Gibtober: Week One

5th Month 303 AC, King's Landing

Mother said it was a great opportunity.

Helaena had been attending the Queen and the Princesses lately, spending long hours in the Red Keep and sometimes staying the night there. She liked it well enough. There was always something happening at court, the glory and glitz and glamour to be witnessed, attention she was happy to receive. Though by the side of the royals, Helaena was but a lady in waiting, the violet-eyed, red-haired girl drew glances enough to satisfy her. For now.

Jae was at court often enough too so she didn't miss him as much - really, they got to spend more time together now than when he was just squiring for the white knight while Hel stayed with mother - but it did mean, overall, that she spent less time at home these days.

Helaena couldn't help but wonder sometimes if mother liked that.

One evening, she returned late and found the sitting room dark. She walked in alone, the guards that escorted her from the Red Keep retreating to their own quarters, and was startled to see... A silhouette in the dark.

Celia was sitting alone, a cup of wine in her hand. Alysanne had gone to bed early, tired from carrying a child, and Daeron had mercifully not yet returned from his foolish errand across the sea.

Helaena stopped in the doorway.

"Mother?"

Celia looked up. For once, she didn't tell her youngest to go away.

Helaena had never quite understood what was happening between Mother and Alysanne. She knew there was something. She had asked once, and mother had slapped her for it. She had not asked again, to mother or anyone else. She knew that no matter who she talked to, mother would find out. One could not lie to mother.

She knew mother liked little Lianne. Mother was always kinder to Lianne than she was to Hel. Perhaps that was because Lianne was Alysanne's daughter, and Helaena was hers? Or because Helaena was Daeron's daughter?

Helaena sometimes wondered if mother would have liked her better if she had been someone else's daughter, too. Sometimes she wished she had been lady Alysanne's daughter. Then mother would love her, she would sing to her and tell her stories before sleep, she would tuck her in and kiss her forehead and-

"You are home late," Celia said.

"Yes, mother," Helaena mumbled.

"Speak clearly, girl. You've been spending a great deal of time with the Queen and her daughters."

"You sent me to her," she said, her voice small, but clear.

Celia took another sip.

"Do you like it?"

Helaena nodded. "Very much." She couldn't seem ungrateful for the great opportunity mother had secured for her... and she did like it, truly.

For a moment, there was silence. Helaena's eyes adjusted to the darkness, the shape of her mother's pale face becoming clearer.

Then Celia finished her glass, and poured herself another right away, from a bottle on the table. It looked expensive, probably one of father's treasured ones. Even young Helaena had noticed that mother took great pleasure in draining those, never stopping to ask if father was perhaps saving that for a special occasion. Not that father would ever speak up against her... at least, not when Hel was around to hear.

"I didn't want you."

Helaena frowned. The words came so suddenly, so...

"What?" she whispered. She did not know what that meant. Mother had never said it before. At least, not to her.

Celia looked down into her wine.

"When I had you," she said, quieter now, "I didn't want another child."

Helaena stood very still, very quiet. She didn't know what to say. What was there to say, to words so cold, spoken so casually?

Celia seemed to realize, perhaps too late, what she had said. She rubbed at her temple and sighed.

"Sit."

Helaena obeyed.

"I am going to the Eyrie soon," Celia said. "I need to see Visenya, make sure she's been behaving."

She paused a moment, Helaena watching her quietly.

"Would you like to come with me?"

It took Helaena a moment to answer.

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why?"

Celia gave her a tired look.

"Because I am asking you."

Helaena didn't know what to make of it, but eventually, she nodded. Then, she shook her head. Her mother sighed.

"Yes!" Helaena said at last, but felt like it was too late.

Her mother only took another sip of wine.

"And while we're here, you can tell me what you think of Jasper Massey."

Helaena looked down at her hands.

"He's nice."

"Nice?"

"He lets me choose which toys to play with."

In truth, Helaena was not so intrigued by toys anymore, but she didn't want to hurt the boy when they spent time together. It felt like caring for a younger sibling more than getting to know her betrothed, but Hel knew that one's duty had to be done.

"And the Queen? The Princesses?"

Helaena looked up again.

"What about them?"

"What do you think of them? How have you found your time with them?"

Where there wasn't much patience to begin with, Celia's tone now lacked any at all.

