Ch. 10 - Highgarden

Kai

§

We got into Highgarden late, but after seeing the banners on the horizon, nobody wanted to stop and make camp when home was so close by. My father greeted me with a heavy slap on the back, and congratulations, and when we had supped and rested the night, he began meeting with everyone to learn of our trip. He was pleased with what we had accomplished, and said that our own preparations had been going well, but sending so many boys and men to train in Silver Hill with Tyrys and various masters at arms meant that we had to be concerned about the next harvest. We couldn't expect the same yield if the men who did the harvesting weren't there to do it. Our recent harvest had been weaker than expected, and taxes had been low. We needed to make our resources count for the coming winter.

Florie was at my side as we planned, and she said she thought it would be nice to see everyone working for the harvest, women and children filling the place of some of the men. We came up with a plan to make the next harvest into an agricultural festival – a competition with a harvest queen and prizes for houses bringing in the the best harvests. We would send along information on planting and growing the best crops for smaller hands to pick, the crops that would be easiest for women to tend. If we made it about the pride of the Reach, it would mean people would be involved and invested in ways they might not be otherwise.

Odette was already busy preparing for her next meddlesome intrusion into the lives of single men, looking over her lists and papers for a suitable bride for Tyrys. It makes sense of course, because we need an heir. And at least now her eyes might not be on me so much. She had in mind two possibilities. The first would be a Lannister girl. There were a few eligible, but Odette wanted to be sure that she got someone who would be the best for House Gardener. I knew one of the girls was very pretty, but she wasn't the most well-connected, and that meant Odette wouldn't give her a second thought. Lannister power and Lannister gold shine much more brightly for her than virgin beauty. The second possible match was a young girl, fourteen and not past her first blood, but a Targaryen. Tallyse Targaryen was one of the rare Targaryen girls not already betrothed or married to another Targaryen, and any connection to the royal family, however far removed, would be good for us. Odette resolved to invite the appropriate people to the wedding, to make sure that she could talk with the people who could make decisions for the girls.

Most of my days became a blur of helping Florie with wedding preparations. I was bored stiff by them, but she wouldn't let me leave her side, and the steely look in her eyes when I tried made me certain it wouldn't be too wise to do so. With the wedding so soon, it was also increasingly impossible to get her alone, which has been a frustration. A man has needs, and they certainly aren't fulfilled by choosing the colors of silken hangings and flower arrangements.

Rivenka began to vanish more and more, and I frequently saw her in conversation with her harper, who she now almost always had dressed in fine clothing. I can't even begin to fathom what she's hoping to do with him, but I know Rivenka well enough now to be certain that every move is deliberate.

A storm blew in from the northwest a week or so after we returned home. The wind howled around the castle walls, and the meadows swelled with rain. It was chilly, and for the first time, I considered just how near winter really was. Two days later, Odette came to where my cousins and I were doing more interminable wedding planning, and she said that she had just been to see my father, and he had been grim. Ravens had come from Golden Oakheart at Old Oak, and there had been a raid by the Iron Men in reavers, but the storm had been so brutal, nobody could tell if they had gone back to the islands or whether they were even now in the Mander. They could have gone past the Shield Islands in the storm, and we wouldn't know it until their next raid. Oakheart was appealing to us for aid, but my father thought that it was perhaps too late, and we would need those men if the Iron Islanders were indeed coming up the river. He had told her not to speak of it, but Odette prized our counsel.

It was Rivenka who came up with the most elegant solution for preparing to fight men in boats. She knew of ways that people in the Free Cities gathered on riverbanks to fight, and she drew Odetta side to talk to her about what to suggest to Lord Arthyr.

Rula

§

I found myself playing bodyguard to Rivenka and Azeline as they ran about the city on some errand of Rivenka's. She was toting around that harper of hers, but she had him done up like a right proper gentleman, which I thought was a bit of a laugh. But she was calling him Talon and making a name for him, and I gather she wanted to use him to make money, which doesn't seem like a thing that'd catch on in Westeros, but nobody was asking my opinion.

They went to the Inn of Seven Sparrows, which had a concert stage, and she got into it with the innkeeper about how you could charge people just to hear him play and sing. Tom was getting comfortable in his new role, and he took a look around the stage, sniffed, and asked “Do you think it's big enough?”

They came to an arrangement to make sure the innkeep wouldn't lose himself money, and I stopped paying much attention when they began to talk numbers and prices.

The rain had made me gloomy, and made me think of home. Home and the unfinished business there. I stared out at the wet streets, and remembered.

I was sixteen, and in the arms of the man I loved. We were in bed, and there was a cool rain outside, making the cobblestones steam. Vasili was everything to me – mentor, lover, confidant – and I was going to make him proud. He had become the best water dancer in the Fellowship young, and I was going to follow in his footsteps, to use the sword like I was born to it. There was something odd about tonight though, odd in a way our nights hadn’t been since I gave him my maidenhead the year before. He was quiet, like he had something on his mind, and young fool I was, I couldn’t guess at it. I slid myself over him and stared down into his eyes. I was prettier then, a little coltish but with features soft as my brother’s were at that age. I wore my hair longer, and I was leaning down close enough that it slid over his chest. “What’s wrong?”

