WELL FLAYED [Game Of Thrones: The Boltons]

17. Milk And Honey

'THE QUEEN TOOK OFF HER SANDAL, the king took off his crown
She moaned as he hold her down!

The queen took off her sandal, the king took off his crown
A new heir was bred to come!'

The crowd rejoiced with raucous cheer as the Snow and his bride escaped the great halls together to go to their chamber. It only meant that their intervention was no longer required since the newly weds were willing to consummate their night.

Watchful gaze from a corner followed the two as they exited the scene. Unlike the rest of the crowd who was celebrating, that hidden gaze of clover green eyes held melancholy inside.

It should have been me, Myranda thought. It should have been her who walked the path of lanterns toward the weirwood heart tree. It should have been her whom he had waited for at the other side. It should have been her with him tonight.

Myranda had been with many nights with Ramsay ever since she flowered at the age of thirteen. They had always been together and it's all that she had ever known. She knew that what Lady Nisha and Ramsay were about to share in their chamber was no different from what she did with him every night before the foreign lady came. However, there was still a feeling of inferiority that caressed her, knowing that what they're about to share was a blessed union by the gods - while what she had with him was only a curse that put her aside.

It was a curse because nobody wanted to be the other woman who always cried herself to sleep; the other woman who would never have his love to keep.

A tear ran down slowly from her clover green eye. It grazed her pale cheek, feeling it scarring her. She wiped it off immediately, yet its sting on her skin remained. Myranda sighed and just turned around. There's nothing she could do about it.

Myranda moved through the huddled crowd that blocked the path of the doors which led outside. She needed to breathe, she needed to scream, anything would do just to expel her wretched sorrow.

Before she could reach the doors, hard surface suddenly crashed forward against her. It took her by surprise that she lost her balance. Gravity engulfed her, she knew she would hit the ground.

A sudden grip around her waist kept her from falling. She looked up to see who had caught her and familiar blond locks that seemed to glow under the candlelights met her widen clover green eyes. That slender scar that marred his cheek, those soft-looking lips - she knew them so well. How could she forget? They belonged to the only man who respected her dignity.

"Ser Mighar, pardon me. I didn't see you."

"No, you don't have to apologize, it was my fault." The Umber Knight said as he guided Myranda back on her feet. "Leaving so early?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Well that's too bad..." He looked down, but it was brief, as he brought his eyes back to hers again- light blue and dark green clashing together. "Before you go, can you help me fetch more bottles of red cordial?"

"Of course, mi'lord. Do wait for a moment."

"Wait!" When Myranda turned back at him, he felt like he was knocked out of air. "I...uh..." Her eyes of clover field held such effect. "I w-want to come with you."

"You don't have to mi'lord, you're a guest here."

"Oh ser Mighar! Where are you? Let's have one more drink!"

They both looked around for the squealing voice and saw Lady Dyana Manderly roaming around nearby, looking for Mighar. The two were covered by the huddled dancing crowd so Lady Dyana couldn't spot them.