Author's note: This will be the last chapter I post for at least two months. I will be joining in NaNoWriMo this year, so I will need the next ten days to prep and plan out story details. It's going to be an original story this time, which is very exciting for me! Anyone else taking part this year?
Disclaimer: I do not own A Song of Ice and Fire or Game of Thrones. They belong to their rightful owners. Any characters you see here that are not from those stories are my own.
Chapter Six: Drifting Mind
"An infusion of clove and oregano is what I would advise." Maester Harwin offered. Grabbing a selection of powdered spice and dried leaves from his collection and placing measured doses of each into a pouch. "Mix a spoonful of these herbs into a cup of hot water and have three cups of the tea each day for one week. I further recommend that you eat garlic regularly and ask Gendel to make pumpkin soup for dinner tonight to steady the bowels." He tied the pouch closed and offered it to Jasmine.
"I'll do that. My thanks." She grabbed the bag from the man's opened hand.
He turned his hand to rest it on her shoulder. "You should have come to me sooner, my dear. You have lost colour and a stone of flesh. At such a speed it may have already done your body lasting harm."
Ya. She had to admit that it was pretty stupid on her part. Should have realized that sudden bouts of tiredness, weight loss, and other symptoms were things that needed to be checked out; and instead made excuses until it became hard to ignore. The weight loss, for example, had seemed like a great advantage at first. Jasmine was never exactly in the healthiest of weight ranges, and welcomed what she assumed was results from a diet of organic, unprocessed foods with open arms. Up until her clothes started falling loose on her. She had to resort borrowing dresses from other women at the castle until some clothes could be made for her.
Suffice to say, she wasn't happy with the prospect of not wearing pants for the rest of her life. She'd gladly take back the weight loss for it. Even if it meant having people keep staring at her wardrobe and seamstresses occasionally sneaking around to marvel at the fabric.
Though, realistically, all of that was tolerable compared to the abdominal pain she started getting the other day. It was a much-needed wakeup call to get her to finally seek the maester and get this mess sorted out.
In hindsight, she wasn't sure why she was surprised. This was a land without water filters and health inspectors. What? Did she really think she be able to live in this world and not get infected by parasites? Yes, yes she did. And now she had to pay the price for her naive stupidity. That, and will probably have to resort to teas, wine, and boiled water for the rest of her life.
"I know. I should have known better. But hopefully I can get this fixed soon. Thank you for your help, Maester Harwin."
"I am happy to serve, Switzer." He bowed his head and gave her a smile. Then his expression changed. Pondering. "Before you go, there is another matter I wish to speak with you about."
"Sure. What is it?"
The man gestured her to take a seat at table. She took the chair without much thought and waited for him to go on.
"Lia tells me you have not been well, in a way that is not related to your infection. Troubling dreams, melancholia, a drifting mind?" It was given like an open ended question. Jasmine had enough experience to understand that the maester was switching from his doctoral link of the chain into that of a counsellor.
"Just homesickness. I can handle it." She tried to assure him. "It's just… this new life takes adjusting." Understatement of the year, but I digress.
The maester nodded, but his eyes watched her steadfast and calculating. "And none of it is to do with your meeting with the woods witch, hmm?"
Jasmine flinched. Just enough for his eyes to catch. He raised his eyebrows and gave her a serious look that essentially said 'the jig is up'.
She huffed. Biting her lip and looking away from him. Then moved her eyes back to meet his. "Is it really that obvious?"
"For someone such as myself, yes."
He didn't continue beyond that. Letting some seconds of silence stretch before Jasmine felt compelled to fill it.
"I can't go home. That's what she said. I'm stuck here and have to deal with the future consequences of that fact." And present. Let's not forget that the present isn't all that great either.
Harwin paused for a moment to choose his wording. "If I am to speak openly, my dear, even without the words of the woods witch, the odds of you returning to your land would not be likely. Only the most daring and foolhardy seamen would attempt such a journey. You have said as much yourself that the last Westerosi to have come to your land within centuries was a shipwrecked sailor who washed ashore."
"I'm aware of that." She said pointedly. Mentally cursing the name George R. R. Martin as he was mentioned. That was becoming a bit of a habit. It's not that this whole mess was his fault, exactly; ….but it did help to have a scapegoat to heap her frustrations on.
