well, for I do believe you can offer her some comfort." Narrowing her eyes until they were slits, she struggled to keep from questioning him. "In some ways, the two of you are very similar."
"Our colouring; indeed, that has been much remarked upon." She smiled, thinking to turn the conversation. "Why I do believe that if she were not a Penrose, she would fit quite comfortably in with my own kin. But I throw this is not quite the subject you were aiming for, Your Grace. Forgive my flightiness."
"Quite; I rather spoke of similarities of a domestic nature." That gave her pause. Certainly, she knew well enough that the benighted Lady Aelinor loved that creature she called husband; though for the life of her she could not figure out what her reason was. Aegon at least had charm and good-humour in abundance. And he'd not quite as many atrocities trailing in his wake as the ghastly former Lord Hand.
"Very well, I concede the point to you; she loves her husband. Many a woman do. What should that have to do with us?" The man stood condemned by his own actions and though Betha could only be glad the pretender was gone, she dared not excuse kinslaying. No more than Aegon did. "If my husband chooses to execute the man, that is just as it should be. He is the King, after all. Is that why I should interfere, because she loves her husband?"
"Heavens, Your Grace, nay; indeed that would be quite maudlin. I would have you put in a word in her favour as a personal favour. Think of it as my being in your debt." Curious and curiouser; Betha awaited with baited breath for him to clarify. "Let us say that if you do this for me, then I shall do you a good turn as well. I have been thinking more and more on the matter of newly minted kings. It is ever dangerous to have too much kin about you, is it not?"
Dread settled low in the pit of her stomach. "I will beg you once more to be plain in your dealings, Your Grace. Simple minds like mine deal that much better in clarity."
"It seems to me a great deal of our troubles might be solved in a satisfactory way, should His Majesty allow Lady Aelinor to have her hearing. If such is the case, I too am willing to be generous; Your Majesty, I give you my word hereby that I shall willingly take the black if this petition of mine is granted."
Betha very nearly spilled the reminder of her ale upon her skirts. She cared little enough for the kinslaying Lord Brynden, even poor Lady Aelinor's pain she might have comfortably enough lived with after a time; the threat to her husband's seat was another matter altogether. "Why would you even consider doing such for that woman."
"That is for me to know." An odd man, as she had said.
"Very well; I will consider your request." It was as much of a dismissal as she might give him; once which he seemed only too eager to take. He had left her chamber before she'd gathered herself together so as to stand up. The cup was placed upon the table where it was no longer in danger of making a mess.
Pacing back and worth, Betha went over the conversation in her head. Had he given any indication as to his aim before? Nay; indeed not. She recalled him lending support to Lady Aelinor has her husband faced imprisonment. She even remembered the particular shade of white the good lady's face had turned and her tearful protests. But Aemon had remained circumspectly impartial aside from his gallant act. No matter how she turned the facts, they made no more sense than before. Aegon, might be, would know better than she. As a man, he could have some insight she lacked.
Calling for one of her woman, she hastily scribbled a note for her husband. "Have this delivered to the King. Impress upon him that the matter is of great import." No more was needed for the girl to be off, skirts trailing in her wake. Betha reclaimed her seat after a time, eyes staring into the burning flames nestled in the hearth. One might hope her husband would not keep her waiting.
But the realm was an even more demanding mistress as it turned out. Betha saw neither hide nor hair of her beloved until well into the evening, when the table had been laid out and he came forth, looking weary and worse for wear. She greeted him with open arms, mindful of his state. "My love, never tell me you came for my summons instead of heading to the bedchamber for a well deserved rest." She kept her voice soft and low; he'd praised it often enough in her that she loved it just as well.
"Fie, beloved, as though I might choose to ignore your call for as paltry a thing as slumber." He encircled her in his arms. His chin rested atop her own crown of curls. The scent of pine filled her nostrils; she relaxed against him, tilting her head upwards until her lips played against his throat. A sharp intake of breath met her tender gesture. But at the same time she could feel the tension leeching out of him.
