To Ylara245 from Golden Age Before Us: Sorry to be replying here, I just don't have an update for GABU. But my answer, quite predictably, is: no, I won't stop writing however much. I'll just keep on doing my thing. Some ppl will like it, some won't. That's fine.
Also, I'm not usually a cunt, but people like you piss me off, so hell to the no to whatever subtle request you thought you were making. I hope seeing this update pisses you off. :) Have a nice day.
Orsyla's smile cut a bright red ribbon against her pale skin, a perfect match to the pinched-red cheeks and slightly mussed hair. "Your Grace, I must confess, I find Winterfell much to my likening." Very likely it was due to some young buck she'd attached herself to during the evening meal. Orsyla had a talent for finding specimens. She had looked the young one over, content to allow that her lady's tastes were quite refined. "I believe Your Grace has found it to her liking as well."
"Your judgement, as always, my friend, is made in haste," Ynnis cut in, a bold hand making to grab onto Orsyla's elbow. "Your Grace, we need not tolerate her," she jested, a subtle nod of the head towards the door, as if to throw their merry companion to the wolves, as it were.
Startled that she yet had it in her to laugh at such naïve jests, Rhaella allowed as somewhat stilted laugh to pass her lips. "It is a far removed form the Red Keep, but 'tis not in itself something to be bemoaned. I find this keep comfortable." She could only hope her stay would match this very comfort burrowing its way within. Rhaella adjusted her position as Arrana came behind her, silver comb in hand, and began brushing her silver tresses in sure strokes. "I find it ever good of Lord Stark to have allowed all of you to stay here with me as well."
If had not been spoken of, to be honest. Rhaella had surmised. by the fact that the lord himself paid little mind to her women, that she'd be allowed to keep all three of them. When any one woman became wife to a lord, usual custom allowed her companions from within her own lord's borders, It was unusual to find such company among those of other kingdoms. Nonetheless, it was to be hope the man would not change his mind.
Acting the valiant protector in her usual manner, Orsyla stood to her feet and shook out the lint from the folds of her nightgown. "Were any man to attempt to part us, Your Grace, he would face my brath." From a stool she picked up her weapon of choice, and continued, "and that of my trusty bodkin."
"I suppose 'tis better a needle than a shoe," Arrana laughed, joined by the others, even as her clever fingers twisted Rhaella's hair in thick coils. "Your Grace, we ought to be heaping many favours onto this brave protector of ours."
Rhaella calmed herself enough to thank Orsyla for the offer with a half-smile added for effect and barely managed to catch herself before yawning. Tiring though the journey had been, she'd not thought it had depleted so much of her energy. "I do believe there has been enough excitement for one day. Come alone, I grow weary." And somewhat ill at ease, as well. But the Queen Mother was soon hidden beneath the heavy pelts of wolves, on each of her sides one of her women was mounting a defence of pillows for the veritable fort they'd built, a pretty sight, to be sure, heart-warmingly so in the face of change.
As she laid her head down upon a soft, feather-filled pillow, Rhaella conjured the image of her son, leagues away in a bed all of his own, guarded by his Kingsguards to no effect. Chainmail and sharp-edged swords rarely lent themselves to the subtlety of politics and the gods knew that none of those brave men, much as their warring skills were appreciated, had it in them to be great statesmen. A sense of sadness stole over her, snaking down with the wicked slide of a curse. The trite, monotone feeling of dread settled comfortably within her chest. But Rhaella pushed away at it, driving it into a corner. To worry for the fate of her son was to give up on his chances. She had raised a clever boy.
Turning on her side, the woman spied Arrana blowing out the last of the burning candles before sliding into bed alongside Orsyla. Her slim hand hugged the latter's waist for warmth and comfort presumably. Rhaella felt the sharp knuckles pointedly pressing into her own side as Ynnis pushed herself even closer than before.
In the days of her girlhood, before Aerys had been given access to her bed, she had shared it with various companions her mother had found for her. Since birthing Rhaegar, however, she had preferred her own company or that of her son to these presences. In the dark night of the North, she found that to share a bedchamber with familiar faces was not that much of a hardship. Not in that contentment was to be found, but in that she needn't fear the unknown just yet. There was still time to go until that point.