"I am certain you are. Which is why I believe that your concern has more to do with what other prophecies she may have given you."
Another flinch. Her eyes went wide as she looked at him.
How the hell did he… this guy is way too good at his job.
"I'm not talking about that."
"Sharing your concerns with someone is a healthy way to alleviate yo-"
"Out of the question." She interrupted her sternly. She wouldn't allow him the chance to pick apart her psyche and figure out the real reason why she was so scared of living in Westeros.
"You don't have to explain what she claimed was in your morrows, if you do not wish it." he insisted. "My intention is ensure that you do not take such claims seriously. It's natural for people to be drawn to the unknown. To magic and the higher mysteries. But to take such things on faith is ill-advised. Witches and sorcerers are no more than tricksters and conjurers of illusions. They make vague claims in order to gain fortune or notoriety. The woods witch may have made her claims sound like prophecy; but, for the sake of your mind, you must accept that her words were falsehoods and not allow them to control your life."
"I've… considered that." her voice strained to say. Because she had. The thought had occurred to her on more than one occasion. Mental battles arguing their positions. Memories of fan theory videos and novel texts building up each case. Jojen Reed saw things like the Frey's ill news and Ramsey's plans to pass off the miller's boys for the Starks. The Ghost of High Heart saw the results of many events around the world and predicted the bloodline of the Prince that was Promised. On the other hand, the Three-Eyed Raven and the Children of the Forest are part of a hive mind that enters dreams, sees through time and whispers through the trees. Marwyn, and Quaithe have glass candles that enable them to see into people's dreams. They can whisper fears and alter perceptions for the purpose of advancing their goals and ambitions. People can go around proclaiming vaguely ominous dragon dreams and green dreams; but, in the end, how do we know that it isn't manipulation from some other force?
Then comes people like Maggy the Frog. Unlike the Ghost, Jojen, and, hell, even her own family, her predictions weren't vague. Melara asked if she'd marry Jamie. She told her that she wouldn't. Cersei asked when she'd marry the prince, if she'd be queen, and how many children she and her husband would have. The maegi bluntly told her that she wouldn't marry the prince, that she'd be queen, and how many children she and Robert would each have. It may have sounded vague to Cersei at the time, but they really were fact-of-the-matter answers. The only vague parts of the foretelling were extra tidbits thrown in (that Jasmine was almost certain were only said to piss off and freak out the little brat for waking up and threatening the Spicer matriarch). So one could argue that even if it's possible that the theorists are right, and that most prophecy is fake or propaganda to further ambitions, there seemed to be a good chance that Lady Spicer is a true fortune teller and was being honest with Jasmine about her place in the world.
"...But, that being said, I trust that she was being honest with me. There was no monetary exchange for the telling. She did it in return for me helping her the night before."
The maester sighed and gave a ponderous look. "I find that curious. The way you've taken an interest in various studies, I had thought you as the sort that prefered the physical realm to the mystical one."
Jasmine gave a teasing smile. "Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm a big fan of the scientific method and critical thinking. But I consider myself more a skeptic by nature than anything. If I encounter the supernatural, I'm more inclined to believe it. Or, at least, believe that there's a science behind it somewhere that hasn't been understood yet."
"And you've experienced the supernatural yourself, hmm?" He challenged.
"Sure." She reclined into her seat and gave a grin at an old memory. "One time I got a TV possessed while using a ouija board. Well, that, or the funniest coincidence of all time. Not to mention the amount of precognition in my family. Not me, of course, but my mom, uncle Razi, and a couple of my cousins have it to varying degrees. So I'm pretty sure that's actually a genetic phenomenon. Hmm, maybe it'd be more common if people weren't so keen on killing witches and wiping it out of the gene pool?"
She prattled on, letting herself get carried far away from the previous topic and onto the subject of genetics and ESP. It was easy to accomplish. The subject always fascinated her. The possibility that, not only were supernatural occurrences and ESP real, but that such things could be exercised to prosper over generations.
It was one thing to have a television become faulty for months after a ouija board just so happened to spell out TV on half its answers; because, even after convincing her friends to remove subconscious variables with blindfolds and such for the game, one could still insist it was just a coincidence. A spectacularly hilarious coincidence.