Betha drew back. "For shame, as though I were some shrew who does not understand her husband." Taking him by the hand, she led him to one of the empty seats and dismissed the cupbearers and servants. Aegon watched her as she piled food on a plate before placing it before him and seating herself in his lap. He chuckled when she brought a thin roll of cold meat to his lips. "Careful, lady wife; they will think you quite wild should anyone come upon us." All the same, she allowed her to feed him, obediently biting into the offering. The remaining half, Betha popped in her mouth, scowling at her spouse.
"Better wild than hungry," she replied at long last, reaching for some cheese. As before, she split it between them. Their meal retained its relaxed air until a great deal of food had been consumed and her husband looked in better repair. Betha might have then brought up the subject dancing ever so impatiently to the forefront of her mind. Yet she could not bring herself to burden Aegon as soon as he had found some peace. Surely it would not hurt to wait a little while more.
They remained seated, her head falling to his shoulder as one of his arms bent firmly to support her weight, settled against her back. The warmth of the fire along with the comfort of his arms brought her a great desire for slumber. They had feasted and they had laughed together, she dearly wished they might fall to slumber in an embrace. Alas, she could not; there was still the small request her good-brother had put forth.
With a sigh, she lifted herself off of her husband. "Your brother came to me." Her husband greeted the words with equanimity. "To beg on behalf of Lady Aelinor, of all things, if you can believe it." That too failed to rouse the man's surprise.
"Took him long enough." She blinked in silent confusion. For his part, Aegon climbed to his feet and went on. "What did he say?"
"Just a moment, my love. Are you not at all taken aback?" He shook his head, which made her feel quite foolish. "What am I missing?"
"Truly, you cannot tell?" he teased, a smile appearing upon his face. Betha batted his hand playfully away, demanding that he give her an answer. "My goodness, I thought you women had a special sort of sense regarding these things." She scoffed, as though she had time to wonder idly about what went on in other people's heads. "He is in love with her."
"I beg your pardon? Loves her; why she's old enough to be his mother." Nay; he respected her a great deal, cared for her even. "You must have it wrong; men are uniquely obtuse when it comes to matters of the heart, I am told."
"Be that as it may, I am correct about this. I've had it from the man himself." Wide-eyed, she stared at him, hoping he'd understand her silent demand. "It is useful, upon occasions, to drink with one's brothers. More to the point, Aemon is the sort of fool who is honest in his cups. He fairly admitted it was for her that he took his vows."
"Because he could not have her," Betha noted gently. "But she was wedded off to Aerys when he would have been a babe in arms himself. I cannot credit it. He would have been just shy of being a man when she took up with Lord Brynden as well." She shook her head. Certainly she'd heard stranger tales of romance, but she'd never thought that sensible Aemon would have such a story. "He vowed to take the black too, if you granted the lady an audience; well at least that now makes sense." Leaving the table behind, they stepped into the royal bedchamber. Betha seated herself upon the edge of the bed. "Will you consider it?"
"He would not save Brynden if he could help it either way; but at least this takes care of one of our troubles." He sat down by her, tugging off his boots. "Indeed, it would be best to allow it. If only to push him into taking those vows sooner rather than later." Betha smiled in relief, rising in order to aid her husband with further disrobing.
"And Lord Brynden?" One could not help but be curious. "Lady Aelinor is likely to beg for his life. Can you ignore her pleas? I recall you once said you found her love most moving." She drew his tunic to her chest.
"I always hoped she might find some happiness. As a lad, I recall her being a most lovely elder aunt who could be counted upon to act graciously in the face of tears and indulge play. It is difficult not to feel great sympathy for the woman." Pausing ever so slightly with her fingers on his belt, Betha met his gaze. "All the same, the man is too dab a hand at all of this. Nay, 'tis best to be well rid of him before he might cause us too much trouble. Aunt Aelinor shall have to endure for the good of the realm."
Not for the first time, Betha wondered just how many laws men could disregard for the better of the realm. She pushed the thought away. "But you will hear her out nevertheless; that is the answer I may give your brother?"
"It is an answer I shall give to him myself." They continued with their ritual until at long last the both of them had been made ready for bed.
