WELL FLAYED [Game Of Thrones: The Boltons]

4. Sunflower In A Storm

THE COMMONERS WERE DOING the daily chores in the outer courtyard. They were doing wood works, tending the cattles, blacksmithing, and other things that made Dreadfort functioning. Such trivial yet important matters done by peasants. If it weren't for them, the Lords and Ladies would starve.

Lady Nisha appreciated their hard works. Back in Dorne, they considered servants as part of their vitality and so were treated well. Here in Dreadfort, however, they were mostly ignored. And this prompted Nisha to see to it that they met the recognition they deserved by visiting and intermingling with them.

The hem of her light blue dress was soaked in mud from roaming around the grounds, but she didn't mind it. The smiles of the people she inspired was more worth her attention. She loved them and they loved her in return. She was the only guest that they genuinely favored. It was something she had that the other highborns in Dreadfort didn't have. Respect out of love and not out of fear.

"Lady Nisha!" A young sheppard called with a hair of orange curls. His cheeks were filled with tiny freckles, his eyes sparked like the sea. He ran toward Nisha until they faced each other.

"Yorr!" She yelped in gaiety. His presence brightened her smile. "How have you been? It's been a week. I haven't seen you since your nineteenth nameday."

"I went with my father to neighboring towns to do some trade."

"How was it?"

"It was a joyful journey. Anyway, mi'lady, I called you to thank you for bringing me wine and bread for my nameday. I am only a commoner who doesn't deserve your kindness and I-"

"Stop it, Yorr. You thanked me a lot of times already, and what are you talking about? You deserve my kindness."

Yorr's timid smile curled up his pale lips. "Mi'lady has always been kind to all people." His hand reached hers. "I have something to show you."

She accepted his hand with a childish beam. "Alright."

With her permission, Yorr slowly pulled her with him toward the busy stalls surrounding one part of the vicinity. It was lively with varied goods and serfs' tittle-tattles. They stopped behind that small market. Once they escaped the bird's eye view of those who were in the keep, Yorr presented a gift to Lady Nisha.

"I know commoners aren't supposed to give gifts personally to their lords and ladies, but you've been kind to me, kind to us. You always go here to check on us, even if it's not your duty. You give us your heart and nobody in Dreadfort has done it before. With that, we are grateful. I am very grateful."

Nisha opened the small pouch that Yorr handed to her. Inside was a necklace and as she took it and revelled in its beauty, Yorr told her all about it.

"The gemstone is a golden beryl. I have heard it's a gemstone for overcoming strain and melancholy. I give this to you so you won't lose that sunny smile we all adore."

"Yorr, you shouldn't have!" Nisha said, but in awe. "Where did you get this?"

"From one of our trades."

"Yorr..." Her face dropped. "I can't take this. You earned this from your hard earned job. I don't want to take it away from you."

"No please, I insist. I specifically got it for you." His blue eyes were begging. "Please..."

Nisha glanced again to the necklace. The gemstone appeared like a miniature of the sun as black fabric cord tied around it. It was beguiling.

"Alright...." She moved back her stare at him. "But I'll have to pay you."

"Mi'lady, please no, I don't want such thing in return, just your happiness."

His words melted her heart. It gave her warmth from the coldness of the North. She did not say anything after that, but reciprocated a tight embrace to the young lad.