A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / Of Pain Exquisite browse

Pain, raw and uncompromising, burned in Corryn’s side. Its intensity dulled his senses to the point he could not hear the roaring crowd around him. He could feel Meraxes paw the ground beneath him, empathizing with its rider’s agony. He leaned slightly forward in his saddle and the horse took his weight for a moment. Without guidance, Meraxes slowly trotted toward their position at the front of the tilt.

The autumnal celebration at Holdfast had attracted a handsome crowd this year. With a heavy purse of Dragons waiting for the winner, many knights had signed up for the jousting event. Old rivalries reignited and new enemies were made over the three day event. Thus far, Corryn had been doing far better than expected; much to the disappointment of Ser Anders, no doubt. Should he finish this round, his points would have placed him in the top rankings.

But he’d been foolish, dropping his shield to risk a strike against Anders’ helm. In turn, Anders’ lance had skipped off Corryn’s shield and splintered against his side. Steel and padding could do little to soften the blow of ten feet of wood being driven in at the speed of two racing horses. Only instinct and Meraxes’ superior husbandry prevented Corryn from being unseated. Even so, he realized at least one of his ribs was broken. Every breath was liquid fire.

Don’t let her see you in pain, he chided himself. Although his helm’s thin visor prevented him from seeing his lady in the crowd, he knew she was there all the same. Her blue handkerchief was tucked safely in his gauntlet. It gave him comfort and pride. He was her first champion and he would not fail her favor.

The pages announced the third pass and someone handed him his lance. It felt like a tree in his arms, fueling the pain in his side. Corryn sucked in his breath and nodded his consent to continue. Down the field, Anders raised his hand in challenge. He could almost feel the man’s prideful smirk beneath his shiny silver helm. That arrogance angered Corryn to the bone and dulled his pain, but not his wits. He’d been studying the man since the beginning of the tournament. When sensing victory, Anders always went to unhorse his opponent and thus humiliate them further. Corryn would now take advantage of that knowledge and use it to his benefit.

The trumpets flared and Meraxes leapt forward like a charging bull. Corryn held on for dear life, fighting to level the heavy lance. Even over the crowd, he could hear Anders’ feral cry. The man wanted blood and had come looking for it. Let him come, Corryn thought. They closed the distance between them in the space of three heartbeats. Time slowed and Corryn’s existence focused solely on the tip of Anders’ lance. As he’d expected, the man was aiming high, to strike him on the helm and unseat him. He allowed him that target until the last second and then sprung his trap.

A scream caught in Corryn’s throat as he ducked down, the movement mashing the broken rib into something soft and vital. But it was enough to have Anders’ lance pass harmlessly over his head. Meanwhile, his own lance went low and under his opponent’s shield. It skipped off his saddle and splintered on the man’s codpiece. Anders let out a choking moan as he went hurling back from the impact. A moment later, Corryn heard the satisfying crunch of metal meeting ground. He didn’t need to look back to know Anders lay motionless on the tournament field. The crowd’s joyous elation told him everything.

Dizzy from the pain, Corryn let Meraxes lead him over to the stands and his lady. She stood on her chair, clapping madly and hollering his name. He grinned brightly at her exuberance, feeling a flush of pride delegated only to a father. If only that were true, he mused. Beside his lady, her mother appeared considerably relieved. She’d been pensive of late and begged him not to compete. But her daughter had been very persistent.

Corryn removed his helmet and breathed in soothing air. He handed it to his squire and then reached into his gauntlet to retrieve the handkerchief. He bowed his head, “My Lady Syndra, this victory is yours. With your permission, I shall step down from the rest of the tournament. I am spent.”

"Awww," Syndra moaned. She had been hoping to have a champion for the whole afternoon.

"Syndra, your courtesies?" Morna warned.

"Thank you, Ser Cor'n. You have my permission," the little girl responded dutifully. She leaned forward quickly and placed her hands on Corryn's mailed shoulders to kiss his cheek. "You got 'im good!" she whispered in his ear, grinning evilly as she pulled away.

