A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / Awaiting the Axe browse

Syndra strode swiftly through the castle toward her quarters, her long legs fueled by her rage at Lady Celia. Edlyn had to trot to keep up. She said not a word all the way there, but once in her rooms with the door firmly slammed behind Edlyn, Syndra growled angrily. She ripped out the braid and rearranged her long silky hair into a ponytail. The task allowed her to settle down enough to speak without snarling.

"I can see why you prefer the Vale," she huffed to Edlyn.

Edlyn had thrown herself on the bed, her hands clenched either side of her fair head and her face buried in the pillow. Now she looked up, her cheeks flushed and her blue eyes stormy.

"I hate her," she said. "I hate her and I hate this horrible cold, wretched place."

Syndra shook her head in disgust. "Oh, get over it, Edlyn. You're not in the Vale anymore. Tantrums don't work here." She flopped down on her back on the bed next to Edlyn and clasped her hands behind her head. "The whippings aren't so bad," she said casually. "You get used to them after a while. The sooner you cry, the sooner it's done." She turned to look at her step-cousin. "You should be good at that."

"I'm not having a tantrum," said Edlyn angrily. "I'm simply stating a matter of fact - and I know eactly when to start crying so the whipping will stop, thank you! And it won't be Mother anyway, in her condition - it will be her maid, Anya, and she won't whip as hard, because she knows that I know about her and that man of arms Huwith and that if she hurts me I shall tell.

"And now you know too," she added. "So if you look at her - so - when she comes to whip you, she'll be all worried and not hurt you at all."

Syndra smiled gratefully. "Thank you. I'll remember that." She sighed wearily and turned her gaze to the ceiling.

In her room, laying there on her bed, the tension of the meeting - gods, the whole morning - drained away and Syndra was once again a girl. "I'm glad I didn't have to retreive his body," she murmured with relief. Edlyn was not sure if her cousin was talking to her or to herself.

"His body?" asked Edlyn. "The Riverwolf?"

Syndra looked over at her and nodded.

[Edlyn] pulled herself up into a position where she could look at Syndra's face.

"Have you known him long? He's rather charming, isn't he, even if he is a little ... well. Coarse."

Syndra giggled girlishly. "Of course, he's charming. He practices daily," she teased, though she didn't seem to think that was a bad thing.

She leaned up on one elbow and smiled at Edlyn conspiratorily, like she had the inside scoop on some major celebrity. When she spoke, though, her tone was more affectionate than gossipy. "I've known him as long as I can remember. He was a friend of my mother's. She bought all her sewing silks from him. I think he took pride in how far away he could bring them from," she giggled. "Whenever he would come, he'd keep my brothers and I up 'til all hours with his tales of pirates and sailing and fighting bandits on the White Knife. He was great fun."

Syndra's smile turned sad. "He took my mother's death very hard. Ever since then, we've kind of looked out for each other. Coarse or not, he's a dear friend."

"That sounds so very sweet!" Edlyn said. "I wish I had a big, strong knight who would look out for me ... "

She lay back, considering Syndra's words.

"Sometimes it is," Syndra admitted. "But other times it can be frightening. Like today," she winced.

"Do you think he was in love with your mother?"

Syndra regarded her queerly.

"Do you think he loved her with a deep unspoken love ... chaste, of course. As though he was her gallant knight at a tournament? As when ... " she looked around, to make sure they couldn't be overheard. "As when Prince Rhaegar crowned Lyanna Stark the Queen of Love and Beauty at that tournament at Harrenhal - although Princess Elia was there and everything."

"Ser Corryn?!" Syndra exclaimed incredulously. She lowered her voice. "Of course not! Why would he? My mother was already married to a gallant knight. They just got on well is all."

She shook her head and looked at Edlyn dubiously. "And let's face it, Edlyn. We're talking about Ser Corryn. There's not a chaste bone in the man's body," she declared, as the color started to rise in her cheeks. Talking about the Wolf in such ... a manner made Syndra a bit uncomfortable, though she couldn't explain exactly why.

"In the Vale," said Edlyn, "lots of perfectly respectable women had lovers. Not that there was anything wrong about it, of course. It was just that handsome yong knights would fall madly in love with beautiful women, and if the women were married it just made it all the sadder. It was always terribly pure, of course. The most the knight would hope for was to be allowed to wear his lady's favour as he rode in a tournament. And often she wouldn't grant even that ..."

