✓ | POOR JUDGMENT (A.FORRESTER)

Aboard. Chapter Twenty Seven.

The boat groaned as it swayed in the water, the amber waves below swirling and writhing beneath its shifting weight and lapping at the cobblestone peer as though trying to claw it's way to land. Cynthia ignored the motion of sea below, and the sounds echoing up from the surface of the water, and focused on the creaking wooden structure itself. The Sellswords hauled onto it, one after another, causing the gangplank to moan beneath their feet and rock as they moved further aboard.

"Beskha wasn't exaggerating." A familiar voice arose from over Cynthia's shoulder, as she stood alongside Asher and watched as her ticket home rocked and swayed on the ocean's writhing waves. "Malcolm! You're here!" Asher beamed, turning to face his uncle with a brightening smile. Cynthia too spun to face the man she regarded also as family, happy to see his face once again. She feared, after what Asher had said about him staying to serve Daenerys, that she would never get to see him again. "And you found your soldiers. Ironrath will be glad of your return; you came through for them." Malcolm smiled solemnly, a smile that resembled traits of his sister, Lady Elyssa Forrester. Ironrath certainly would be pleased, Lady Forrester specifically as Cynthia knew, first hand, how much she'd missed her second son - whom she had not seen in almost half a decade. Rodrik, too, had missed his younger brother, and was all but charging to Essos himself just to see him again. Everyone wished for Asher's return, and Cynthia would be delighted to see their reactions when he returned home. Cynthia couldn't help but notice something in Malcolm's words, something seeping with pride; you came through for them did not just mean he'd succeeded, it meant that he'd proved he had changed in the time he'd been away, and was finally living up the great man everyone knew him to be, and for that Cynthia smiled more. 

"What does Daenerys want from you?" Asher asked curiously, brow furrowing whilst he sent a weary look in Cynthia's direction, clearly concerned he might have hinted some offence to her, though he hadn't; Cynthia was intrigued as well as to why her sister wished for Malcolm to stay and work with her like she'd persisted. "She has a mission for me. But beyond that she's told me nothing. If I can, I'd like to help her reclaim the Iron Throne. Imagine what an ally she would be to House Forrester if she succeeds." Malcolm seemed genuinely enthusiastic about the Queen, and helping her rule the Seven Kingdoms, something Cynthia wished she could assist in, but that did entail leaving his family behind, something that had him obviously conflicted. "Living here has made a better man of you, nephew. Perhaps the same will be true for me." Malcolm smiled more, folding his arms across his chest. "Thank you, Uncle. I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't for you - and our little helper of course." Asher smirked, jutting his hip into Cynthia's side with a grin.  "Ah yes, she is quite the helper isn't she. And a rule breaker..." Malcolm taunted, cocking an eyebrow at the youngest of the group, "Though it would seem that one is on you," The three of them laughed, basking in the final moments they would spend together. "You have guided me well," Asher smiled, looking back to his Uncle lovingly, the same passion for family burning in his eyes - the passion Cynthia admired and yearned to see more often. "You are your father's son, Asher. For all your differences. He would be proud." Malcolm said softly, watching Asher's grey eyes glisten with regret and grief for his father for the briefest of moments. Cynthia knew Gregor would be proud of Asher, he'd said so in one of his final letters to her, he'd said how sure he was that Asher would be a better man by the time he came home, and how he looked forward to the day with every fibre of his being, that he might get to see his son again - grown and hopefully mature. Cynthia hadn't had time to tell Asher that, but she was sure she'd have to soon, just in case. "I'll send a raven ahead to Ironrath, letting Rodrik know you sail for Westeros, with...uh...sellswords. My thoughts will be with you in the fight to come." Malcolm nodded to his nephew, who turned quickly and began the march to the ship, head down and being very manly about saying goodbye. 

"Look after him." Malcolm said quietly, leaning down to Cynthia who still stood in his company, "Look after each other." He corrected, smiling at her young face as she gawked up at him, not really ready to say goodbye. "Look after yourself."She smirked, wrapping her arms around him and hugging him as tightly as she had when he'd left for Westeros some weeks back. "And bring the Queen home when you return." She giggled softly, listening to his hearty chuckle too as he embraced her fondly. And with that, Cynthia turned and followed the Forrester up the gangplank toward the deck, where all the fighters stood, ready and waiting to head off to war, presumably. "Oh, and Asher, Cynthia." Malcolm called out, causing the pair to stop and turn his way. "Iron from Ice." He said nonchalantly, no hint of smile on his face, only the remnants of pride. "Iron from Ice." They both said in return, nodding solemnly at the man before finally boarding the ship, leaving their uncle on the dock behind them.