He accepted her kiss graciously, grinning from ear to ear with pride. And then he gave her a devilish wink, “I shouldn’t worry about him though. I doubt I hit anything of importance.” Immediately, his cheeks and ears turned crimson, as he realized the bawdiness of his remark and that its meaning would be lost on a girl so young. Corryn constantly forgot Little Bear’s true age. She just seemed far beyond her years.

Syndra giggled conspiratorially. Corryn had forgotten that she bathed with her brothers regularly. She understood how important boys considered their equipment to be.

Corryn cast an apologetic look to her mother. He had been about to apologize to Syndra for his withdrawal, but her attention had already been summoned elsewhere.

"Synnie, c'mon! The next riders are up!" Gavrin called for his sister's attention from his own chair. With one last grin at her champion, Syndra turned away to watch the rest of the tourney. Maids were so fickle.

No matter, he thought, despite being slightly wounded inside.

Throughout the exchange with Syndra, Morna had been watching Corryn with concern. The paleness of his skin and the favoring of his left side as he removed his helm left her no doubt that he was hurt.

Corryn bowed his head to Morna, fighting the growing agony in his side. “M’lady, please enjoy the remainder of the day. Thank you again for allowing me to carry your daughter’s honor. She is truly worth fighting for.” And with that, he let Meraxes mercifully carry him back toward his tent.

Morna waited for Corryn to lead his mount off the field, then leaned over to her children. "Sweetlings, I'm going to tend to Ser Corryn and make sure he's all right after that hit. You'll meet me at his tent when the jousting's done, yes? Gavrin?"

Gavrin tore his attention away from the joust long enough to say, "Yes, Mother. I'll watch Synnie."

"And meet me where...?" Morna prompted.

"Ser Corryn's tent," Syndra filled in the blank, still watching the action.

Morna winced slightly at the volume of that response, but then smiled at her children. "All right then. Have fun," she said and made her way out of the stands.

When she reached the ground, she wavered slightly as a twinge of nausea passed over her. "Too long in the hot sun," she muttered as she steadied herself against a fence post. She knew there was more to it, though. Going too long without eating had made her nauseous during her other pregnancies as well. This one should be no different. Perhaps Corryn would have some bread and cheese in his tent, she hoped.

Morna picked her way through the throng of spectators, squires and knights crowding the path to the competitors' tents. At a distance from Corryn's, she stopped to watch his squire helping him out of his armor, trying to judge how badly he was hurt before he saw her and attempted to hide it.

The tent itself had been pitched at the far edge of the fairgrounds to avoid the crowds. The Manderly colors were easy enough to identify, though. If the silver and green triton emblazoned upon the hanging shield wasn’t obvious enough, the tremendous bulk of Corryn’s horse was unmistakable. A scrawny steward was busy wetting the creature down, having removed its heavy barding. The horse’s rider, however, still remained in his armor and stood in front of the tent, leaning weakly against a post. His squire came over to him and they talked briefly. The boy nodded and then carefully took Corryn’s arm and lifted it up to remove his breast and back plate.

The wounded howl that rang over the fairgrounds made heads turn everywhere. Corryn slumped against the post, uttering a string of obscenities that could have etched stone. He turned frighteningly white as the fauld was removed from his waist, but it gave him a moment’s reprieve. The thick padding, however, went next and its removal elicited yet another strickened cry from the wounded knight. As the squire set the padding down, the reason became readily apparent.

Through the slitted side of his supertunic, Morna could see the black-purple circle running from Corryn’s hip almost up to his armpit.

From her spot at a distance, Morna cringed at each of Corryn's howls of pain. At the sight of the horrendous bruise that covered his side, however, she closed her eyes tight, forcing back another violent wave of nausea. It took her a moment to recover, but finally she looked back toward the tent again.

