Miru

Maegor's Holdfast made Crakehall Castle look like her family's hovel.

It was not nearly as beautiful as Highgarden, but it was more formidable by far. Resting in the middle of the Red Keep, the holdfast was defended by thick walls and a dry moat with iron spikes. This was the castle where the dragon king and his family lived. No other castle was better protected than this.

It was all the more upsetting to Miru that she did not feel any more protected in this castle than in Crakehall.

She felt guilty about this too, for Lord Titus really had done a great deal to keep his promise to her. No man had laid hands upon her since she'd left Crakehall. And after the incident with the cruel and prissy seamstress in Highgarden, no woman had touched her either, save two.

Queen Myriah had awed her. She was older than Mama had been, but she was every bit as kind and beautiful. When Lord Titus had presented her to the Iron Throne, Miru had been utterly bereft of words, but the queen had not cared. She had smiled and bent down to kiss her forehead. Miru had felt ashamed of flinching, of weeping, of staying silent. She did not understand why the queen herself had filled her with dread.

The second was Barba. Lord Titus had placed them together as they'd travelled across the Westerlands and the Reach. They had shared chambers in Highgarden, Bitterbridge, Penmore, and a dozen humbler places. Often they were given two beds, but on the third night since Miru had joined Lord Titus, she had awoken in tears from a nightmare. Much to her surprise and relief, she'd felt Barba slip into her bed and hold her till her sobs subsided. Since then, they had slept side by side, much like she and her sister Peony had always done.

As they'd journeyed from the Westerlands to the Reach, Miru trailed after Barba and Sadog just as she'd trailed after Peony and Matthias. It was still different; Barba was far more rambunctious and adventurous than Peony had been, and scorned the games which other girls played. Sadog, meanwhile, was hampered from play and adventure by his lost leg. Instead, he preferred to read, and learn things.

Lord Titus ensured that all the children took lessons which had always been the privilege of the highborn. A young septa named Jyzene, whom Titus had brought with him, instructed Barba and Miru on the Faith and the womanly arts.

Miru found herself learning the basics of needlework, how to paint, how to sing, how to dress and walk like Lord Crakehall's daughters. She took to it all, especially painting, far more quickly than Barba, who resented these lessons. More often than not, Barba would make a jape of prancing about in fine dress, with her nose high in the air as she spoke as snobbishly as she could. Miru always laughed.

Thankfully, Lord Titus also insisted that they join the boys in lessons with Quincy, a dusky-faced and highly educated maester from Sandstone. Despite her reservations and withdrawn nature, Miru could not help but be enthralled by his instruction on money, sums, writing, rudimentary medicines, astronomy, history, herblore, the marking of seasons, and several other subjects. Barba enjoyed these lessons more, but she was nevertheless overwhelmed by the subjects, as were the three boys who served Lord Titus as his squires.

Only Sadog was as thirsty for knowledge as her. He was always the first to ask questions, sometimes steering an entire conversation with Maester Quincy, much to the chagrin of his fellow students.

As they plodded across the Reach, Miru began asking Sadog questions outside of lessons. He seemed to take pleasure in being asked things, and though his answers sometimes felt as though he were elaborating to extend his chances to speak, Miru found them interesting all the same.

By contrast, Andrew and Maric were lively and excitable boys, sharing little interest in the lessons. Maric seemed particularly bored, unable to sit still without becoming distracted. He would often prod Andrew into joining him. The fact that Lord Titus had forbidden the maester and septa from beating their pupils made it much easier for them to get away with these antics.

Cayn was also bored by most of the lessons, and he particularly resented any mention of the Seven. Sometimes, Cayn would walk out in disgust if the discussion of the Seven dragged too long.

"He's a northman," Barba explained three days before they reached Highgarden. "He worships them gods in the trees."

"But those gods are false," Miru had protested.

Barba had shrugged. "He thinks our gods are false too. D'you know the Ironborn worship some god they say lives under the sea? Lord Titus says there's this place called the Summer Isles where they worship love!"

This had made Miru even more nervous about living beneath Lord Titus' roof. Her mother and father had always taught her to love the gods, and this talk of false faiths felt as though Titus was spreading lies. Lies, as she knew full well from Crakehall's septon, were sinful, and the gods punished sinners.