Betha climbed under the covers gladly, holding one corner drawn back in invitation for Aegon. He joined her shortly thereafter, settling in at her side. It seemed that just as soon as his head hit the pillow, the poor soul drifted off into sleep. Not that Betha might condemn him; the last few turn had been most trying, not only with his ascension to power, but as much because the whole world seemed to have changed in the blink of an eye.
For herself, the earlier lethargy had vanished and she found herself twisting uncomfortable beneath the heavy layers pinning her down. In truth, she could not help think upon her husband's words. She knew relatively little of Lady Aelinor's first marriage, aside from the fact that she had been set aside. But that the whole of the world knew, thus she did not count herself taken into any manner of confidence. As for her second marriage, it was generally agreed that it had been of a happier nature than her first, even if rather unfortunate as it had lowered her status quite a bit. All the same, had the lady any complaints in that regard, she never voiced them within hearing distance of any living soul.
Tossing onto her side, Betha stretched out one of her arms until her hand grabbed onto her husband's. In the lady's stead she would be just as desperate, she supposed; especially if it was the case that she cared for her husband even a fraction as much as Betha cared for her Aegon. Quite so; she would have long since stormed the dungeons. And poor Aemon, if it were indeed true that he harboured some tendre for the woman. But then might be that had been Aegon teasing her; he had a fondness for pulling her leg.
Shifting until she was lying on her back, Betha glared up at the ceiling. She had half a mind to wake her husband from his sleep and ask him once more if he was quite certain. He would not appreciate being disturbed, however, and he certainly needed his rest. Pouting at her inability to satisfy her own curiosity, Betha closed her eyes against the disappointment. No matter, there was more than one way to skin a cat. If anything, a little anticipation would make it all the better when she reached the truth of the matter, and that she would do with all haste. She had in mind just the lady to send on such a mission. Pleased with her plan, Betha rose higher against the pillows, determined to join her husband.
He was not surprised that it was Mylessa who greeted him. Her dark head bowed, she murmured some faint platitude. Some women donned grief much like an exquisite kyrtle sewn with precious gems and delicate cloths. The subdued beauty lifted her face at long last when she finally realised he'd made no response and neither was he likely to. The watery blue of her gaze caught the light and glittered as though she were in tears. Or might be they were indeed tearful. "Forgive me, Your Grace; I fear you will find us much in disarray," she said at long last, the dulcet tones of her voice tempered by obvious distress. "Have you come to see my lady mother?"
"Indeed, I thought to see how she is holding up." The response seemed to agree with the young woman for she gave a slow nod before pushing her shoulder back in almost military fashion. He'd seen her sire enact the very same gesture a thousand times over. "That is if she is willing to see me. I would not impose."
"You are most welcome to visit whenever you wish, Your Grace." She said no more on the subject, but invited him to walk with her. "My husband and my brother have decided mother ought to take in some fresh air. You will find them in the gardens, if you would be so kind as to join me."
As promised, Aelinor was indeed sitting beneath the shade of a great oak, her younger good-sister by her side. Gwenys' eyes narrowed in a sharp glare as she took note of him, but she climbed to her feet nevertheless just as Aelinor, greeting him. Maeron and Kit who'd been standing upon his arrival both gave slight bows, though he observed the last of the two sported a rather bleak expression. Disregarding that, he turned to the woman, "My lady, I hope you will forgive the intrusion."
Aelinor had a soft curl of lips for him. "How could that ever be, that you should need forgiveness for coming to me." He was glad, at least, for having found her surrounded by her kin, such as they might be. "If you have come to chide me for the scare I gave you last we met, you needn't have taken the trouble. Kit, the little Miss and Gwenys have already impressed upon me the severity of such a display." Her son and daughter began defending themselves, but Gwenys, stalwart soul that she was, cut the conversation short with a handful of words.
"'Tis well we have; Brynden would have it so." At the mention of her husband, Aelinor's expression turned pained. Her good-sister patted her arm in an obviously consoling manner. "What brings you here, Your Grace, if not a desire to chide my dear sister over her carelessness?" He paused for a brief moment, wondering if it were not better to wait.
