#they said we are going to make the handsomest 30 year old the world has ever seen

[berrydoodleoo]

once, you were almost a ghost

[randomoranges]

a complete wildcard, the world is yours, reach out and taste the rainbow

advent calendar part 30

boy howdy this one got long lamao.

Day 24

Word: Growing

Object: Adisposable razor

Edwardpassed his razor under the faucet and then turned it off, he tapped the razortwice on the side of the sink and then brought it to his face as he looked athis reflection in the mirror; he was about to take the first stroke, but thenrealised his reflection was blurry; he squinted and leaned closer to the mirrorand then gave out an exasperated sigh – this was utterly ridiculous – hecouldn’t see a goddamned thing anymore and couldn’t believe he would have to wearhis goddamned glasses to fucking shave.Edward put down his razor with a thud and then glowered at his reflection – orat least tried to. It turned into a grimace.

Thereflection before him didn’t seem pleased as it squinted and searched for hisglasses which he was now thankful he had only removed before he took his showerand had therefore left next to the sink. He shoved them back on and sighed.When had he gotten so old? There were the beginnings of lines around his eyeswhere there had only been smooth skin before. He passed a hand through hishair, pushing back his bangs and winced – his hairline was even starting torecede. And that was without mentioning the greys he kept finding. He watchedas his hair flopped back into place and he was convinced that there was evenless volume to it than there had been before. Where had time gone? He felt likehe was in a race against time and the speed was always increasing, leaving himperpetually trying to catch up and out of breath.

Edwardtook a step back and tried to get a better look at his towel glad body – why the hell was Étienne even still with himand what the hell did he even see in him were only the tip of the icebergof questions that were running through his mind – there was absolutely nothingattractive about what his reflection showed off; protruding belly, hairy chest,round shoulders, floppy hair, wrinkles…

“Hon, canI come in for a moment? I think I left my shirt in here,” Edward stepped backto the sink and blinked at his reflection; he nodded, but then realised Étiennecouldn’t see him and went to open the door. His fiancé stepped in, bringingwith him a waft of that tropical shower gel he liked to use mixed in with thegood aftershave Edward liked. Edward watched him from the corner of his eye,watched him with the help of the reflection of the mirror and got absorbed intoÉtienne’s every movement and voice.

Étiennemade aging look easy.

It seemedthe more Étienne grew older, the more beautiful he got and the more he seemedto settle into his own skin, whereas Edward felt like his body was going oneway and his mind another.

“Aha,there it is!” Étienne said triumphantly as he found his shirt under his towel,hooked behind the door, “You almost done? They’re waiting for us upstairs,” Heasked as he put on his shirt and started buttoning each single button. Edwardnodded and watched as slowly, slowly, Étienne’s vine tattoo got covered by thecolourful and festive fabric – how the motifs of lilies, roses, thistle,shamrock and pine got replaced by smiling snowmen surfing the waves, “Eddy, youokay there?”

Edwardbit back a curse and picked up his razor, realising he had been staring andlost in his own mind – Étienne had noticed and Étienne was always good atpicking up when his mind was in ten different places at once. Edward wonderedif it came with practice. If it had something to do with Étienne being a victimof his own mind, but as much as he appreciated it, sometimes he hated it.Sometimes he would prefer commiserating with his petty thoughts of self doubt.

Étiennewalked over to the vanity and hopped onto it, beside the sink – Edward triedglaring at him, but once more the effect was lost and died down when he saw thepoint of concern in Étienne’s green eyes, “You okay?” Edward could have saidyes – it would have been easy to say yes and brush it off – to pick up hisrazor, shave, get dressed and then forget all about it, but after sixteen yearsof knowing Étienne – after sixteen years of Étienne knowing him – Edward knew that such a line wouldn’t work –especially not when everything about his face and posture said otherwise.

“How isit that your hair still has so much volume and is as thick as ever?” Edwardchose to finally say as he started shaving, squinting at the mirror all overagain, “Christ – I still can’t fucking see,” He muttered to himself. Étiennewas a little surprised and thrown off by the question and even more so by thecomment, but he laughed and that got Edward’s attention, “The curls are mygreat deception,” He said with a wink and a flourish, “They make my hair seemlike it has more everything than whatit really is – trust me, when I was a kid my hair was even thicker than it is now.”

Edwardput down his razor and looked up to Étienne for the first time, “What’s thisall really about? I never took you for the vain type,” He chuckled and Edwardrolled his eyes at the comment, “M’not,” He said and turned his head to look athis reflection once more, sighing deeply, “When did I get so old?” He asked,voicing the question that had been plaguing him since he had stepped out of theshower earlier.

