✓ | POOR JUDGMENT (A.FORRESTER)

I Want To Help.Chapter Fifteen.

  There was a moment when every aspect of Cynthia's life fell to ash, and everything she had ever loved slowly dissolved into a distant memory, one that would possibly never return. Rodrik had delivered the killing blow, speaking the news to Cynthia, even though she wasn't listening. She couldn't, all she could do was think. Every inch of her being wanted to scream, and shout, and cry, but the wall she had spent so long building refused to break on account of hearing of such news. She had been through suffering over the past year, and although it had stung, never did it hurt like these words did. She couldn't even formulate a reply to such news, all she could do was stare aimlessly at Rodrik until it all made sense, or at least until she awoke from whatever nightmare had formed in her dreams. But none of that happened. It didn't make any sense, and the only emotion she could feel in that moment had died to a dull ache in her chest, one that still had not disappeared to this day. It had been caused by the very man she loved more than life itself, and having such a love ripped from your grasp could do untold damage. Rodrik had known how much it would kill Cynthia to hear of such an event, and so he had been the one to tell her.

"Asher has been exiled. He is to leave by nightfall." She couldn't even ask why, though deep down she knew he'd been caught. She'd warned him time and time again, but that love-sick boy would not be told. And the harlot that had him wrapped around her finger had not backed down on account of his potential punishment, she'd only made the matters worse, and now look what had happened. Asher, Cynthia's love, was to leave her, travel to Essos and be gone from her life entirely. It would be as though he had just died. Gregor would undoubtedly forget to mention his second born, the other children would be forbidden from talking of their brother for the coming years, and Cynthia would be forced to face life after this day alone. How was Cynthia supposed to cope without her only anchor? The only sane person she had ever known that hadn't changed because he had been asked to. Asher had been the one to keep her grounded, and now without him she was sure that whatever stable emotions she had once portrayed, would fall to nothing. How could she keep up her smile, when the only thing making her smile was to leave? In all honesty her smile had been forced for the last year, but it was still all for him, and now he was leaving, potentially for good. How was she supposed to feel, if not distraught and completely broken at the prospect of living without the man she loves?

"How-" Stopping herself to breathe, Cynthia found whatever words she had previously wished to speak had now faded to a dull silence, one that Rodrik had managed to fill with a knowing response. "Gryff found out. Told his father. Ludd wanted Asher dead, this is the next best thing." Smiling sympathetically at Cynthia, Rodrik knew why this was hurting her so much. He knew how she felt towards his younger brother, and he had always known. He'd been her shoulder to cry on when Asher had been with Gwyn, or had spoke of Gwyn, or had done anything with any other woman that wasn't Cynthia. He had been there the whole time, comforting her time and time again. And now, faced with the challenge of being the one to break her fragile heart, Rodrik found his own waning from the guilt. "But-" Cynthia could not talk, the only action she had become capable of was releasing water from her eyes at a rapid speed. She couldn't even breathe, it hurt that much. "Go," Rodrik sighed, giving her another reassuring smile. She knew what he meant in an instant, and without hesitating she was gone. Rushing and weaving through corridors and rooms until she finally escaped from Ironrath and saw the tail-end of Ludd Whitehill and his troops exiting through the front gates. As much as she hated the Whitehills, she couldn't focus on them now. All she could even begin to comprehend was the only thing that would ever matter to her. Asher.

Doubling back, Cynthia dashed to the Great Hall, knowing that if they had not already left, they would be there. She could hear yelling, thick Northern voices shouting at such volume that it resonated through the halls of Ironrath. Upon getting closer to the main door, Cynthia could make out the words being yelled, and could easily recognise the voice that sounded so desperate. "Father, please. This is absurd. You can't do this!" Asher argued, pleading with his unmerciful father whom would not change his mind now. "Royland, escort Asher to the docks, ensure he boards that ship." Gregor's voice boomed, emotionless and cold. Cynthia could hardly breathe, not that she had really been doing so previously, but if hearing of Asher's leaving had been enough to cause such a pain, you can imagine how deep it cut to hear Asher's pleas to stay. To bargain with his father, to do anything if it meant not having to leave. Something dared Cynthia to charge into that room, to hold Asher and refuse to let go until Gregor caved in. But deep down she knew, Gregor was a northerner, and he would not be so easily swayed. He was as tough as the Ironwood, and once he made a decision he stuck to it, even if that meant banishing his own flesh and blood.