benblvckwood

[benblvckwood]

his brow furrowed. the conversation was morphing to one of politics and nuance, areas where ben had always floundered. it was not that he did not care about cyrene - it was that he had no words of comfort to offer her, nor the experience to come up with them. swords and war - that was what he was good at, not words. "hmm," he hummed again. "dunno why that's the case. your blood is worth more than his, surely." she was a princess, a sister to a king. her husband was... a frey.

"he's three, cyrene," his eyes rolled. "if you're worried about people taking him serious, you should probably worry about teaching him to eat dinner without getting it in his hair before his vocabulary."

Cyrene could not help the way she quirked her brow at Ben, an instinctual response to his question. Do you see yourself as a Frey? "It does not matter what I see myself as. For the sake of my children, my son, others must believe it." Ben knew about her complicated relationship with her husband and those that resided in the Keep. Cyrene did not want to call herself kin of those who had made her life a living hell for years before finally being placated by an heir.

"Ah," she sighed, overly dramatic. "I see how it is. By the time I return, Mako will be swearing like a sailor. Who will take him serious then?"

[benblvckwood]

the noise hit ben before he'd even stepped soot in the halls, a din of laughter, and music, and the clink of glasses, but he was not prepared for what was waiting beyond the heavy door before he pushed it open. it was the women he noticed first, dancing on the tables, circling their hips in various states of undress. the back of ben's neck grew hot. he'd never seen a naked woman before, and that was enough to make him want to turn and leave then and there. and perhaps he might have done, had the invitation not come from aidan tully. prince aidan, his cousin, who as a child ben had trailed after, looking up to the older boy, wanting to be like him and earn his favour. but that had been before war had taken hold of them both, twisted them from the person they used to be into the person they were today. ben could not say it hadn't altered him irrevocably. it had been years since he saw aidan last - what had time done to him?

he scanned the room, looking for somewhere, anywhere, to rest his eyes that wasn't a woman's bare flesh. it did not take long for his cousin to come into his sight, cutting a fine figure in his silks. in contrast, ben felt rather underdressed for the occasion, a black tunic with red stitching, a simple leather belt, and boots still flecked with dried mud from the ride to riverrun. respectable, but more practical than ornamental.

the shout of his name from aidan was loud enough to draw attention, and a few curious glances towards them. before ben could get a word, aidan was upon him, pulling him into a hug that ben gladly returned, a grin breaking across his face.

"yeah, yeah. not so little." ben pulled away, studying aidan for a moment. he had been taller than ben, before, so his height was not something he could comment on, but a smirk crossed his features nonetheless. "that crease in the corner of your eyes is new. what did it, age or stress?" he teased.

he laughed then, making it clear his jest was meant in good nature. "you wouldn't think i was a man grown, the way some of the council talk to me in meetings. the bracken cunt seems to think i still need help learning to shave." he took the seat at the high table beside aidan. from here, it was harder to ignore the dancing girls.

"does your sister know you're about three scraps of silk away from turning her home into a pentoshi pleasure house?"

who: @benblvckwood what: aidan is hosting a party in his apartments at riverrun, an invitation sent his cousin, the young lord ben blackwood.

"In the east they call them dancing girls. I would have brought over Lysene girls but we have an issue with the Lysene." Aidan spoke loudly as he watched the makeshift stage of women dancing, pulling off their clothes to the sound of the music. Upon his return home, the Prince of loaves and fishes wanted to make sure his men enjoyed their time and what better way to enjoy oneself than with the company of many, many women. "It's fine, of course, these girls come from Pentos. We've no issue with them that a cock cannot solve." Laughter rolled through the hall as the Prince smiled.

In the apartments of the Prince his grand hall in Riverrun, filled with the flickering light of torches and lanterns casting dancing shadows on the red sandstone walls. The hall was alive with energy and noise, filled with the sounds of laughter, music, and the clinking of goblets. The air is thick with the fragrant smoke of burning herbs and the rich aroma of roasting meats. It was the sounds and smells of being home.