She seemed to consider this as she lay back on the bed.

Syndra hrmphed. "Someone's been telling you too many stories," she stated adamantly. "Ser Corryn was not in love with my mother. He just found a willing audience for his tall tales, that's all. All the better to sell his wares." Still, something about what Edlyn was saying gnawed at the back of Syndra's mind. She found herself thinking back to tourneys she'd seen as a child. Whose favour had Ser Corryn worn? It was too long ago. She couldn't remember.

She did remember her mother's laughter, though. Syndra had often fallen asleep to it as the Wolf continued his tales after the children went to bed. It was a pleasant sound. Syndra felt a sudden chill and her lips tightened. It was the sound of friendship, yes, she told herself vehemently. He was Mama's friend, as he was her own friend now. Nothing more.

[Edlyn continued,] "Of course, you are probably right about Ser Corryn. He does have a way of looking at one as though he's imagining you in nothing but your shift, doesn't he?"

"You, perhaps. He doesn't look at me that way," Syndra stated firmly.

Edlyn giggled. "He certainly looked at me like that. And when he helped me onto my horse, he rested his hand on my ... thigh for the longest time. Perhaps I shouldn't learn how to mount for myself after all."

Syndra giggled. Then giggled louder as a naughty smirk crossed her face. "Perhaps it's not a horse you should learn to... " she couldn't finish for the giggles. "Sorry." She smiled at Edlyn and waved her hand dismissively as she tried in vain to squelch the giggles, her face red with embarrassment. Syndra couldn't believe she'd actually thought that, let alone said it out loud.

"Oh!" Edlyn let out a gasp that tried to sound outraged, but really was a badly-conceived attempt to hide her own mirth. She rolled over and buried her face in the pilllow in an effort to stifle her own giggles. By and by, she looked up, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with laughter.

"We should try not to be heard," she said. "If they hear us laughing, when we're about to be whipped ... "

Syndra bit her lip and nodded, but another snort of amusement escaped anyway. She wiped a mirthful tear from her eye.

The humour of the situation proved too much for [Edlyn], and she buried her face in the pillow again, while her shoulders shook silently.

Syndra sat up cross-legged on the bed and made a stopping gesture in front of her with her long hands. "All right," she said, pulling as serious an expression as possible onto her face. "All right. Let's talk about something else."

She scrambled for a way to turn the conversation down a different path. "All right, so what was all the fawning over Godwyn?" she asked, cocking her eyebrow inquisitively.

Edlyn rolled on the bed to lie on her back and stretched luxuriantly like a satisfied cat, her smile becoming almost a smirk. "Can you think of a better way of irritating Mother? Uncle Anders is bound to tell her."

Syndra smiled faintly and considered her words carefully. "Is Godwyn in on this show, Edlyn? I'd hate to see him get hurt."

Edlyn blinked. "Hurt? Godwyn? Why should he be?"

Empathy was clearly not a skill Edlyn had studied much in the Vale.

Syndra smiled patiently. "Godwyn might be pig-headed enough not to care, but some people might take offense at someone being friendly to them merely to make someone else angry," she explained.

"Oh," said Edlyn, considering this notion as something intriguingly new. "I thoought ....hmmmm."

She sat up and hugged her knees to her chest. "I do like Godwyn," she said thoughtfully, "and I thought he'd like to irritate Mother too. From the way she spoke about him, I didn't think they got on very well."

"They don't. He hates her passionately. And I'm sure he'd be happy to do anything to irritate her, as long as he's in on the joke," Syndra assured her.

Edlyn blinked. "Do you really think he'll need it explained to him?" she asked. "I'll certainly tell him. Only ... "

She stole a look at Syndra under long dark lashes.

The way Edlyn was looking at her made Syndra a little uneasy, like there was some kind of girl-code she was supposed to know but didn't. She hated to admit her ignorance, but finally she asked, "Only what?"

"If I tell him that ... he might think that I'm doing it all because of Mother. And, actually ... " She began to pick at a loose thread on the coverlet with her long, clever fingers, "Actually, I do think Godwyn is rather ... amusing. Not as polished as the boys in the Vale, of course. I can't imagine him ever singing under one's window, or bringing one a posy arranged in the shape of a heart."