The squire immediately began to examine the wound, prodding each rib with his fingers. He appeared pleased by his finds, although Corryn did not entirely share his mirth. He gazed away from the wound and in that moment met Morna’s eyes. His cheeks reddened again and he quickly retreated into the darkness of his tent, humiliated.

Morna hurried to the tent, surprising the squire, who smiled nervously but allowed her to pass. "Corryn?" she called gently. "May I come in?" She moved the flap, but did not enter yet, waiting for his response. He knew her well enough, though, to know that it would do no good to say "no."

Corryn started as the flap was pushed aside, but relaxed when he saw Morna’s face. He had been about to pour himself some strong wine, but he placed the carafe down when he noticed her coloring. Despite the obvious pain he was in, he hurried to her side. “My lo… lady,” he quickly corrected. “You look unwell. Come in from the heat, please.” He looked over her shoulder to the squire outside, “Felix. I am not to be disturbed, not even if Aeron himself returns from the dead and wishes to speak with me.” And with that, he tied the tent flap shut and moved to her arm.

“What’s wrong?” he said, helping her sit down on his cushioned bedroll. “You look flu…sssssshhhhed.” His voice turned to a hiss as he twisted wrong and ignited a spear in his side. He gulped for air and frowned. “I’m sorry.”

"You're sorry?! By the gods, Corryn, you're lucky you're not dead," she exclaimed worriedly as she ignored her own complaints to check over his injuries, wincing as she parted his tunic. "Has anyone called the Maester yet?"

"I'll be fine," he said stubbornly, biting his lower lip as she examined him. "There are no ribs cracked and I can breathe somewhat. I simply need to lie down." The bravado drained from his features when he recognized the genuine concern in her loving eyes. "I'll have Felix call the Maester tonight, if it makes you feel better."

"It will," she stated maternally.

He carefully lay down on the bed and supported his back with pillows. The pain ebbed somewhat and he managed a tender smile. "Syndra seemed proud of me today. Was she?" He blushed at his need for the girl's approval. Corryn took Morna’s hand and laced their fingers together.

Fingers entwined, she kissed the back of his hand tenderly. "Very much so. She punched poor Gavrin when he dared suggest you'd made a mistake on that second tilt," she smiled. Another wave of queasiness passed over her. She closed her eyes and squeezed his hand.

Her gentle touch calmed him and made him forget the pain for a moment. But then he noticed her distress. She never was too good at hiding things from him. Liars knew their own tricks when they saw them, and Corryn knew them all. "There's something wrong, my love. Please tell me?"

"I didn't eat," she answered reassuringly. With a stern look warning him not to get up, she rose and moved to the table that held the wine carafe. At the back of the table was half a loaf of crusty bread and several apples, which were probably meant to be for Meraxes. With a nearby knife, she sliced off several pieces of bread and chopped an apple in half. Then she poured some wine and returned to Corryn's side, balancing everything delicately. She handed him the wine and half the apple and began nibbling gingerly at the bread crusts.

Corryn watched her stand and move, sensing something off in her step and manner. But he took the wine graciously and took a small sip from it. His hand went to her thigh, brushing over it in slow, tender passes. "I love you," he said, staring up at her with concern and affection. "I've been meaning to say that all day. I haven't said it enough and I'm sorry. You've looked so… far away of late. Have I offended you somehow?"

"Offended?! No, I...," she trailed off, her lips still moving with no sound, her look distressed. It was guilt this time that washed over her, not nausea. She shook her head, still unable to speak.

Morna hadn't planned to tell him. It would be too difficult. Better to just let him believe, she had told herself time and time and time again. Like the rest of the world had to believe.

But that was easy enough to say before he arrived. When he was here, looking up at her with such love and concern, worried that he had offended her and not the other way around, she found she couldn't lie to him. Nor could she tell him the truth. Stuck in the middle, she squeezed her eyes shut, wringing her hands in her lap, as the tears began to fall. "I'm pregnant," she suddenly whispered.