Étiennelaughed again, “Is this some sort of pre-midlife crisis? I’ll have you knowthat I’m older than you, in case you forgot, and that regardless of, you’re notold,” Edward quirked an eyebrow at that, disbelief written all over his face, “Maybe…”He wasn’t convinced – didn’t sound convinced and he knew Étienne knew all ofthat, “Should I be worried you’re gonna exchange me for a younger model? Somespring twenty year old with good shoulders and more flexibility? Chiseled absand the stamina of a horse? Some gorgeous tall, athletic hunk?”

Edwardrolled his eyes, “No… if anything you should replace me,” He mumbled andregretted it when he realised Étienne had heard and understood every word, “That’snot what I meant,” He tried to recover, but the damage was already done, “Eddy –what? No, why would I ever want to do that? Whatever gave you the idea that Iwould want to do that?” Étienne jumped down the vanity and placed himself infront of him, his face a mixture of hurt and worry – had he done anything tomake Edward doubt his feelings for him? Had he said anything or made someoffhand comment recently?

“No – it’snot you – that’s not what I was implying – it’s not that…” Edward let out afrustrated sigh and passed his hand through his hair yet again and rememberedhow he had felt moments before; the hair, the wrinkles, the skin, the body, “Lookat me, Étienne, I’m old! I feel old! There’s absolutely nothing attractiveabout me! I don’t even….” He trailed off and it absolutely pained Étienne tohear Edward berated himself this way. It physically hurt him to hear Edwardbelittle himself and fail to see the beauty that Étienne saw in him each andevery day.

“I tendto disagree with you,” Edward crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, not caringif Étienne saw him do it, “We’re both getting old, Ed, and that’s what’sabsolutely marvellous about it – we’re growing old together and we have been for the past sixteen years,” Étiennetentatively reached for Edward’s hands and was relieved when he didn’t pullback, “We get to enter these new parts of our lives together and I for onethink that’s truly something special. So what if you no longer have the body ofa twenty year old? I don’t either!” Étienne smiled softly, “And that’s okay!Sure, there are some things that I miss, but every morning I wake up next toyou I still think you’re the handsomest man I’ve ever seen and I can’t believeI’m the lucky one who gets to spend my life with you.”

Edwardwas silent and watched as Étienne took the razor and passed it under the waterbefore he brought it to Edward’s face and started shaving him, much as he’ddone a year or so ago when he’d broken his wrist, “What’s this really about,Hon,” He asked again, softer, and Edward wasn’t sure what it was – his mind,Étienne being so close and gentle, the act of someone else taking care of him,but he felt something in him crack and slowly melt – bubble up and releaseitself, “The restaurant – the other day, that pretty waitress,” Edward startedoff, “She kept openly flirting with you and it’s not that it bothered me, butit made me start to think about me – about us…” He trailed off with a sigh, “It’sstupid, but I guess it made me wonder why you were still with me when you couldhave someone like her.”

Étiennepaused in his shaving and gave Edward a funny look, “Do you really think Iwould have proposed to you if I wasn’t absolutely head over heels for you?”Edward looked away, ashamed by the foolishness of his thoughts, “Silly goose,”Étienne murmured and pecked his nose, mindful not to get any shaving cream allover himself, “I love you – don’t you think I would have traded you in for ayounger model when I had the chance?” He grinned, “I don’t want some twentyyear old cute waitress, or some thirty year old athletic guy; I want you – you’llalways be my first choice; tea cup collection, undying Oilers devotion, maniccleaning tendencies and all,” Edward managed to crack a small smile at that andÉtienne was relieved, “I want to grow old and wrinkly with you, Eddy. I want tobe senile and curbed over, half deaf and half blind with you by my side. I wantto complain that I can’t find my dentures while you yell at me to turn up my hearingaid. I want you – all of you and Idon’t care how it is you look like, because you’ll always be perfect for me.”

Edwardtried hard to blink the tears away from his eyes – he did, really, but if onerolled down his cheek, well, he was only human. Étienne wiped it away andfinished with the shave; he dried off Edward’s cheeks with the towel and thenapplied some of Edward’s good cologne on them, before he smiled at him, softand gentle, “There he is, my handsome man,” Étienne kissed him lightly, beforeEdward pulled him for a tight hug, trying to regain his composure, “Thanks…”He murmured. He felt Étienne hug him back and Edward relaxed in his embrace,finding the same warmth and comfort he always found in it.

He glancedat the mirror and his reflection may have not changed – it may have had thesame lines around his eyes and the same grey hairs that seemed to multiply, buthe had Étienne.

