Nightmare

She was running through a house, so many rooms and so many people. Everywhere people laughed and danced and drank wine. She couldn't hear their voices, only see the laughter on their faces. She was looking for Kip and Blu and the puppies. Every once in a while, she would catch a glimpse of white fur, and try to push through the crowd to reach one of her dogs, only to have it disappear again. Though she was obviously distressed, no one offered to help her. Some only laughed at her, some looked at her in concern, but most ignored her, and no one spoke to her. No one offered their hand to help her up when she collapsed to her knees in tears.

She was looking for someone else, too, but she wasn't sure who she was supposed to be looking for. In between looking for dogs, she wondered where he was, and why he was not here. She ran from room to room, and finally spotted a man, dressed in black. She ran to him and grabbed his shoulder, screaming at him to help her. But when he turned, it was the smiling face of Petyr Baelish who grinned at her, an evil toothy silent grin. He started laughing, and all the women around him began looking at her and laughing too. And then she woke up.

Rowena was dripping with sweat and her heart was racing. She remembered only pieces of the dream, but total panic is what she felt. It was not yet light out, so she might still have hours before the dawn. She curled into a ball on her side, afraid to move. She felt around her for warm furry dog flesh, and when she didn't find it, she patted the bed and called softly to Kip. In a moment he was there, standing on the bed with his nose dipped to hers. He stood for a moment, then turned in a circle and curled himself up against the curve of her stomach, laid himself down with an 'umph', and then sighed loudly. She buried her hands in his fur and held him tightly. He was happy to sleep on the bed, but he didn't especially like to be hugged tightly. He allowed it though, at the times when she needed him to. She didn't care about fleas or smelling like a dog. He was her only source of comfort at the moment, and she finally gave in to the tears that were stinging her eyes. Eventually her tears dried up and she was able to fall back into a fitful sleep. But it seemed she had only just closed her eyes when she heard crows outside calling, telling her it was past time to get up.

She tried to recall the dream as she quickly changed her clothes, but could only remember the feeling of panic, and of being separated and alone. Finally she gave up and tried to shake the very unpleasant feelings it had left her with, and went about getting ready for the morning.

As she brushed her hair and splashed water on her face, she suddenly remembered that Bronn had said he was coming back today. She had no idea if he was teasing her or not, but her mood was instantly a shade lighter, and she would have something to look forward to. She ran to the kitchen door of the stable master's house, knowing she would be too late for breakfast. But the cook saw her come in and moved to grab a plate that she had kept back for her. She smiled sympathetically when she saw Rowena's red puffy eyes, and put an arm around her as she guided her to sit at a chair at the small table in the kitchen.

"What ever is the matter?" Grace, the lady of the kitchen, asked with genuine concern. She was old and wrinkled and moved stiffly, but she was much stronger than she looked. Rowena often watched her work and hoped that she would have that kind of fortitude and spirit when and if she reached such an age.

"I had a terrible dream in the middle of the night," Rowena sighed, "and then I couldn't get back to sleep."

"Cried yourself to sleep, did you?" Grace asked, with a knowing look. Rowena looked into the old woman's eyes, seeing nothing but compassion, and nodded quickly. She dared not speak, because she was sure her voice would crack and she would not be able to hold back her tears. It always seemed to happen more easily when someone was being kind to her.

"Would you like me to braid your hair for you?" the woman asked gently. Oh Rowena would love that, but she didn't want to delay Grace's work and make her day longer. She looked at Grace's face, and saw a smile, and knew that it would make Grace just as happy to do it as it would make Rowena to let her.

"Please", she said, managing a real smile in return. She loved when Grace or her Aunt Rosamond took the time to brush or braid her hair for her. It reminded her of fuzzy memories of the shepherd's wife, Anne, who had died when she was only 6. She was sweet and kind and always smelled of flowers. She would brush all the girls' hair and braid it neatly every morning. It was one of the nicer memories she had of living on the farm just outside the city, with sheep and dogs and other children, and the only parents she had known.

As the old lady's still-nimble fingers worked quickly in her hair, it had a relaxing effect on her, and she felt the memory and fear from the dream fading at last. Grace always made Rowena's hair look very nice. Much more presentable than Rowena herself could ever manage. She supposed she would need that today, based on how she must look this morning. Now she almost hoped Bronn was only teasing about coming back, but at the same time, she knew she would like to see him again.

