Hey, guys. Actual story in this one and not just filler! Review and favorite if it strikes your fancy!
"These are bad times, no doubt in my mind," an old farmer said over his pint of ale.
It was late in the evening at the Inn at the Crossroads. Most of the travelers and patrons were in their beds for the night along with some of the Inn's attendants. All that was left was a small huddled group and a man wiping tables.
"Can't be as bad as when the War was still on. After all, most folk were scared to be on this here road. Winter may be on its way but we still have time," remarked another man, a surly looking bloke with a merchants purse on him.
The farmer shook his head, "Ain't the roads that frighten me. It's what lies off em that scares me half to death. Robbers lying in the bushes, wolves getting braver, and... ghosts..."
There was a hushed silence among the fellows before one of them, a young hunter with hair like mahogany, burst out laughing. "Ghosts!? You've been having one too many grandfather. The dead stay dead, simple as that."
A scowl formed its way across the old man's face causing hidden wrinkles all over to reveal themselves. His eyes narrowed while his voice held a strength to it, "Aye! Ghosts! Why do you think so few people go into the Riverlands nowadays? Why do think those River Lords keep themselves locked up tight in their keeps? It's all because of the Veiled Lady."
"The Veiled Lady?" a traveler from Saltpans questioned.
"Aye," the codger's voice croaked, now adopting a slow and menacing tone, like that of a judge giving a sentence. "A phantom if ever there was one. A horrid woman wrapped in blood-stained gowns. Her face is rotting and her neck is slit and they say she only speaks in hoarse whispers. Her hair is as pale as bones and just as brittle. They say she was behind all those Frey deaths years ago. But now it seems she preys on whoever she wishes. Many a good traveler have vanished from the roads only to be found hanging from a tree later. And that's how she kills em. Strings em up by the neck. No one truly knows how many people she's got at. Not everyone's body is found..."
The old man's voice puttered out into a low whisper before an eerie silence filled the room. The surly merchant looked around the common room as shadows from the flickering fireplace danced a horrific dance across the walls. The silence was broken by a light chuckle from the hunter.
"You all can't be serious! Veiled Lady? Ghosts? I can tell you right now, it ain't real. It's probably just some story spread around so that fewer people will use the roads that aren't properly watched yet. And besides, how many cups have you had now old man? Twelve? Hahaha, it must be. That's how many it takes me to see ghosts."
The others started to chuckle along with the young man, obviously feeling rather foolish of themselves for believing the fool of a farmer. The old man seemed run down at the laughter and merely stared into his pint with a morose expression.
"Fancy yourselves masters of what's real and what's not?" a voice came from behind the hunter that made him jump.
They all turned to see the innkeeper looking at them, a serious look in his sapphire eyes, his strong arms crossed in disapproval.
The hunter was the first to regain his composure by speaking up, "Y-Yes, I do, when it comes to things that don't exist. Come now, you can't possibly believe in this 'Veiled Lady' nonsense?"
The man's eyes narrowed as he leaned in to look the hunter in the eyes, "I do. And you'd best believe it too if you know what's good for you."
The two locked eyes for what seemed like ages until the hunter's eyes found the floor a bit more interesting. Mumbling a farewell to the others he made for the stairs. With that, the conversation seemed to have ended as the others made their ways to their rooms. Within minutes the common room was empty but for the innkeeper.
Gendry gave a sigh as he began to blow out candle after candle until the only light to be seen came from the flickering brand in his hand. After making sure all the doors were locked and the windows bolted, he made his way to the back room.
The room was sparse but for a few upturned crates, a few shelves, a small table with two chairs, and a large bed. Gendry set his candle on the table and walked over to the bed, where a small form had wrapped itself in a small cocoon of blankets. The big man sat down on the bedside and pulled back the covers to reveal a child's face.
The boy was small and frail, with his breathing soft with a hitch every now and again. His skin was pale and contrasted strongly with the head of twilight hair. Gendry's heavy hands soon found the child's back and started rubbing soothing circles into the skin. The child gave a small groan and rolled over before his eyes opened.
The two orbs appeared white and cloudy, without an way of telling which way they truly looked. But if one were to look real close they could catch a faint ring of blue beneath the white, like the sky hidden behind heavy clouds.
A hand came out to feel Gendry's face to which he promptly chuckled, a deep sound that formed in his chest as the child whispered, "Father? Is something wrong?"
"No," Gendry replied, "Just wished to see if you were sleeping well..."
"I-I'm fine," came the weak response.
Gendry's face broke slightly into a sympathetic smile. He loved his boy, his small broken child, and he would die for him if need be. Jeyne had given her life for the boy, so it would only be fair for the bastard to do the same.
After a moment of silence, Gendry tucks the boy back in and kisses the child on the head before going to his own rustic bed. The old boards creak as he settles. He blows out the candle and soon the only light is that of the full moon through the small window.
As Gendry drifts off, the low howl of a wolf echoes across the hills.