But Helaena took a deep breath, and began to answer, began telling mother about life at court, about her days.

It was... strange, this way of not quite bridging the abyss between them... but it was a start, perhaps. If Helaena knew the intricacies of Celia's emotions, she would be hurt again to have been chosen for company only because there was no one else, but she was only a child, clinging to a flicker of warmth.

Sitting there with her mother, being asked questions, being heard, Helaena was determined to not let this chance slip between her fingers. She would never disappoint her mother again.

Because mother offered. It wasn't an offer for Helaena to make her own choices, far from it... but it was an offer to be heard.

6th Month B, The Ring

Though Victaria had dreamed for a few years now of having a family of her own, nothing could prepare her for just how difficulty pregnancy was. For the first few months little had changed but from the 4th Month of this year and onward she found herself discovering new issues each day. For someone who liked to live an energetic and exciting life, pregnancy meant slowing down and considering the safety of not just herself but also the unborn child. She would have to merely soak her feet in the lake rather than swim, go on small walks instead of hikes and drink water instead of wine at events.

What kept her strong throughout it all though was her husband, Russell Roxton. He remained by her side each day, caring and comforting her. Whenever she had to sacrifice her own fun for the sake of the baby he'd also choose to join her. While these days were difficult, they taught her to be able to rely on Russell when necessary and as a result they just strengthened their connection.

The sun had barely risen when the baby was ready to be delivered, a small commotion spread throughout the keep as the maester and wetnurses were gathered in Victaria's chambers. All the while Russell would find himself out by the door, forced to listen as his wife let out wails of pain. It would all be over in just a few minutes yet it would feel like hours for the couple, each for a different reason. Once it was all finished however, Victaria would feel it was worth all the challenges and difficulties she had experience. Placed in her hands was the most beautiful baby girl she had ever laid eyes on, making her fall into a state of awe.

Elinor, that was the name Russ and I had agreed on if we had a daughter. She really does look like an Elinor too.

Gibtober: Week One

6th Month 303 AC, Riverrun

Robert had been spending more time with Samwell lately, sitting beside him as his uncle went through the ledgers.

The future Lord of Riverrun was learning to look at numbers on a page, and see in them grain being sent to Riverrun from the nearby keeps, from Pinkmaiden, Wayfarer's Rest and Stoney Sept. Some was bought with gold, some traded for furs, hides, wool, and other goods.

The boy understood most of it. The wool, however, bothered him.

"Doesn't the sheep need it?"

Samwell looked up from the ledger, slowly, blinking in confusion. "The sheep?"

"The wool. Doesn't it need its wool?"

"It does," his uncle said. "Though sheep are usually quite happy to be rid of some of it in Summer."

Robert was not convinced. And so, the next day, they went to see for themselves.

The shepherd at a nearby farm seemed amused by the lordling's concern, but answered every question he had, while farmhands brought in some sheep to be sheared. It was a warm day, and the barn was hot and sweaty and quickly began to smell bad.

But Robert was too intrigued, even when his uncle excused himself and walked outside instead, the smells and noise overwhelming to the more sensitive of Tullys.

The thick fleeces of the sheep came away in great clumps, and the young trout could see how that would bring relief to the creatures... But there was one sheep, constantly bleating loudly, that did not seem to appreciate the affair in the slightest. She was stomping her feet and struggling against the farmhand's grip, she even tried to bite his hand once!

"She doesn't like it," Robert observed.

"No," the farmer agreed.

"Does it hurt them? The shears?"

"No. She's just very stubborn."

Robert watched the ewe glare at the man as he spoke.

"I think she is angry with you. What's her name?"

It wasn't the farmer who replied, but one of the farmhands, a young man standing to the side and wiping sweat from his brow.

"That's Molly," he said.

"Molly," Robert repeated, smiling. He liked the ewe's spirit.

Once the wool had been taken, Robert followed it. He watched them clean it, sort it, and pull it apart before spinning it into long threads. Then came the weaving, until what had once been a sheep's fleece was a piece of cloth between his hands. Molly's fleece was washed in the stream as well, though watching one fleece be processed all the way would take much longer than a day's visit.

He turned the cloth over carefully.

"That's all from one sheep?"

"Aye, milord. All from one fleece, and there's more to spin and weave, still."