But when her mother would wake from horrible nightmares at the exact moment family members died… well, that was a game changer. Uncle Rahzad died in a car crash on the other side of the planet. Yet still, her mother felt it. It happened again and again as years went on. A sense of dread, confirmed by a death certificate. No matter how much Jasmine respected the scientific world and its insistence on only relying on testable experiments, she couldn't deny her mother's gift (though it was more like a curse) when it was stark obvious.
Those very ideas were touched on in her humoured ramblings. When the subject breached over into X-chromosomes, with an accidental touch of theories on warging and dragon riders, the maester felt compelled to interrupt.
"Switzer, if you would please." He raised his hand, palm out, begging her to stop. "Perhaps I should not have asked."
"Sorry?" Was all she could offer in her confusion at being halted on a one-track rant.
"Pay no mind, Switzer. Pardon my inquiries. I will not keep you any longer. I am sure you're in need of having your tea prepared."
"Right." She paused. A bit surprised at how well that side-tracked rambling went. "Thanks. I'll head over to the kitchens now." She bade her farewell and left the study.
Harwin
While she wasn't aware of it, once Jasmine left the study, Harwin gave a sigh of relief. He had become increasingly baffled by the woman. Sometimes the foreigner would appear to be a simpleton. Unaware of how to complete simple tasks or understand common words. Or would claim to not know or understand answers to his inquiries about her land.
Then moments like these would occur, where she would speak of numeric or scientific ideas with ease. Would go at length describing concepts and terms, half of which he had never heard of. The woman certainly appeared intelligent and educated in those moments. She had already acquired a basic understanding of Westerosi geography and politics. Had quickly memorized names of the Seven Kingdoms, the names and lords of their Great Houses, as well as several other noble houses. Yet, on request, claimed she could not describe the geography of her own land. The maester was able to gleen vague descriptions of land, history, and culture through his conversations with her. Though, if he inquired too deeply, the woman would freeze, seize her thoughts and attempt to maneuver away from the conversation. As though there was a danger in revealing her knowledge and history.
It was a strain to attempt to understand the way this woman thought. He had half a mind to suspect that her ideas were no more than nonsensical lunacy. Now, after listening to the woman try to make reason of the higher mysteries, he could not help but feel utterly exasperated. Perhaps he should contact Maester Willifer at the Citadel for advice on the matter? Though that may prove to be troublesome should the conclave decide call on him.
He creased his brow, sighing deeply into his seat.
What he needed for now was a good, long drink of ale.
Jasmine
Well, it was official.
Clove and Oregano Tea was by far the most pungent thing she had ever tasted.
And that was only the first cup. Joyous. She muttered in her head. The thought was coupled by a rumbling of pain in her abdomen, signalling just how much she needed the overbearing remedy.
Jasmine tried to push those complaints (and sharp aftertaste) aside as she brought her attention back to the conversation at hand. The washerwomen Rose, Nella, Wenda, Carellen, and Ivy all chattered amongst themselves as they carried their respective baskets of laundry and washing bats across the yard. The conversation seemed to have changed from the previous gossip given by the kitchen staff to the assortment of knights and squires currently practicing their swordplay on the other side of the yard.
Well, not so much conversation as just having the younger girls ogling the men and giggling all the while.
"-to be in those strong arms." Carellen sighed dreamily.
"You can keep Jason. Kemmett is far more handsome." Proclaimed Rose.
Jasmine turned to glance at the men in question. It was a little hard to make out each man there, with helmets and half-helms blocking view to their faces, but she could make out Jason Marbrand trading blows with a skinny boy in a soldier's uniform under the watch of the master-at-arms. There were some other soldiers practicing on their own. One of which included Kemmett beating down a fellow soldier with hard and quick blows. He was certainly skilled as a fighter. Had the battle scars to prove it, if the slash running from his right cheek to his ear was anything to go by. Though, if Jasmine had to be honest, it somewhat disturbed her to hear a twelve year old girl try to claim dibs on a thirty-something man.
"Nobody's keeping anybody." Ivy interrupted. "Jason is a lordling and Kemmett's got a woman in town."
"Nobody asked you." Rose bit back.
"You only say that because you're jealous Dareon never liked you." Carellen added.