Her own thoughts echoing through her head kept Rhaella in the realm of the wakeful ones for yet some time, the stream of soft murmurs flowing at a steady pace, mingling words and memories with sentiments, the amalgam an amorphous mass swelling to the point of bursting before regressing and fading ever so slowly through the tenebrous depths of consciousness into awaiting oblivion. There remained nothing but the sound of silence and the relative peace of the unknowing. It was to that that Rhaella found sleep coming, the sweet drift stealing her away.
Willingly, the woman allowed herself to be carried away, all senses shutting down, dormant until they were needed once more. Rhaella moved not an inch as the Stranger's hand passed over her, offering a taste of what waited beyond her years in the realm of the living. In the face of absent danger brave, the Queen Mother set foot upon the path making itself known to her, giving her all to the universe she had built within her own mind as the hours of the night drifted steady on, time wearing thin at the edges, fraying with every lap of the wave at the shore of existence.
Elyn Sloane's stout figure trotted comically along the cobblestoned path. The heavy skirts swirled around her thick legs, poorly worked wool scratching the soft skin, chafing along her flesh, its red kiss a reminder of her good man's demise. Lorra followed her lady mother with a measured step, her leaner figure attracting less attention by the swaying of her walk. "Come along, girl. Hurry." The older woman's insistence was met with a furious snort from the girl mentioned. Without protesting the response, the mother simply grabbed at her child's hand and pulled her with great force forth.
Stumbling on a raising stone, Lorra fell to her knees with a loud shriek of surprise. Her cry of pain failed to gain the sympathy of passers-by who merely continued on their way as if nothing had happened. For in truth it had not. Lorra climbed to her feet with shaky, jerky movements and set to her own pace once more. The smarting wound on her knee oozed droplets of blood, the warm fluid sliding against her skin. The pain, inconsequential to the mind of a woman who had just lost her father, remained something to be overlooked and mocked as trifling in the face of the atrocities her parent no longer sufferance even as she thought her thoughts at the hands of cruel torturers in their great capitol.
And all that for having served a Queen of weak mind. Lorra had not stepped foot into court for very long before she'd understood how matters stood. And she was no fool to be won over by one smile and a decorous compliment. Rhaella Targaryen had stolen the man she'd loved best in the world and threw him to the merciless, jagged teeth of hungering beasts. Blood boiled hot at the very thought, the maiden holding back her tears for fear of prying eyes.
No doubt Tywin Lannister searched for them as well, having figured out that they'd run off to search for a safe harbour. The man was unstoppable. The realm feared the Lion for good reason, the Reynes of Castamere a song well played by the bards of the kingdoms to the glory and terror of the golden Lions of Catserly Rock. How could one not tremble hearing that not even a brick was left behind the attack? Lorra dared a look over her shoulder, a sound registering in her ears.
A small boy had tumbled out a arrow door, falling flat on his face in the street. An ill-dressed woman shouted something at him which the maiden could not catch, but as the light haired child rose to his feet she was struck by one detail.
"Mother, stop," she called out suddenly to the stout woman before her, coming to a halt.
"What is it?" the exasperated voice of Elyn Sloane hissed. Lorra pointed one finger at the boy dusting himself off, the bow of his pouting lips perfectly arched. "By the Seven," the mother gasped.
Were the boy a few years older, his height boosted, he would have been the spitting image of the boy-king sitting the throne.
The plan was fairly quick to form, or rather the desire in itself. Without asking her mother's permission, Lorra stepped towards the child wiping his face and took out a thin, embroidered kerchief. She heard the protests of her parent but paid them no heed as she held the object towards the child. "That was quite the fall you took," she spoke softly as to not startle him.
Despite her very best attempt, the boy jumped up at the sound of her voice, dark eyes drifting towards her with unequalled savage suspicion. Long, sooty lashes blinked, confusion bleeding through as his eyes landed on what she offered. "For your face," Lorra clarified.