Still, there was nothing to be done. She was just a little girl with nowhere to go. She would endure Cayn's presence, but she did her best to spend as little time with him as possible.

For his part, Cayn seemed quite happy to leave her alone. He was twice her age and he was far more interested in becoming a knight, as were Maric and Andrew.

Sadog, meanwhile, seemed to be well on his way to becoming a maester. Quincy was taken with the lad, praising his sharp mind. It was clear to Miru as well where Sadog's journey was taking him.

Two days before they arrived in King's Landing, they stopped in a small village within the Kingswood. Miru and Sadog went to a small forest pond after their lessons for the day. As Miru struggled to skip rocks, Sadog collected a variety of plants and set them out in ordered rows.

At one point, Miru turned and marveled at how many samples he collected. "Do you really know all their names?"

"Of course I do," Sadog remarked confidently. He pointed to each one and gave their name.

Miru was impressed, though she could not be sure if he had named them correctly. "Why are you collecting them?"

"Maester Quincy promised me a groat if I got them for him."

"Gods," Miru exclaimed, just as she'd heard grownups do. "Maybe one day you can replace Quincy!"

That had been a terrible mistake. "Why would I be a maester?" Sadog asked her angrily. His voice rose to a shout. "Maesters can't marry! Maesters can't do anything! Maesters grovel and serve drunken lords, teaching their spoiled children! I want none of that!" With that, he collected his plants and hobbled off as fast as he could go, leaving Miru alarmed and abashed.

Sadog ignored her at supper, and went to bed early after he was finished eating. Desperate for help, Miru had confessed to Barba what had occurred.

"Sadog has much to prove," she explained. "He can't be a knight like the others. And he's been mocked as a cripple all his life. They always tell him to become a maester, and he's sick of that. He wants to make something else of himself."

"Something else?" Miru had frowned through her tears. "Like what?"

Barba shrugged. "Who knows? Let him worry about that. And don't you worry about him either, I'll sort it out."

Barba was as good as her word. The following day, Sadog had approached her and offered a stiff apology for losing his temper. Miru avoided him anyway, fearful of saying the wrong thing again.

The first sight of King's Landing had left her nigh awestruck. She could not have imagined such a sight as that city. It sprawled as far as she could see, with three massive hills rising above the walls. It might have truly amazed her if she hadn't first smelled the city's foul reek before she saw it.

"Stinks, eh?" Barba had laughed at the look on Miru's face. "Wait until you're on top of those big hills, you won't smell it then."

The stench wasn't the only thing which spoiled Miru's amazement at the sight of King's Landing. Sitting in the wheelhouse, peering out of the window, Miru beheld the throngs and crowds which made way for her arrival. Some were well-dressed and flanked by armed guards. Others were dressed much like the smallfolk of her old home. Still others were dressed far worse, and looked back at her with loathing and resentment. She pulled the curtain back and hid from the window, praying that they would forget her face.

Miru had always been daunted by the large wheelhouses of the wealthy and highborn. She had leapt out of the way when they rode past her on tall horses. Not once had she glared up at them with such loathing as she saw in King's Landing. Lord Crakehall would certainly not have tolerated such hatred on his smallfolk's faces.

Worse than their hatred, though, was the scorn of the highborn children. Miru had always avoided them when she lived in Crakehall; they were never punished if they got into fights with baseborn children. Lord Titus had promised that it was different for them now, but most highborn folk clearly thought otherwise.

Highgarden had been the first place where Miru had experienced their mockery. The others had been with Titus for quite some time, so they fared better than her, but she was completely adrift at the table. Moreover, it seemed as though the whole castle had learned of the others' low birth after Leonette Tyrell had discovered the truth. Servants ignored them so that they received food after everyone else. The highborn snubbed them and glared down their noses. The children were openly derisive, insulting them and ruining their clothes with accidental spills.

After supper, Miru sat morosely with the others in one of the wheelhouses.

"This is your fault," Maric snapped at Andrew.

"I was trying to scare Ser Criston and Ser Medgar," Andrew protested shrilly. "You and Barba told me to try and scare them!"

"We didn't tell you to scare Lord Titus and Lady Leonette, did we?"

