✓ | POOR JUDGMENT (A.FORRESTER)

Where Did It All Go Wrong. Chapter Twenty Nine.

"Hmm that's odd. Port's quiet. No guards. Hardly any ships." Asher frowned, his eyes still catching into the familiar homeland that was just within reach. Cynthia had been leant against the front of the boat for most of the journey, desperate to see home as soon as possible, and be back with her family where she belonged. Having met Daenerys, her only living sibling, Cynthia had come to appreciate the home she had been raised in, compared to that of her older siblings. Real older siblings.

"Maybe they're all off fighting one of your king's wars," Beskha proposed, though she had no real understanding of what life in Westeros was like - Asher and Cynthia on the other hand, knew that this was not necessarily a good sign to come home to.

"Could be," Asher said cheerfully, with the suggestion of a smirk denting his somehow immaculate beard, his gaze not casting in Cynthia's direction at all. "Or...could be we'll have a fight on our hands," At least someone had said it, and it had not just been Cynthia's caution getting the better of her, "I'll go let the other's know," Beskha continued, before wandering off down the length of the ship towards the sellswords. "What do you think?" Asher asked, his back still turned to the young girl in his company, but his voice was different to when he spoke with Beskha - with her it was stern, authoritative as though he was trying to keep a brave face with her. With Cynthia, he was gentle, affectionate and...normal. He sounded like himself, his old self that Cynthia had once loved beyond words, and now missed terribly. When Cynthia finally looked up at the second son's face, she noted the evident sadness lurking in his expression; one riddled with concern and fear. A look Cynthia hadn't seen in a long while. "Whitehills." Cynthia said without second guessing her reply, knowing that it probably was what Asher was thinking, and was what neither one of them wanted to accept. Asher sighed, "This couldn't have be easy, could it?" His voice was low, almost menacing to someone who didn't know Asher's rough, northern, undertone. One that Cynthia had come to adore.

The boat settled into the harbour without complaint, and steadily the passengers made for solid ground, where they regrouped and moved towards the courtyard that Asher could already picture vividly. He'd seemed depressed about coming home at several intervals on the journey home, and even moments ago when home was in few, the idea of something going wrong had waned his enthusiasm, but now he seemed slightly more chiper about being back on familiar land, and back to his self. "So this is Westeros," Beskha mused, her voice reeking with disgust. "Ugly. And small." The beast of a man walking in the center of the group commented, "and fucking freezing too," Amaya snarled. "I said you'd be paid, I never said you'd be warm," Asher retorted quickly, humour seeping through his obvious distress.

Asher pressed onwards, but as soon as Cynthia heard movement up ahead, she bolted. The courtyard was just around the corner, and she knew who would be waiting there. "Cyn wait!" Asher tried to whisper to her, but she was gone. She ran quicker than she thought was possible, and rounded the corner at such a speed it was a shock, even to her, that she didn't topple over. There, stood under the archway with his sentinel at his side, was a familiar face Cynthia had been dying to see in some weeks. "Rodrik!" She all but screamed, catching his attention immediately. Royland almost cracked a smile too. "Cyn!" He gushed, stepping forward abruptly, but it didn't matter - she sprinted into his arms and allowed him to engulf her in the best hug she'd had in awhile. "I've missed you," She whispered, as though everyone was desperate to hear what she might say, and as though it was exclusive to just them. "And I you. I am glad you're home safe," He smiled, holding her so close his armour almost dug into her, not that she would've cared when in his arms. She was going to ask more questions, get caught up on everything that had occurred while she was away, but then Rodrik stepped away from her, his eyes that so resembled his father's locked onto the end of the narrow alley.  Cynthia, for the first time in 4 years, had almost completely forgotten about Asher, who now stood as though he was examining his brother. Which he probably was considering the incident with Rodrik's face.