“You did handily at that competition the other day,” he said, but he didn’t look happy. “You won.”

“Aren’t you pleased?”

“There’s something you need to understand, Rula.” He pushed me up, rose to sit with his back against the head of the bed. “You’re a girl just into womanhood. You can’t play at being like the boys for good.”

I stared at him, too shocked to speak.

“Take lessons from the others,” he said, his voice gentling, and he touched my cheek. “Learn poisons like that brother of yours. A courtesan with your skills can go far.”

“I don’t want to be a courtesan,” I said. “I want to be with you!”

Vasili stared into my eyes. “And be what? It has been charming to put you in breeches and teach you swordplay, but how could I possibly keep it up? I have my own reputation to think about. And what will you become, girl, if you keep this up? A sellsword slut. I have to think of the Fellowship, too. You’ll never be of the caliber they expect.”

I slapped him then, which wasn’t wise. He was on me in an instant, wrenching my arm painfully, spilling me onto the floor. I screamed challenges at him, told him I would see him on the grounds in the morning, to prove I was good enough, and he just laughed. He did meet me the next day, and bested me, and cut me painfully enough that I was limping for a week.

Although he was one of only a handful of bastards like him at our school, some of those bastards had power, and it was more than half a year before I could continue my sword lessons. By that time, the barbed words we flung at each other every time we saw one another were well known. I focused on regaining my pride and tried to ignore my broken heart. I had been a stupid girl, and I couldn’t afford to be one any longer. So I learned, and I fought, and I challenged him once more when Slaange and I were ready to leave.

I won by luck alone, because I slipped and my attempt to recover led me by chance into knocking Vasili down, but I won. We could both see plain enough it wasn’t skill, that he was still better than me. But I took the win. I had hurt his pride, and I hadn’t done it fairly, and when he stood with his lips curling in contempt, he leaned in very close to whisper in my ear.

“If I ever see you again, Rula Silvanos, it will be the last time.”

“Now that’s a fact,” I agreed. I heard he was training up a new girl not long after. Working her hard, like he had with me. Probably taking her to bed like he had with me. Made my blood fair boil, knowing that I was almost good enough to take him down. But not quite. Not quite good enough, and maybe he was right. Maybe I could never be more. I used to think that I should enlist some help, come back with my brother and friends, but it wouldn’t prove him wrong about me. And if I can’t prove him wrong, taking him down would be a hollow victory, same as before.

I’m better with a sword now, but it’s not enough. I’ve got to be able to sneak up on him if I have to, to be silent like Slaange, to be skilled enough to take damn near any man. Skilled enough to take a big fellow like Quaynlis down, even, or a man in armor.

Because the next time I see Vasili, no matter what he has learned or who he has with him, I’m going to kill him.

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.

Ch. 9 - Battleground

Kai

§

A moon had passed and we were feasting frequently. I was doing my best to ingratiate myself to Lord Caswell, knowing that we were readying ourselves to force his hand about the toll bridge. I wanted to make sure he was as friendly as possible when that time came. As guests began to arrive for the announcement of my engagement, I began to drink more at the feasts because it gave me something to do besides eye all the very pretty girls who were beginning to show up.

One night, Caswell leaned towards me, and I had to move a bit to make sure the world wasn't spinning as he did. I knew I was drunker than I ought to be, but I couldn't do anything about it. He was talking about how, things being as they were, he thought Bitter Bridge should be exempt from the taxes on harvest until the snowfall began. It seemed entirely reasonable to me at that moment, but suddenly Florie was at my elbow, insisting that I dance with her.

I was happy enough to oblige, and as she drew me away, I saw pretty little Rivenka sliding in next to Caswell, with that smiling little way she has about her that usually means she's going to convince them of something. Too soon into our dancing, Florie all but pressed me into Odette's bony hands, and suddenly our steward was bullying me into bed. I went, because I knew that what she said was right – I oughtn't talk to Caswell in that state.

Rula

§

I noticed Quaynlis wandering out of the hall, and I caught my brother's eyes, seeing that he too had noticed the swaying, strange way that Quaynlis was moving. Said something that both of us were paying so much attention to Quaynlis, but I didn't feel much like examining that. Perhaps something in the smoke wreathing parts of the great hall had gotten to him. Either way, it didn't seem particularly wise to just let him wander, given our luck, so we left after him. It took us a few minutes to find him once we were outside – he had been moving briskly, if without any particular purpose. When we found him, he was leaning up against a wall, looking puzzled. Then we noticed the loop being lowered from the roof above him to rest around his neck.

Slaange's mouth dropped open. “They're doing a Bravosi necktie on him!” He hissed, and took off for Quaynlis.

I ran around towards the other side of the building so that I could scale it and try to find the attacker. As I passed, Quaynlis lifted a hand to the noose, which seemed to be swelling. I would have to trust Slaange to deal with it if I wanted to get up the building in time, though, so I ran on. I scaled the roof, but it was steep and slick, and as I hauled myself over the top, it took most of my skill to stay upright and quiet. A hooded figure stood at the roof's edge in front of me. He was wearing a loose, one-piece outfit and a turban with hanging decorations. I stared. Quaynlis's attacker was from the Free Cities, though I did not recognize the region the clothing had come from. As I made my way down the roof towards him, I heard a metal clang from below and he suddenly jumped off. I teetered at the edge a moment, just long enough to watch Slaange staring at a long, limp python sliding from around Quaynlis's shoulders with the sounds of metallic rasping. I jumped down after the would-be killer as he bent to pick up the snake. I landed lightly and began to draw my sword, but the stranger threw something at our feet and the air clouded with smoke. Cursing and coughing, I tried to go after him, but when I could see, he was nowhere to be found.

