money power glory m. tyrell

five

Maeve couldn't remember how she got to her room, but she did. She laid with her youngest daughter, watching her sleep as she silently cried in the darkness of night.

She had wanted so much better for her children then what she had had; she wanted them to remember their father, unlike her. But they were too young, one not even born yet.

Now she was alone. Loras had opted to go join his sister, wanting to protect his last living sibling. Mace was locked in his study, refusing to open the door for anyone, and Olenna was instructing a courier on how to lay her grandson to rest. They couldn't do it here, it was too far and took time that they didn't have.

Though she never loved Garlan as much as he had loved her, she cared for him immensely. He was a great man who would die for his family, and he did. Throughout their marriage, he never raised his voice to her, or uttered an unkind word. He was faithful, and upon hearing their first child was a girl, he smiled, not a trace of disappointment on his face.

Am I still the lady of High Garden? She wondered silently. Her children were now the heirs, but considering how young they were, she knew Loras would rule in their stead until one came of age.

"Garlan, Garlan, Garlan," she whispered silently to herself, "Why would you leave me now?"

Her whispers hadn't been silent, and they had woken up her sleeping daughter, who rolled over, staring at her mother with a confused look,

"B-Bloody hell!"

And just like that, the widow laughed once more.

***

The days had gone by in a haze. A haze filled with black. Black mourning dresses, black curtains, black flags- all over High Garden to signal mourning. Black was never Maeve's color, blue suited her best. She tried her best to keep her mind off her husband, pouring herself into charity work. Visiting orphanages, handing out bread to the poor, rescuing every stray dog she could find— all that, and it still didn't work.

She wasn't the same. In truth, the young girl thought she would never be the same. Nothing about her ever changing, (except for her swollen stomach that got bigger by the day, now at 7 and a half months) even Olenna was concerned, making a guard follow Maeve around to make sure the young girl wouldn't hurl herself off a cliff.

Margarey had written to her. She didn't open it.

Glenna was the only reason she smiled anymore, the young girls' vocabulary growing larger by the day thanks to her foul-mouthed great-grandmother.