Miru
Miru cried as she held onto Septa Bethany. "Why can't you come with me?"
"I am sworn to serve this castle, child," she murmured. "Lord Titus will take care of you now."
She no longer remembered why she had agreed to go. All that she could recall was that she had been scared: scared of Lord Crakehall, scared of Brodda and his men, scared of refusing Titus when he asked.
"Why can't I stay? He promised they would never hurt me again."
Septa Bethany nodded, "Aye, but they have friends. He told you that, did he not? And I cannot raise you alone. Lord Titus swore to me that he would look after you."
I don't want to go. Terror seemed to seize her tongue, and she could only stare at the septa, trembling at the thought of leaving her home.
"Be brave, my girl," Septa Bethany urged softly, stroking her hair. "You will be safe with Lord Titus. He is brother to the Princess of Dragonstone, you know. You'll be living with King Daeron and his family!"
Daeron the Good. That was what her father had called him. He had triumphed against Daemon Blackfyre the rebel. He made peace with Dorne. His son was Baelor Breakspear, the finest knight in all the realm.
She had once dreamed of going to King's Landing when she was old enough. She dreamed of dancing with the prince, and maybe even the king. Now that her dream might come true, she wished that she hadn't made such a wish.
Septa Bethany took her by the hand and led her out of Crakehall. Lord Titus and his entourage were all packed and prepared to leave, she urged, and they had a long journey to go. It seemed inevitable now, and despite her fear of leaving, Miru was suddenly more frightened of displeasing Lord Titus. Thus, when Septa Bethany hobbled through the great hall, she followed with her own timid footsteps.
Most of her belongings had been taken in the fire, and she had not acquired any new ones since then. All that she took with her were the roughspun clothes on her back, donated by a scullery maid who'd known her mother.
Men and women looked at her as she passed. She could not read their faces, but nor did she look any of them in the eye. She was especially careful to look away from the guards. Their helmets and mail shirts were enough to make her instinctively grab Bethany's robes with her free hand. Nobody would harm a septa. Mama said so.
"Septa?"
Bethany halted, and turned around, as did Miru.
It was Lord Crakehall's oldest daughter. Leto had always been sweet to her, smiling whenever their eyes had met. She treated all in the castle much the same way. Even the guards.
She was not smiling now. She approached slowly, looking sadder than Miru had ever seen her.
Lady Leto addressed Septa Bethany. "If I might have a moment?"
"Of course," the godly woman replied.
Miru expected Lady Leto to speak with Septa Bethany. Much to her surprise, however, Lady Leto turned to her instead, leaning forward with her hands on her knees. Miru was doubly astonished to see tears in her eyes.
"I wish you good fortune, child," she said. "I am truly sorry for what my cousin did to you. I will pray for you every night." She suddenly reached out to Miru's face with her hand. Miru flinched and stepped back.
The tears left Lady Leto's eyes, then, falling down her cheeks, leaving tracks which glittered against her face. Miru had rarely seen a grown woman cry, and the sight of it alarmed her now. Did I do that? Do I beg forgiveness? For her part, Lady Leto simply straightened up and rapidly walked away. Whispers grew around them, as if a den of snakes was growing restless.
"Come along now," Septa Bethany whispered, "Lord Titus awaits."
Miru made no objection, nor did she drag her feet except twice. The first was when they reached the drawbridge of Crakehall, over the moat which separated it from the homes of smallfolk that served the lord and his family.
Lord Crakehall's custom had always been to display the bodies of criminals on either side of the drawbridge. She'd been shocked at first, and she'd seen those bodies in her earliest nightmares. But as she'd grown older, she'd barely given them a second glance.
Now she stopped and stared. The five men whom she had pointed to were dangling from nooses. Their faces were twisted in pain or wrath, never changing. They were as lifeless as the dolls and puppets which she had seen during the last harvest feast. Their eyes were already gone, plucked out by the crows which sat on their shoulders.
Worse than that was the head which had been placed on a spike. She'd learned to dread that face, regardless of its expression. It was the steward's voice which had truly haunted her, though. It had always been so soft and kindly, even when he'd taken her into the shadows and hurt her. She'd wept with the pain until he'd muffled her voice with a hand, urging her not to worry, as if he was trying to help her. Now his head gaped at her, eyeless and tongueless and earless but for one bloody lobe which had drawn the attention of a crow's beak.
"Lord Titus kept his word," Septa Bethany observed when she saw what had caught Miru's attention. "Take some comfort in that, Miru. They will never hurt you again."
The second time she halted, as she walked down the pathway, she bent down and picked up a loose stone.