Slaange and I each got an arm around Quaynlis, who was talking nonsense. He had definitely had a dose of some kind of drugged smoke, but he didn't seem to be in any danger from it, and there weren't a thing we could do about it in any case. We took him to a quiet room and sat with him, and Azeline joined us a little later, fetching water and food to us, sweetly worried about our friend and the attempt on his life. She said she was going to tell Kai in the morning, but it was Rivenka who came to see us later in the day. Our cousin sat with us and asked if we were sure it had been a Free Cities assassin. We said we were, and then she gave us a knowing look and asked if we recognized the technique.

Some stories would have a man believing that you can't piss in the Free Cities without hitting an assassin of some kind, but truth is there's only so many people needing killing at any given time, and the schools are somewhat far between. Our mother sent us to the school she had been at, the Fellowship of Whispering Grass, where “quiet as a snake in the grass” and “quick as a snake” are the watchwords. Everyone learns to move, some silent like Slaange and some quick like me, and everyone learns to bite, one way or another. And we all learned that if you weren't the quickest, the brightest, the best of the assassins, well, there might be another assassin out for you. We studied the other schools, learned their ways. But if the assassin we had seen came from a school, it weren't one the Fellowship knew about. Both Slaange and I had seen, unmistakeably, a noose made of some kind of cord going around Quaynlis's neck. Then it had been a snake. A snake that made metal sounds when it was hit or moved. That wasn't just assassination, that was sorcery.

We lived close enough to the Narrow Sea most of our life not to see much, but you hear tell of magic further inland. When we came to Westeros, it seemed even farther away. Until now.

We told Rivenka everything we knew, but with Quaynlis still barely able to get two words out from his near-strangulation, there weren't much else we could say or do. Slaange and I agreed to keep at the edges of the engagement party, armed and watchful. Just in case.

Kai

§

Bitter Bridge was decorated beautifully for our engagement party. The feast was sumptuous, with roasted porcupines, dishes piled high with steaming pies of fish and eel and cheese, and every fine wine and cider The Reach had flowing like water. Baratheon had continued his favors towards Azeline, and on this night, she actually looked like the noble lady she is. Rivenka had gotten Tom the Harper all dressed up in clothes that must have cost near as much as one of her own dresses, and introduced him to the gathered guests as Tallan Harcourt. It seemed she was attempting to gain the surly bard's trust a bit more by giving him a more impressive persona and setting herself up as the personal sponsor of his talent. He played well, and it seemed to be working.

At the height of the evening, everyone seemed to be having a good time, and I took the lord's spot at the center of the high table and gave a speech. It was calculated to force Caswell to agree to the terms my father had laid out, to remind him of his place, and of ours, as his lords to whom he owed allegiance. I could see it playing out over his features – the protest, and the realization that with the crowd hearing this, he could not back out of it.

Then Florie pressed up to my side and smiled charmingly at everyone, and spoke of how strong The Reach was, and how even with winter coming and hard times ahead, we would show our unity, and never let anyone divide us. By the end, even Caswell was smiling a little, and the crowd cheered.

But then the wordless cheering became a chant.

“Bed them! Bed them! Bed them!”

Florie and I stared at one another. This was just to be our engagement, not our wedding. Neither of us wanted to be wedded here and now, in Bitter Bridge. Odette could stop this, we knew, but when I turned my eyes to her, I saw only a sly smile.

Ch. 8 - Last Reaping

Kai

§

I saw Rivenka talking with Tom the harper, and as usual, whatever she was saying made him look rather sour. She just kept smiling prettily, and afterward I learned that she was trying to determine why Dynzyl Baratheon was passing through this way in the first place. She told me that the servants wouldn't speak to her, though she was fairly confident that the servant girls, at least, would talk to Tom. He reported back to her the next day that he was traveling towards Long Table to visit his brother Methias, who he was very close to. We wanted to delay that as much as possible – Dynzyl's suspicions about Slaange would only be confirmed when he learned of the illness at Long Table, and the sooner the Baratheons had an idea of how boldly we had acted against them, the worse it might be for us.

We chatted about this for a while (OMG SO MUCH GAME TIME CHATTING), and Odette reminded us that as an anointed night with a passion for sport, he might take well to a hunting trip. We all agreed that at the least, putting him off for a few days would be good, and while he bore no signs of friendship for us, we thought that Lady Ivy would be a pretty enough oddity to make him curious.

We were right. Dynzyl couldn't wait to see a woman with such an interest in hunting. He didn't quite believe she even knew what she was talking about, but when we rode out and Azeline began her usual chatter about which places would be the best for finding game, boar in this case, I saw his expression starting to change. He was interested. And the more interested he was, the more distracted he would be.