In the center of the room, another group of dancing girls twirl and sway to the rhythm of lively music played by a band of minstrels. Their colorful skirts and shimmering jewelry catch the light, creating a mesmerizing display. Around them, men in various states of revelry cheer and clap, some joining in the dance while others watch with appreciative grins.

Prince Aidan Tully, dressed in fine silks and adorned with the sigil of House Tully, sat at the head of a long wooden table. His presence commanding respect and admiration from his guests. He raised his goblet in a toast. The prince's guests are a motley crew of sellswords and freed slaves from the Lysene magister who dared to hold a Tully hostage. Some share stories of their travels and adventures, while others simply enjoy the food, drink, and women.

Aidan smiled as he walked away from the group and made his way through the crowd, speaking to different men. His sellswords would get their payments and perhaps they would leave, but he would be able to keep many of them. They would need them. Aidan didn't know what would happen with his sister's reign, but having sellswords protected anyone.

In one corner of the room, a group of men sits around a low table, engaged in a heated game of dice. Their shouts of victory and groans of defeat add to the cacophony. Elsewhere, a bard recites tales of heroic deeds and legendary battles, his voice rising above the din to captivate those nearby.

"Little Ben Blackwood!"

Aidan smiled through his drink, setting the cup down as he walked over and hugged the other man. A cousin he last saw in the middle of a war where the dragons danced and changed the way war was forever.

"Well, you're not so little anymore, aye? A man." He clapped him on the shoulder, turning his head he shouted for more ale and then glanced back at the man before him. "I will hear tale of all your adventures of course I shall bore you with mine. Come sit at the high table with me."

[benblvckwood]

closed starter for @emiravmallister

he had met emira mallister before, but this was different. their conversations had never really gone beyond polite greetings, and now, they were betrothed. perhaps it was a rash decision, but he supposed there were far worse matches he could hope for. the mallisters were a good family to be aligned to, and emira was undoubtedly a good looking woman. yes, he'd gotten quite lucky.

it wasn't lady mallister that was the issue. it was ben himself. ten years old when he first rode to battle, and twenty when he returned. ten years of his life - all without the presence of women. he knew very little about them, how to speak with them, how to act around them. and he had few people to ask about it. it went without saying that lucius was not exactly the kind of brother one would approach for romantic advise, and the closest thing he had to a parent he had was his stepmother, so that idea was already out of the window. the closest he had ever had was a mortifying conversation with brandon karstark in his teenage years, where he had been informed on the mechanics of bedding one. that, too, would be of little help.

yes, under his bravado, the arrogance he wore, women made benjicot nervous.

"i have something for you," mentally, he patted himself on the back for having the foresight to think to bring something they could talk about, rather than relying on small talk on awkward silences. he reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small, carved eagle. he had made it himself, whittled it with a piece of wood he had picked up from raventree hall's weirwood.

"it's an eagle. if you couldn't tell." whittling was a hobby he had picked up in camp, was one of the few ways he spent his time that did not involve swinging a sword. "for house mallister. i thought - well, i thought you might like it, i suppose."

[benblvckwood]

@alexfitzalan : 🎉 Aussie Anthology TV series release alert 🎉

[benblvckwood]

he could not help it. there was a threat somewhere buried in her words, and that made him burst out laughing. "oh, should i?" he made no attempt to conceal the mockery in his voice. "you seem to be glossing over the fact you did lie to me," he pointed out. "does that not make you, by definition, a liar?" what need had he to take care with his wording, when she had in fact been untruthful?

he blinked a little, confusion furrowing his brow. "do you think i was born yesterday?" he asked her. he was not the most educated of men, but he was far from stupid. "or do you truly think you can shoot some more vague untruths my way, call them prophecies, and that would satisfy me?"

Gods, he was infuriating.