Syndra gazed at Edlyn, then smiled a bit self-deprecatingly. "I'm sorry, Edlyn. I'm probably just being over-protective again. I always tell people not to underestimate Godwyn, and here I am doing it myself.

"He's not polished, to be sure, but then again, he's not had much experience with women here. His mother died when he was a baby, and my mother too, years later. It's just the servants now. And me. And I act so much like a boy that I hardly count."

"You don't act like a boy!" protested Edlyn. Then she considered Syndra, her head a little on one side. "Well ... perhaps a bit. Mounting a horse all by yourself and things. But you think about things like clothes and hair, don't you?"

Syndra stared back at her blankly.

"And you'd like someone to come singing love songs under your window - or at least bring you flowers."

Syndra smiled shyly and shrugged. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it."

"Well you should!" said Edlyn firmly. "You have such a sweet face, and you should make more of it - and your hair because you have lovely hair ... And the way you walk too!" She sprang from the bed and demonstrated, a light, smooth walk that seemed to set her gliding across the floor rather than walking, with the faintest sway to her hips that was a provocation in itself.

"There!" she said, when she reached the wall and turned round. "You try."

Syndra slid off the bed and, a bit self-consciously, started walking across the room. She tried to put that "lightness" into her long strides, but it made her look a little like she was traversing the deck of a storm-tossed ship. "I don't think that was quite right," she winced when she reached Edlyn.

"Hmm," said Edlyn. "You're just using your legs, you know, and you have to use your whole body. Try like this - hold yourself up, straight, as though someone has tied a piece of cord between the top of your head and the ceiling. Now ... your back. Keep it straight ... and set your shoulders back."

Syndra followed Edlyn's instructions, but looked a little uncomfortable at how pushing her shoulders back also pushed her developing chest forward.

"Yes, I know it makes you look ... look more more womanly. But really, men do like to see that."

Syndra grimaced.

"Now ... your buttocks. You have to squeeze them ... tight. Like lemons. Do the traders bring lemons this far north? But don't forget to breathe."

She examined Syndra's new posture with a critical eye.

Syndra tried to walk gracefully while squeezing and breathing, but after the first step, said in frustration, "But how do you squeeze and walk at the same..."

She was saved by footsteps outside and a light rap on the door.

�Little Bear,� Ser Corryn called. �It�s your Old Wolf come to see you.�

"Come in," she called with relief.

Edlyn's eyes widened, and then she giggled. "Oh ... my."

Syndra grinned back at her, the color rising in her cheeks as she moved toward the door to greet him.

Corryn�s happiness to be away from the Tollet�s was short lived. Syndra�s septa had never been one of his greatest supporters - a feeling she was happy to express in vivid detail. She followed him through the keep, chattering like an angry gull. Indeed, she looked very much like a gull, puffed up as she was and flapping her arms as if trying to take flight. He�d stopped listening to her in the kitchen, but occasionally caught words like �uncouth,� �boorish,� and �conniving.� Fortunately, the cook had disarmed the woman before she could beat him about the head and neck with a wooden ladle.

He paused as they finally reached Syndra�s chamber. He turned to her and offered a bright smile. �Madame. I appreciate your candor today,� he said, kissing her on the cheek as quick as a striking shark. While she sputtered and blustered in shock, he rapped lightly on the door.

�Little Bear,� he called. �It�s your Old Wolf come to see you.�

"Come in," [Syndra] called.

Corryn entered the room with his typical flourish, his coat-tails flapping like a bushy tail. In the hall, Septa Annice stood stock still, her cheeks turning numerous shades of crimson. Her mouth hung open, while her tongue flopped in her mouth like a dying fish. Corryn left the door open for her, but otherwise ignored the traumatized chaperone.

He noticed Edlyn and bowed politely to her, �Lady Edlyn, it is a pleasure to see you again. May I speak with Syndra for a moment?�

It was about then he noticed the color in Syndra�s cheeks and quirked an eyebrow. �Have I interrupted something?�

"No," Syndra answered too quickly. "We were just talking." She looked up at Corryn, with an all-too-innocent widening of her big blue eyes.