"I was hoping to discuss a matter with your good-sister." Kit drew closer to his mother, placing his hand just beneath her elbow, it seemed the lad wished to give her support. Heartening though it might be to see such filial care, he had to press the issue, "I shan't take long."
Maeron intervened then. "I daresay the family is willing to hear whatever it is you wish to say, Your Grace." He liked the Lysene trader well enough; it helped tremendously that the man rarely lost his collected mien. He was a good foil for the expressive Mylessa who regarded him just then with a substantial amount of hope. What he could not like quite as much was having been robbed of a private conversation with the woman he'd sought out.
"His Majesty is willing to hear you out, my lady." The words were past his lips for a mere moment before a loud gasp came from the eldest daughter. "If you are willing, then I am to escort you back to him."
"How do we know this is not a mere ploy?" Kit demanded. His hand gripped his mother's arm all the tighter. "Nay, mother; 'tis best you remain where you are."
"Criston," Aelinor chided gently, "watch your tone." But not his words. It seemed that mother and son agreed over one matter at least. "Why would His Majesty suddenly agree to see me? I have petitioned him again and again and he would not allow it. You must allow a fearful woman her due."
There was certainly no reason to keep her in the dark. "I have made him a promise in exchange, if only he would lend you his ear this once." Confusion touched her faintly lined face. "More than that I cannot do."
"But why?" she asked once more.
"I have not forgotten your care, my lady, and I am certainly in no danger of doing so soon. It is precious little I may achieve on your behalf in this, but I would dare not shirk my duty. Belated though the aid might be, I hope you will find it in your heart to accept."
"Gladly," Aelinor spoke over the protests of her family. Rarely did she raise her voice but the effects of the action were clearly felt by the silence befalling the courtyard. "But you shall have to escort me back as well. Kit and my good-son have a matter of take care of." She gave her son a quelling look when it seemed he might once more attempt to prevent her departure. "Gwenys, would you remain and help the little Miss?"
"Of course, Mylessa and I shall look after the children." That was all the woman needed to hear for her decision to be made.
Aelinor gave her good-sister a grateful look before she dusted her skirts with slow movements. The apparent lack of hurry was for his benefit, Aemon surmised. All the same, he would not bring any attention to its futility. Instead, he took in the image the woman presented from top to bottom. Dark hair threaded with silver was held up with pins and combs, the glitter of rubies a spot of vibrant colour in an otherwise dull sea. Her face, though marked by the years and worn by care, still held some of its former sweetness. The rest of her was much as he'd recalled for their youthful days, hidden behind demure cloth, the dove-gray hue complimented by a sash the colour of dark wine. She wore her second husband's colours as well as she had worn his uncle's. Holding his hand out, he waited for her own to settle. Her touch was electrifying still, after so many years.
It was too intimate a touch. Whether she allowed it out of desperation or because she still regarded him as she always had, Aemon could not rightly say. He cared not either. Ignoring the glowering Criston, he gingerly placed Aelinor's hand in the crook of his arm. Nay, he would not bring censure upon her if he could help it. "Come, my lady."
Once alone with her in the cavernous halls of the keep, he checked his step. She came to a halt as well, turning sideways to meet his gaze. "Tell me truly," he beseeched, "are you willing to face the King's ire for that husband of yours?"
"Some of my children are still young enough to need me," she said after a moment's pause. "I daresay the wise answer would be that I will stick with the necessary wifely plea for mercy. But that would be a bold lie. Good sense will serve naught now; therefore I mean to do all I can. If it angers the King, then I will bear that to the best of my abilities."
"And yet when first I brought the mater up, I could swear you hesitated." She did not have to speak the words for him to know why she had. Aelinor had not been the Bloodraven's closest confidante the last quarter of a century to have learned nothing from it. "He would not want you to place yourself in danger. Best to just keep your head down this time."