A deep crease formed between her brows. He was upset about the entirely wrong thing and did not even realize it. Yes, she had lied about his fortune. No, she had not lied about the ability to tell one. Gaia had been carefree with her visions before, chasing them as they came, but never before putting them to focussed use. She had to now, had to sharpen her talent to secure her quite unusually given position.

"You should be very careful with who you call a liar, Lord Blackwood," she shot back, ice in every syllable she threw at him.

A scoff scratched up her throat and she took another step forward, reaching out to take his hand. This time, fully intending to tell him a truth instead of an amusing lie. For better or for worse. "I'll proof to you, that taking back your coin would be a disservice to me, but most of all, to yourself."

[benblvckwood]

"hmm," came ben's only response. there had been far too much talk recently about the topic of his marriage, and he was not eager to delve deeper into it now. "cross that bridge when we come to it," he shrugged his shoulders, casually. it was a bridge he'd have to cross sooner, rather than later. he could not leave willow wylde's son as his heir, and yet it was not something he was sure he was ready for. "i don't know." did a woman belong to her husband's house, or her fathers? he supposed it depended on the woman. "do you see yourself as frey?" he knew willow did not see herself as blackwood, no matter how much she might claim otherwise in public.

"wow, cyrene." he was doing his best to look affronted, and failing miserably at hiding the glint in his eye. "he could never have learned it from me. i never fucking swear."

"You will know it when you get there." The comment was spoken dryly, very little sincerity behind it. She did not wish her own fate upon him, and at the same time knew he was not destined for it. Their paths were wholly different. Benjicot Blackwood was a ruling lord, and most importantly in all its banal essence, a man. He was not expected to obey and submit to a spouse. "Am I not a Frey now, too?" Cyrene asked, almost tired in the way the question was posed. "I fear the dichotomy of treatment is getting downright exhausting."

"Are you truly asking me that?" she deadpanned. "I am fairly certain my husband did not teach my son to swear like this. I am less certain about myself, but there is a far more likely culprit."

[benblvckwood]

"honest is an interesting word choice," ben fired back, his tone undeniably heated. "but then, i suppose big dirty stinking lying work doesn't quite have the same sort of ring to it, does it, lady qoherys?" as much as he was making a show of being annoyed, there was a slight curl to ben's lips. he was enjoying this - having someone to fight with.

he blinked, unsure what she was getting at. "proof of what?" he sounded genuinely confused, before letting out a sigh. "all i want is my coin back. fair's fair, yeah? so just pay me and i'll be on my way."

"A very good one." She could not help the petulant tone that seeped into her voice as she stared him down, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. Unfortunate, that the charm of their first interaction was now taken away by him being so dismayed.

Gaia was genuinely affronted now, even if he did have a point. She had not been honest with him, had not told him a true fortune even if she could have. "So you would rob someone of their reward for honest work?" The question was sharp, even if the edge was dulled by the very knowledge that the work had been half honest at best. She huffed out a breath. "Fine. Would you like proof?" She was not about to be called a liar by Benjicot Blackwood, no matter how true it was in their case.

[benblvckwood]

"ah, wedded bliss," ben deadpanned, sarcasm twisting his tone. between his cousin's marriage, and that he had witnessed as a boy between his father and willow wylde, at least he had a shining example of what to avoid in his own future. "you married a frey," he pointed out. "they're usually the ones getting on everyone else's nerves. about time they had a taste of their own medicine, i think."

"it's decided, then." and that was that. once ben made up his mind about something, there was little deterring him. his duties as lord of blackwood vale would wait for him to return, or his sister would attend to anything urgent in his absence. he could spare the time. "would i do that?" he asked, a little too innocently, as though it had not been ben blackwood who first taught the frey twins to swear, or steal sweets when nobody was looking, or how to prank their household with harmless japes.

She let out an exaggerated sigh and nudged him away from her just a little bit. "While you annoy me a great fraction, you annoy my lord husband more. And that is a balm for my soul," Cyrene teased. Benjicot was one of the little lights brightening the halls of the Crossing. She wanted to boost his ego with this admission rather little, however.

