~Argent~

ARGENT

§

The soft light of the tavern was was like a warm embrace that emanated from the center of the table. It illuminated a few pints that overflowed with Meadowlark and many more that were empty - the buzz of multiple conversations happening simultaneously was a dull, incomprehensible roar in the background. Argent flashed a roguish grin just as he delivered the filthy punchline of the story he had been telling, and then proceeded to take a very pointed sip of his cider to accentuate the joke. Ser Toby slapped his forhead and roared with laughter while Florie shook with the effort of suppressing her own giggles - she was a lady after all. Zel peered dreamily over two empty pints, a contented smile traced across his face, and Jonys was engaging Maester Cyril in what was apparently a very fascinating conversation. Hopefully the new maester wouldn't be opposed to endlessly talking shop, because that was what Jonys was prone to do once he got to rambling. Ser Toby threw up a hand and hailed the wench. More drinks were in order. Florie made a disparaging yet playful comment about his drinking habits, and then smiled prettily. Argent couldn't help but rock back in his chair, laughing hard. He leaned back much too far and toppled over onto the floor landing on his side. He curled his legs closer to his chest in a fetal position but continued to convulse with laughter. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to fight back the joyous tears that were welling up, his mind racing to come up with a clever retort to shoot back at his sister. He opened his eyes to climb back into his chair.

White, sterile shafts of light were what greeted him. They shot in at odd angles due to places where salt and wind had warped the planks of wood. The comfortable, golden glow encasing his friends and family- encasing the whole tavern- dissipated like smoke. Argent found that he was actually smiling, but then felt his face fall as he slowly realized where he was. The last little chuckle that had bubbled up, seeking a triumphant escape from the middle of his stomach, froze hard as a lump in his throat. Then it slowly uncoiled itself, and writhed back down his throat, wrapped around his heart, and constricted like a vice of frost.

His chest hurt. He was lying on his side on a mattress that may as well have been the floor. His left arm was numb from being slept on. The dizzying feeling in his head was not in fact the pleasant buzz of alcohol, but the teetering of his ship being lightly tossed about on the ocean. He thought wistfully that maybe he could squeeze his eyes shut again and return to the tavern, but then decided that would do more harm to his sanity in the long run than facing his lonely reality. A reality he had willingly thrown himself headlong into. Why had he done this to himself? Argent had convinced himself that in the heat of the moment it was what was best for everyone, the least amount of consequences for a major crime. He owed it to Ser Toby, and couldn't bear leaving Florie unprotected in the coming days. Argent was the most expendable out of the three of them. It was the best solution given the circumstances.

Or maybe he had seen an opportunity, a means of escape from a life that had previously been carefree but was rapidly becoming more and more complicated by the day. Responsibility that had never been his to begin with was thrust upon him like blocks of lead and began to weigh him down. Before he had been crushed completely he saw his chance to escape, seized it, and was now fully, utterly free. Argent couldn't bear to live with himself if this was true, and thus chose to ignore those thoughts whenever they crept in.

After fleeing from Silver Hill, Argent had ridden hard for the closest port. He knew that the authorities would send ravens with news of his alleged crime, so he had to outrun them; thus, he didn't stop, didn't allow his horse a break, until he had reached port and secured a ship. Cinder had been a faithful steed -the horse must have sensed his master's peril. In order to gain more coin for the voyage, and perhaps to shed another layer of his former life, Argent sold his horse to a worthy-looking hedgeknight just before setting sail. Yet another choice he had convinced himself was for the best.

He had selected his ship based off of which were going to the Free Cities, and which were leaving immediately. With minimal bargaining and his honeyed words, Argent was allowed passage on a mid-sized merchant ship named Smiling Moon, and while his sleeping quarters were by no means high quality, he was given his own private room to sleep in. Argent had traveled to the Free Cities only once before in his life, and at that time he had been quite young and his mother had been well-enough to travel. He did not really have any recollection of the voyage, and so did not remember how much one was jostled around while sailing. Argent spent everyday of the first week retching over the side of the ship, something which drew laughter and jeers from the ship's crew. When he wasn't busy vomiting, Argent stayed in his room and slept for much of the day. Eventually this hermitic existence grated on his sanity, and so he slowly began to come out and chat with the captain and crew. While he was sure they still made fun of him, Argent tried to endear himself to them by recounting stories or telling clever jokes he had learned.