Her older brother Matthias was fond of skipping stones. He'd sometimes take Miru with him to the moat, where he could practice his skill. Miru would urge him to do better with each throw. The best he'd ever done was six, and she'd cheered him hoarse whilst he stood in astonishment.
The stone she picked up was the sort that Matthias had valued best. Perfectly smooth, round, not a single blemish upon it. He might have sent it across the water another six times. One for all the gods except the Stranger. We do not pray to him.
Now she wondered if the Stranger had punished them for denying him his due. The gods are cruel when they are insulted. Matthias should have tried for seven. I should have begged him to continue. She gripped the rock in her hand as they approached the waiting wheelhouses.
They were massive structures of wood and metal, pulled by the biggest horses that Miru had ever seen. Carts and wagons were visible behind them. The royal standard of House Targaryen flew proudly in the air from each of the wheelhouses. She could not see how many wheelhouses, carts, and wagons there were, nor did she try to count. She was distracted by the sight of dozens of armoured men on horseback. She gave a squeak of alarm and tried to pull her hand free of Bethany's.
"Miru, please!" Septa Bethany knelt down so that Miru was looking into her lined face. Just like Lady Leto, the elderly woman's cheeks were marked by the silvery tracks of tears. "This is the best path for you. Your mother and father would have wanted you to have this chance."
They wanted to live. They wanted Matthias and Peony to live. Miru trembled as Bethany embraced her, holding her close. "Bless you, child," she whispered. "May the gods show you mercy and kindness."
Miru kept a tighter grip on the skipping stone in her hand. She knew full well what the gods' wishes were for her.
"Miru?"
It was Lord Titus. He was not as tall as Lord Crakehall, nor as broad, but he was no less imposing. His hair and beard were the colour of the red wine which Lady Crakehall enjoyed, streaked with grey hairs. Scars were on his face, similar to the ones which she'd seen on Crakehall guards. He was dressed in black velvet, with a purple bolt of lightning across the front of his tunic. The great black sword was also at his side. Did he cut off the steward's head with that sword?
He opened the door to the first wheelhouse. She could see a small window from the other side, open already. "Come inside now, we're about to leave."
With one last look at the weeping septa, Miru obeyed her new protector, nervously clambering inside as she tried not to cry again.
The wheelhouse was not quite as cramped as she had expected, nor was it empty. Two rows of seats had been carved into the wood. Four boys and a girl sat in there, their bottoms resting on the sort of cushions which Miru had once seen when she'd explored the Crakehall bed chambers with her sister Peony.
The youngest boy was close to her own age, while the oldest looked about the same age as Matthias had been. The girl was somewhere in between, but Miru could not be sure how much older she was than her. One of the boys had only a single leg and a stump which was barely visible beneath his tunic. They all stared at her as she slowly stood up again and sat in the furthest corner from them.
"Gods," exclaimed the youngest boy. "What happened to your face?"
Miru felt herself blushing, and she looked down at her hands. One of them was also marked by burns from the fire, and so she closed her eyes to stop her tears.
"Now look what you did, you little oaf!"
It was the girl who'd hissed that admonishment. The youngest boy - the one who'd asked her that question - hastily mumbled an apology. As Miru looked up again, she saw the girl turn her curious eyes back to her before averting her eyes once more.
"She's the one I was telling you about," one of the boys told her.
"I know she is, I'm not stupid," the girl retorted.
Miru opened her mouth to speak, but she sensed movement behind her. Quickly, she scrambled to the side as Lord Titus entered the wheelhouse. No sooner had he slammed the latch shut than Miru heard a man shout. The wheelhouse shifted forward as the horses neighed and stamped their hooves.
It was one of the strangest sensations that Miru had ever experienced. She had seen wheelhouses before, and marvelled at how they moved, but she had never actually sat inside one before. It was stabler than she imagined, albeit with bumps and jolts every few minutes.
Lord Titus sat with boys on one side, leaving Miru to sit with the girl, facing them.
"This is Miru," Titus declared to the other children. "She will be travelling with us."
"Welcome, Miru," the crippled boy announced. The others nodded or waved to her, while the girl flashed her a smile.
Titus pointed to the children in turn, introducing them as he went. "This is Barba. Cayn. Maric. That's Sadog, and this is Andrew."
Miru nodded to them shyly, unsure of what to say.
The oldest boy - Cayn - leaned towards Titus. "How long until we reach Old Oak, milord?"
"Eleven days, if all goes well," Titus replied. "But we will take time to go outside. At the next stop, any who wishes to ride a horse is welcome to it.
Barach raised his hand. "So Miru's staying with us, then?"
"Aye," Titus confirmed. He glanced at Miru. "Do you have anything you wish to say?"
Miru shook her head rapidly, looking down again.
