Willemina
The coming of the night had swallowed the world whole, and in its stead it had birthed two dark oceans filled with starlight, though only one could be sailed. The Stargazer pierced through the waves of the terrestrial ocean below, making a blur of the luminous objects reflected on its surface, but even its tall masts could not reach the still waters of the celestial ocean above. Only through the lenses of the Myrish eye in her captain's hands could the latter be explored.
Yet Willemina had long since learned that the tides of the ocean above were no more inscrutable than those of the Narrow Sea around her. Her mind had memorized the celestial numbers, the heavenly patterns discerned in centuries past, and through them one could foresee the movements of the cosmic dance, just as easily as one could foresee a terrible storm or a tailwind. From her place atop the aftcastle, she could see the red wanderer in near perfect focus and know that its journey would soon carry it through the Galley.
Darkness reigned on the large carrack's deck, as did silence. The few sailors still at work did their tasks diligently and with great care, and all the rest had retreated to their cabins for a boisterous supper of dried fish, iced fruit and sweet red wine. Willemina's only close company was a mess of tomes and scrolls which lay trewn upon the gilded table beside her, their pages replete with charts, calculations and conjectures from maesters and scholars both living and dead. Fresh ink adorned the margins of the parchment with comments and annotations in her own handwriting, the quill long forgotten alongside a crystal glass, still half-full with lukewarm hippocras.
The end of Willemina's solitude came with the faint, muffled melody of a fiddle which flowed from under the deck and a pair of light footsteps on the wooden floor swiftly approaching her from behind. Someone had abandoned the impromptu feast with the sailors underneath, though she did not need to look to know the look of that person.
"Have you come to bring me supper, brother dearest?" she asked with a smile, but without tearing her eyes away from the red wanderer above, hands still holding the metallic contraption against her face.
"Just a bit of fruit" said Mychel as he approached her, laying down what sounded like a plate among the pile of parchment and leather on the table. His voice had a singsong quality to it, as light as his way of moving, though it appeared that wine had added a tint of warmth. "I assumed you wouldn't care for anything savory and I fear you have no more lemon cakes on board."
She took a bite of a red apple without really looking, its flesh still cool from the ice. It was sweet, as only fruit from the Arbor's orchards could be, and not yet made sandy by ripeness. One spring, many years before, she had tasted cider made from the same breed and despised it, much to her grandfather's chagrin. To little Willemina, apples had only been good for dipping in honey or feeding the sparrows.
"Have you already grown tired of the company of sailors?" she asked while still chewing, not bothering with ladylike propriety in the intimacy of her own ship.
"Oh, I could never tire of sailors" said he with a chuckle, leaning on the finely carved railing beside her. At a glance, she saw that his long red mane was set loose upon his shoulders, slightly disheveled, and there was a bit of a blush underneath his freckled cheekbones. His blue tunic was partially untied, exposing more of his chest than would have been respectable in court. He looked free, as she knew only men of the sea could hope to be. "Just now, yours were telling me the story of when you came across a trio of swan ships. They said that, within two days, the Stargazer became filled with your crew's charming new Summer Islander brides."
An unladylike grin lay claim to her fine features, the green in her eyes made more luminous by the spark of laughter, so much so that even the glimmering of the silver and pearl of her dress could only barely surpass it. "They might have embelished the story somewhat, but I did carry out half a dozen weddings in a single day. It was quite delightful."
"Did you not partake yourself?" he asked with a toothy grin of his own.
The lady of the Arbor countered with a half-hearted scoff. "Are you suggesting that your noble sister would indulge in licentious behavior?"
"The sea has a certain effect on even the most pious, noble sister" he said. "I myself could have become a septon had you not so recklessly gifted me with a ship of my own and commanded me to sail across the world. Now I could not resist the allure of marine love even if I wanted to."