A muscle ticked in her jaw. "I am of little account, Your Grace; ever was I so. But without Brynden, I would have been worthless as well. You were but a child when your uncle set me aside, so I believe you recall little enough of it, but those were difficult times I should not have survived without Brynden. Am I to abandon him in his hour of need? Shall I be so faithless? I think not." There was something in her gaze, something which made him uneasy. Not the desire that the words be directed towards him. He could not have helped her as a child. "The world may look at him and see a cold and proud man, but he is my man." Aemon nodded; he could not say he understood, but he supposed there was naught for it. She loved her husband as certainly as he loved her and damn the consequences. He wishes he were only half as bold.
But the time for such considerations was at an end. With a small sigh, he began walking anew. Aelinor followed, keeping her steps even. Many a pair of eyes turned to her, many a curious whisper followed, many a sharp comment arose. The woman seemed as though she heard naught. She had practice, after all. The halls had resounded with her name often enough during her lifetime, he guessed, that she not mind them in her old age. Aemon, nonetheless, was glad when they left the intrusive words behind.
The King awaited them in his solar, for once the space blessedly quiet. It seemed the man was not prepared to underestimate Lady Aelinor. Good on him, Aemon thought, for he did not believe the woman had even the smallest desire to let the matter drop before she had tried every single method at her disposal.
"Your Majesty," Aemon greeted, hearing Aelinor's faint voice do the same.
Aegon, the fifth of his name, motioned them closer, dismissing the need for exchanging niceties. "Be seated the both of you." For a brief moment, Aemon thought he'd heard the man wrong. "I well know the bond you share with your aunt, Your Grace; on such account, I am of a mind to allow you to attend as well."
"His Majesty is kind; he thinks to lend me strength, I take it." That came from Aelinor. There was precious little to indicate whether she meant it for praise in truth. "Since such is the case, allow me to get straight to the point. My husband does not deserve death. Surely, Your Majesty, you are aware of that."
"His actions reflect poorly upon the Crown's word," Aegon responded gently. "Allowing him to go on will certainly call down censure upon me. Who is there that will trust a man whose word may so easily be broken? Who, indeed, will trust a king whose own servants see fit to disregard."
"Any man who knows the king's worth, I imagine. The Lord Hand," she paused there and corrected herself, "the former Lord Hand was willing to take on the burden of protecting the realm even if it tarnished his reputation. Securing Your Majesty's seat was of greater import than the idle gossip layabouts and tabbies whose only concern in life is how to best amuse themselves. My husband did not simply want a king on the throne; he wanted a worthy king." Throughout her pretty speech, her words were measured and calm; they came with ease and genuine passion. They had been that well rehearsed. Aemon could not help but admire that; she knew not he would act in her favour but she had nevertheless worked out the best lines she could and offered them masterfully well.
"Would that it were that easy; but you know very well the manner of effect a rumour has. It is good and well for those who know me not to bend ear to idle gossip. But a king is no mere man so that he may later prove himself to others. The assurance has to come before his actions. Nay, lady, 'tis a comely speech you have, but too much is at stake."
"Not as much as might yet be; think you 'tis an easy matter to rule a realm once those most concerned with the good of it have gone?" Aemon shivered at her tone. "Doubtlessly, Your Majesty, 'tis not my place to question any decision you take. I am but a pitiful creature who pines for the most mundane of comforts. All I want is to care for my husband for however long we have left on this earth. Give me that; surely, I do not ask for too much."
Gwenys frowned down at the embroidered margin. "There, there, little Miss." Mylessa's arms drew tighter about her. "We shall get rid of this, that we will. Your mother will doubtlessly be glad to be free of all the clutter." Might be it was better than her good-sister hadn't finished as much as a fully piece of clothing for the babe. "Now then, let us see what can be saved." It took some coaxing and a bit of patience to see the girl let go. She had first thought to give some of the pieces to her, for her own child; but if the mere sight of the things had been sobbing her eyes out, she had best not. Not for the first time, she wished her brother had given some thought to his wife and children before he took on the realm's troubles.