Because the Smiling Moon had left port from the west coast, they had to sail all the way around the southern part of Westeros before being able to traverse the Narrow Sea and arrive in the Free Cities. Naturally, the merchant ship stopped at a few of the ports along the way, but Argent initially opted to stay aboard (sequestered in his room) for fear that if he stepped back on land he would be recognized, arrested, and his grand scheme would fall apart. Eventually, though, his feelings of loneliness, worry over his friends, and a yearning for news about the Reach gnawed a big enough hole in his spirit that he stepped off the ship only once in Dorne. He stayed very close to the docks, never actively seeking any communication, but always keeping his ears open for any conversations that carried even the vaguest hint of what was happening. No news had reached him by the time the ship left Dorne, and so he felt both disheartened and glad that there seemed to be no rumors about House Felsward.

Every day after that was a maddening battle with his own psyche, as he replayed in his mind's eye the events that led up to his flight. He analyzed it from every angle, tried to see some option that would have allowed him to remain with his loved ones while still shielding Ser Toby from punishment. Surely there were many better choices that could have been made, but Argent shied away from realizing them because that realization would surely drive him over the edge. And so it was a mental dance day in and day out, always dwelling upon the murder of Coll Greyfell and always trying to remain blissfully unaware of it. To occupy his mind in other ways, he tried a couple times to gamble with the sailors, betting a few coins here and there. He figured that his clever charms would easily win against such feeble-minded smallfolk, but oftentimes his gambits would fail. He was used to having his sister to bounce off of, the two of them always spun their webs together. Without her there, his deceits were a bit lopsided, and so he tended to lose. It didn't take him long to give up on that pasttime.

Now his mind had taken a devastating revenge by providing him with the sweetest of dreams, and then waking him to face a harsher reality. Argent lethargically raised himself to a sitting postion, and then just stared blankly ahead at the empty space between the floor and the bottom of the door that led out to the rest of the ship. He felt cold and and hollow. Perhaps if he wandered up to the deck the cool sea breeze would refresh him, help him to awaken more fully. Up to this point, the breeze had never produced any such effect, and Argent knew that he would only see waves to the horizon. Waves, waves, waves and more waves.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, rose from the bed, and silently slipped out of his room. His legs were stiff as he walked up the steps from belowdecks out into the open air. As usual there was a slight wind that carried with it the smell of salt and water, and it merrily batted at his short, dark-blonde hair. The sky was an unremarkable grey-blue, and the sun was like a distant white hole further washing out any color from his world. This is what bleakness must actually look like, Argent thought to himself as his eyes fell to his more immediate surroundings. The crew of the ship was busy bustling around, tightening ropes and adjusting sails as they customarily did, but today there was a hum of electricity in the air. The sailors seemed tense, as if something were going to burst forth from each of them, and they were using all their willpower to hold it back. Argent furrowed his brow, wondering what the situation was and wondering if he had courage enough to break their concentration and ask. Just then, he was clapped firmly on the back.

He turned to his right to see the ship's captain, a man who could only be described as solid and who stood a few inches shorter than Argent, smiling broadly. "Well, my lord, we are almost arrived."

Argent thought he had misheard. His whole life had consisted of nothing but the waves, his cramped little room, and the incessant rocking back and forth. He had been confined to the sea for so many weeks that he had just assumed he would remain there for the rest of his life. He snapped his head forward, looking directly in front of him - he had purposely avoided looking ahead to spare himself the sight of the endless water, but clearly that had been quite foolish. On the horizon was the distinct shape of land, rising defiantly out of the waves like a long-awaited paradise.

"So we are... And you shall then have the other half of your payment," Argent replied a little dryly, suspecting that his money was the real reason the captain was smiling. Then, he quickly remembered himself and added, "You have conducted me across the Narrow Sea faithfully, and it is much appreciated."

He smiled cordially and the captain returned to shouting orders at the crew and guiding the ship safely into port. This was by far the most grueling part of the journey. With land in sight, Argent could hardly contain his exuberance, and it seemed to take years for the ship to coast into the docks. He forced himself to walk calmly beside the captain down the gangplank to the pier, and did not allow his hands to shake as he paid the other half of his fare.

"Much obliged, my lord. Welcome to Braavos!" the captain gave Argent another hard clap on the back for good measure, then walked back up to the deck of the ship. Argent stood on the pier, paralyzed by indecision. He did not know the area, he didn't know where to go, or which road to take. He had no home here to go to, no work to do, no one was depending on him... Well, not anymore. Argent's thoughts brought him back to House Felsward. His mother, father, and brother, Florie, Ser Toby, and now Maester Cyril. Even Zel had been their companion long enough that Argent would have petitioned to having him added to the House guard. Those people would be fighting battles of might and intrigue, and he himself could not fight by their side.

It took a couple seconds to get his tired brain back on track, but within a few moments Argent took a resolute step forward. His legs were wobbly from being at sea for so long, and having solid ground beneath him had suddenly become a chore; however, with each successive step it became much easier to walk, and soon, Argent had lost himself in the swirling masses of people that were bustling around the port. It seemed that he did, after all, have errands to run and plans to make.