ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʇɐᴚ ʇǝǝɹʇS ǝɥ⊥

♕. ᴀ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ɹɐM

CHAPTER SIX | Can You Swim?

You approach the waiting carriage with your head held high. Daltis and Taliya offer tight hugs whispering well wishes for your return. Your eyes scan the courtyard. Far off stands the Dowager Queen. Her emerald green gown and doe eyes watching you with a curiosity to her nature. Where is he? You flinch back as Ser Barlo offers his hand, muttering an apology.

Pausing, you turn to the carriage—making feeble attempts to curb the dread that stills you. You swallow, accepting the Knight's hand, muttering an apology. You press yourself to the far corner of the carriage. Interlacing your fingers, you wet your lips huffing quietly.

"No worries, Lady (Y/n). You have nothing to fear," Ser Barlo smiles. Nodding your head, you lean back. Your eyes fluttering shut at the rumble of the carriage, Ser Barlo makes no attempts at conversation. The days pass in an arduous consistency leaving long periods of silence. Nights come with erasure. Often you close your eyes beneath the stars. The silence reminds you of the distance between yourself and Kings Landing, "We're going to stop here for a bit Lady (Y/n). To feed the horses and stretch our legs. There's a tavern here if you wish to buy something to eat."

Nodding your head, you offer a tight-lipped smile. You stretch your legs across the seats, relishing in the light pops along your legs. The carriage door sits wide open, allowing a breeze to sweep your skin. Stepping outside, you bring your hands to your lips, a long yawn monopolizing your body as you roll your head forward. You shade your eyes with a hand at your eyebrows and the other on your hip. Furrowing your eyebrows, you scan the slow pace environment. A far cry from all you know, why is it so quiet?

A couple stands by a horse stable, the skepticism in their eyes making you step closer to the guards tending the horses and those resting their feet. Another stands further into the small town sweeping their front steps. Her eyes are on you—the same wary gaze. To the left of the sweeper sits the Tavern, the worn wood door lacking a semblance of invitation. You get a quarter of the way there to find more eyes waiting and watching. Frowning, you shake your head, turning your back to the onlookers. Not a chance.

You turn back, halting at the sight of a little girl. Dirt litters her clothes and skin, her limbs thin, almost frail. A girl no older than six, maybe seven. She smiles up at you, a shine in her eyes you cannot place. You offer a weak smile, hesitance hijacking your motor and social skills. The girl holds out her hand, a piece of cloth the size of your hand in it. You frown at the blue, the cloth far more expensive than anything in the area. The girl skips away, leaving you to closely inspect the familiar ripple pattern—exactly as Taliya had on your gown. The cloth, the same blue that Roslyn stitched in your chambers.

"You alright?" Ser Barlo eyes the townspeople as he speaks. You nod your head, tucking the cloth away into your cloak. Climbing back into the carriage, fully content on the rations of nuts. The journey continues in a nauseating continuance—why the hell did they choose Riverrun? You flinch awake as Ser Barlo retracts his hand from your shoulder. Rubbing your eyes, the Knights' words scramble in your stupor. Basic conversation, now a puzzle of understanding. The severity of your situation returning in suffocating waves.

"My apologies. What?" Running your hands over your face, Ser Barlo gives word of a Dragon sighting. Nodding your head, you sit up, fiddling with your fingers while scanning the carriage for nothing in particular. A humorless chuckle leaves your lips, garnering a glance from the older Knight, "A pawn in the game of thrones. I wager I do not make it to war's end."