Edward passed his razor under thefaucet and then turned it off, he tapped the razor twice on the side of thesink and then brought it to his face as he looked at his reflection in the mirror;he was about to take the first stroke, but then realised his reflection wasblurry; he squinted and leaned closer to the mirror and then gave out anexasperated sigh – this was utterly ridiculous – he put his razor down with athud and pulled on his glasses, glad he had brought them with him to thewashroom.

 He passed a hand through his hair,pushing back his bangs and noticed how his hairline was even thinner than ithad seemed to be only last year. And that was without mentioning the greys hekept finding. He watched as his hair flopped back into place and he wasconvinced that there was even less volume to it than there had been before.Where had time gone? He felt like he was in a race against time and the speedwas always increasing, leaving him perpetually trying to catch up and out ofbreath.

 “Ed, can I come in for a moment? Ithink I left my shirt in here,” Edward watched as the door slowly opened andÉtienne came in dressed in nothing but his pants. He watched him walk about theroom, looking for his shirt and took a moment to observe the spectacle,marvelling how despite past events, Étienne still seemed to make everythinglook easy, even if he knew better.

 “Aha, there it is!” Étienne saidtriumphantly as he found his shirt under his towel, hooked behind the door,“You almost done? They’re waiting for us upstairs,” He asked as he put on hisshirt and started buttoning each single button. Edward nodded and watched asslowly, slowly, Étienne’s vine tattoo got covered by the colourful and festivefabric – how the motifs of lilies, roses, thistle, shamrock and pine gotreplaced by penguins of every colour holding on to presents of even morecolours, “Need a hand over there?”

 Edward blinked looked back to hisrazor and chuckled softly to himself, “If you insist,” Étienne walked over tothe vanity and managed to heave himself onto it, before he picked up the razorand proceeded to start the shave.

——-

PREVIOUS: XXIX

CURRENT: XXX

NEXT: XXXI

[khaleesi-in-the-north]

In the Crosshairs (30/?)

@theluthor                

    By the time they reached the border to the Eyrie, Ygritte’s ransom video was playing on every news station in Westeros.

                    No one had bothered to tell Jon. He called Margaery’s untraceable phone to chew out Sansa. Margaery heard clearly despite Sansa sitting in the back of the car. Sansa took it all in, never flinching at his words or tone of voice.

                    “It was her idea, Jon. If you have a problem, take it up with her,” was all she said before hanging up.

                    The car ride was particularly draining for her. She had confessed that she’d been feeling nervous having not heard from Bronn for some time prior to leaving High Garden. During the dirve Petyr called her. A body bag containing Bronn’s body riddled with bullet holes was discovered in Flea Bottom. Sansa cursed before hanging up on him. She told Margaery that evening while Oberyn had gone to a rest stop.

                    “We need to tell him,” Margaery told her.

                    Sansa glanced over Margaery’s shoulder to make sure he wasn’t returning yet. “Margaery he’s known as the viper for a reason. I don’t want him knowing.”

                    “Cersei knows something is up. We need to trust each other and we need to trust him. It only confirms what we already knew: Cersei knows the Starks are back,” Margaery insisted. They both knew it meant much more. Sansa had lost her man on the inside. All advantage they had through what limited knowledge Bronn had acquired was gone.

                    The media whirlwind picked up after that. Although Margaery still felt her story was incomplete, there was no more time. Oberyn dropped her and Sansa at the cabin before going back to town and using one of the local library’s computers to send the article to Doran. It was the front page story of the King’s Courier. She imagined the look of eerily calm anger on Jorah’s face when he saw the cover. He would call each one of his reporters into the office. But he would never suspect Doran. He was too well-reserved and he and Margaery had barely spoken to each other in her year there.

                    That evening Ygritte stumbled into the train station in Dorne, directly into an Unsullied officer so she would be whisked away to King’s Landing asap.

                    Half of the reporters in the city were camped outside L&C while the other half were on knocking down doors to get an exclusive interview with the miraculous escape of Ygritte Thenn.

                    All of this is relayed by Oberyn. The mountains have shotty cell signal, no satellite signal, and outdated television cables. Being the least suspicious of the contingent, he spends his daytime in town. Sansa speaks daily with Petyr Baelish and her sister. The two are holding down their operations well enough for the time being, as far as Margaery can tell.

                    It’s five days after they’ve left High Garden when Sansa knocks on her doorframe and comes in. Margaery sets aside her book and looks up. Sansa gives her a soft, wary smile. “Can I come in?”

                    Margaery nods.

                    Sansa shuts the door quietly behind her. For once, Lady doesn’t follow her in. Likely she’s out roaming the trees around the cabin. From a distance she looks like a wolf, so any wanderers steer clear of her.