Kneeling by the coffer, she vigorously tugged the first few articles without. To think that only a couple of turns past Aelinor had pulled her excitedly aside, whispering of her unexpected good fortune. No one had expected the woman to ever breed again after her disastrous last miscarriage, lest of all Aelinor herself, acutely aware of all the circumstances stacked against her, from her general and common difficulties with pregnancies to the very glaring fact of her advanced age. She'd even asked Gwenys to not breathe anything to a soul. She had wanted to surprise Brynden. Only Brynden had surprised them all by getting himself arrested.
Her poor brother, he who had held Aelinor after each and every lost babe, hadn't an inkling as to the most immediate result of his imprisonment. And Aelinor, Gwenys had thought for certain they'd lost her after the third day of feverish sobbing and hysterics. Yet she had somehow pulled through. For a time, it was as though they lived with a ghost, for no matter that she lived, Lady Aelinor mourned for the dead and alive alike. She might have continued to do so had Kit not come rushing home. It seemed that her son wielded his sire's authority well. Why, he had fairly ordered his mother to rise from her bed and then, like the truest nursemaid, he'd begun strengthening her. The only thing that boy could not do was bring his father home.
Mylessa too had aided, between bouts of tears. She was, in spite of her ever fluctuating emotions, quite a canny creature and well trained by her mother. She saw to it that their new lodgings were made comfortable, that her mother have all the rest she could wish for by taking on the task of supervising the younger children and last of all, when she felt herself overwhelmed, she had promptly send word to Gwenys herself. It had to be said, however, that her Lysene husband was a most supportive spouse in all of her endeavours. On that score at least, Brynden might rest easy. His eldest daughter would be well loved and greatly cherished as long as her man lived.
A sharp sound interrupted her. Gwenys looked up just in time to see Cerisse's pale face in the doorway. The youngest of her brother's children stepped within. "I want to help as well," the girl offered meekly, holding her hands out.
"Come on in from the door then," her older sister said in a slightly displeased tone. "Have I not said though that you were supposed to read in your chamber?" Ushering the other in, Mylessa quickly shut the door.
"I cannot read with Gerald's constant stream of questions. Kit should have taken him along." The complaint was met with a dismissive snort from the little Miss. Meantime, Cerisse came to Gwenys' side and sat upon the floor, glancing at the nearly empty coffer. "Oh, I recognise these; I helped mother pick out this pattern." Just as soon as the excitement had come, it bled away. "For my," Cerisse trailed off. "For the babe."
Softening, Mylessa quickly joined her sister on the ground. Putting her arm about the child, she gave the best possible response, "Take comfort, sister mine, I am here for you." Looking at the two of them sitting together one could not help but be touched. If only Mya could see them as well. And their blessed mother; she would have loved Cerisse whose temper matched hers so well.
Cerisse seemed receptive to her sister's good intentions and in due time, the both of them had begun folding yards of cloth. Not until they reached an old kyrtle did they pause in their work. "Aunt Gwenys, must be throw this out as well?" Mylessa held up a most spectacular piece which she instantly recognised.
"Now how did that come to be here of all places?" Standing, Gwenys approached. She took the dress and shook it put, displaying it in all of its glory. "Your lady mother wore the dress when she wedded your father, you know."
"You were there?" Gwenys nodded dutifully at Cerisse's eager question. "Mother never makes mention of her wedding day." Poor little Cerisse, she had not heard the whole of it it would seem.
"Perhaps she will tell you one day." Albeit, knowing Aelinor, the woman would relinquish the tale with great difficulty. "Mylessa, you could try this on. It looks to be about your size." Aye, it was a piece marked by time, certainly as could be, but Aelinor had placed it among the babe's cloths. She surely had no further need of it if she'd meant to use it in such a manner.
"That is so unfair; I want to try it as well," Cerisse rose in revolt, light tresses spilling over her shoulder as she moved.
"And so you shall," Mylessa promised. "I would not dream of stealing the chance from you." She was trying, it became apparent, to give her sister as much joy as she could in those moments, likely hoping the store of it would keep the child through the harshness that must follow. "Then aunt Gwenys will have to tell us whom the kyrtle becomes better."