They shared a giggle, hers lighter and more subdued, his made crude and unrestrained by his mild inebriation, and she finally put her Myrish eye down. Though she was not yet satisfied, her memory would keep her observations of the night sky intact for whenever she resumed her stargazing. And some food and conversation would keep the thoughts in her mind from becoming stale.
She took a long overdue seat on her gilded chair with a sigh, fingers tracing the lines in an old and largely obsolete star chart. The glass of hippocras no longer held much appeal in her eyes, but a couple of burgundy grapes from her plate helped moisten her tongue.
"Maegelle and Pickard" she said. "A sound union. Solid. An added beam to strengthen the edifice of the Iron Throne. No doubt Lord Florian had a hand in the arrangement."
"It certainly makes the royal family tree less incestuous" said Mychel, his grin still intact though his eyes had softened. "Though I suppose our family has no right to mock the Targaryens on that account. It feels like half of the lords of the Reach are our cousins by blood or marriage."
"Grandfather did like to say his ancestors over-watered their vines. Every day I thank him for not marrying me off to one of our Caswell relatives."
"Ah, but dear sister, had I been in your place, I would have married our second cousin Dorian when he asked for my hand."
"Hah!" A single laugh, loud and crisp, cut through the air. "That beautiful oaf! I can still hear him braying his love song in front of the entire court in Highgarden. Gods, he was so earnest and unaware, I could have wept in vicarious shame."
"Let us hope that he does not make another attempt in front of the royal court" said Mychel. "I fear for what his father may do if he does. Lord Caswell looked like he was about to send him to the Wall the first time."
"I imagine many young lords and sers will see the festivities as an opportunity to win themselves a fair bride" she said, stuffing another grape past her rosy lips. "As will their fathers and mothers. Weddings beget weddings. We might see some interesting alliances begin to take shape before we return home."
The lady of the Arbor tilted her hair back, her long red braid falling behind her as she stared into the deep dark blue space between the constellations. Even now, in her half-brother's company, with some fruit in her stomach and amusement in the air, her shoulders did not sag. She sighed, but it was a pensive sound.
"The king is not in the Red Keep, yet a royal wedding is being held all the same. It was his seal on the invitation, yet it was not his handwriting. There has been no word of a royal progress or a tour of the Free Cities, which means that, wherever he has gone, it is not as a premeditated display of royal power or prestige."
She turned to her half-brother again. "Have you truly heard nothing from other captains?"
"Only what you already know, Mina. The king has sailed across the Narrow Sea with no known intent, apparently accompanied by Prince Maekar."
"And that is the most intriguing aspect of it all" she interjected. "Why would he take his heir with him on an unannounced journey across the sea on the eve of his niece's wedding to one of the most powerful houses in Westeros? I made a point of leaving uncle Arys and cousin Elyas in the Arbor, and we are merely attending that wedding."
"If you'd like, once we arrive in King's Landing, I could spend some time in the River Row asking captains and sailors. The city's harbor brings a lot more people from a lot more places than Ryamsport does."
"I shall think about it" Willemina said nodding. "The capital is a dangerous place even for our lot."
Mychel's smile grew mischievous as he took a step closer, his hand lightly touching her shoulder. "I survived a night in an Uller's bed. I will survive King's Landing."
The mischief seeped into Willemina's expression as well. "You know, Mychel, sometimes... late at night... when I'm left sleepless by my worries about the future of our house, I think about legitimizing you."
She held his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, and pressed a kiss to his palm.
"But then morning comes and I remember... You did sleep in an Uller's bed, and that was nowhere near your most foolish deed."
A lifetime of love and complicity imbued her voice as she spoke, and he laughed sweetly. Even as she saw him walk away from her, back to the depths of her flagship to mingle with her crew again, she smiled for him and could not bring herself to think ill of him.
Far above her, the red wanderer still shone brightly, following its natural course through the stars, and the water around her reflected it all. The Stargazer and the dozen Redwyne ships accompanying it would soon reach their own destination, and from that same afcastle she would get her first glimpse of the Red Keep in many years. As she stood, picking up the Myrish eye once again, she tried to recollect every bit of knowledge she had accumulated over the years about the royal court. Yet as she did so, she left a corner of her mind free for the celestial ocean and its wonders.