She was making her way across the yard to the stables when she heard men talking nearby. She quickened her pace but before she could disappear into the barn, she heard a familiar voice. "So have you picked out a horse that would be suitable for the likes of me?" Bronn asked.

She turned and gave the sellsword a half smile and continued into the barn. She hoped against hope that he would not follow, but he did. He didn't say anything at first, just walked slowly between the stalls, peeking in at the various dogs in each one. Finally she felt him waiting for her attention, but she didn't want to look at him.

She cleared her throat, again worried that if she spoke, her voice would betray her and the tears would come. "I do have a horse in mind," she said, her voice coming out a little shakier than she had hoped. Her hands trembled as she reached for the bowl she used to scoop scraps out for the dogs. Please don't be kind to me now, she thought. She stood facing the shelf, hoping he would leave, but he moved closer to the other end of the shelf, still keeping a respectable distance between them.

She knew he could tell she was avoiding facing him. He leaned on the shelf and tried to get a look at her face. She turned away abruptly, knocking the bowl to the floor, and banging her knee against the scrap bucket as she reached for it. Bronn reached out quickly and grabbed the bowl before she could, and then she stood face to face with him, with no escape.

Finally, she raised her eyes to meet his. His eyes narrowed as he scanned her face, but he took in her appearance with very little reaction. "Something happen?" he finally asked, as if he had been expecting her to explain herself without being asked. There was an edge to his voice that she thought was anger. She shook her head and looked at her feet and cleared her throat again.

"Something's happened," he said, sounding slightly irritated. "Anyone could see that." She kept staring at her feet, taking a deep breath and letting out a big loud sigh, hoping he would just go away and think she was in a foul mood. It always worked with the stable boys. But he stood firm where he was, basically blocking her path out of the corner.

She finally raised her eyes to his, and he watched her, waiting for her to speak. She thought she saw concern in his eyes, but his face mostly showed impatience at this point.

"Just a bad dream", she said, trying to manage a laugh. "It's so silly, I don't even know what it was about. I woke up and it was dark and I was frightened." She shook her head again, and tried her best to manage a smile.

She definitely saw anger in him now, and it was his turn to avoid her eyes. "I could guess what it was about." He said, and she could see the muscles in his jaw tensing.

Just then her Uncle Bayard came in the big barn door calling her name. She was speechless when she saw that he was followed by Tyrion Lannister. She turned away again, but knew she could not avoid her uncle for long, or be rude in the presence of such a guest.

"Rowena," her uncle called out, "I don't believe you have met our friend - perhaps our only friend - of House Lannister." He laughed as the Imp gave him a dry smile, until he saw her face.

"Rowena?" he said, suddenly concerned. She only shook her head and looked at her feet again to let him know she did not want to talk about it now. She glanced up to see the Imp looking innocently confused. He looked from her to Bronn hesitantly, and the sellsword only gave him an angry look of annoyance.

Thankfully, Tyrion had the sense and manners to break the tension that had become palpable. "Perhaps we should go inside and discuss our business before we see the horses?" he said, with a clap of his small hands.

Her uncle was still concerned, and now she realized that he had come across her alone here with Bronn to find her looking distraught. She looked quickly from one man to the other, and feared she might cause some sort of misunderstanding. She tried to find her voice and gave Tyrion a clumsy curtsy, and announced that she had just the horse in mind, and told her uncle which one she spoke of.

"Very well," he said, but she could tell that he was distracted now and not thinking of horses. He turned and gestured to allow Tyrion to lead the way out of the barn, and she saw the Imp give her a curious look of concern before he turned to leave. Bronn said nothing and turned to follow them. Then, just as he had done the night before, he stopped at the door and called back to her. "I expect to be impressed with this horse you've chosen for me, m'lady." But this morning his voice was stern, and he didn't smile. And then they were all three gone to discuss whatever their actual business here was. She only hoped she would not be part of the topic of conversation.

She sighed a great sigh of relief and sank to the floor with her back against the wall. She sensed that it was easier for him to speak to her when he was not physically close to her, and she wondered why. Perhaps he's just like all other men and boys who can't stand to be around stupid crying girls, she scolded herself angrily. Kip wandered over to her and licked her face, then sat in front of her, with pleading eyes.

"Oh dear, you're hungry!" she gasped, suddenly feeling selfish and guilty. And though she was exhausted, she was quickly on her feet and back to the present moment.