Between Fangs and Thorns

Chapter 3

It had been a month since Desmera's departure, and life couldn't have been more relaxing.
Lord Garth had been so focused on receiving news about his dear daughter that he barely cared about his youngest. He had also been closed up behind the thick doors of his solar or the Main Hall, discussing whatever plan or problems with his guards and lords.
Lady Eleanor showed up at many different events that required her presence, she walked among the common people to ensure trust in her family. Maeryanne wasn't sure how kind and trustworthy she appeared to the commoners but she supposed her mother knew what she was doing. Just like Lord Garth, Lady Eleanor was itching to receive at least a letter from Castelry Rock in which her oldest daughter shared exciting news.
Lyonel, as well as their parents, was rarely inside the walls of the main castle. Many times, he went out to solve petty problems or disputes between the lords under their protection. Maeryanne always missed him whenever he was away. However, she knew too well he had better things to do than playing and chatting with his little sister.
As much as life was quieter and more relaxing, it was certainly lonelier.
Maeryanne spent her days with the Septa, for her education most of the time, or with her ladies-in-waiting, chatting and discussing topics related to lords and ladies. She roamed the gardens and the castle and she explored until she had nothing better than to head to the library and open a book for her own entertainment.
     It was a quiet life. She still didn't want that.
    So the day she had been convocated to the Main Hall, she hadn't expected it.
    Maryanne was walking through the gardens, once again as she always did whenever she felt stressed or needed to unwind. She bathed in the sun's warmth, a book in her hands and some sweets were on the table in front of her. She grabbed a lemon cake and shoved it in her mouth. The bitter taste of the lemon juice invaded her mouth. She was sure that if Septa Cordelia had been there she would've smacked her hand and she would've called her "so very unladylike". Thankfully, she was all alone that day, only stories from the past as her companions.
    That particular story captured her more than she expected it would. Stories from old Valyria were quite fascinating, stories of dragons, of battles, stories from an exotic place far away that she could only imagine the high towers of the buildings or the sight of the massive volcanos looming in the distance, red hot lava drooling from their mouths. History always seemed boring when Septa Cordelia explained it. Maeryanne dreamed of seeing a dragon with her own eyes. Magnificent and terrifying creatures they had been. She couldn't even imagine how big they once were, how their scales shined in the sun, the width of their wings, their screeching sounds. What a shame she had been born too late to have the possibility to at least glimpse at one of them, flying freely with its rider.
    In the distance, the clanging of armour and swords reached Maeryanne's ears. She looked up from her book, staring in the direction from which the sounds came from. Two men stood in front of her, their shining armours blinded Maeryanne as a ray of light hit her eyes. She covered them and looked at the two men in confusion.
    "Can I help you, sers?" she asked.
    "M'lady, please follow us." he didn't develop his stance so Maeryanne got up from her seat.
    She moved towards the men as they walked, one in front of her and the other one behind her. Maeryanne was even more confused. What did those men want? What was even happening? Had she done something wrong? She supposed she did because there was no real reason to escort her around as a prisoner if she hadn't done anything to anger her father.
    Room after room, Maeryanne could feel a single drop of sweat running down her spine, her throat was dry, and her hands kept fumbling with her dress trying to think of a single thing she could've done to deserve her father's rage. The more she tried, the more confused she was.
    After many many steps, Maeryanne understood where they were taking her. The massive doors of the Main Hall stood in front of her, thick wooden doors carved with part of the history of Highgarden and the story of Garth the Gardener, the mythical king of the Reach. Maeryanne stared at them. She used to look at them full of awe and admiration knowing that it was part of her own history, but now she was terrified. What was happening?
    Loudly, the doors opened in front of her. At the end of the vast hall, sitting on his throne was her lord father. Lord Garth held his head up with his closed fist, looking bored as one of his lords spoke. Inside the hall, all the people present stood up as Maeryanne walked towards her father. The long table in the centre had a map drawn on its surface, many wooden figurines stood on it. Huge windows covered the right wall of the hall as the sun shone brightly through the glass. On the walls, banners with the rose of House Tyrell hung, the green and the gold stood out against the white of the stone. She would've liked it more if none of them looked at her. She didn't move her head, she only looked at her father, because if she did look around she knew she would fall to her knees as they were shaking and buckling under her weight.
    "Maeryanne, my youngest!" Lord Garth boomed.
    If she had been confused before, she was even more confused now. Her lord father had never been so lovely towards her in her entire life. It was probably only because they were in front of the lords of the Reach, only a facade to show how strong and close the Tyrells were. Maeryanne wasn't as naive.
    "Father," she dipped into curtsy before him, "is there a reason why I've been called?" she asked, her gentlest voice only for the occasion.
    She could feel the eyes of all the lords on her. Her skin burned, she heard them whisper, she was a lamb among tigers.
    "Yes, yes, my dear. I am here to inform you, and all of you my lords, that next week you and your brother will travel North to Winterfell. It's time we make new friendships and, as much as I love the South, even those long and sad faces up North deserve some warmth." This erupted laughter among the men.