Rula

§

I'll never quite understand the pageantry of the nobs and their hunting trips. Seems a right production for something that should be simple, but I suppose when it's one of the only ways you can get out into the world without being accused of idleness, it's got a bit more appeal. I wasn't sure what I thought about our noble friends tossing Azeline in front of the Baratheon man, but all's I could do was keep close to her on the hunt. I could focus my energy on that, too, and not have to worry about protecting my brother, as we left him back safely out of sight in Bitter Bridge.

Unfortunately, when Arun stopped and went on point, and when they went off after the boar, I couldn't quite keep up. I could see Dynzyl stop ahead, trying to get Azeline to stay back, and she looked a bit offended, but kept a little behind him. Then they were moving fast again, and when I heard yelling and crashing up ahead, I rather thought the worst, though I'm not at all sure who I thought it for. I got back into sight of 'em in time to see the boar, bloodied and with spears sticking out of him, charge Azeline, and charge right up the spear she thrust through him. The great beast fell on her, and Baratheon, bloodied and fearsome, hauled the dead boar off of her. He had a cut along his side, and Azeline was bleeding from her leg. Both of them seemed rather exultant, though, and he gave her his own kerchief to press to the wound.

We got her back to camp, and her noble cousins immediately fussed over getting her wound dressed and getting her bathed. Dynzyl was telling the story of her heroism in fighting the boar with such enthusiasm, no doubt they saw an opportunity. Odette enlisted me to help wash the girl, and you would have thought we were killing her. Odette wasn't going to be satisfied with her cleanliness until the water ran clear, and it was my unlucky job to hold her down while she got scrubbed within an inch of her life. “More hot water!” Odette kept commanding, until at last either there was no more water anywhere, or it was clear enough to satisfy the terrifying steward. I ended up soaked through and starting to shiver as evening chill set in.

With Rivenka and Florie fussing over Azeline, I stumbled away, and Quaynlis, who had been hovering rather closer than was proper to the bathing, came over and said I should get into something dry. “Should,” I muttered, though I didn't have any more clothes.

“Come, he said. I'll hold a blanket for you while you take your wet things off.” He did, and then wrapped the blanket around me and drew me close by the fire. Wearing nothing but a blanket and pressing up against him, it reminded me how long it had been since I'd been close to someone. I wasn't sure what to think.

I tried to keep my focus on Azeline, who was looking very pretty in a dress and being waited on hand and foot by Dynzyl. She introduced him to her baby falcon, now named Sheldyn, and let him pet Arun. They talked about horses, and about how he had been out at sea during Methias's hasty wedding. Quaynlis did his best to write a song of the hunt, but it didn't have its usual ring to it, and he gave up as everyone started peeling away from the fire and going to their tents.

He was staring at me, sort of strangely. I looked away. He slid his arm around my shoulders and leaned close. “You're just as beautiful as your brother.”

I protested, because it isn't true. Features that on him are handsome are mannish on me. But Quaynlis was so close I could feel his breath. “But... my brother.”

“Oh, yes. You can't tell him about this. He'll probably kill me.” And perhaps I should have pulled away. Should have insisted that he let me go, that he be truer to my brother. But I just stayed where I was, shivering a little although I was no longer cold. His lips curved as he looked at me. “We need to practice your... sneaking... more,” he said, and kissed me. Then he drew me to his tent, and with nothing but a blanket around me, it wasn't long before that fell away, and I spent the night in his arms.

Kai

§

Dynzyl insisted on staying at Bitter Bridge until Azeline was fully recovered from her injury. Rivenka and Slaange attended to her, but Dynzyl visited her often. Then Rivenka told me that Azeline had felt well enough to go walking, and she had gone into the gardens with Dynzyl. Rivenka sent Slaange after them, and he had reported that He had started off talking about she wasn't like her friends, and about her devotion to animals, and about her family... and how the way he looked at her changed visibly when he realized that although she was an Ivy, her mother was Susi Gardener.

At that, he stopped, and stepped in front of her, and peered down in evident concern. “Has something scratched you?” He asked her as he lifted her chin. She started to say that nothing had, but then he dipped his head and kissed her. “Forgive my deception,” he whispered, and then they kissed again. And again.

This is dangerous, but it could help us too. We have to keep Azeline close, and make sure that Dynzyl doesn't manipulate her. If he has genuine affection for our young cousin, it may be to our advantage.

Rula

§

Azeline burst into my room and told me, cheeks flushing, that Dynzyl had kissed her, and she wanted to know what came next. Mind racing, I tried to give her the best advice I could for what would be expected of someone of her station. She was so happy, I didn't have the heart to say the things I was thinking. This wouldn't be good. Someone was going to use her, and whether it was Dynzyl or one of our own, in the end, it would be Azeline getting hurt. But saying that now wouldn't do any good, so I just made sure she understood how much of her virtue she needed to keep intact, no matter how charming he was to her.

Ch. 7 - Bitter Bridge Pt. 2

Rula

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We knew we probably didn’t have much in the way of time to work. We needed to get Slaange’s equipment back, but doing so right now would be death. My brother knows enough to know how to handle his poisons safely though, and he instructed us to get a quantity of oil, rags, and a wet canvas bag, all of which would help us clean it enough to keep from killing anyone else. I went around with Azeline, who had the authority to commandeer all of those things from various parts of Bitter Bridge, and I tried to distract her from thinking too hard about why Slaange’s kit was so dangerous. Medicines often were, I told her. It’s a damn good thing Slaange was always as good at the patching up as he was at the other things, because he’s a passable healer, if a bit unconventional. Azeline accepted this, the way that dear girl accepts everything, and we rounded up the things Slaange wanted, including a bellows that the blacksmiths were reluctant to part with.