Yet Willemina had long since learned that the tides of the ocean above were no more inscrutable than those of the Narrow Sea around her. Her mind had memorized the celestial numbers, the heavenly patterns discerned in centuries past, and through them one could foresee the movements of the cosmic dance, just as easily as one could foresee a terrible storm or a tailwind. From her place atop the aftcastle, she could see the red wanderer in near perfect focus and know that its journey would soon carry it through the Galley.
Darkness reigned on the large carrack's deck, as did silence. The few sailors still at work did their tasks diligently and with great care, and all the rest had retreated to their cabins for a boisterous supper of dried fish, iced fruit and sweet red wine. Willemina's only close company was a mess of tomes and scrolls which lay trewn upon the gilded table beside her, their pages replete with charts, calculations and conjectures from maesters and scholars both living and dead. Fresh ink adorned the margins of the parchment with comments and annotations in her own handwriting, the quill long forgotten alongside a crystal glass, still half-full with lukewarm hippocras.
The end of Willemina's solitude came with the faint, muffled melody of a fiddle which flowed from under the deck and a pair of light footsteps on the wooden floor swiftly approaching her from behind. Someone had abandoned the impromptu feast with the sailors underneath, though she did not need to look to know the look of that person.
"Have you come to bring me supper, brother dearest?" she asked with a smile, but without tearing her eyes away from the red wanderer above, hands still holding the metallic contraption against her face.
"Just a bit of fruit" said Mychel as he approached her, laying down what sounded like a plate among the pile of parchment and leather on the table. His voice had a singsong quality to it, as light as his way of moving, though it appeared that wine had added a tint of warmth. "I assumed you wouldn't care for anything savory and I fear you have no more lemon cakes on board."
She took a bite of a red apple without really looking, its flesh still cool from the ice. It was sweet, as only fruit from the Arbor's orchards could be, and not yet made sandy by ripeness. One spring, many years before, she had tasted cider made from the same breed and despised it, much to her grandfather's chagrin. To little Willemina, apples had only been good for dipping in honey or feeding the sparrows.
"Have you already grown tired of the company of sailors?" she asked while still chewing, not bothering with ladylike propriety in the intimacy of her own ship.
"Oh, I could never tire of sailors" said he with a chuckle, leaning on the finely carved railing beside her. At a glance, she saw that his long red mane was set loose upon his shoulders, slightly disheveled, and there was a bit of a blush underneath his freckled cheekbones. His blue tunic was partially untied, exposing more of his chest than would have been respectable in court. He looked free, as she knew only men of the sea could hope to be. "Just now, yours were telling me the story of when you came across a trio of swan ships. They said that, within two days, the Stargazer became filled with your crew's charming new Summer Islander brides."
An unladylike grin lay claim to her fine features, the green in her eyes made more luminous by the spark of laughter, so much so that even the glimmering of the silver and pearl of her dress could only barely surpass it. "They might have embelished the story somewhat, but I did carry out half a dozen weddings in a single day. It was quite delightful."
"Did you not partake yourself?" he asked with a toothy grin of his own.
The lady of the Arbor countered with a half-hearted scoff. "Are you suggesting that your noble sister would indulge in licentious behavior?"
"The sea has a certain effect on even the most pious, noble sister" he said. "I myself could have become a septon had you not so recklessly gifted me with a ship of my own and commanded me to sail across the world. Now I could not resist the allure of marine love even if I wanted to."
They shared a giggle, hers lighter and more subdued, his made crude and unrestrained by his mild inebriation, and she finally put her Myrish eye down. Though she was not yet satisfied, her memory would keep her observations of the night sky intact for whenever she resumed her stargazing. And some food and conversation would keep the thoughts in her mind from becoming stale.