    Maryanne stood there, frozen. Travel North? She had never been outside of the Reach, how did her father expect her to travel all the way up North? Was he only trying to get rid of her? Why North?
    Her last question came out of her mouth unexpectedly, all the lords turned their heads towards Maeryanne and she wanted to hide even more than before.
    "To make new friends, as I've just said," her father looked at her as well.
    Maeryanne cleared her throat, since she had already spoken why not keep asking?
    "May I ask why me? I'm not a diplomat nor a man who can make deals or talk in your place, Father."
    "Why do you think Lyonel will be with you, Maeryanne? He will be the one to deal with the Starks," he snickered.
    Maryanne sighed loudly and spoke with more aggression than she should've ever used with her father: "Why sending me then?"
    Her father's brows furrowed, one of his hands was raised and he sat up properly on his wooden throne. She had just thrown herself into a storm.
      "Leave us," his words were harsh. Slowly, all the lords got up from their seats and they left the Main Hall in whispers and curious glances.
    Lord Garth stared at his daughter, his eyes piercing and stinging just like thorned roses.
    "Never talk to me in that way ever again. Do you hear me Maeryanne?" he wasn't shouting but his words shook Maeryanne's bones.
    "Yes, Father," she answered, her head lowered in shame.
    "Desmera would've never dared to speak up to me that way. I should've sent you away first," he sighed loudly and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Are you so eager to know why you're being sent North? Mh?"
    "Yes, Father," she answered again.
    Lord Garth sighed again before talking. "It has been more than twenty years since the last dragon has been seen inside the walls of the Red Keep or on the shores of Dragonstone. The Targaryens have no more dragons. Voices are going around, their eggs don't hatch and if they do, only malformed dragons come out of it. Too small, too weak to survive and turn into the monsters they once commanded. King Aegon is not fitting to rule, the lords speak of his actions and his delirious decisions," his face turned a bright shade of red as he got more heated while talking, "this king is a fraud!"
    Maeryanne was startled at her father's words. She looked around, hoping none of the lords outside heard him talking that way about King Aegon IV.
    Her father started speaking again: "The Targaryens gave House Tyrell a great honour, to rule over Highgarden. However, their House and eccentricities gave our continent many many problems."
    At this point of his speech, Maeryanne assumed where her father wanted it to end. She closed her hands tightly. Gods, protect my father and my House from the folly of a single man.
    "House Targaryen doesn't have the same power they once had. They have no dragons, the ruling king is a buffoon who's making fun of all of us. What is stopping anyone from taking over King's Landing? Why are we fearing a man who can't even keep it inside his pants?" Maryanne's cheeks turned a shade of pink. "This is why you're going North, my daughter. Lyonel will deal with Lord Stark trying to get to his good side so that even the Northerners will fight with us. And you, Maeryanne," he pointed at his daughter with his index finger, "will make sure to close the deal."
    "But, as I said before, I am no man. How could I close a deal between lords?" she asked her lord father.
    A smirk appeared on her father's lips. "Oh, my innocent child, how do you think you will close the deal? What do you think women are good for, if not for making heirs?"
    If Maeryanne's cheeks had first turned pink, now they were as white as pearls. She started shaking her head. No, please gods no! Not me I beg you! Tears formed in her eyes as she walked even closer to her father.
    "Father, please, don't make me do this. Please, let me do anything else, I beg you!" she kneeled at Lord Garth's feet reaching for his clothes and tugging them. "Let me fight with a sword, make me die in battle as one of your men but please don't send me away to marry a stranger."
    Lord Garth got up from his throne, grabbed his daughter by the arm and shoved her away. Maeryanne lost her balance and fell to the floor, her back hit it hard.
    "My decision has been made, Maeryanne, you will go North and you will marry Lord Stark's heir. This is final." his voice echoed through the Main Hall making it even scarier. Outside, clouds covered the sun and shadows invaded the hall.
    Maeryanne stayed on the floor, shaking and crying. This wasn't possible, it wasn't happening to her. There had been a mistake. She knew her father didn't love her, but sending her away and making her marry an unknown lord from the far North wasn't something she expected of him. Her eyes stung, her throat burned as she cried harder, and her nails ripped her skin as she dug them into her palms. This had to be a nightmare.
    "Get up! I said, get up!" his father grabbed her once again but she moved from his grasp swiftly, slapping his hand away. Another slap echoed in the room. One of Maryanne's cheeks turned bright red from the hit. She stood there, frozen once again.
    "Go get yourself a bath. Your departure is set for a week from this day. I count on you for this, you understand? The Starks are not bad people, they are as honourable as they come. Yours is not the worst prospect for marriage."
    Maeryanne nodded. She could only nod, words got caught in her throat and tears fell from her eyes. A boulder was resting on her chest making it impossible to breathe properly. She quickly pushed the tears away. "I understand, Father."
    "Good. The North will be good for you. Finally, someone will keep up with your attitude," Lord Garth squeezed his daughter's shoulder in something that should've been a reassuring gesture before he walked back to his throne. "When you walk out of the doors, please, tell the lords to come back inside."
    Maryanne nodded once again, her throat still dry she answered: "Yes, Father."