At first, he appeared relieved and kissed her palm and wrist. "That's wonderful, my dear," he said, a hint of envy darkening his eyes. He pulled her down into his arms, cradling her and brushing her cheek. Her tears frightened him terribly.

"But why would that…" His voice dropped off and his eyes widened with trepidation. In their years together, Morna knew his capacity for quickly assessing a situation. He knew the heart of people and the meaning of their words. Only his concern had blinded him to the truth.

"Oh lords," he said softly. "It's mine, isn't it?"

She looked up from his comforting embrace, her brown eyes wide and desperate. In those eyes, he saw that he'd spoken the truth. "It is," she murmured. "Of that, I have no doubt." She pulled away from him gently and sat up, facing him. "But it can't be, Corryn. Don't you see? It can't be," she sobbed, pleading with him. It was the moment she had feared since she'd missed her flowering. Her heart was breaking as she told the man she loved he could never claim his own child.

Corryn blinked dumbly for a moment, staring at her with total bewilderment. He cocked his head in a lupine manner, the way he did whenever she'd confounded him. And then he smiled; his lips pulling back into a foolish grin that lit up his face. He took her head in his hands and started kissing her mouth and cheeks in rapid succession. Tears ran down his face, but they were not tears of sadness, she quickly saw. They were tears of pure relief and joy.

Startled, Morna kissed him back reflexively, stunned by his reaction.

"Is that what you've been tearing yourself up over?" he exclaimed, the pain in his side forgotten. "God, Morna. You can be so foolish sometimes. So beautifully foolish."

He kissed her again, longer this time, holding her in his arms tenderly. Finally, he brushed her wet cheeks and gazed into her eyes, as one would a frightened child. "I know I couldn't claim our little girl. But nonetheless, we'll know she's ours. That's what's important, my love. She will have a wonderful mother to guide her through life. And she'll have the most precious brothers and sister she could hope for."

Morna stared at him incredulously, unable to believe what she was hearing. In the days before his arrival, she had worried about this moment endlessly. She had been very lucky that Godfrey had stopped home briefly on a trip to Deepwood Motte shortly before Corryn's last visit, else she might've been forced to try to brew moon tea. Just the thought of it revolted her. She had counted and recounted the days, hoping that by the end of her term, Godfrey would forget exactly when he had been home, and also hoping in spite of her true desires that this child did not resemble its father.

Now all - well, most - of those cares had been swept away like autumn leaves in the wind. Ser Corryn Manderly, the love of her life, was a truly wonderful man.

Corryn outlined her lips with a brush of his fingertip, preventing her from interrupting just yet. His smile faltered slightly, appearing wistful. "And Godfrey will be a good father to her, I know."

She smiled with immense relief and nodded reassuringly. "He will. I know he will," she agreed, reaching out for his hands.

He chuckled, "Besides. She will have the best uncle a maid could hope for. In many ways, I'm more a father to your children than Godfrey is. I've watched them grow and laugh and live. The same will be true for her. Our child will be happy and what more could a father ask for than that?"

Corryn's hand laced with hers, moving to her belly. "I will know. WE will know. That is what matters, dearheart."

Morna threw her arms around him. "Gods, Corryn, I love you. I... OH!" In her relief and excitement, she had forgotten about Corryn's injuries. At his howl of pain, she winced and jumped away from him, biting her lip sheepishly. "I'm sorry," she apologized, though she was still unable to contain her sheer joy.

The world turned black for a moment, stars of pain dancing in his head. He slumped back into the bed, half moaning, half laughing. The laugh only made things worse, igniting flaming spears in his side. Soon, Corryn descended into a comical staccato of laughs and yelps.

When he paled and laid back, Morna was at his side instantly. "Shhh… easy," she soothed as she stroked his hair out of his face. As he began to alternately laugh and yelp, though, she smiled, biting her lip to keep from laughing at him.

"You've killed me," he chuckled through his pain, holding his side.

"Not yet I haven't," she grinned, ruffling his hair playfully.