The youngest boy, the one who had inquired about her burns, could not resist another question. "What happened to her?"
"That is not for me to tell," Titus replied, "as well you know, Andrew."
"Aye, father."
Miru was surprised by that. She glanced at the group again; none of them looked as if they were related to each other, never mind Lord Titus. Then again, that meant nothing. Matthias had looked nothing like his sisters. How many of these children are his? Am I the only outsider?
She kept these questions to herself, feeling more alone than ever. Luckily, she sat beside the window, and so she could turn her face away.
She had always grown up beside the ocean road, but she'd never seen how far it went. The wild Crakehall forest rose up several dozen metres away from the road, and continued on as far as she could see in either direction. After two years of autumn, most of the leaves had fallen, but a few patches of gold, yellow, orange, and red endured.
As she gazed outside, she heard the others talk amongst themselves. Lord Titus was telling a story of some kind, describing a place called Braavos. She'd never heard of such a place before, but the details were too enticing for her to ignore.
"... the Titan of Braavos," Lord Titus was saying. "He is a colossus of stone and bronze, standing guard over the great city. Any ship which sails to Braavos must sail between the Titan's legs."
"Between its legs? It must be as big as a mountain!" Barba was half astonished and half incredulous that such a monstrosity could exist.
"Not quite that tall. I'll wager it stands at least 120 feet above the water. That's four times as high as the walls of Storm's End."
"How long did it take to build that?" Andrew asked.
"I cannot say for sure, but I was told it took three generations of stonemasons and sculptors just to create the Titan's legs."
Lord Titus continued to describe how this Titan served as a guiding light to ships, as well as a fortress of defence if Braavos was ever under attack. He also claimed that it would roar to announce the rising and setting of the sun. Miru was unsure of how a statue could ever roar, but she was too shy to ask his meaning.
After that, the others asked him questions about Braavos itself. Miru had never heard of such a place, and though she kept her eyes on the outside world, she was enthralled by his descriptions. It baffled her to try to imagine a city built on islands, or the Iron Bank, or the various temples which Lord Titus listed off and rendered with his words.
He was still describing the Temple of the Moonsingers when Maric interrupted him with a question. "What about the Seven? Do they not have a sept in Braavos?"
"They do," Lord Titus assured him. "All gods are worshipped in the city."
Now it was Cayn's turn to interrupt. "Even the old gods?"
"Aye, any gods are welcome."
"But you said they don't have any trees in the city. What happened to all the weirwoods?"
"Truth be told, Cayn, I do not know if weirwoods ever grew in that lagoon before Braavos was founded. I'm not sure if the children of the forest ever lived in all of Essos, for that matter."
By then, the wheelhouse came to a halt. They had reached a prosperous village along the coast. The great forest was still present east of the ocean road, while the western horizon was filled up by the Sunset Sea. The sun had crossed the sky, and it was beginning to hang low in the sky.
Miru was relieved to get out of the warm wheelhouse. She breathed in salty sea air as she stretched her limbs. Turning back, she watched as Barba jumped out of the wheelhouse, only to turn and help Sadog out. For the first time, Miru saw the crutch which Sadog used to replace his missing leg.
All around her, the village was reacting in astonishment to the arrival of this large entourage.
A burly, black-bearded man approached Lord Titus, as his clothing was of a rich quality. "Welcome to Fishguard, milord! To what do we owe this honour?"
"A convenience, sirrah," Lord Titus replied after giving a respectful nod. "We are on our way to Old Oak. We wish to purchase supplies, food, and ale. Many of us also need a place to lay their heads."
The villager tugged nervously at his beard. "We have an inn, milord, but you and your company might find it a tad humble for your taste."
Miru suddenly felt a tugging on her sleeve. It was Barba, who gave her an encouraging smile. "Do you want to see the sun?" She gestured towards a cliff which overlooked the sea. "Sadog and I are going."
Miru followed them, slowing her pace so that even Sadog moved faster than she did.
As they walked westward, Miru suddenly sensed someone behind them. With a pause, she turned round.
There was a man following them. He was dressed in mail, over which he wore a surcoat which bore the same lightning symbol that Lord Titus wore. His face was beardless, but the sight of him still caused her to gasp.
Sadog turned. "What is it?"
Miru was too nervous to draw attention to the man, in case he took notice. Keeping her hand out of his sight, she pointed towards him behind her.
Sadog glanced back at the man, then gave a smirk. "Oh, him? No need to fear him, Miru. Lord Titus always makes sure we're followed if we go wandering, that's all."
Miru felt foolish, but she could not shake off her agitation.
Barba had taken notice too, and she gave the man a cheerful wave. Miru turned back to see him return the gesture.