It was a welcome suggestion. Cyrene's lips parted slightly as she nodded, almost a little too quickly, a little too eager. "Yes. That would be - That would work." Clearing her throat, Cyrene pressed her lips tightly for a moment. "I mean it, Benny. Mako could benefit from your company greatly. Just," she paused, "don't teach him anything improper, yes?"

[benblvckwood]

Alex Fitzalan as Harry Bingham in The Society (1.01)

[benblvckwood]

ben nodded his head, no longer focused on lord blackbar and their sister. something happened to him within his brother's company ; as stubborn and single-minded as ben could be, he was, at his core, still a young man looking to be reassured, to be told that his choices were correct and look for guidance where it was needed. it was the only way he could make sense of what all this was for in the first place. even after so many years, he still felt like a child play-acting as the lord, a little boy running around wearing his father's cloak and tripping on it.

"she'd argue with the wall if she thought she'd get a rise out of it," he snorted. "no need to plant ideas that are already there." it wasn't the arguing that bothered him. he had never been one to back away from a fight. but there were other tactics willow held up her sleeve, ones that got to him far more. "she dragged sam into it. made me explain the choice to his face," he confessed. he knew lucius' views on their younger brothers were not the same as ben's own, but regardless, ben cared for those boys - sam in particular. "i feel like i need to sleep with one eye open. only the gods know how she's going to retaliate."

Lucius continued to keep an eye on Agnes as she danced with the Blackbar lord. It was inevitable for him, to be somewhat protective of his siblings, whether they wanted that protection or not. At one point, the lord glanced in the direction of Ben and Lucius, and the bastard was satisfied with the fact that their eyes met for a moment. One wrong move, one improper action or look, and he'd have the brothers of the lady he was dancing with on him.

Ben snorted at the response he'd gotten from the Wylde widow when he issued his order to have her leave the chambers she'd clung to like mold to a wall. Lucius did not scoff or laugh or so much as move a muscle on his face. “She birthed those boys because it was expected of her. She did nothing more than what a lady has to do,” he stated plainly, his tone wholly indifferent. “What she thinks or wants matters not. She's just an old widow whose only relevance lies in the kids she bore,” the bastard added, his attention fully on his brother. “You're her ruling lord, Ben. Don't ever let her forget that, lest she gets ideas that she can ever so much as argue with you”. The choice was Ben's and it would always be Ben's.

[benblvckwood]

he knew the estermont girl by name only, along with the fact she was good friends with a bracken, and therefore, he thought little of her. her companion, on the other hand, was another matter. he did not know her name, or at least, he didn't before minthara announced it, loudly, before scampering off. qoherys was not the name of a hedge witch or a common seer.

"what kind of fortune teller is called aenogaia qoherys?" he asked, ignoring her attempts to act as though they have never met before. qoherys was a noble name. there was a faint stirring in his mind connecting it to harrenhal, though he did not know why. the last lords of that place had been strongs.

"i want my coin back." he held out his palm, brows raising in expectation. "considering i am a victim of fraud, i believe it is the least you owe me."

It had been some time since she'd seen him. Their stay in the Westerlands seemed like ages ago now, even if it had been but a few months. He held himself the same way, seemed to walk and talk with the same swagger he'd come up to Gaia with, expecting the groveling readings of a market seer.

She was barely listening to Minty now, but thankfully her friend was drunk enough to care little.

Or so she'd thought.

With an unusual desperation, Gaia tried to reach for Minty's arm to stop her from waving, scrambling to her feet and shushing her friend wildly. To no avail. The Lord walked over, alerted by Minthara's waving. Gaia let out a strangled little sound as they were introduced, as Benjicot Blackwood's frown settled on her.

And then, Minty was gone. Having caused her mischief to satisfaction.

