POPPY | A Game Of Thrones

FORTY-SEVEN

take one breath, one day at a time;
it won't always be this hard.

HERMIONE HAD READ THE SAME PARAGRAPH seventeen times before she snapped. "Could you just... keep her quiet."

The wet-nurse hadn't been able to take Clara today and so her grandmother had surprisingly offered her services. Together the three of them sat in her chamber room as Olenna rocked and played with Clare. The high pitched giggles coming from the babe were exactly what was keeping Hermione from focusing on her book in hand. It was something Logan had given her to keep her mind off of the hustle and bustle of Margery and Joffrey's wedding preparations.

"Oh, let me enjoy her, not every woman in the world get to meet her great-grandchild you know," Olenna beamed bouncing the babe in her arms. "She looks so much like you you know."

Hermione shut her book and rolled her eyes as she pushed herself from her bed. "She does not," she said occupying the seat beside her grandmother. Peering over to Clare in her grandmother's arms, the babe smiled at her. Pulling her index finger from her mouth, Clare reach for her mother's face.

"Maybe just a bit," she whispered, it seemed like the first time she set eyes on the girl and though it wasn't instant love, she saw the beauty others had always claimed. "In the nose and lips."

"And her hair of course," Olenna pointed bouncing the little girl again as squeals of delight spilt from her lips. "Though might I say thank goodness for her father, or else she'd be stuck with those unruly curls you and your mother were forced to have."

Hermione laughed and shook her head before it quickly died away. "You know, I was close to escaping that night during the Battle of Blackwater. I had a bit of help of course, but I was so close grandmother," Hermione whispered as Lady Olenna placed Clare into the wicker bassinet which sat on the door by their feet. "But then I went into labour and ever since then I just can't..."

"Are you the first one to think you've felt this low spirited after you've given birth?" Olenna said with a glint in her eyes. "I felt a similar thing after the birth of your fat-head uncle Mace and I only had an estate to run. I wasn't plagued with kidnappings and starvations and corruption; working whether my husband was out there dead or alive and still, I couldn't even bear to look at him for months."

Hermione nodded tears brimming in her eyes as her breathing became heavier. "The birth—The birth was very distressing. Nothing has become easier since."

This conversation felt like a weight being lifted off her chest. Hermione had truly been haunted by so many mixed emotions, but most of all had been guilt. Guilt that she no desire to spend time with her daughter. Guilt that the simple sound of her laughter burdened her with anger. Guilt that she had failed. Failed to get them out of King's Landing before the birth. The one thing Clare had unknowingly depended on her mother to do, Hermione had failed at before the babe had known what failure was.

"But it will," Olenna comforted. "I know how hard it's been for you to just get out of bed every morning, but I also know that tomorrow will be easier."

"How do you know?"

Olenna smiled, her hand squeezing Hermione's shoulder. "There can be no doubt about it and as for your escaped... you just leave that to me. I think I still know my way around a good coup."

Teary-eyed, Hermione grinned when a knock sounded on Hermione's door. The two women turned to see Sansa's orange hair peeking through the door. "Am I interrupting?"

"There's a saying that goes polite woman knock on doors and smart woman simply walk in," at Sansa's confused expression, Olenna rolled her eyes. "Oh dear just come in, it's past time for me to get going anyway. I have a meeting with the Master-of-Cain about a wedding which'll be happening in weeks time."

Hermione helped Olenna up before she started out of the room, Sansa smiling at the woman before nearing Hermione.

"My handmaid told me you were asking for me?" Sansa asked meekly as Hermione offered her hand with a grin.

The two women sat down and as Clare babbled to herself gently, Hermione tried to find the words. "It's happening," she started though at Sansa's silent continued. "We're leaving King's Landing... soon."

Though, the northern lady didn't express the type of excitement that Hermione expected her too. Especially since she had spent so many days and months being ridiculed and harassed by the Queen Regent and her King son, Hermione though Sansa would be more than ecstatic. Not jumping up and down, but at least hug her.

"I'm sorry I thought you would've been happy about this. Finally being free from these people."

"I am," Sansa huffed. "I'm just—I'm processing it all."

Hermione nodded holding her hands a bit tighter in her own grip. "Well go get some sleep and pack a bag just in case because we could be leaving at a moment's notice."

The Northern lady embraced Hermione before she too left her chamber room, but not before hesitating at the door. "Are you sure everything's alright?" Hermione asked noticing how Sansa's eyes flickered down to Clare then back to her.

"Yeah, I'm alright."

Then she was gone.

Exhaling Hermione looked down to her daughter who seemed preoccupied trying to fit her foot inside her mouth. "There was something wrong with Sansa wasn't there?" she spoke in soft tones. Clare's sharp blue irises now staring right back into Hermione's gold.

Taking the knuckle of her index finger, Hermione ran it across Clare's face. "It was probably nothing right?" Slowly, with her courage building inside her, Hermione reached inside the bassinet and pulled Clare from it. Smile spreading across her face in what felt like quite some time.

It wasn't unhinged, but pained and felt out of place. Though, it was a sign that she could feel more than the emptiness which had taken place after her daughter was pulled from her. Maybe her grandmother was right, Hermione thought. Everything would get better with time.

Setting her daughter on her lap, Hermione softly began to bounce her up and down until a string of bell-like laughs dripped from her mouth. Clare's saliva ridden hands then came and smushed Hermione's face as a dribble of spit started down her chin.

Right then and there Hermione vowed that her child would not experience the disappointments Westeros handed women on silver platters.