"See?" Barba grinned at Miru. "That's Todrik. He was one of us before Lord Titus gave him his knighthood."
"Us?"
"Aye, one of us," Barba replied. "The ones who Lord Titus takes in and looks after." She nodded her head towards the large group of horsemen that formed Lord Titus' escort. "Some of those knights were like us once. Orphans that crossed ways with his lordship. He took them under his big wings and made them into knights."
"But… why?" Miru could not longer restrain her curiosity. "Why us?"
Barba shrugged. "Because we were lucky to meet him, I suppose. I knew a dozen girls like me when I was starving in the Riverlands. But Lord Titus found me first."
"I wasn't the only boy thrown out of me home neither. Not even in me own village," Sadog added. "Perhaps it's the gods finally showing some bloody mercy that them septons always yammer on about."
Barba laughed at Sadog's quip, even as Miru pondered it. It was a strange thought, that the gods would look after her after punishing her so harshly. She did not understand it, but she could not put it into words.
Instead, she looked at Barba. "How long have you been with him?"
"Me? About two years now," Barba replied. "Sadog's been with him for three. He found Andrew two months before me. Maric's been with him for four years now. Cayn's been with him longest, nearly seven or eight years."
"How did he find you?"
The smile left Barba's face. "I was running with a few other waifs in Maidenpool, but they abandoned me when a butcher caught me thieving. I was in Lord Mooton's dungeon when Lord Titus found me. Paid my fine when I told him what I was in for, then he said he'd either bring me to the Starry Sept, or I could go with him. Easy choice, really. Last septa I knew was a hoary old bitch who had me whipped and left out in the rain."
Now that she was asking questions and receiving answers, Miru recalled her confusion in the wheelhouse earlier that day. "Why does Andrew call him 'father', then?"
Barba shrugged again. "Why not?"
Miru nodded slowly. "And Lord Titus allows it?"
"He invites it," Sadog explained. "Any one of us is free to call him 'father' if we want. He'll say the same to you. Doesn't matter either way, though, he'll still look after you."
"Then… He doesn't want anything from us, then? Nothing special?"
Barba and Sadog paused, and exchanged a look. When Barba looked at Miru again, her tone was far more serious. "He's not like that, Miru. I swear it. You can trust him. Ask any of those knights he brought up, he never did nothing to them. Nor to any of us."
"All he wants is you follow his rules," Sadog assured her, "and they're fair enough, so they are."
"But why does he do this?" Miru still could not let go of that nagging suspicion.
Sadog shrugged. "Who knows? Does it really matter?"
Even as she said that, the three of them stood where the grass ended, looking out at the boundless water and listening to the chorus of seabirds as they flew in the air. Fishing boats were coming back to the shore as they looked on.
Miru loved the sea, ever since she'd first seen it when she was four years old. Her father had accompanied a large hunting expedition hosted by Lord Crakehall, and he'd been able to take his children along. After they'd helped to set up camp along the shore, Peony and Matthias had tried to teach her how to swim as they'd splashed in the shallows. That memory had always been a pleasant one, filling her with longing to come back to the sea with her family someday.
"Miru?"
"Miru, what-?"
She ignored their questions. She simply hid her face in her hands and sobbed. She desperately wanted to recall her family, but she could not do it without feeling a wave of unbearable pain. It was far worse than what she had endured at his hands; it was even worse than the burns she had suffered that terrible night. There was sadness, fear, but above it all, there was guilt.
"Come on, then," Barba urged. "Let's see if supper's ready."
As they made their way back, Miru quieted down once again. She looked up at the others. "Where do we sleep after supper?"
"You'll be with me," Barba replied. "We got our own wheelhouse."
"We do? What about-"
"Oh, that was just for you. Lord Titus wanted to make sure you were welcomed, is all. He won't be breathing down your neck all the time. Not unless you want him to, I guess."
Miru instinctively shook her head. She was much more at ease than when she'd first clambered aboard, but she still felt leery about her good fortune.
Barba seemed to sense her thoughts, for she gave her a sad smile. "Strange, isn't it? I know how it feels. I spent the first month plotting to rob Lord Titus and flee as soon as I could. But it feels good to stay with him. It's why I don't stay behind in King's Landing like the other girls did."
Miru frowned. "What happened to those other girls?"
"A few of them run off. Most of them serve the Targaryens. Lord Titus makes sure they get dowries too."
"What's a dowry?"
"It's money that your papa would have paid to the man who took you off his hands."
Miru shuddered. "Papa never paid the steward for taking me."
Once again, Barba exchanged a worried glance with Sadog. "No, not like that. I meant marriage."
"Felt like marriage to me," Miru remarked, "that's what married people do, isn't it?"