The idea was simple. Through a small crack in a window, we would spray oil around enough so’s my brother could go in and finish cleaning up with more oil, get his pack, and leave it all for someone else to find and not kill themselves. Was a good plan, and with Quaynlis holding his thumb over the end of the bellows, they got oil sprayed around, and the rest of us stood guard while Slaange went in all covered up and practically blind so he wouldn’t get exposed.

A guard came up to us and started to get suspicious, but Quaynlis pretended someone had stolen a pack from him and got all theatrical. I did my best to support his story, mostly with a lot of nodding and agreement, and eventually the guard went on his way, promising to look for the nonexistent culprit. That was all well and good, and we thought we were doing rather well.

But time dragged on, and it turned out Slaange couldn’t make the place safe. He couldn’t see right and it meant he couldn’t get the oil everywhere it needed to go. I offered to have him cover me up so that I could go in and finish the job. I can move well, even with my eyes closed, and didn’t imagine that dealing with one room I could see the shape of from outside would pose me much trouble. I trusted him to keep me safe while I did, and I went in and got the rest of the powdery poison oiled and soaked into rags, which we then stuffed in the wet canvas bag for later use or disposal.

That should have been the end of it, but suddenly there was a tall man with a shock of black hair walking towards us with several guardsmen at his heels. He looked a right noble sort too, and he was wearing Baratheon colors. He introduced himself as Dynzyl Baratheon, and said he'd been watching us clean up the room with three dead men in it, and that we were all being put under arrest. I couldn't do anything but go with them, even though it meant giving up my sword, which pained me. My mind raced, but there was no way out. We just had to hope someone was watching out for us.

Kai

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We were sitting in the hall, talking to the Caswells, staying away from any important topics and just making pleasantries. Given what we needed to demand of them, I wanted to start everything off as well as possible. It was going well until Lady Azeline and our people were prodded into the hall, flanked by guards, with Dynzyl Baratheon leading the way, calling them criminals and possibly murderers. My first thought was to wonder why in seven hells Baratheon was here, and what his pretense of business was, but that soon gave way to worry over the accusation. He said he had seen them cleaning a hut with three dead men in it, in a very suspicious manner, and I realized with growing horror that what he was describing had something to do with Slaange's poisons.

Azeline, though, looking very earnest, said that if she could just have a chance to explain, she would. I was a little surprised, since there seems to be no tendency towards any artifice in the girl whatsoever. But she also didn't seem to think she would be lying, so I didn't interfere and let her speak. She was truthful about losing the horse, and Slaange's bag, but the way she described it, it was all medical supplies, and that once they'd found that a dangerous substance had killed people, they wanted to make sure it was cleaned before anything else. She told it so sweetly, I thought there couldn't be any question about it.

But that's when Caswell's Maester stepped forward. Maester Burwell was a gaunt man with a hooked nose, and a thin red scar around his neck that showed he'd once been hanged. “May I ask you some questions, Lady Ivy?” He asked in a low and rasping voice. “What do you call a medicine that kills someone?”

Azeline squinched up her face a little bit. “A bad medicine?” She hazarded. I could have kissed her for that. Not a suspicious thought in her head.

“What about a man who uses that to kill someone?”

“A bad doctor?” Azeline couldn't see where this was going. She wasn't going to say the word for him, and finally Maester Burwell said it himself- made the accusation that Slaange was a poisoner. It didn't have as much weight as if he'd gotten her to say it, though, and Slaange jumped in at that point, saying that what had spilled was Horsewort, a dangerous but useful plant, frequently powdered. Since his bottles are unlabeled, his pack was little evidence against him.

Caswell wasn't entirely convinced that Slaange was a healer, even so, and at that, I pulled up the leg of my pants to show the scar from the leg wound Slaange had healed. I made a good story of it too, and said that while Slaange was an unconventional healer, I found him very useful. Caswell seemed at the least satisfied by this conclusion, and though Baratheon seemed unhappy about it, my people were all released and their possessions returned to them. I added to Caswell that we would pay the blood price of 15 silver moons for each man accidentally killed, a gesture that was noble enough to pacify him almost entirely. It seemed prudent, even so, to keep Slaange well out of sight for the rest of our stay.

At last, we retired to our rooms. I wanted to talk with Odette, Florie, and Rivenka about how we would go about getting Caswell to do what we wanted, but Odette held up a hand. She checked over the room and found a sliding brick in the fireplace. She said that she didn't think there were any observers right now, but any secret passages meant that we couldn't ever assume we were unobserved in this castle.

We decided that to do what Father wanted – taking a third of the proceeds of the tolls after the houses and gates were paid for, and assuring that no houses of the Reach would pay the tolls – it would be best to make the arrangement public in a way Caswell could not object to. The best way to do that, it seemed, was to announce how pleased we were to see that he had built the toll road for the benefit of the Reach, preferably at a large event.

