WELL FLAYED [Game Of Thrones: The Boltons]

18. The Flower And The Storm

MYRANDA WAS CHUGGING A BOTTLE of red cordial up the curtain wall.

The song from the great halls echoed through the courtyard and reached up to where she's standing. She let herself be possessed by the cheerful music, and so she sang, she danced, she twirled happily and drunkenly.

Ser Mighar Umber was next to her, and he stared at her with amusement. Myranda was a wild fire; vivacious, intense, and glowing. He was drawn to her flames like a moth; his wings would burn near her, but at that moment, he wouldn't mind at all.

"Hey! Let's throw these empty bottles outside the walls!" Myranda grabbed Mighar near the ledge, then handed him a bottle.

Mighar didn't took it. He just looked at it, then to Myranda- incredulous. "What? I can't do that."

"Why not? Nobody's down there. Come on, let's enjoy ourselves."

"We'd be littering around the castle."

"Stop worrying, my lord, it's not like you're the one who will clean it tomorrow."

"Yes, but I don't want to put more labor to the servants."

"You're right." But her lips curved up into a grin then gave a taunting look at Mighar.

He gave her a suspicious look. "Hey..."

Myranda quickly raised her arm to hurl the bottle in the air. It flew beyond the castle walls then a loud noise of glass clashing against the hard ground echoed through the place.

"Hey!"

Myranda laughed loudly. It amused her how Ser Mighar Umber was so righteous that even simple littering bothered him.

"Here." She gave him another empty bottle. "Don't worry much. Nobody's looking. It's just us. It feels good, you know? It's like expressing your hidden emotion that...that irked you so."

There was sincerity in her clover green eyes. He knew then her laughter and smiles were an attempt to cover a glum disposition existing inside her.

Mighar sighed. "Alright." He took the bottle from her hand, finally letting himself be swayed; he only wanted to console her.

Myranda beamed and applauded him. "Throw it now!"

Mighar raised his hand to propel the bottle through the air, but it slipped from his grip. Instead to land forward, it fell behind him. The bottle dropped within the courtyard and hit the head of a guard below on duty. The bottle gave a crashing sound before a body thudding the ground.

"Oh shit!" Mighar ran to the other side of the ledge to look. "Gods, he's unconscious."

Myranda waved off his concern. "Don't worry about it. It's not like he's stabbed or anything."

"But-"

"You gave him a good sleep. It's alright." Myranda then grabbed Mighar back to her. The music from the great hall was still playing in the background. "Dance with me, Ser Mighar Umber."

"I don't dance."

Myranda laughed at his deadpan lie. "I had seen you dancing with mi'lady. And you were graceful."

"Well, it's either that or listen all night to Lady Dyana Manderly talk about her different ribbons in her drawers."

"Well, if it weren't for me, you'd hear again about her different ribbons in her drawers." Myranda snaked her arms around his shoulders as she pulled herself closer to his chest. "You owe me a dance."

Her laughter and her smiles were beautiful as her clover green eyes- even though they were only a facade. Somehow, he wanted to make them real. Somehow, he wanted to see her genuinely happy.