A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / A Second Interview with the Lord browse

(This takes place two days after his talk with Tomas)

Merivel walked down the halls of Clearwater, until he stopped at the office of the Lord, as he had the day of Lady's pell-mell run through the forest. He looked at his hand and blew on it, as if the hand was cold, before crisply knocking at the door.

"My lord?" he called through the door.

"Enter," said Lord Draupaud, his voice - as ever - unemotionless.

He was sitting behind his desk once more, writing on a sheet of parchment, and it seemed to Merivel that he had never seen the Lord of Clearwater save when he was working or eating. And he ate sparingly too.

"Maester," he said by way of greeting, indicating that merivel should take a seat - and then he watched him closely as he did so.

"Well?" he asked.

Merivel took the offered seat, and sighed heavily as he did so. It took a few moments for him to meet the Lord's gaze.

"I have learned in the last few days just how terrible a situation this is, for all concerned." Merivel began. "I would not dare to presume to do anything without a more complete picture." he continued.

"I am not a full Maester and I would not presume to contradict the Maester who has given you the recipe with which you treat the Lady." Merivel continued. "And yet, my conscience and training led me to believe, and to state, that there must be a better way to take care of her, even if the details of that are currently occluded to us all."

"Healing is my specialty, Sir." Merivel continued. "Give me leave to try and find a better curative than what we currently possess. A curative which swings her, depending on dose, from a half life of sleepiness to suicidal madness is no curative at all. It is no curative at all."

Merivel stopped, and regarded the Lord warily.

The Lord listened to him, his dark face impassive. And finally he said, quietly, "And do you believe a cure is possible? Do you not think, after all that has happened, she will only awake to madness?"

"Work without hope is doomed to failure." Merivel replied, looking at that impassive, aristocratic face.

"Work without the hope of success, be it managing a fiefdom or cleaning a floor is work that will soon fail of its own lack of effort." He paused for a moment before continuing.

"I must believe, sir, that there is a chance of success of avoiding that, or else I would not even deign to try."

"And if you lose hope," said Lord Draupaud, "will you grant her peace, at least?"

Merivel paused a moment, looking down at the desk. Finally he raised his head and looked at Lord Draupaud in his eyes. He could not manage a verbal answer, but he nodded, clear enough to see.

Tears welled at the corners of his eyes as he did so.

Lord Draupaud was silent for a long minute. When he finally spoke his voice was low, and for the first time, he did not meet Merivel's eyes. But there was no doubt of the sinceruity of his tone.

"Thank you."

Merivel nodded. "Until you need me again, my Lord." Merivel carefully did not turn his back on Lord Draupaud until he had left the bounds of the office, sighing as he closed the door, and turned to face the responsibilities of the day.

Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, Clearwater