"And I'll leave you to talk some more," said Edlyn, with the faintest of emphases on the word 'talk'. She left the room, her walk a perfect demonstration of the provocative glide she had been teaching Syndra, but she spoiled the appearance of adult sophistication by turning at the last minute and smiling wickedly at Syndra.

"Yes, talk," Corryn stammered. The innuendo had not been lost on him and it colored his ears. He looked between the girls as Edlyn 'performed' for them, even more confused than he had been a moment before. This was becoming a habit, and he didn~Rt care for it. But what was he to do?

Syndra shot Corryn a look of pained apology.

Then, outside the door, she paused and said, "Dearest Septa - have you seen what the laundry did to my green gown?"

Septa Annice hesitated. "No," she said at last. "What did they do?"

"The seams of my right sleeve - quite ripped," said Edlyn, her voice positively tragic.

Septa Annice bristled. "If I've told those girls once, I've told them a thousands times ... " She shot a doubtful look at Syndra with Ser Corryn. "I shall just be a minute," she said. "Please leave this door open."

Then she was walking away down the corridor, a demure Edlyn at her side. "So ... you put it away in the press ... "

Their voices died away.

Corryn stared at the open doorway, his eyes filled with disbelief. "Bollocks and damnation. That girl is the personification of pure evil," he said flatly. "I pity the knight she sinks her hooks into. The man will be doomed before he recognizes the peril he's in."

He shook his head and laughed. "Please don't tell me you're taking after her, Syndra," he said, smiling down at her. "My heart couldn't bear the strain."

Syndra patted his arm reassuringly and led him into the room. "Never fear. I couldn't do the walk." She grinned at him and continued, "Though I'll admit being alone with her wasn't as painful as I thought. Perhaps I'll rub off on her instead of the other way 'round," she said optimistically.

Leaving the door ajar, Corryn sat down on a chair across from Syndra's bed. He gazed at his boots and then the ceiling, as if looking to them for wisdom. From the manner in which his brow furrowed, they obviously weren't forthcoming. He gestured for her to sit and let out a deep sigh.

She climbed up and sat at the foot of her bed cross-legged, adjusting her skirt to cover her long, gawky legs, and leaned her elbows on her knees, posture lessons forgotten.

Corryn shivered as he felt cold, dead fingers caress his neck. Ghosts again. Morna had rested her elbows in much the same way when she was at peace, shirking the constraints of nobility if only for a precious moment. His rubbed his eyes, which had grown suddenly hot. This helped him focus at the task at hand.

"Firstly," he said. "Are you okay? You had a bit of a scare today. We all did."

A small, brave smile crossed her face and she nodded meekly. At that moment, all of Edlyn's teenage influence disappeared. She was once again his Little Bear and Corryn could see how much the morning's events had frightened her.

"I would've done it, y'know. What I told Lady Celia," she stated, then smiled and added more softly, "I'm glad I didn't have to."

�As am I, Little Bear,� he said, smiling gently in return. �I know you would have claimed me, for which I am very proud and comforted. And that is why what I must say pains me so.�

Syndra lowered her eyes to the floor, resigned to the inevitable scolding.

Corryn straightened up and for a moment took on the appearance of a father wolf admonishing its unruly pup. �I am very disappointed in you, Syndra,� he said. �Although your intensions were noble, you nearly got yourself killed today. Or worse. You are a young woman, beautiful and innocent. There are predators in this world that care little of your name and rank. You encountered such �men� today and I thank the Mother that you escaped them.�

Her lip twitched, as if she had something to add, but she held her tongue.

Before she could protest, he held up his hand to quiet her. �And don�t blame this on Godwyn. Yes, the boy was reckless and stupid to ride through the woods unescorted. But he is a young man and, thusly, thoughtless by nature.

�You, however, were a fool to follow him, Syndra. You know far better than that. You are above such recklessness. But more importantly, I have not sworn to protect Godwyn. I have sworn myself to you. I would rather be buried a pauper than to know you were harmed trying to help me. You are my Little Bear. How could I live knowing I was responsible for you being�� He can�t even finish the statement, as if the mere utterance would make it true.