We could make that large event by convincing him to host the party where I would announce my engagement to Florie. With that, she and I went along with Odette to convince Caswell to host. He was reluctant at first, but Florie's charm, as I well know, is difficult to resist. He and his lady ended up graciously agreeing to do us this honor.

Ch. 7 - Bitter Bridge

Rula

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We stayed ten days in all in the Inn of the Spreading Oak, and nice as it was, with the rain pouring down outside and the company not always pleasant, it got tiresome. I saw Azeline trying to flirt with Tom the Harper, under the watchful tutelage of Rivenka, and I didn’t think much of it, until I heard Azeline saying something about what he’d tried to do to her. Distraught and near tears, she said he had tried to kiss her in some awful way with his tongue and everything. Were it anyone else, I might’ve laughed, but this was Azeline, and she’s a good girl, and I like her. And then I saw Rivenka with Harper Tom suddenly in her service pretty as you please, and I could tell by the feeling the air between ‘em it wasn’t a willing agreement. Gave me an uneasy feeling, like maybe our Azeline had been getting set up this entire time to be in a situation Rivenka could rescue her from.

When we finally got on the road, seemed there was a lot of foul tempers, and everything was made of mud. Some folk had trouble with their horses, including his lordship Kai, who ended up getting bucked over into the mud in a way that had a lot of us laughing, though not too loud as to get in trouble for it. That night, I sat myself down next to Tom, who’d just finished a surly exchange with Rivenka. I waited until she was gone, and said “Azeline’s a good girl. And I’m fond of her. And I’m going to keep her safe.” I let that sink in a bit, then continued. “You might as well make the best of all this. Don’t think about crossing ‘em, the nobles. They’re smarter ‘n us. Meaner than me. Not worth it.” He sort of grunted at that. I suppose he’ll have to see for himself. I do dark work, but it’s not me comes up with the plans for doing it. Either way, I’d no plans to trust the harper any farther’n I could spit.

In the morning we were going over a bridge spanning a swollen river when there was the sound of a horse panicking, and suddenly my brother and his horse were in the water. The horse got stuck under the bridge, but Slaange was floating downriver at a rapid pace. He can’t swim, and I can swim but a bit, but here in Westeros, he’s all I’ve got, so I threw myself into the water after him. I saw him ahead, trying to grab onto a tree trunk that was being carried off in the current as well. It had branches everywhere, though, and he couldn’t get a good grip. I made it to him and the tree, but I couldn’t grab for him before he lost hold of it. Everything was moving too fast, but the trunk was pointed straight downriver, and I saw the only way I could get a little speed.

After Vasili taught me to be faster than a snake, he said he would teach me to run as if I was made of the wind. I may not, for all that I’m called a water dancer, be a swimmer, but if I have a moment or two for my feet to work, it’s more than just dancing – It’s practically flying. I hauled myself onto the end of the trunk, and even as it spun in the water, I ran across it, never missing a step, never hitting one of the protruding branches. I launched myself off the end, catching Slaange far faster than I ever would have been able to in the water. Unfortunately, he was panicked, and pulled me under damn near soon as I grabbed him.

I managed to get us to the surface, and I saw Azeline and Quaynlis on the bank, doing something with a rope. Then I saw the rope stretched taut across the surface of the water, and both my brother and I grabbed it, and they helped haul us out. I was too cold and too wet to stand on ceremony and propriety, so when Slaange started stripping off his wet things to get a dry blanket over him, so did I. I saw Quaynlis sort of staring, looking between us as if it were the first time it dawned on him that but for my brother being a male and me being a female, we look alike. I was shivering too hard to be flattered, though, and once I had a blanket around me and was sitting with Azeline on her horse, I was only thinking how miserable a place this country could be.

Kai had remembered that my brother’s bag was on his horse, with his traveling kit of poisons, but he remembered when the dying horse had gotten free of the bridge, and so he sent men after it, but it was too late. The only hope was that it could be found and some of the contents salvaged if the dead horse made it down the river to the grate at Bitter Bridge. Not a pleasant thought.

It was a hard journey, and by the end, everyone was looking a little tired around the edges, which is why Odette nearly killed the guards at the toll gate with one of her stares when they said we had to pay up for use of the road. In the end, though, she consented to payment, a pittance in comparison to what we owed the Spreading Oak, and we all went through. We got into Bitter Bridge to a nice reception, and there the nobles had nobling to do, ‘cept for Azeline, who as usual came with us the moment she could get away. We all decided it was best that we go as quickly as possible to try and find Slaange’s bag, as anyone opening it could get a nasty shock or three. We headed down that way, tryin’ to look casual, and as I’d been dressed up as Lady Azeline’s handmaiden and being as I was in a full proper dress for the first time in I don’t know how long, I weren’t doing too good at it. Looked like I was about to bring suspicion on us as a guard came by, and Slaange and Azeline were already sidling off, so Quaynlis threw me up against a wall and kissed me like we was lovers. He was good at it to, so for the moment I forgot where I was and kissed him back, and when he pulled away, maybe my cheeks were a little pinker than they ought to have been.

I tried not to look at my brother too hard as we went on, realizing that it was his man I’d been kissing, but Azeline kept asking me how it was, saying it looked nice. “It was nice,” I told her at last. “Very… nice.” She said it looked a lot nicer than Tom had tried on her, and since I hadn’t seen that, I supposed I agreed.