She took a long overdue seat on her gilded chair with a sigh, fingers tracing the lines in an old and largely obsolete star chart. The glass of hippocras no longer held much appeal in her eyes, but a couple of burgundy grapes from her plate helped moisten her tongue.
"Maegelle and Pickard" she said. "A sound union. Solid. An added beam to strengthen the edifice of the Iron Throne. No doubt Lord Florian had a hand in the arrangement."
"It certainly makes the royal family tree less incestuous" said Mychel, his grin still intact though his eyes had softened. "Though I suppose our family has no right to mock the Targaryens on that account. It feels like half of the lords of the Reach are our cousins by blood or marriage."
"Grandfather did like to say his ancestors over-watered their vines. Every day I thank him for not marrying me off to one of our Caswell relatives."
"Ah, but dear sister, had I been in your place, I would have married our second cousin Dorian when he asked for my hand."
"Hah!" A single laugh, loud and crisp, cut through the air. "That beautiful oaf! I can still hear him braying his love song in front of the entire court in Highgarden. Gods, he was so earnest and unaware, I could have wept in vicarious shame."
"Let us hope that he does not make another attempt in front of the royal court" said Mychel. "I fear for what his father may do if he does. Lord Caswell looked like he was about to send him to the Wall the first time."
"I imagine many young lords and sers will see the festivities as an opportunity to win themselves a fair bride" she said, stuffing another grape past her rosy lips. "As will their fathers and mothers. Weddings beget weddings. We might see some interesting alliances begin to take shape before we return home."
The lady of the Arbor tilted her hair back, her long red braid falling behind her as she stared into the deep dark blue space between the constellations. Even now, in her half-brother's company, with some fruit in her stomach and amusement in the air, her shoulders did not sag. She sighed, but it was a pensive sound.
"The king is not in the Red Keep, yet a royal wedding is being held all the same. It was his seal on the invitation, yet it was not his handwriting. There has been no word of a royal progress or a tour of the Free Cities, which means that, wherever he has gone, it is not as a premeditated display of royal power or prestige."
She turned to her half-brother again. "Have you truly heard nothing from other captains?"
"Only what you already know, Mina. The king has sailed across the Narrow Sea with no known intent, apparently accompanied by Prince Maekar."
"And that is the most intriguing aspect of it all" she interjected. "Why would he take his heir with him on an unannounced journey across the sea on the eve of his niece's wedding to one of the most powerful houses in Westeros? I made a point of leaving uncle Arys and cousin Elyas in the Arbor, and we are merely attending that wedding."
"If you'd like, once we arrive in King's Landing, I could spend some time in the River Row asking captains and sailors. The city's harbor brings a lot more people from a lot more places than Ryamsport does."
"I shall think about it" Willemina said nodding. "The capital is a dangerous place even for our lot."
Mychel's smile grew mischievous as he took a step closer, his hand lightly touching her shoulder. "I survived a night in an Uller's bed. I will survive King's Landing."
The mischief seeped into Willemina's expression as well. "You know, Mychel, sometimes... late at night... when I'm left sleepless by my worries about the future of our house, I think about legitimizing you."
She held his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, and pressed a kiss to his palm.
"But then morning comes and I remember... You did sleep in an Uller's bed, and that was nowhere near your most foolish deed."
A lifetime of love and complicity imbued her voice as she spoke, and he laughed sweetly. Even as she saw him walk away from her, back to the depths of her flagship to mingle with her crew again, she smiled for him and could not bring herself to think ill of him.
Far above her, the red wanderer still shone brightly, following its natural course through the stars, and the water around her reflected it all. The Stargazer and the dozen Redwyne ships accompanying it would soon reach their own destination, and from that same afcastle she would get her first glimpse of the Red Keep in many years. As she stood, picking up the Myrish eye once again, she tried to recollect every bit of knowledge she had accumulated over the years about the royal court. Yet as she did so, she left a corner of her mind free for the celestial ocean and its wonders.
