✓ | TOUGH AS THE IRONWOOD (A.FORRESTER 2)

Surprise. Chapter Twenty Nine

A/N: REWRITTEN

The faint scratch of a quill against parchment, accompanied by the faint crackle of distant embers, were the only quivers of sound to burden the looming silence within Cynthia's room that afternoon. While the luminescence of daylight reflected off of the silver scales belonging to the gift abandoned on her bed, Cynthia turned her back on what material memory of her mother she still had and wrote to what family still remained. As though Daenerys was the only thing that could keep her feeling like a real family might actually exist. A letter had arrived, via raven, early that day from Deepwood Motte, more specifically from Finn and his siblings just to send their wishes and cling to whatever relationship might be formed from reaching out in such away, but even that didn't quite feel as like a blood bond as Cynthia had with the Khaleesi. Something about the things they had in common, and how eager they were for some remnants of a family, had made it easier for both to accept each other as kin. In any case that was whom Cynthia was addressing in her letter, and despite the ocean keeping them apart, Cynthia looked forward to the day she might see her sister again, if only to understand the gift left behind from their mother and to be reunited with blood once more.

What family currently lurked within the same walls as Cynthia had yet to be seen in almost an hour, even the youngens, whom had tendencies to appear and disappear like the changing of the tides. One minute desperately in your company, the next as far from you and any other form of civilisation as physically possible. But not even they had been seen since breakfast. Asher was still, likely, in a mood, not only with Cynthia but simply with the world as a whole, and who knew exactly where the likes of Mira, Eleana, Gared and Rodrik had disappeared off to. All leaving Cynthia alone on her nameday, with but paper to connect her with a far away friend.

She contemplated the idea that perhaps Asher's annoyance with her had spread throughout the rest of his family; blood being thicker than water, so to speak. Could she really have created that much of a divide? She doubted it, but at this point she'd consider anything that would explain the absence of her beloved friends. It was hardly alike any of them to be missing for such a long time without giving notice, which only left Cynthia more curious.

Jon had wrote to her too, sending his regards from high up on the Wall where he resided these days; he informed her that he was Lord Commander now, and that she and her family need not worry about Gared being a deserter anymore. That, at least, had brightened her day - her close friend being safe from all whom might threaten to take him away House Forrester yet again, and another familiar name telling of his achievements. She looked forward to being able to tell Gared the news, when he finally showed his face again, and perhaps one day her and Jon might be reunited as well. Meanwhile, at this present moment, Cynthia could only wonder more as to where everyone had gotten to. That was until a knock resounded on the door.

Despite the inordinate amount of time they'd spent sulking as far away from each other as they could get, inordinate for them at least, Cynthia found her whole body praying, pleading, yearning for it to be Asher stood at her door. She somehow already anticipated that it wouldn't be, but she still begged to all the gods as she stepped closer, just hoping this wish might somehow come true. It didn't. Rodrik was the one on the other side of the door, his usual lordly attire matching the grey/blue colour of his eyes. He desperately needed to trim his untamed beard, his brown hair had started to discolour at the ends, and he looked more and more aged (much like his father) in the wrong light witch such extensive facial hair. But that wasn't going to be the first thing she said to him today.

She smiled, finding it to be a foreign action but all the same she attempted to seem happy. "Rodrik! Here I was thinking you'd all fallen from the face of the world." She mused, opening her door wider as to let him through. He smiled back at her, a tight smile that reminded her of his mother. She didn't often find similarities in the boys and Lady Elyssa, but in this instance she had. "Where have you been all day, m'lord?" She smirked, which she managed much easier than feigning a smile. "I'm afraid Elaena has been quite sick in the night - nothing too serious, so says Maester Ortengryn, she should be back on her feet in a matter of days." He replied, taking a seat beside the open window. "I am sorry not to have seen you on your nameday." "There is no need to apologise, Rodrik. I hope Elaena is feeling better soon." Cynthia said quickly, sitting opposite him. "Have you spoken to Asher?" Rodrik asked carefully, after a second of dull silence dragged through the pair. "No," Was all Cynthia could think to say, though the disappointment was evident in her tone. She missed his company, dearly, yet somehow she failed to find enough confidence to go and speak to him herself. She'd learnt over the years that with Asher, when he was in a mood such as this, it was better to let him solve it on his own, rather than try and provoke him. They'd all learnt that the hard way. "How is he?" She inquired cautiously. Did she really want to know the answer to that?