Storm debris had been pulled from the grates across the river, and so we would have to look where the dead animals would get taken if we had any hope of finding Slaange’s bag. We found the place… and we found a room with three(?) dead men inside of it, and a funny white powder around them. Slaange got a little pale then, saying anyone setting foot in that room would probably meet the same fate. We had to get the poisons out of there, and Slaange could maybe go in, covered entirely, but it would be dangerous. And we didn’t suppose we had much in the way of time.

Ch. 5 - The Lament of Long Table

Kai

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I was laid up in bed for a week with my leg injury. Florie and Ravenka doted on me the entire time, so it wasn't as unpleasant as it could have been, but it still irked me that what had seemed such a small task had gone so horribly wrong. At least we had the damnable mushrooms, although now, with our targets returned to their home, we would have to travel to use them.

The week was full of preparations too, that I heard of in bits and pieces as I rested. The announcement that winter was soon to come meant a great deal of preparation. It also meant that readying ourselves for war would be a much thornier project, as we would simultaneously be needing to build up our stores and get the harvest in in the hopes that we would have time for a second one before winter settled into the south. As I began to recover and started limping around Highgarden, I could see that with my father busy preparing for the seasonal change and my brother busy... doing whatever undoubtedly important task he had been given, it would be left to some of the rest of us to go around the countryside consolidating our power and favor with our bannermen. That would also give us a chance to visit Longtable and complete our darker work there.

We prepared a party with twenty-five guardsmen, myself and my cousins, Odette as chaperone and organizer (I had hoped my father would find himself unable to spare her, but she has a way of getting what she wants), as well as Slaange, his sister, and Quaynlis. After watching them all work in the caves, I was plenty glad to have them along and working for us, even setting aside Slaange's more specialized mission on this trip. We would be traveling to Cider Hall, , and Ashford before Longtable, then on to Bitter Bridge and to some of the minor houses north of the Rose Road before making our way back to Highgarden.

We traveled for a week to Cider Hall, and I blame my convalescence for the discomfort I felt on the horse. I do need to take more riding lessons as well, I suppose. Odette briefed us all on the situation with the Red Apple Fossaways at Cider Hall as we went. Their feud with the Green Apple Fossaways, of course, was as always in progress, but allowing them something at the expense of our other bannermen was something we could not risk. So while we knew what they wanted was to have a dam torn down, currently benefiting the Graves and the Manders, it was not a move we could make. Someone would have to offer them something they would understand as valuable without doing harm to our cause. We had brought gifts, of course, for all the houses we visited, and did our best to make sure it felt like an honor to host us. Florie ended up deep in conversation with Lord Ambrose Fossaway, while he tried to bargain his importance over the other families with her. She smiled prettily and didn't give an inch on our position while still maintaining that they are our closest bannermen, and not just in distance. He was clearly charmed by her – who wouldn't be? – and Florie ended her talk with him confident of their loyalty.

We traveled next to Ashford, where we knew that flooding last harvest had done serious damage to the lands. Odette informed us that they would probably desire tax leniency, especially with winter arriving soon, but again, that would not be an easy thing to grant. With the possibility of war on the horizon, we needed every bit of taxes we would normally collect. Odette, though, as the keenest mind amongst us on matters of money, took point here. She talked to Lord Gymber Ashford, saying that if we were to grant him leniency on taxes, we would need something in return. She asked him to send the able-bodied sons in Ashford to Silver Hill, where we would now be training men so that we could have an army at a moment's notice. Ashford balked at first, accusing her of making sure that they would lose this harvest as well by taking away the sons that should be laboring for them. Odette assured him, though, that we would never forget Ashford come harvest time and that we would only make the house stronger by making the sons of Ashford into soldiers as well. Gymber backed down readily, apologizing for any perceived threat, and agreed to Odette's conditions.

Our next stop was Honeyholt castle at Beesbury. Lord Danton Beesbury had ruled this house, but now his widow Lady Danlee was in charge. I knew from Odette that she was a woman used to getting what she wanted and making it so people would owe her favors. It became readily apparent during our reception there that what she had been looking for was a replacement for her husband who would not be a threat to her power and authority. While I couldn't be a husband to her, I imagined that the lady was rather lonely after her husband's passing, and so I made sure we had time to talk alone. She was distant at first, evidently concerned that our progress was here to wrest some of her control away. I assured her we were very pleased with what she had done with Beesbury, and also that she looked very lovely for a woman who worked so hard. I saw a flush start in her cheeks, and knew that my compliments were working. She lamented about being all alone with her dear husband gone, and although the best I could offer at a moment was one night, I thought it was just the kind of diplomacy I'm skilled at. In the morning, I left the Lady Beesbury content as a purring kitten, and though I knew it wouldn't last, I thought that perhaps she would think fondly on us in terms of picking a new husband for her. I puzzled it over with Odette, and we decided that someone young and pliable but still of sufficient social status would make the most suitable match. Azeline's younger brother Faryk Ivy, a promising young knight, might be just the right companion for the Widow Beesbury, and Odette agreed to send word for him as soon as Azeline confirmed he was not yet betrothed.