The boy remained staring at her despite the insistence with which she pressed her offering towards him. In the end, Lorra thought to wipe him clean herself but before she or her kerchief could reach anywhere near her face, the child pulled backwards so fast he nearly lost his footing. The lack of attention on his part allowed the older girl to grab him by the rams. "Steady now. I was merely wondering where your mother is."
At that, he looked up with such intensity that whatever Lorra had wanted to say further was lost. "Dead." The answer lodged itself in her brain as the child shook off her hold. No doubt he had nowhere to go, given the conditions he found himself in.
It was more than perfect.
"Are you hungry?" By the looks of him it seemed to her that he'd not had a good meal for quite a bit.
Before an answer was given her mother cut in. "Lorra, by the Seven, what are you doing? Let the wretch go and let us be on our way." The unmistakable fear in the woman's voice should have moved her daughter. Unfaltering, Lorra insisted to take the dirty hand of the rough-looking child in protest of her mother's words.
She might have further said something but, seeing as two mounted men approached, her heart squeezed painfully. They were speaking to one another and not looking ahead. Yet her heart trembled.
Reacting as if he'd been stung by something, the child tugged on her hand just as the first of the two men looked over. Whatever description these Lannister men had been given, they recognised Lorr and her mother immediately.
Lady Elyn, in a feat of courage, placed her thick frame before Lorra with a hurried command that she should leave, throwing her a small pouch. As if the words had been spoken to him, the boy whose hand Lorra still held leaped into action, pulling her into a side alley and down n even smaller path along the dirt road as the sound of hooves beating against the ground became fainter and fainter.
The child changed their course for another path yet again as Lorra's head whipped desperately over her shoulder, even though her mind already knew the fate of her lady mother.
A small entrance took shape before her as the child led her into what she recognised to be the old tunnels of a no longer in use inn. Her feet walked without her own command, survival instinct having taken over even the wish of returning to save the woman who had given her birth.
The dreadful truth became clearer and clearer with every further step. It had been Lorra herself that had condemned them. She ought to have kept walking. Head facing forth, she halted her own steps abruptly. The boy holding her hand was pulled backwards by her sudden stop, this time landing on the ground as she did not bother to catch him.
Unbidden, tears started pouring down her cheeks like blood gushing from an open wound. "We have to keep going," she heard the boy say. "I'll leave without you," came the warning when she did not move. Lorra remained stone still even so, wanting to tell him to go but unable to form the words.
As if hearing the unspoken plea, the child grabbed hold of her hand and tugged, "I lost my mother too. They never come back. We have to go."
For some reason those very words had a waking effect upon her. Lorra gazed down at the by. "I need a ship."
Rhaegar hid a grimace as best he could when the mutilated body of his former Lord Hand was brought before him. Edgar Sloane had been his mother's Hand in truth, for Rhaella had ruled. To see him in such a state was painful and the obvious desire to shame the man was clear even to the mind of a child. Rhaegar gazed down upon the man, his barely recognisable face bloodied and battered.
"The criminal wishes to confess to Your Majesty," Lord Tywin said from his place at the foot of the throne. "Would you attend his confession?"
It was on the tip of his tongue to deny any manner of involvement. But he could not. If there was anything a King could do, then speaking was it. If Sloane gave him even the faintest of traces of regret, he could use it well to his advantage.
"Let him speak then," the King ordered, his court falling silent.
Sloane, who had been forced to his knees, was held up between two guards, their burly arms acting to keep his from falling. As the man began speaking, the young King could not keep his eyes away from the chipped teeth. Words came out slurred and strange-sounding, but he heard enough to know what the man confessed to. Sloane continued to talk until a hitch of the breath stole away every word and a dam broke, flooding the great hall with wails. They came from the very man who had fallen back to his knees begging for forgiveness.
With the soft-hearted tenderness learnt at his mother's breast, Rhaegar, before being able to stop himself, left his position upon the throne, bounding down the stairs towards where the pitiful sight of a good man stood testimony to the greed and cruelty of the world. His hands reached out to touch the so called criminal, but he was stopped at a mere nod of his Lord Hand.
