Battleground, Pt. 2

Battleground pt. 2

Kai

§

Florie and I rushed to Odette, trying to talk over the shouting that we should be married immediately. I tried to convince her that it was a bad idea, that our parents would want to be there, that Father would want us to have the wedding in Highgarden, but she seemed to think that getting me married as quickly as possible was best for everyone. Rivenka joined us, helping to implore her, but it was not until Florie at last smiled at her and talked about how much more wonderful a wedding Odette would throw that the woman finally relented, and called to Lord Caswell to put a stop to it. Relieved, Florie and I returned to eating and drinking until at last she retired for bed.

In good spirits, and knowing that pursuing Florie this night was a lost cause, I excused myself when it got late and found three lovely serving girls to spend the night with.

Rula

§

Kai and Florie looked like a right proper prince and princess at the head of the table. I could see why folk wanted them married right away. I could see too why folk might think of ‘em as being more than a second son and a noble girl from Dorne. It’s a kind of dangerous sort of place to be in, and I don’t envy it at all. I was dressed as my brother, to more easily move about as a man, and we was set to guarding the festivities from any untowardness, but what we didn’t notice ‘till Azeline called us was that someone had got the drop on Quaynlis and put something on his arm. First it made him itch and swell, and then it spread, and Slaange took a look at it and said it was lion beetle venom, and if Quaynlis had eaten any, he’d be dead. As it was, he would be ill for a while, with pain and spasms that would start later. Slaange could ameliorate some of the symptoms, though, so we got Quaynlis up to his room. My brother first bathed the growing rash with a rag soaked in milk, then put a bit of tincture from the Free Cities known as hyrroyn, more potent than the soothing draughts of Westeros. It would make Quaynlis sleep, at least, and dull the pain. It was all we could do for him.

Azeline showed up shortly with Dynzyl Baratheon in tow. He kept asking what had happened, and got angrier and angrier with our evasions. He could not tell which one of us was which, and that upset him also. I raised my eyebrows to my brother when Baratheon dropped a hand to his sword, insisting to a protesting Azeline that she should be quiet. If it came to blows, I should pretend to be Slaange. But he shook his head a little. Azeline raised her voice again, and Baratheon turned to her with venom in his eyes. “I asked you once to be quiet, lady, I will not ask again.”

Slaange at last told Baratheon what he knew, though Baratheon was already snarling to Azeline about how she consorted with poisoners. Then he stormed off, leaving Azeline tearful. She mumbled that she was going to her room, and ran off. Slaange gave me an urgent look. “Go with her. Pretend you’re me, but actually be you!” I got his meaning well enough, and went to protect the girl, just in case. She was fuming over the dismissive way Baratheon had called her spirited.

“Spirited?” She growled. “I’m not a horse!”

I sighed. “To some of the noble men, I’m not sure there’s always a difference.”

“Between a woman and a horse? You don’t ride –” Her eyes widened suddenly, and her features twisted in disgust. “Ugh!” With that, she slammed her way into her room and threw herself on the bed after threatening to burn all her dresses.

The next day, we left to return at last to Highgarden. When Quaynlis recovered, he began to avoid us. He kept himself busy, always moving, never stopping to talk no matter how we tried to engage him. He was cheerful enough, but it didn’t take someone smart as Lady Florie to see he was snubbing the friends who’d saved him twice. Finally, the three of us got set on cornering him, so he couldn’t get away, and he nearly ran Azeline down in his attempt to run from our questions. At last, he gave her a hard gaze when she said something about him avoiding his friends. “We’re not friends,” he said, and stalked off. Azeline stared after him, in tears. I’m getting awful sick of men making that girl cry.

That night we drank, and we saw Quaynlis drinking too, far away from us as we could get. Round about the fourth glass of beer, it started to seem like a good idea to confront him that night in his tent. I don’t know what we was all thinking, but we all felt more’n a little put off by his behavior, and none of us believed his snapping that we were never friends.

We ended up stumbling to his tent, Azeline leading the way. She pounced on him and insisted we weren’t leaving until he admitted we were friends. I sank down, half-over his legs, and realized he was sleeping naked under the thin blanket, which shoulda made me blush if I was any kind of a lady. “We love you!” Azeline insisted, and Quaynlis tried to hush her. But she was half-blubbering, and wouldn’t stop. “We aren’t leaving until you say you love us, because we love you!”

“Stop saying that!” Quaynlis snapped, but his voice weren’t angry no more, just kind of panicked.

“But we /love/ you! You’re our friend!” Azeline was saying, and he pressed a hand over her mouth. I was starting to get a different picture of what was going on. He was scared, more scared’n I’d ever seen him.

He just insisted that we couldn't say we were friends. He wouldn’t say much more, and tried half-heartedly to insist that we leave.

But we didn't, we just piled on top of him like puppies and slept in a big undignified, improper heap.

Kai

§

I was in my tent, shaving. It was a late morning, and we would soon have to be back on the road or we might lose the day. I had spent a pleasant night before with one of the girls from the kitchen cart and I was feeling pleasant and refreshed. I gazed into the polished steel, checking for any rough patches, when I saw the tent flap pushed open by a slender hand. Florie stepped in. “Good morning, my love,” she said, and stepped close. I smiled, though I was puzzled. She did not usually come into my tent in the mornings. She slid her hand over mine and took the razor. “You missed a spot.”

She rinsed it in the bowl and settled the blade against my skin again. “Who is Melody?”

“I don't... recall,” I said, though I knew perfectly well which girl it was.

“She certainly remembers you,” Florie said, and scraped the razor down my neck. “I'm not entirely naïve Kai. But I won't be made a fool of.”

“I wouldn't dream of it,” I managed, though it came with some difficulty. She said something else, but I barely heard it, my mind racing. I had never really considered how much she might notice. And how much she might care.

She pressed the razor back into my hand. “So we are at an accord, my love?”

“I understand you perfectly, darling.” She smiled prettily at me and left. I stood there for a long time. She was named for the first Florie for her looks, but I know enough to know that the first Florie was also cunning. And vicious. And perhaps I had better be much, much more careful about my lovely bride-to-be.

Rula

§

I woke up with my head pounding and my head on Quaynlis's arm. The others were waking too, and Quaynlis was getting his face licked by Arun. He grimaced and pushed the dog away, only to have the furry face replaced by Azeline's sunny smile, almost as close. “Good morning,” she said cheerfull.

He stared for a while, and finally he just sort of shook his head. “You’re all in danger,” he said. “She killed the last one.”

I gazed at him. I knew this story. “Jealous?” I asked.

Azeline was confused, and Quaynlis looked a little embarrassed. “We were… involved,” he said. “You can’t say you love me.”

“You left.”

“I fell out of love,” he confirmed. “I thought Westeros was far enough away.”

We all left the tent so's not to draw too much attention to ourselves, but Slaange had that look in his eye that said he wasn't going to let the matter rest. “We have skills,” he said quietly. “Perhaps we should find her before she finds us again.”

I nodded, and promised to talk about it later. I went with Azeline, and she asked me, not for the first time, about love, and about what I thought of Quaynlis. I tried not to wince. She said she thought maybe it was him she loved. I told her, yet again, to be careful. I seem to say that a lot.