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Of Dreams and Deep Subjects

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"How are you doing?" Rhys asked once they were out the door and into the hallway. "This has certainly been an interesting few weeks, has it not?"

"It has." Merivel addmitted as he walked alongside Rhys in the hallway. "More interesting than I anticipated." He smiled thinly.

"I wanted to ask you something, something that you might know a little about, judging from what I picked up with what you said to Maester Sewell."

Merivel paused a beat, and then added.

"What do you know about dreams?"

Rhys raised his eyebrows. "Dreams? I'm not sure..." he replied cautiously. "I have more experience with a form of clairvoyance--It's a word I picked up at the Citadel. Are you familiar with it?--which could, I suppose, be likened to a 'waking' dream. Why?"

"Ever since I left the Vale, I've begun to...Dream, in a capitalized sense, if you follow my meaning. Dreams of...people and events that seem to sometimes correspond with reality."

He stopped walking and turned to look at Merivel curiously.

Merivel hesitated and then continued. "I don't like to tell many people about it." Merivel said. "I certainly didn't broadcast it at the Citadel.

Rhys nodded, understanding completely.

"But when you made your revelation to Maester Sewell...I wondered if we were kindred spirits that way."

"It sounds like we are..." Rhys smiled, his expression still curious. "These dreams...they've been prophetic?"

"Yes" Merivel admitted.

"The night before it was announced of where I was to be sent after leaving the Citadel, I had a dream." He looked at Rhys seriously. "It was a dream of endless fields of snow and ice, a cold winter unlike any in our lifetimes. I knew then that I was headed not back home, or to King's Landing, or to Dorne."

"I knew I was headed for Winter's Chills, the North."

Rhys raised his eyebrows again. "Have you had any others? How do you tell a prophetic dream from an ordinary one?" he asked, the maester in him coming out.

Merivel sighed. "I'm still trying to figure that out. There aren't exactly guidelines to this. I was hoping, when you mentioned the vision to Maester Sewell, that you might know as much, or more, than I. Its been a lot of trial and error."

"A lot of trial and error." Merivel said again. He then looked at Rhys. "So where do we look for the Boltons?"

"I have some ideas, perhaps," Rhys replied pensively. "I'd like to talk to you about them later. In private."

"Boltons." Rhys ran a hand over his face, the name distasteful in his mouth. "Let's try the courtyard. If they're not there, likely Ser Anders will be."

He pointed out the direction and headed off that way toward the courtyard [Merivel following, presumably].

Ser Anders was in the courtyard, talking to one of his men at arms. He was frowning - an expression that did not change when he looked up and saw Rhys and Merivel.

"Rhys," he said. "You are to go immediately to your tower and remain there. A guard will be placed upon the door. A grave accusation has been made against you, and you should regard yourself as honour bound not to leave the tower until it has been fully investigated."

Rhys paled. He had a pretty good idea what the accusation was and who made it. "Of course," he answered, quite surprised and quite troubled. "I'll go at once. Merivel, you'll tell my uncle?"

"I will." Merivel replied. He looked at the accuser and then back at Rhys. He paused a moment, put a finger to his lips and then continued to speak. "Is there anything else I can do to help? If Sewell were to ask me...what is this about?"

Rhys didn't reply. He looked at Ser Anders.

"Rhys has been accused of fornication," said Ser Anders. "Or at least - attempted fornication with a young woman of noble birth." Ser Anders looked at Rhys with a strange expression - it took Rhys a while to realise that it could be sympathy.

Merivel's mouth opened and remained open for a moment, in complete shock.

"It could be the dungeons, lad. But ... respect for your uncle. For the moment, it's your Tower."

"I...uh...appreciate that." And he did. Rhys knew what the dungeons of Holdfast looked like. "I'll go at once."

He bowed to Ser Anders and Merivel and left to walk across the courtyard to the Maester's Tower, his shoulders slumped.

Categories: WinterChills, CastleHoldfast, WinterChillsGameLogs

Page last modified on March 20, 2006, at 10:08 PM