"Oh piss off, Maric," Barba groaned. "You thought it was funny too."

"Oi," Cayn intervened. "Shut your traps and knock off! You know what Lord Titus would say if he heard you know! It's bad enough that those highborn cunts are sneering at us. We're all in the same shit pit, nobody stinks any worse or better down here."

Miru couldn't help but giggle nervously at Cayn's curses. She would never have dared say such things in front of her mother and father.

The matter had continued in Bitterbridge, for the Tyrells had gotten there before Lord Titus. King's Landing was no different. No matter how quickly Miru learned her lessons, no matter how well her clothes fit, it was not enough to fool the highborn children. Cayn's observation helped Miru make sense of it in her own mind. It was as if these lordlings and ladylings could smell where Miru had come from, where the others had come from, and that smell certainly wasn't to be found in a castle.

"Why should we bother?" Barba once shouted at Lord Titus after another awkward supper in the Great Hall. "Why should we work so hard to play this farce?"

"Because someday you will be able to play the game better than them," was his stern reply. "You cannot allow calumny to rule your life. They sneer because they are afraid of you. Afraid that you will learn their game and out-play them. What will their birth and their title mean if a commoner like you can outdo them?"

Barba was not appeased. "And what if we don't wish to play their game?"

"Then so be it, but at least then you will have the choice," Lord Titus retorted

So the lessons continued, even as the tourney began in earnest. It was on the first day of that tourney, however, when everything began to change.

After Cayn's defeat by Steffon Fossoway, he did not return to their side. Instead, a plump young woman approached them, declaring that Lord Titus wished to see them in his chamber.

Lord Titus was sitting beside the small cot when they arrived. The babe was small, with green eyes. Even before Lord Titus told them the truth of who this babe was, Miru had guessed it. When

He has a child of his own. What use does he have for us?

She did not need to speak her thoughts aloud. As usual, Barba was the first to challenge Lord Titus with her words. It seemed as if she was speaking for all of them, or perhaps they were too curious to hear what Lord Titus would say.

Andrew and Sadog did not hesitate to take up his offer when he gave it, and she could understand why. Andrew already thought of Lord Titus as his father, and Sadog was desperate to avoid the Citadel.

Instinctively, she turned to look at Barba. The older girl was staring at Lord Titus with an uncertain expression. She herself did not know whether to accept or reject Lord Titus' invitation, but she certainly was not going to give any kind of answer so long as Barba did not. Instead, the moment passed her by as the conversation shifted, leaving her to ponder the choice.

Her wonderment came to a crashing halt when Lord Titus was asked what he would name his son. At first, she did not believe that she'd heard Lord Titus correctly, but then the truth sank in. He wants to give the child my brother's name…

Her tongue seemed to swell up in her mouth, and her body seemed to freeze where it stood. She stared at Lord Titus, but her vision quickly blurred as a wave of emotion overwhelmed her. Shock, horror, melancholy, grief, outrage… there was too much for her to understand, much less mull over. She soon found herself turning around and running out of the room, desperate to hide herself away before the sobs left her throat.

By the time that she'd reached the chamber which she and Barba shared, she had already begun to bawl. She could hear Barba calling after her, faintly as if it were an echo, but she did not stop. Instead, she threw herself onto her soft bed and wrapped herself in the sheets, like the cocoon which Matthias had once shown her in Crakehall's orchards.

She wept as her memories of Matthias flooded her mind. She could shut her eyes as hard as she liked, but his smiling face was still before her, never knowing that a man would enter his room and butcher him where he slept. She could not wail loud enough to stop hearing his voice, or the death-cries of her sister Peony. Not even Barba could prevent the torture from continuing.

Thus did she and Barba remain, with the older girl kneeling beside her, gripping her with both hands, as if trying to pull her out of the abyss into which she'd fallen.

She did not know how long she wept, but when she was too worn out to cry, and her sanctuary was soaked with her tears, Barba pulled the sheets away and held her tightly.

"He meant no harm," Barba murmured. "He's a fool, but he meant no harm."

"I hate it here," Miru sobbed. "I want to go home!"

Barba did not answer. She simply held Miru.

