Corryn in the Courtyard"Bollocks and damnation," Corryn muttered, throwing up his hands. He turned to Godwyn for a moment and gave him an exasperated look. "We'll talk more on the morrow. Get some rest. I think we'll all need it. "Now I need to find Odette before Anders does something I'll have to make him regret." And he too descended from the tower, right on the girl's heels. He tried to catch Syndra's eye, started to say something, and then muttered a curse to himself again. This was not how he'd hoped this night and reunion would transpire. But did they ever? He saw Syndra at some distance away. Edlyn's arm was around her waist, and the two girls had their heads close together. Should he interrupt? He thought to call after them. The ghosts were heavy in his head tonight and the last thing he wanted was Syndra to be angered with him. Why couldn't life in Holdfast be a simple affair rather than mummer’s tragedy? But before he could do so, he became of something else in the courtyard ... a horse in Manderley livery, blown from a hard journey and being tended by the grooms. He paused for a moment and gazed at the familiar heraldry; a triton, bone-white with green hair against a blue-green field. He had not seen that shield since he left White Harbor nearly four months ago. What in the Stranger’s name was one of his own doing here? His stomach began to twist. “Marlon, you old bastard,” he muttered. “What have you done to me now?” He approached the grooms, a storm of malice brewing around him. “You, boy!” he said, perhaps too harshly. “The rider of this mount. Where is he?” "There was a messenger, Ser," responded the boy, looking startled. "Looking for you, Ser. He's with my Lady now." Corryn sighed weakly. He pulled his hair back and fought the scream rising in his throat. A messenger. Why not simply send a raven? “This day just gets better with each passing moment,” he muttered. It was then he realized the boy was watching him with wide eyes. He managed a smile and tossed the boy a copper. “Make sure the horse receives your full attention,” he said before turning away and heading back into the castle’s main hall. "Yes, Ser," agreed the groom, nimbly catching the copper. When Corryn returned to the Hall, he was admitted at once, to find Lady Tollet and her brother speaking with someone Corryn recognised - Ser Demos Porrit, one of his father's favoured companions. Demos. Corryn’s heart sank at the sight of the tall man. Lean as a weasel and quick as a fox, the knight served as Marlon’s eyes and ears. If anything, Marlon favored him more as a son than a peer. True, the man and Corryn were close friends, but his presence this far from the protection of White Harbor meant ill-fortune. "Ser Corryn," said Lady Celia. Her expression was grave, a study in polite sympathy. "We were just on the point of sending for you. I am so very sorry." Ser Demos looked abashed - and the look he gave Corryn was one of real sympathy. “Thank you, m’lady,” Corryn said, kissing her hand politely. “There is no need to apologize.” “Demos,” Corryn said, trying to appear unflustered, but his confusion won out. “I saw your horse outside. You rode the poor girl too hard. What has happened? And why the long faces?” He looked amongst those gathered for Odette's face. Where was she? There was no sign of Odette - perhaps she was still in the kitchen. "It's your Lady Mother," said Demos sombrely. "She took a fall from her horse ... on the road up to the Keep. The Maester says ... " His face twisted in pain. "The Maester says she will not recover. Your father instructed me to find you, and bring you home." The words slammed into Corryn like the end of a lance, stealing his breath and reason. He blinked stupidly for a moment, as if he had not heard the words. He wanted to deny them, to pretend that they had never left Demos’ lips. His hand gripped the edge of the table instinctively before his legs betrayed him. How could he deny this ugly truth when he knew his stepmother all too well. Ciara Dayne had never lost her Dornish blood when she became a Manderly, nor did she lose her willful soul. Fearless and empathic, she had filled the void in Corryn after the loss of his true mother. And in time, the young boy grew to love her deeply. Marlon had struggled to tame his second wife’s wild spirit for fear of losing her too, but had had as much success with the Dornish princess as he had his son. She’d been infamous for riding down the Reach at breakneck speed, despite her years. The road running down from Craghall to Rivertown was precarious and steep, lined with cobblestones sleek with sea spray. Ciara had lived by her House’s motto, To Our Fates We Ride. And so it would seem, she finally had. “Where was he?” Corryn said, his voice turning deadly. Green eyes flashed as his nails dug into the table. “Where were you, for that matter?” Demos met his eyes openly. "At sea, Ser. Pirates had attacked the village of Westcliff. We sailed to their rescue - aye, and we chased those filthy raiders halfway to the Iron Islands before we caught them - and served them as they deserved. We sailed home in triumph - her maids said that when our sails were sighted, nothing would satisfy Lady Ciara but that she should ride herself to meet us on the quay and give her Lord the first welcoming kiss ... " A dark welcome, to be sure, he thought sadly. Corryn arched his head back and ground his fist into his eyes. He would not allow the Tollets to see his tears. Not now, not ever. When his hands fell from his face, a glacial calm had settled in his features. “Of course,” he said flatly. “She hated being apart from him.” Why were those he loved destined to become ghosts? He was beginning to collect far too many. Far too many. He bowed his head to Celia, “With your permission, Ser Demos will conclude the remainder of my business here. Please send my regrets to your Lord Husband and the children.” Lady Celia inclined her head gracefully in acknowledgement and dismissal. Corryn began toward the door, motioning for Demos to walk with him. “You will remain here and finish my business. I trust you solely in these requests, brother. First, you will sell all my wares. I don’t care what price you fetch. Second, you will send my apologies to Lady Syndra. We left… poorly. She can also direct you to Madame Odette, who I want you to escort back to the Goose and Gander. Finally, I want you to bury a knight. Ser Fouchon. Odette will explain.” He pressed several gold coins into the man’s hand. “Don’t fail me.” "I shall not, Ser Corryn," Demos assured him - and Corryn knew he spoke the truth. He would be faithful and meticulous in all he did. Corryn paused only briefly, “I will meet you in White Harbor. I know paths you cannot follow and I dare not tarry. I am her son…” Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, CastleHoldfast |