Our last stop before our true destination was at House Hunt of Horn Hill, where word had spread that they hoped to have a big tourney there before the arrival of winter, with the money of course coming from Gardener pockets. In other times, it would be nothing much, but with winter coming and our thoughts turning towards war, extra events held at banner houses are not in our priorities. At our feast that night, though, I heard Rivenka talking excitedly with Lord Malyn Hunt about the prospect of holding a tournament there. Although I groaned inwardly, I saw that it was actually beginning to work to our advantage, as Rivenka's enthusiasm over all of the things that would need to happen in Horn Hill to accommodate everyone began to seem cumbersome to Malyn. The conversation shifted rather abruptly to our request for archers to train new conscripts in Silver Hill, an idea that Malyn seemed to take to better now that he realized how much work a tourney would really prove.

At last, then, we were on our way to Longtable, or so I thought, when we had to stop short of our goal due to Slaange. We needed him at his best, but the riding had apparently been too much for him, and he needed to rest. While I was sitting outside that afternoon, Azeline came up to me with worry in her eyes.

After some hesitation and a few false starts, Azeline said she was worried about the mushrooms that I'd had Slaange get. “It's just that I'm not sure you know how bad those mushrooms are,” she said, batting those big eyes at me. “They're really bad, and I wouldn't want something to happen to you if... if what happens to horses when they eat those mushrooms happens to someone at Longtable while we're under their hospitality.”

Now there was certainly an important thought. If it was obvious that we were breaking hospitality, it would be as bad as if we had just gone in and slaughtered them. I thanked her for her concern, and said the mushrooms were Slaange's, and I was sure he would take the utmost care with them. Then I kissed her on the top of the head, and when I was certain her mind was off of it – I imagine she was thinking of the possibilities I might someday kiss more than her hair – I went to see Odette and the others.

Hospitality is a tricky thing. I know it's important, and I wouldn't break it without thinking very hard on the matter first, but I know enough about what my grandmother Florie said about making your own miracles and burdening yourself with your own curses to think that perhaps it's... well, a little dramatic to say that anyone breaking hospitality is going to be cursed. But the fact remained that if we came and the Baratheon lordling and his new wife fell ill immediately, even the best-hidden poisons would point directly to us. We wondered if there was something else that we could to – to feign an illness that would seem to strike without prejudice. We decided it might be best to talk to our poisoner once more.

I visited Slaange, taking him a bowl of soup and helping him upright to eat it as I explained our dilemma. He pondered, and at last said, “The best way to fake an illness is with an illness.” He told me that another mushroom would cause stomach upset, like the poison we were using, but would not do any lasting damage. It would have to be widespread, so that some of us and some of their people were sick too, which meant poisoning the feast. It wasn't the most pleasant of thoughts, but I spoke to the others and we readily agreed that it was our best course of action.

Rula

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I heard Slaange telling Azeline that he needed a different and less harmful mushroom, to help make Long Table seem cursed, since someone seemed to be spreading those rumors about. Azeline blinked, then nodded and something cloudy lifted from her features as she agreed to help him find it. She brought back a whole bagful of deceptively-named Butterdrops, and he began his work. I saw what he was doing though. You poison everyone a little so that it's not obvious when you've poisoned one or two folk a lot. Azeline, I gathered, weren't supposed to know that there was still a plan to geld the Baratheon man and twine the child from his wife. Girl like that is like to be fragile in a few ways, and I gather this was one of 'em. Grim work is nothing new to me or to my twin, and and so I just kept her talking and away from Slaange's work whenever she strayed close.

By the time we got to Longtable, I could see why the Gardeners wanted so badly to keep the place. It was gorgeous, all rolling hills and pretty forests and fields of growing things. The Merriweathers were clearly still celebrating, the buildings still decorated with banners and ribbons. Shame we were going to destroy that happiness, but that's the price for playing games of power, I suppose. We were greeted with music, and these colorful drinks made of fruit and spirits, and Lilyas Baratheon was lovely and just glowing, and kept putting a hand to her belly. So she was indeed with child, it seemed. A Baratheon child. Despite all of this, I could see Kai looking at her like he thought he might try his charms on her, child and poisons and all. That man. At least he seems to generally keep control of himself.

cocktail. Methias Baratheon is not nearly as good-looking as his
wife. Lilyas is quite the golden beauty. Kai totally wants to tap
that. We get hospitality like crazy. That night there is a big feast
in Gardener's honor. Slaange's job is to poison the food and has to
handle the red caps with particular care. He sneaks the Butterdrops
into the food in the kitchen. Quaynlis performs to distract everyone
from the food they're being served. Rule takes out the plates and
serves the right food to the right people. Florie serves moon tea to
Lilyas after she has some spicy appetizer. Odette coordinates the
whole thing.
- We have caused a miscarriage and an impotence. Most everyone at the
party gets sickened, including us. Since EVERYONE is sick the warm
castle is hell. Half the people there are sick for a week and all of
Long Table laments Lilyas's soon miscarriage.
- We move on from Long Table to Bitterbridge. One day out of Long
Table we are riding through a narrow tract. Azeline sees a falcon
returning to a nest to feed its chicks and then it knocks one out as
it flies away. Azeline takes the chick and is gonna raise herself one
awesome falcon!

MRAR!