"Your Majesty, the man is a criminal," Tywin reminded him softly, in a manner that suggested he had the King's best concerns at heart.
Not fooled for a moment's worth, Rhaegar straightened himself and took a step backwards. "A criminal indeed," he acknowledged. "This criminal, however, has long served the crown. I would not have it said that the King knows no gratitude. Heinous though his acts may be, his contribution to the reign of my grandfather is not to be forgotten."
"Your Majesty wishes to show lenience?" The Lord Hand's question jarred the Rhaegar. Its note of disapproval was not missed.
"I wish him sent to the Wall." Men had lost their lives for less than the crimes placed upon Edgar Sloane's shoulder, however did not think he would be refused.
"If it be the wish of Your Majesty." Once spoken such words could not be taken back. Rhaegar gave a nod of the head in the general direction of his lord Hand and turned his back on the man being picked up of the ground.
Rhaella woke to a cheerful thrill, to waves of light spilling within her bedchamber and emptiness all about her. Confused at the lack of ladies-in-waiting waiting upon her, the woman made to sit up only to realise her hand had caught onto the thick furs worn for warmth. Disentangling herself the prison, she fought off the persistent hold, and freed herself to a somewhat cool interior.
Just as she searched the ground for her footwear, the door opened with a creak. Ynnis' face poked inside. "Your Grace, you are finally awake. We feared you would sleep the day away." Comfortable as could be the young woman made her way within, followed by Arrana who was carrying a tray. Orsyl came last, a smile upon her face, in a manner that spoke of great findings.
But she was told very little as her women flocked about her with the dishes and cups, encouraging her to have a bite or two. "'Tis not as bad as we expected, this Northerner food. I found the honeyed porridge quite palatable."
Taking a spoonful of still-hot porridge, Rhaella had to admit that beyond the scalding effect, it was quite good tasting. She held a hand out for her wine, which Orsyla passed over with great care. "The next time, warm me, won't you." She made the demand of Arrana who, to her credit, had the grace to blush.
"Apologies, Your Grace, it quite slipped my mind." The harm forgotten within moments, Rhaella was plied with even more food and drink until she refused another bite, pushing away at her unfinished meal in much the manner of a small child.
Her women set about finding an appropriate garment for the day, searching her trunks with diligence. They fussed over her hair, combing and pinning thick strands to the back so they might not be blown over by the somewhat rough wind of the day. All in all, 'twas as if she'd never left King's Landing.
"Are the children awake?" she asked of Ynnis who was dabbing scented oils upon her throat.
Nodding her head, the lady assured her mistress that the children were more than awake. "That girl is a hellion," Ynnis shuddered, no doubt having experienced the warmth of Lyanna Stark.
"Then take the time to tame her," Rhaella offered calmly, standing to her feet once she'd been made ready. "No task is unaccomplishable. There is four of us, after all. Once she is used to it, she shall come around."
"If ever she is used to it," Ynnis muttered underneath her breath, earning herself a long look from the Queen Mother.
"I believe we have dallied enough." Rhaella was the first to step into the hallway where, to her astonishment, the very hellion her companions had spoken about waited, propping herself against a wall.
"Good morning, Your Grace," the child greeted, slouching something fearful. The unhappy tone named the culprit of this scheme to be her father.
"Good morning, Lyanna," Rhaella returned with a smile. "I trust you have slept well and are ready for a day filled with adventure."
A/N: I have decided to further oppress everyone and take up every bit of space possible as it occurred to me I've not updated in some time. Hope you've enjoyed this little bit of text here. I'll leave the clues down below:
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2) Gsv hvz xzm yv ylgs z tivzg vmvnb zmw zm zoob. Rg zoo wvkvmwh lm dsvgsvi blf urmw blfihvou lm gsv drmmrmt hrwv li lm gsv olhrmt lmv.
3) Gsviv rh hlnvgsrmt gl yv hzrw zylfg uligfmv sviv.