She knew that it was foolish to want such a thing. Her home was gone. Crakehall was a dangerous place for her, even if Brodda Hill was nothing more than a severed head feeding the crows.

"Stay here tonight," Barba urged her. "I will bring you food."

Miru did not even question Barba's words; she remained where she lay until Barba returned with a plate of food. As she sat up and began nibbling on slices of roast boar, Barba sat opposite her.

"Are you going to take Lord Titus' name?"

Barba paused, then gave a small shrug. "He's not my papa."

Miru swallowed her latest bite. "What was he like?"

When Barba spoke again, her voice was still the same, but she was blinking rapidly and her breath was shaky.

"My papa was a crofter, serving Lord Darry. My family had a small plot by the Trident. I don't remember much of it. I was only three when the war began."

Miru shuddered. She had heard so much about the Blackfyre Rebellion. She had known men that were still crippled from that war, or old women who still mourned their lost sons. She had seen plaques and statues raised in cities to honour the heroes or the dead. She had seen the scars on land and flesh alike.

"Soldiers took our food," Barba continued. "They took our animals. They took our tools, they took my brothers, and they carried off my sisters. I was the last one left. Papa and Mama took me away when some men burned our home."

Miru could no longer eat; the food was ash in her mouth, and she could almost smell the smoke again. Both she and Barba were weeping.

"We went to Maidenpool. Papa had no land, and he was always so sad. He was always drinking when he wasn't working on the docks. One day, the ship he was on… it sank. He never learned to swim."

Miru almost begged her to stop speaking. She could not decide who was more hurt by this terrible story. And yet, Barba pressed on, for some reason which Miru could not comprehend.

"Mama started drinking too, worse than Papa did. I had to learn how to steal if I wanted us to eat. One day I got caught, and I had to stand in the stocks for almost two days. I nearly starved if it weren't for my friends. Went back home, and found Mama. I thought she was asleep…"

Barba could not continue. She put her head in her hands and hid her face from view. Miru put aside her plate and embraced her, just as Barba had done so many times before.

She did not know how long she knelt there, holding Barba, but they did not move from those positions until there was a knock at her door.

"Miru? Barba?"

Both girls started and sprang to their feet. Barba cuffed hurriedly at her face.

"May I come in?"

Miru instinctively turned to Barba, who met her eyes with uncertainty. Then, the older girl looked up. "Yes, milord."

Lord Titus opened the door and stepped inside. There was a strange expression on his face which Miru could not place, until she recalled how Leto Crakehall had looked at her before she'd given her apology.

The tall man kept his distance from them and slowly knelt on one knee.

"Miru," he began quietly, "I apologise for my presumptions, and for my effrontery. It was not my wish to give you cause for grief."

Just as before, she felt uncomfortable and afraid. She could still recall the pain of hearing her brother's name, but she took no joy in seeing Lord Titus in such a state. As with Leto, she felt compelled to apologise for his own hurt.

"I do not expect you to forgive me," Lord Titus continued. "And if you wish to leave, then I will find an arrangement which suits you."

"No." Miru grabbed Barba's hand and shook her head. "I want to stay!"

Lord Titus nodded. "As you wish." His green eyes flickered from Miru to Barba to the plate of half-eaten food. "Are you still hungry?"

"Aye," Barba quietly admitted.

"The feast is still continuing," Lord Titus explained. "Else I will have food brought to you here."

"Thank you, milord," Barba answered.

There was a pause, where Lord Titus neither moved nor spoke again. He seemed to be waiting for something. Miru stared at him until he gave a slow sigh, stood up, and walked out of their room.

Miru suddenly felt Barba's eyes upon her. "Will you forgive him?"

Is that what he wanted? Miru was frozen by the question. She was still reeling from what had transpired. The notion of her, a child, forgiving a grown man was so against all she had learned of the world that it left her speechless.

"Never mind," Barba urged as she embraced Miru. "Give it time if you must. Lord Titus can wait."

In a world so full of uncertainty and chaos, upheaving her own little life, Miru was soothed by Barba's arms around her, taking in her scent, listening to her soft reassurances. It seemed as though this bond alone was untainted, simple, and pure. She did not have to think about her love for Barba; whether or not she had found a new father was immaterial to the fact that she had found herself a sister.