Finally, through rasping breath, he silenced his laughter and calmed the pain. His hand sought hers, pulling Morna down into the covers with him to rest her head on his chest; the good side, of course. He nuzzled her hair and neck, sighing with joyous contentment. "I love you without measure, Morna," he said. "You've made me so very happy."

Morna was too excited to lay quietly. She stretched out next to him, but Corryn only got one nuzzle before her head popped back up. She leaned up on one elbow so she could look down into his warm hazel eyes. Her own dark eyes were brimming with joyful tears as she smiled lovingly down at him. "I am so glad," she smiled, tenderly playing with his hair and tracing his ear and jaw with a graceful finger. "You have no idea how much I want this child."

Morna's exuberance was infectious and Corryn tried to ignore the pain as much as he could, just stay as close to her as physically possible. "I have a vague concept," he said with a playful wink. "I've dreamt of it since I met you. I knew someday the Maiden would bless us for not abandoning our love." He grinned brightly, "My child will have a fine mother."

He gently cupped her chin, gazing into her eyes. "Do me but one favor. It is all I ask. Let us name the child and fight for that name. Please?"

"Don't even worry about that," Morna assured him. "Godfrey always lets me name the children. He says it's my right for doing all the work." She scooted up a little higher so he could reach without straining and took his large hand in hers. She rested it just below her navel and covered it with her own. Corryn could feel a slight swell starting to make its presence known. "Do you have any names in mind? It sounds like you have your heart set on a girl," she teased him.

He needed no further invitation and began to sensually caress her belly. As he did so, he stared up at her in pure wonderment. "Soon you will be as big as a proper Manderly woman. And I can kiss that belly of yours over and over. You're so beautiful when you're with child, Morna. To know it is mine…" his voice cracked again and the tears wet his eyes. "This child will never want for love."

Morna giggled and blushed, then leaned over to kiss him tenderly.

Corryn kept his hand on her belly as he spoke, refusing to let go, exploring its curvature with tender caresses. He grew wistful, "I would like a girl, yes. Syndra needs a sister. She hides it well, but I think she's lonely a great deal. A baby sister to torment and teach her roguish ways would make her very happy indeed, I think."

"Could we call her Tasha? If it's a girl, that is."

"That's pretty. I like it," Morna agreed. "What if it's a boy?"

"Dylon," he said without hesitation. He smiled up at her, pulling her fingers to his lips. "Did you have some names? I feel that I'm being belligerent. It will be you carrying the child after all. All I have to do is lavish you with affection for the next nine months, and that will hardly be a chore."

"Mmmmm," she purred suggestively, kissing him again. "I should get with child more often," she murmured, her lips still softly touching his.

He sighed softly, shifting under the blankets to relieve some pressure on his side.

Morna pulled back to look once more into his eyes. "No, I've done the naming three times now. This is your first. I'll share." An uncomfortable look crossed her face suddenly and she rose quickly, being careful not to jostle him as she did so. She walked to the water bucket in the corner and took several small sips from the dipper. When she returned, instead of curling up beside him, she sat up near his head and resumed nibbling on her bread crusts. She smiled down at him sheepishly. "Morning sickness. Would that it only happened in the morning."

He returned her gaze, smiling empathically. "My poor love. Can I have one of the pups fetch you something from the market? The Old Toad is here. I'll need some of her medicines myself to get through the night. It would be little effort to procure a tonic to soothe your stomach."

She waved him off with a smile. "No, it'll pass. It always does."

Corryn reached out for her, resting his hand on her thigh. "Have I told you how much I love you, today?"

"Mmmmm, and I love you," she said in a whisper as she heard voices nearing outside the tent.

"But we HAVE to," a boy's voice argued.

"No. I have me orders. Ser Corryn is NOT to be disturbed," Felix responded stubbornly.

"But Mama said!" This time the voice was recognizable as Syndra.

Morna gave Corryn one last peck to accompany the long-suffering look, then moved to open the tent flap. "It's all right," she called to the squire. "Let them in."