Gaia looked after her friend for a moment and contemplated a half hearted hex aimed at the back of her head with a mournful expression before turning back around to look at him. "How nice to make your acquaintance, Lord Blackwood." Her voice came out horribly flat.

[benblvckwood]

closed starter for @firemadeflxsh

despite their long friendship, ben could not recall baelon visiting raventree hall before. usually, it was benjicot who was the guest, checking in on the targaryens of dragonstone whenever he was in the vicinity. they stood now in the godswood, the long-dead weirwood tree of raventree hall, ben leaning with his back against the trunk.

"if my step-mother tries to talk to you, just ignore her. if i were you, i wouldn't even make eye contact. she might turn you to stone if you do," he snorted. guest rights were a sacred thing, but he did not trust willow wylde to adhere to them. "the boys are all right though. my brothers. they won't give you any trouble."

he glanced at baelon then, a half-smile forming on his face. "hopefully i'm a better host than my cousins." the starks of winterfell had blackwood blood, even if ben chosen not to attend owen's ball. "how was the big ball? is there to be a wedding soon?"

[benblvckwood]

there was always an answer for everything when it came to willow. quick thinking was not within ben's range of talents - not when it came to the crossing of words, rather than blades. no matter how much he prepared for it, she always seemed to say something that took him by surprise. he blinked at her for a moment, trying to grasp at something that eluded him. "well, that's just it, isn't it?" was what he ended up landing on, though he knew himself the argument was a weak one. "you've been there long enough. it's time to let it go." in the end, it did not matter how weak his arguments were. he had decided on his course of action, and he would not be deterred.

sam's appearance had him breathing out, the tension leaving his shoulders just a little. he was under no illusions about who his stepmother was. she was a petty, quarrelsome woman, but not without limits. "leave off him," he muttered, watching as willow fussed over the dirt on sam's face. the boy was nearly a man grown, far too old to have is mother dab at him with a handkerchief. there had been plenty of opportunity over the years for her to bring his brothers into their arguments, but she had never stooped so low. for a brief moment, he thought that would be the end of it.

but it appeared that, when it came to willow's limits, he was sorely mistaken. once again, he was knocked speechless, the anger in his eyes meeting the smugness in willow's. he could not look at sam. despite the woman he had came from, he was still a brother. the two were close, too, as brothers should be. willow had him over a barrel, and she knew it.

because your mother is a cunt, he wanted to say, but miraculously, he managed to hold his tongue. it was a mark of how much he loved his brother that he was able to do so. instead of telling sam the harsh truth, ben changed tactics, instead letting out a laugh, tearing his gaze from willow to sam. "it's just a bit odd, isn't it? having your father's wife in the rooms meant for your own bride." he would elaborate no further than that. if sam had further questions, ben gave him no opportunity to ask them. "actually, sam, i am glad you are here. i have news for you." he spared willow a mere glance, before directing the rest of his words to the boy. "lord vance has asked us to arrange patrols on the road between here and harrenhal, to keep bandits from the road. i would like you and hugo to join me. it is time to get some real experience under your belts."

she could see that he took pleasure in using his power against her. sometimes she thought of how easy it would be if he had been her son. willow would likely have been proud of him for his confidence, for the ruthlessness. but ben was not her son. “and yet your mothers spent much less time in there than i did, and i know you are not planning to move in there to mourn your mother.” she always hated being reminded that she was samwell's third wife, a quick solution to a lord in need of a mother to his children, and a lady to run his keep. her having been so young had been a preference of his, not a requirement.

willow knew there was nothing to do. she could argue until she was red in the face, but that would not change the outcome. her shoulders slacked in defeat. but then in a stroke of luck, she spotted sam on his way to his chambers. and she decided in a split second that ben could have his win. he could kick her out. but she'd force him to do it with his little brother as a witness. “sam, come here!” she watched as the dark-haired teenager stopped in his tracks and then approached in the leather armour he used for training. he greeted both his brother and mother with an easy smile. for a split second, she forgot all about her plan as she saw the state he was in. “you are covered in dirt.” she found a handkerchief and started wiping the worst away, but sam only allowed it for a brief moment before moving away, protesting he'd have a bath soon.