In her mind, Syndra corrected the mistakes. She had stayed to the road. She hadn't entered the woods - Godwyn had done that on his own. Her loyalty to her cousin, however, kept her silent. She would share his blame, as Edlyn had already done.

Syndra detected the subtle change in Corryn's voice as he finished, though. She knew him that well. She looked into his eyes; her own filled with genuine remorse. Thinking about how, if things had gone differently, she could have caused her dearest friend such pain was worse than any whipping Lady Celia, or even Ser Anders, could inflict. "I'm sorry, Wolf. You're right. I knew better," she apologized sincerely.

�Apology accepted, Little Bear,� Corryn said; his smile returning, albeit suppressed. He leaned over and patted her knee to show her it was alright. In doing so, his face moved into the light in such a fashion that she could see the wetness around his eyes.

"I know there's no excuse," she continued contritely. "But the thing is, Godwyn and I didn't know what else to do." She lowered her voice. "We heard Celia and Tollet planning to do something to you. We were going to try to warn you, but then the next thing we knew, you'd been ... killed. We couldn't ask Tollet for escort 'cause... well... we thought he'd done it."

�Godwyn told me,� he said. �You were placed in a very difficult position. And I owe you two much, for the loyalty you showed. But you must remember that until you actually see me dead, this old wolf has more than a few lives left hidden in his mangy coat."

Syndra grinned widely at that.

"And even then, I will be with you always.� He smiled faintly, squeezing her knee. The rush of emotion flooded his eyes again. �Please be safer next time. That�s all I ask. I couldn�t bear to lose you again.� Corryn suddenly blushed and sat back with a shot, as if he had said too much.

She looked at him curiously, wondering what he meant by "again," but before she could ask...

At this juncture there was a violent knocking at the door, and a breathless young page burst in, too full of news to remember rules about waiting.

"Sir! Sir!" he gasped. "Godwyn Hardy says the Maester wants to see you in his Tower at once!"

Corryn, still anxious and upset, stared up at the boy as if looking upon his savior. He nodded, �Of course, young man. I will attend him thusly.� He stood up and smiled weakly to Syndra. �We will talk more tomorrow, Little Bear, but on more pleasant things. You�ve grown so much�� he said wistfully, touching her cheek. Before the emotion overcame his defenses again, Corryn turned and followed the page, nearly bowling him over for the need of getting into the hallway.

By the time Syndra hopped off the bed and trotted after him, Corryn was already on his way down the stairs. "Hey! I'm coming with you. I want to check on Godwyn." She descended quickly, but though her strides were long, his six-foot-plus adult ones were even longer. At the bottom of the stairs, she nearly crashed into Edlyn, who was coming back up.

"What's happening?" demanded Edlyn, clutching at Syndra for support. to avoid falling over. "Did you quarrel? Have you sent him away? He looked to be in a fearsome hurry!"

Syndra let out a short, frustrated sigh as she helped Edlyn regain her footing. "No," she groaned. "Everything's fine. A page said the Maester wanted to speak with him at once and he bolted out the door." She stared with narrowed eyes toward the Maester's tower, as if something about the whole exchange was bothering her.

"You don't suppose something's happened to Godwyn, do you?" Syndra asked anxiously.

Edlyn shook her head. "I thought you bandaged his leg right," she said doubtfully. Then her blue eyes widened. "Oh, Syndra! Do you think the wound was poisoned?"

"I doubt it," Syndra responded with a shake of her head. "I think we would've seen signs of it at the inn." She gazed toward the tower again thoughtfully. "Y'know... the page didn't say the Maester wanted to see Ser Corryn alone. I suppose we could go check on Godwyn," she proposed with a devious smile.

Edlyn nodded her agreement. "Come on," she said, lifting her skirts with an elegant twist of her wrist so that they avoided the mud of the courtyard. "Which one is the Maester's tower? The dark and gloomy one?"

The dark and gloomy one was actually the one which had once housed the children, before the summer fever.

Syndra visibly shuddered. "No. It's the tall one over there," she pointed toward a tower on one end of the castle. "Let's go," she said as she started across the courtyard.

Edlyn followed her across the courtyard and up the stairs of the tower.

She regarded the last flight, leading up to the trapdoor, with something like disgust.

"We have to go up there?" she asked plaintively.

Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, CastleHoldfast