WHEN THEY RETURNED HOME another week had passed, and Joffrey was dead. That was the first thing anyone had said to them upon walking through the door. Perhaps Alec had taken it upon himself to conjure some perfect alibi for the pair of them, as to where they had disappeared off too for nearly a fortnight, or maybe it was just that no one cared enough to inquire after where they had been. Joffrey dying was severely important nevertheless, just more so than it was anywhere else other than in Stillwater. He had never been the King this far North. They had already lost their King.
"Cynthia! Livia!" Alyssa barrelled down the stairs like a new born pup, all excitement and wild hair billowing about her uncontrollably. "You're back." Her small arms attempted desperately to enclose around both of her sisters, and though she struggled, the two older girls easily wrapped their own arms around her small frame and held her close.
"Hello Alyssa." Livia smiled, her eyes drifting closed as she embraced the young girl. Cynthia, on the other hand, had missed Alyssa dearly, as well as the rest of her siblings, but could hardly think about reunions now.
On the way back from the Wall, Cynthia had had the opportunity to consider a great many things: turning around mostly, writing to Jon, and then what she was going to do when they returned. She could not just sit at Stillwater forever, waiting around for something to happen, or idling the days by until Jon magically reappeared. She had to be practical. And there was only one way in which she could go about doing that. It was not what she wanted, it never had been; Jon had forever, and likely forever would be, what she had wanted. But this was the only secure future she faced, the only path in life which she could realistically take that would produce a safe outcome. Jon offered none of that, and probably never would.
"Are the Tarly's still here?" Cynthia asked. Her words trod all over something that Alyssa had been rambling about - words that had something to do with Asher and his archery practise, words that did not mean much in the long term. There was a pause, one which was filled with a stunned expression worn by both Alyssa, whom also looked a tad hurt at having been interupted, and Livia who no doubt knew why Cynthia was asking such a question.
"Yes, they leave this afternoon. Why?" Alyssa frowned, not being old enough to understand intuition like her sisters.
"Cynthia, you cannot be considering this." Livia exclaimed, but Cynthia was gone. She left Alyssa stranded in the entrance hall, alongside their older sister, and made a dash towards the stairs. If she was going to go through with this, she had to act quick - both due to a lack of time and a fear that if she left it long enough, she would have time to consider what she was about to do and she would back out of it. She could not do that. She had to do this, it was all she could do.
She continued up onto the second floor, her legs carrying her quicker than they had done in several days. She'd thought they would hurt after riding for so long, but it would appear their ability to function had not laxed on account of it if that were the case. Nevertheless, she walked with haste down the dark corridor right to the end door, where she paused and knocked with force. It was her mother's study - if she was not in the Great Hall, which she had not been or else she would have come out to greet her children upon their return, then she was always in here. It only took seconds for the door to open.
"Cynthia!" She gasped, out of shock or horror, or a combination of the two, and then took a step back, either to accommodate for Cynthia to enter the room or once again out of surprise - Cynthia could not discern which, nor did she care at this point. "Where in the Seven Hells have you been? We'd thought you had abandoned us or-"
"Oh hush, mother." Cynthia groaned, annoyed that, as usual, Frea was making this all about herself. "It does not matter where we were. We're back now. And I have a proposition."
"A proposition?" Her mother repeated slowly, her eyebrow curving upward as the word slipped out. "And what is that then?" Frea had always thought of Cynthia as petulant, despite the small age gap between her and Frea's favourite daughter, she had always viewed Cynthia as immature in her ways and as an overall irritable child, with her dressing like a boy and learning how to fight. Cynthia believed such an opinion was spawn from the fact that Cynthia was not the perfect lady like Livia had always been, and she was, similarly, not the image of her mother, thus why she was hated so much. This proposition, however, would likely do a bit to change that.
"An alliance. With House Tarly." She said it plainly, as though it wasn't against every fibre in her body, as though it wasn't the exact thing she despised the most in the world, as though it didn't feel like breaking every bone in her body or selling her soul to do it. She had always vowed that she would be the Iris daughter that would marry for love, not land or position or respectability, she would marry because her heart told her too. This was her brain giving the instructions now.
"An alliance? My dear, are you aware of what -"
"Of what that would entail? Yes. And I am suggesting it." Frea's face was as blank as a fresh canvas, like sand after a recently turned tide. She bore no expression, no hint to the perverted thoughts lurking beyond her murky grey eyes, she made no sound. Nothing. She just sat there for moment after moment, staring at her daughter with a mixture of contempt and disbelief. "I am suggesting I marry Dickon Tarly. If his father would be prepared to agree."
"We had agreed not to tell you." Frea stood, and moved to the window where she then perched against the wooden windowsill. With her frail hands placed politely on her lap, smoothing over the skirts of her ornate purple dress, she looked like Catelyn. And despite all that Lady Stark had done that had entirely pissed Cynthia off, all that she had done to Jon and even to Cynthia herself, Catelyn had always had the best interest of her own children at heart. Through everything, Cynthia could at least see that. She could not be sure she would say the same for her own mother, however. "But for sometime we have been considering such an alliance." Frea's mouth formed a straight line, and her dim eyes glared out through the foggy glass rather than looking back at her daughter. "Just not with you."
"With Livia?" Cynthia's chest tightened - the rage setting in. "You cannot seriously have been considering putting her through that?"
"Why do you think they are still here?" Frea's blond hair struck around like a whip. "They wanted - want an alliance. But I would not see my daughter go through that suffering, not after Robb." To hear his name hurt, but Cynthia imagined it would have hurt her sister more. "They were prepared to wait, or renegotiate. But they would not leave without some sort of a deal." Frea's eyes were always cold, Cynthia could almost remember being born and looking up into them only to find nothing but the grey stubbornness glaring back. And even now, when some small trace of compassion was fighting for acknowledgement, she was still wearing the exterior of the heartless bitch she had always been. "Are you sure you are willing to do this? Marriage is not a thing to be taken likely."
"It is not a thing at all." Cynthia sighed. "It is a way of life." Her heart felt like ice in her chest, shattering and shivering with every word of agreement she readied to say. She didn't want to do this. But she did want to forget Jon, forget what she knew could not become a reality. She wanted what was best for her, and for everybody else. Even if that meant leaving the fantasy behind. "But yes, I am willing."
"Where did you two go?" Frea's voice was suddenly soft, quiet and curious. "You say it does not matter, but it does. It has made a difference in you."
Cynthia said nothing for a second. She just stared. She didn't want to admit that she was weak enough to give into it - into missing him. She didn't want to admit that she had gone running back to him, or that she had been desperate enough to think that if she went there then he would be waiting for her like in all of the romance novels she had read with Livia as young girls. But she wanted to admit it, if only to herself, that it had been real. And that she had, really, gone that far only to run away out of fear.
"We went to see Jon. But, like I said: it doesn't matter."
YOU ARE READING
WE MIGHT FALL (J.SNOW 2)
Fanfiction(THINKING OF SNOW 2) "Now that we are older, I remember you. Reaching out to show me all the things that I must do. Now that we are older, I remember youth. Now that were are close to death and close to finding truth, we might fall." Continuing with...