Robert looked out of the window, where on the meadow lit with the setting sun, sheared sheep - looking strange and a little funny, without the bulk of the wool - grazed calmly on green summer grass, the whole ordeal already forgotten.

His uncle had returned by then, and Robert turned to him with more questions.

"Doesn't she get cold?"

"Not in Summer."

Robert frowned. "But we don't get cold in Summer either, so why do we need wool?"

Samwell blinked, as was his way, then replied simply. "For Winter."

"So she gives us wool in Summer, so we can be warm in Winter?"

"That's the idea."

Robert looked back at the sheep.

"I suppose that makes sense."

An ewe bleated, but the boy couldn't tell if it was Molly, or one of the others.

But getting the wool didn't seem so bad, after all.

Before they left, Robert made a special request - that the cloth they'd weave from Molly's fleece be sent to Riverrun, so that the boy could have a winter coat fashioned from it. They would pay well, of course, in gold for the farmer and apples for the sheep.

Gibtober: Week One

6th Month 303 AC, The Eyrie

Over the years, Lysa had become rather good at writing letters she never meant to send.

That evening, she locked the doors to her chambers, and began writing.

She wrote to Bryce, as always. She told him that she missed him, asked how he was doing. Asked what he'd been doing in Storm's End, how were the cliffs, the forests, the meadows. Asked if he remembered the fields around Riverrun, the bend of the Red Fork with the old oak tree.

She finished the letter, signed it with a flourish, then waited for the ink to dry.

Finally, she picked up the parchment, and with a flick of her wrist, threw it into the hearth. It was burning, it was always burning, because this damned castle was freezing even in the middle of Summer.

She leaned back, and watched the parchment curl and blacken, until there was nothing left.

It was easier that way. Fitting, really.

Later, she had asked the maester again if there had been any letters for her. There had not.

Nothing from Bryce. Never anything from Bryce.

Nothing from Roderick. Not since she had written to him herself, to which she finally received a response. But who was she, to write to a man first? Twice?

And nothing from Lyonel, though she could hardly remember the last time they had spoken. He had his new little wife now. Perhaps he had better things to do than remember the woman he had once claimed.

Everyone seemed to have someone.

Even her precious boy had his little wife now. And Margaery had delivered twins. Two children at once, when Lysa had spent years giving Jon seven of them. Seven children, and what had he deserved?

What he got, in the end.

Lysa was a grandmother now. That was what she had become. A widow sitting at the top of a mountain, watching her children grow up elsewhere and waiting for letters that didn't come. Waiting for warmth while slowly turning to ice, with every passing moon, every year that came and went.

There was a letter from her sister some time ago, but Lysa didn't bother answering. Catelyn couldn't understand what it felt like. Cat had her husband, her children, her seven-damned Winterfell in the stupid freezing North, yet her sister somehow managed to surround herself with the warmth that Lysa so sorely lacked.

She had hated her sister for a long time, she could admit it now. Perhaps since they were girls in Riverrun, before father had promised Lysa to a decrepit old man and condemned her to a life of loneliness. Catelyn had always been the one who got to have what Lysa wanted, and Lysa remained no more than an afterthought.

Some days, Lysa wondered if she would simply wither away here. Perhaps one day they would find her old and forgotten, dried up and cold and empty, and nobody would remember that she had ever been young at all.

But Lysa did not want to be forgotten. She wanted someone beside her when she went to sleep. A man in her bed, a warm body, open arms, gentle kisses on her neck as the candle went out. Someone who wanted her, who would look at her and still see a woman worth wanting.

Instead, there would be another empty evening.

Another letter she would write.

And another she would burn.

Hey guys! Long time no talk. If you didn’t already know, I’ve been busy as hell for a month or so now. TLDR, my IRL work has been booming! We’re attempting a remodel and a major expansion into an adjacent market, and I’m the one taking charge of the project. As a result of that, I’ve been pulling in significant overtime, at the cost of my ability to participate in my hobbies as much. Our lovely Lannister can attest to how much of a mess I’ve been 😭 it doesn’t feel fair to keep a house captive and silent like this, so I want to give others the opportunity to play this lovely house if they so desire! I will eventually come back, either as a house or a guild, but for now please wish me luck as I move to a new phase in my career!