Morna stood at the flap to run interference. It was a good thing she did. As soon as the flap opened, Syndra came flying in to attack her Wolf, only to run smack into Morna's outstretched arm. Gavrin followed at a slower pace, but he was no less excited.

Corryn breathed a sigh of relief as the little hellion was intercepted. He gazed up at Morna gratefully and mouthed a soft "Thank you." He shifted up on his pillows to support his back, putting one over his wounded side in case Syndra escaped her mother's grasp. "Greetings you two," he said, honestly pleased to see them. "Did you enjoy your day at the tourney?"

"Oh, yes!" Gavrin exclaimed. "After you left, Tytos Blackwood unseated Harrion Karstark and Greatjon Umber faced off against Jason Mallister. That one was a draw. Both of the Glovers rode splendidly, too, and..."

Morna laughed. "Gavrin, take a breath!" she teased her son affectionately. Gavrin was obviously well-versed in the relative strengths of each warrior. It was an interest he shared with his cousin Godwyn. He grinned back at his mother, who was struggling to contain her rambunctious daughter.

"Someday I will have to take you down to King's Landing, Gavrin," Corryn chuckled. "The riders there are even better than up here. And you might even get the chance to see the Kingslayer on the tilt. Say what you will about the man, he is an astounding rider. I rode against him once. I still have the scar where his lance splintered and got under my armor. He was extremely generous though."

"You rode against the Kingslayer?!" Gavrin's eyes were wide with awe. He seemed ready to bend the knee to Corryn. "Can I see the scar?" At the horrified look from his mother, he blushed and added, "If it's not someplace I shouldn't see."

Corryn chuckled softly, honored by the boy's enthusiasm. "I fear it's under my armpit on this side," he admitted, gesturing to his wound. "I can't lift my arm to show you just now. But I promise, I'll show it to you and tell you the whole story when you and I go fishing next month. Is that acceptable?"

"Yes, Ser," Gavrin nodded eagerly.

Corryn saw how Syndra was climbing over her mother and clucked his tongue. "Syndra. Your mother isn't feeling well. Too much sun. Could you please sit beside me and let her rest a little?" He patted the space on his good side. "And Gavrin, fetch your sister and mother some water. And yourself some too, of course. You're probably parched."

Syndra sprinted gleefully over and hopped on the bed, causing Morna to wince almost as badly as Corryn. "Syndra, careful. Ser Corryn got banged up in that hit. He's going to be sore for a while."

Syndra's eyes widened and suddenly, she was the little nurse. She felt Corryn's head for fever and tucked the covers up more firmly under his chin, making soothing Morna-like "it'll be all right" noises as she cared for him.

Her antics made him laugh; a mistake at best. Not only did it make his side hurt terribly, he couldn’t help exclaiming his discomfort. That, in turn, elicited more of Syndra's good-natured nursing. He found himself buried beneath a pile of pillows and blankets, until but his head sprouted from the bed. "Thank you, Syndra," he chuckled and winced. "You will make a fine nurse someday. I will forever be your champion if I know I can rely on you to bring me back to life."

Syndra beamed at the thought of having a "champion-for-life."

Gavrin, on the other hand, responded smugly as he fetched the water, "See, Synnie, I told you! I knew he got hurt on the second tilt." He turned back and handed the waters around. "Did you break anything, Ser Corryn?" he asked hopefully, as if a knight was not really injured unless he broke something.

"I broke a rib, I think," he said, winking at Morna. He knew the drill. Unless he lost a limb, Gavrin would quickly grow bored. "You can have a look later, if you wish."

Gavrin nodded eagerly.

Corryn smiled at the boy's excitement. "Just remember, a good knight will suffer any wound, any ill, if it is to defend his lady's honor. Ser Anders doesn't understand that. And that is why he lost. After seeing the joust, do you understand how I unhorsed him?"