"Yes he did!" Ivy argued.
"Did not!"
"Did!"
Then again, it's probably normal here. Jasmine mused as she tuned out the girls' bickering. If the books were anything to go by, it's regular here for young girls to get hitched with older men. But it was creepy as all hell. Lawful pedophilia, really...
"Did not, liar!"
"I'm not a-"
...Though she did once hear that, in medieval times, those sorts of matches only happened with nobility, and for political reasons. Regular folk would just marry when they felt ready, usually around their teens or twenties.
"If the lot of you don't get a move on I'll clap you on the ears." Growled Wenda.
The girls hushed themselves, but the angry blushes on their faces showed that they weren't quite done yet with arguing over puppylove.
Heh, kids.
"Jasmine!" A boy's voice cried out across the yard.
Speaking of kids. She thought as a gaggle of young boys ran towards her. Addam was leading the charge through rolls of padded armour. She had to hold back her laughter at the sight. He looked so roly-poly, it was adorable. Though she knew the proud little boy wouldn't take kindly to the woman cooing at how cute he appeared.
"Good morning, boys." She greeted the children as they caught up and started walking beside her.
"Good morning!" A few of the boys returned the call.
"We wanted to ask you something." Said Connor the stable boy.
"You never finished the tale of Ser Duncan and the Blackfyre Rebellion!" Addam pouted.
"I didn't?" She thought on it a moment. "Yes I did. Daemon Blackfyre tried to challenge Bloodraven to single combat, but was arrested instead. And Lord Butterwell had his castle burned down. I told you all of that."
"Yes. But what happened to Ser Duncan and Prince Aegon?" Addam asked.
"Who stole the dragon egg?" Connor added.
Oh, I did leave those out, didn't I? She recalled. "If I remember correctly, I believe Bloodraven rewarded Dunk with enough gold to buy back his tourney ransom. The story doesn't mention what he and Egg do afterwards. Probably have some more adventures until Egg grew up. As for the dragon egg, Bloodraven got a hold of it."
"How did he get it?" Another boy asked. Jasmine couldn't remember his name. He had a plain face, so it was a little hard to recall. Hamlet? Hamish? Something like that.
"He had someone climb up the privy to get it."
The boys gaped at her with bewildered expressions.
"I don't believe you. How can anyone fit inside a privy?" insisted Big Pate, one of the soldiers-in-training.
"Why would anyone want to climb in a privy?" A younger boy named Ralf asked. Pinching his nose to mimic the action of a bad smell.
Jasmine chuckled at that. "Oh, there are some who can. Someone small, like a child, or…" she left it open ended for the kids to figure out.
"Or what?" Addam asked.
Then the little blond boy, nicknamed Hayhead, piped up. "The dwarves!"
She gave a cheshire grin at the boy. "Spot on!" she exclaimed, and ruffled his hair with a free hand. Leaving the boy giggling at the playful gesture.
The boys started chattering at the revelations. The reactions were mixed with delight and confusion at the way the story ended.
"You ought to get better at finishing stories." Addam decided. Crossing his arms and giving her a pointed look.
Jasmine rolled her eyes at the little lord. "Sure, sure. How about I finish my next story after you bother to finish packing?" She flicked his forehead then teasingly ruffled his hair. Causing the boy to blush.
Addam was to leave Ashemark in two days to become a cupbearer at Casterly Rock. His father, Damon, had been negotiating with Tywin Lannister over the opportunity during the tourney at Lannisport, and details had to be hammered out with the castellan since Tywin had gone back to King's Landing. But now things were settled, including the addition of one or two Lannister cousins becoming wards at Ashemark, and Addam and a small retinue were to make their way over soon and have everything become official.
"I have finished, mostly." He mumbled.
"Mhmm, sure you are. How about you run along now and turn that 'mostly' into a 'definite', sound good?" The boy nodded in assent. "Alright. Well I have to catch up with the others. I'll see all of you later, okay?"
The boys gave their goodbyes and Jasmine went out the castle gates to follow the washerwomen over to the nearby spring.
Author's note: Repeating this in case you missed it. This will be the last chapter I post for at least two months, due to spending November participating in NaNoWriMo. See you guys in December!
~WDW