                    “What are you doing?” Sansa asks.

                    “Distracting myself,” Margaery says. Without writing and media to occupy her time, she has too much time to think about Loras’s rescue mission tonight, to think about her grandmother’s continued comatose state, and to the about what Sansa is to her.

                    “Loras will be okay. Jon knows what he’s doing, and I trust Podrick,” Sansa assures her. Podrick must be her inside man.

                    “I know Obara,”- Alayne frowns at the name -“and Jon are prepared. He’s been in there so long, and he hasn’t had anyone to help him grieve. I’m scared of what Loras will be when he’s out.”

                    Sansa puts an arm over her shoulder and pulls her against her own shoulder. Margaery tucks her head against her neck. She glances down and notices the tattoo of her name underneath her nose.

                    “You and Garlan and your father and grandmother will be there to help him. He’ll come out okay in the end,” Sansa strokes her hair. It’s such a familiar gesture that for a moment Margaery imagines that they’re sitting against the couch in Alayne’s living room just talking. “Margaery, I want to talk to you about me and my past.”

                    Margaery sits up. Sansa stares back evenly, not giving away sign of hope or desperation.

                    “Tell me, what became of Sansa Stark?”

*******************************************

                    “The basics you probably know. I grew up in Winterfell, I had three brothers and a sister. My Aunt Lyanna died in a car accident when Jon was still a toddler. Father took him in and raised him as part of the family.

                    Then there was the mafia business. Dad did his best to keep it out of the home. Only his most trusted men had access to the home. Howland Reed, Petyr Baelish, Jon Umber.  Back then there was no need for the mafia to be underground though. Press would take pictures of mum and dad when they were out, even Robb. They were more protective of me and the little ones. We wore disguises in public and never made actual family outings.

                    I knew dad was into some bad things. He and mum would argue about them when they were in bed and thought I was asleep. But he loved is so much. We were his greatest concern, even if he had a duty to the North. Everyone In the North respected him for his sacrifice. Without him, so many families would have spent winters freezing and starving. He made decisions that are easy to criticize when you’re not the one responsible for thousands of lives. He was the best man.

                    Mum shielded us the most. She was loving and kept us from the public eye. She wanted us to live lives as close to normal as we could, even with Unsullied force members spying on us and news press looking to find that one break to catch dad in illegal activities.

                    When I was young, his work frightened me. But as I grew up, I saw the romantic side of the mafia: danger, love stories, romance, passion. Ridiculous dreams of lovesick girl.

                    That was when dad’s best friend Robert moved to Winter’s Town with Cersei and Joffrey and Myrcella and Tommen.

                    Joffrey was a dream to me. He was charming, he said all the right things, he had a pretty smile and pretty hair. He had an air of danger to him. He showed interest in me and I convinced myself I loved him for it. Silly twelve year-old me.

                    I’m not certain how it came about, but one day after my thirteenth birthday, dad came home with a contract. He asked me what I thought of Joffrey Baratheon. And I told him he was the dreamiest, handsomest, nicest boy I’d ever met and that I was in love with him. Arya scoffed at that.

                    He asked me what I thought of marrying him. I felt like I could jump over the Wall, I was so thrilled. Now, I don’t know why. It was such a stupid thing. What girl with a brain full of visions of romance and love and without an inkling of what the real world was would say no to a boy like Joffrey?

                    That night mum and dad screamed at each other until their voices gave out. Mum thought it was the most idiotic idea to sign away my life into a marriage at my age. Dad said it wouldn’t be until I turned 18. Mum screamed that it shouldn’t happen at all. I should be free to live my life. At the time, I thought I was exercising my right to be free. Dad said it was this or the North would fall apart. We needed the Lannister money to keep the investments of Northerners from driving us into a recession.

                    I must have fallen asleep, but in the morning, mum refused to look at dad.

                    I saw Joffrey more after that. I would go to his parents’ huge cabin and he would come to our house. He’d tell me how one day he would take over the Lannister mafia. No one would ever defy him.

                    His words became harsher. He began with simple teasing at quirks I had like pinching my fingers when I was nervous. I tried to stop doing that around him. He’d talk endlessly about how the mafia would be better under him.

                    I knew nothing of the mafia world back then. I would nod and agree and smile, and he would call me an idiot. I started accepting his words as truth. Then one day he hit me. We were in his backyard and next thing I know he smacks me across the cheek. He said I should respond when I’m spoken to.

                    It happened more and more. He’d punch my arm, whack the back of my head. Sometimes he would apologize. Most of the time he didn’t.