"Yes, with a lance to the..." he stopped short and glanced at his mother again warily. It occurred to the boy then that Corryn was talking about the overall strategy. He started to nod, as if he would like to say he understood perfectly, but his honesty got the better of him and his expression turned uncertain. "How?" he asked.

Corryn laughed softly and offered the boy a bemused grin. He gestured for Gavrin to sit beside his sister. He looked around and then leaned his head towards them, as if they were a trio of conspirators. "I let him defeat himself," Corryn said. "He allowed his pride and arrogance to blind him. After that second hit, all he saw was the wound he'd inflicted, not the knight he'd wounded. He assumed I would be unable to respond in certain ways and went for the kill. I know the man, I know his thoughts. So I let him think he was correct in his assumptions until the last moment and…"

He let the children make the appropriate crunching noises and laughed along with them. "Exactly. I out-thought him. That's how I won. And that is how you will win when you ride for House Hardy, my boy. True, I may have worsened my injury in the process, but my lady's honor was at stake. And how important is your lady's honor, Gavrin?"

"Your lady's honor is everything," Gavrin answered nobly, though the glance he shot at his sister indicated that, while she might be a lady, she was not HIS lady.

Corryn noticed Felix was still standing in the tent door and nodded to the squire. "Goodwife Rachel should be finishing up some sweet rolls about now. Go buy some for us, would you? And maybe an apple or an orange, as well. Get something for you and Volf as well."

"Aye, Ser Corryn," the young squire bowed and left them alone.

Morna looked dubiously over at Corryn. "Are you sure you're up to this? I was going to take them back up," she said a bit worriedly.

"Pain is fleeting, Lady Hardy," Corryn said honestly. "I would not think of letting it interfere with my time with you and your children." He brushed back one of Syndra's curls and smirked, "Just as long as you promise not to jump on me, okay?"

"I promise, Ser Corn Wolf," she responded.

When the sweet rolls arrived, Morna served everyone, then sat back and watched Corryn interact with her children. Even in pain as he was, he was so good with them, whether it be teaching the mechanics of jousting to an aspiring young knight, or suffering the enthusiastic attentions of a little girl who could barely hold back the urge to pounce on him. Morna smiled at Corryn proudly. He was going to be such a wonderful, loving father.

He returned the smile, his eyes wide with joyful contentment. Even though he would wince when he turned wrong or laughed too hard, the children made him forget how badly off he actually was. And there was the thought that soon his child would be joining them, giggling and joking and simply enjoying the wonderment of living.

After the children had finished eating, Morna selected two apples from the table and cut each in half. "Children," she announced in that "mother voice" that precedes a transition, "it is time we take our leave so Ser Corryn may rest. Say your goodbyes and then take these apples out to Meraxes while I see if our knight needs anything."

Corryn kissed Syndra good-night and ruffled Gavrin's hair. "Until the morrow, you two. Gavrin, make sure to watch over your sister on the way home. The market can be a dangerous and confusing place. I transfer my knightly duties to you, young ser. Is my trust well placed?" He smiled brightly, already knowing the answer.

"Yes, Ser," Gavrin answered officially, with a formal nod.

And then Corryn gave Syndra a wink. She, after all, would be doing most of the guarding.

Syndra smiled fondly at him, then kissed him on the lips with an exaggerated child-like pucker. "Goodnight, Wolf. Sleep tight," she said, promptly skipping away after her brother. At the tent flap, she turned suddenly. "And thank you for being my champion," she grinned back before disappearing in a flash.

Once they were alone again, Corryn gazed up at Morna with tired eyes. "Thank you, my love," he said, slumping back into his bed. The exhaustion and pain finally showed through the mask, even though it had been an easy mask to wear.

Morna leaned over Corryn and gave him a short but tender kiss, running her fingers through his hair one last time. "You get some rest. And see the Maester," she said sternly as she walked away. "I'll check in on you on the morrow." Her severe look gave way to an adoring smile as she reached the tent flap and turned back. "I love you," she mouthed, then took her leave.

Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, CastleHoldfast