she deliberately pouted a bit, not too much, but enough that her sweet, clueless boy would notice. “what's the matter, mother?” the bait had been taken. she loved sam dearly, she really did, but he was delightfully predictable in these kind of situations. more sensitive to the feelings of others than hugo. “oh, your brother was just telling me that he has decided that it is time for me to move out of my chambers.” willow's green eyes then locked onto ben. there was a grim satisfaction in them. she had never directly insulted her stepchildren in front of her own children. normally, she'd keep hugo and sam out of her fight with samwell's ungrateful spawn, but she would make an exception today. it was time to give the boys glimpses into what their siblings were really like. she'd need them to see for what was to come. “but i am sure our lord has a good reason, dear.” she knew ben did not. “in fact, i believe he was about to tell me why...”

[benblvckwood]

ben became a man years before he came of age, adulthood claiming him on the fields of battle, and yet, in many ways, he was still a boy, looking for approval where it could be found. he would chafe at the idea of being seen as such, bit back at council meeting where his words were dismissed, but though he would try and deny it, it was still a truth that was plain for many to see. in hugo vance's smile, he felt it, that small ember of pride that he had said something the other considered a good idea.

"we do. the younger riverlords will not. my brothers, for example." it would do sam and hugo good, he thought, to have those experiences. he fell quiet, listening to hugo's request before nodding his head. "that sounds more than fair. i will put together some men i think are fit for the job, and have them on the roads within the week." he was always a man of action, preferring to get things done immediately rather than sit around talking about it.

he snorted, but it was easier said than done. if a bracken should wander into blackwood vale, there was more chance of him being ran through than detained peacefully. "we'll do what we can." he could make no more promises than that. "but there are some houses that will not come peacefully if it is a blackwood man doing the detaining."

Hugo listened intently and then nodded, smiling in understanding. One fact of life when having a conversation with Hugo Vance was that the young Lord would always smile.Yes, the smile faltered on occasion but it was a strong smile all the same. And genuine. Hugo never smiled when he didn't feel it needed and he always felt it needed. As a serious man it was important for one to make sure they were approachable. And now as a man who served as sentinel, the smallfolk would see him often and they would need to see him as the one who worked for the Queen. A surly man would leave a bad taste in the mouths of their folk.

"That, my lord, is a brilliant idea. It would be good for the men to understand it is to be in a camp. We remember those days." Dreadful, he thought as the smile briefly faltered only to return. "That looks like stopping bandits, should they be ran through then it is unfortunate they chose so poorly and should they surrender then arrest them and I will send men to do the rest. I wish to see labor created. Put those lads to work. Hold off on taking hands if they can be put to work somewhere. Fields, roads, builders, and logging. There is much to do, my lord."

"Also, if they are lords or knights, no matter what house they come from, please try to detain them peacefully, we do not wish for the Queen to earn a reputation similar to the things one hears of the Vale."

[benblvckwood]

there was a muscle clenched in ben's jaw, a futile attempt to keep hold of what little was left of his control. with each of ronan's taunts, it slipped further from his grasp. and yet, this was a language he understood well, one he had learned before he had ever spoken his first words. he could barely remember his mother, but he had learned to hate all of bracken blood at her breast.

it came so naturally to him. more than being a lord did, or any matters of the council, more so than even being a soldier, he was made for this, for drawing the blood of the house he had been born to hate and seeing his own spilt. if swords were drawn, only one of them would walk away. perhaps neither would.

ben knew this, and yet he drew his sword anyway.

it was an action taken in the heat of the moment, one ben may face consequences for later, yet he knew he would not forget it. the moment steel was in his hand, he was transformed, his mind clearer, his gaze burning into ronan's with a determined sort of focus. "come on, then," he grinned, with all the confidence of a man who did not care what the outcome would be, as long as he went down fighting. he was the first to pull his blade, and yet, he had enough honour not to advance on an unarmed opponent. when it came to the brackens, the normal rules did not apply, but he was not yet so far gone as to abandon all his principles.

"you want my fucking head? then come and take it." his voice had swelled to near a roar. ronan had spoken of his sister, and that was enough to push ben to the edge, to see him raise his sword and advance, honour be damned. before he could make the first blow, there was hands on his shoulders, pulling him back, a second pair wrestling the sword from his grip. he knew not who had intervened, but he thrashed against their hold regardless.

"treacherous...still not done bein' a slave to the bastards of dragonstone?" he all but taunted - all knew of the way in which the blackwoods had demanded answers for the way rhaenyra had abandoned the riverlands. the blood feud was one that bound, and held supremacy over all other matters: over logic, over reason, and over regulation.

suddenly there was no hand of the king emblem pinned upon his doublet and there never had been; suddenly there had been nothing he were ever responsible for other than a name, and a legacy, and pride. not a mother, not a sister, not official duties that truthfully fit his nature more than the sheathing of a heavy sword and once again submitting to the call of the abyss. "not worth the risk then, aye? best do it yourself."

he all but grinned in the face of his enemy, in a move most uncharacteristic and unlike him; known for being serious unless in the company of his own folk, but they were mere memories in the back of his head. now, there was a sickening grin on his features. "go on boy, pull out the blade and get swinging." baiting, the constant push and pull that were the tale between their houses - he almost took a step forward, wishing for the man to take his blade out. their language was violence, bloodshed.

the oldest son of house bracken, in a brief flicker of a moment that would come to haunt him later, seemed to forget he were the sole male heir left alive to represent and continue the line of the ancient brackens of stone hedge. such was the curse of such a blood feud; it knocked the wind, the life, and the soul out of everything.

it took and it took and it took, and the blackwood's hands moved to the hilt of his sword, there was a flash of something within ronan which showed on his face. an acceptance, that this could be the end - they were not alone in this courtyard, and he knew all too well it would result in bloodshed. bodies scattered over the hay, crimson stains.

"cause i'll tell ya somethin' blackwood. give me the opportunity and i'll have yer head on a spike for your sister to look over, whilst what's left of you is damned with the rest of yer scum in seven hells."

[benblvckwood]

alex   fitzalan   as   harry   bingham   .

[benblvckwood]

there was exasperation in cyrene's tone, but affection too. such was the nature of the bond between the cousins. cyrene had not only seen him on his worst behaviour, but at his lowest points. that involved a sort of trust that wasn't found easily. "come on," he teased her. "if i found somebody new to torment, you'd be jealous. admit it."

a fortnight did not leave much time to prepare, to make his final visit and wish cyrene and wylla safe travels and make his goodbyes. he was sure there would be matters that needed his attention, that of blackwood vale or the council, but some things were more important. "let me return to the twins with you," he suggested. "after the festival. let us remind lord frey not to become too comfortable in your absence."

Cyrene's eyes narrowed as his lips formed the jab aimed at her. It was true, in a way. Benjicot had made it his mission to test Cyrene's limits within the keep she had married into. In another way, however, she enjoyed seeing him be disruptive to the good order in a way she certainly was limited in. In a flash, her hand rose from its position on his cheek to ruffling his hair. "I have always wished you would concentrate your talents on others." A lie. Little and white, but a lie nonetheless.

"Within a fortnight." Her conversations with her husband had been frequent and growing in heat the more she brought the topic to his attention. As much as Cyrene loathed it, to leave she needed the approval of the ruling Lord. A ruling Lady did not easily leave her station for an extended amount of time, least of all with her children. In the end, Lord Frey allowed her this liberty. But Mako would have to stay behind. Cyrene wondered if her husband feared northern influence. If he feared House Frey becoming something he was entirely unused to. "There are still some things that need to be readied and done. You have more than enough time to come see me again before I leave."