                    Arya noticed first. She saw the bruises and asked how I got them. I told myself I loved him, so I told her they were none of her business. She told Robb. Robb knocked on his door, excused himself past Myrcella and clocked him in the mouth. He said if Joffrey ever hurt me again, he’d have more than his pretty face to worry about.

                    Shortly after that, Robert Baratheon died. Joffrey became even worse. Nastier toward me. One day while Robb was at his best friend’s house, he came over. He put on the charade of prince charming, asking to take me on a walk to someplace special. Like every other time, I believed him for his performance and went. We held hands and he led me to this little park. I thought he’d do something romantic. Instead he grabbed a fistful of my hair and forced me to my knees.

                    He screamed at me to take off his pants. I refused. He’s wanted me to do things like that before, but I wasn’t comfortable doing that back then. He kicked me for not obeying. He caught me in the mouth and I started bleeding.

                    I’m not sure what else he would have done. Arya had been playing in the park with some boy when she heard the commotion. She ran over and saw what was happening and threw a rock at Joffrey. It bent his finger back so far he broke it. He ran off screaming.

                    Even after all that, I thought I loved him. He was allowed to be angry with me. Arya had no right to do what she did. I told her that much. Rather than listen to my hollow threats, she ran home and told dad what happened.

                    When I got home, I remember the look on mum’s face. She ushered me to the bathroom and cleaned me up. She asked me what happened, but I wouldn’t tell.

                    They sat down together and said no matter what, I wouldn’t be in trouble. I said I loved Joffrey.

                    Mum- her eyes looked so sad. I know I disappointed her then. She said there were other boys, nicer boys, boys that would treat me the way I deserved to be treated. Dad said a man capable of love wouldn’t do this to a girl. He asked me again if Joffrey did it. I nodded. He hugged me. For the first time since I was a baby, I fell asleep next to my mum that night.

                    By morning the contract was ripped up. Dad said he wanted nothing to do with the Lannisters. They’d make things work on their own.

                    At the time, I’m sure Cersei thought we’d crawl back to her. The Lannisters were on the verge of becoming as influential as the Targaryens had once been. It was shaping up to be another bleak winter and the mafia would need to increase drug sells to match demand from the families. They flooded the market with their own drugs.

                    That backfired on them. The Dornish cracked down on drug smuggling into the region, closing down one market. Smaller, local cartels ran their own drugs at cheaper prices. We didn’t need any of that though. Somewhere around the Dreadfort, Roose Bolton discovered oil. Dad allowed him to take a chunk of the profits himself, but that discovery was more than enough to keep the bellies of Northerners full that winter.

                    Cersei was furious. She took the contract to court claiming we breached our terms, but no sane judge was going to uphold that marriage stipulation. The mafia increased security for dad, but it felt unnecessary.

                    And then- that night...”

                     Sansa sniffles and her breath hitches.

                    “Sansa? Are you okay, Sansa?” Margaery gently squeezes her shoulder.

                    Sansa looks pale, but she takes a breath and nods. “I’m fine. Just…I’m fine.”I

                    “It was Robb’s birthday. It was supposed to be happy. We went skiing. It was Rickon’s first time in skis. We got home and we were going to have cake when Petyr came over. He had work he needed dad to look at. Arya and I were arguing about something, I don’t even remember what now. Mum made us clean the basement as punishment. I wonder would have happened had we not been bickering.

                    We were still arguing in the basement, and then there was a loud bang. The entire house shook. Arya tried to open the door but it was searing. The handle was glowing red. I don’t remember much after the smoke got in. I passed out. When I woke up Jon was giving me CPR. The house was gone. Later he told me he kicked in the basement window. Arya crawled out, Petyr pushed me out and barely escaped himself before the building collapsed.

                    Sansa stops again. She ducks her head and Margaery watches as she blinks the tears away. She doesn’t realize that she’s holding Sansa’s hand until Sansa’s fingers twitch beneath her hand. For a moment she thinks of pulling her hand away. The thought disappears instantly. She wants Sansa to know she won’t run away, not now. She squeezes her hand, a gesture to continue.

                    It was obvious the Lannisters did it. Cersei and Joffrey took everything from me. Only those closest to dad knew we were still alive. They told us of Cersei’s vile joy and Joffrey’s smugness that his damn plan worked.

                    I blamed myself. I was the idiot who insisted on wanting Joffrey. I was a lovesick fool and told myself they died because of me. Such an idiot…

                    Sansa’s voice grows hoarse and muffled. Her fingers tighten around Margaery’s to ground herself.

                    “Hey, hey,” Margaery coos gently. She draws Sansa’s chin to look in her eyes. They’re the same pale blue ones she’s known all along. There’s desperation for acceptance in them. “You’re not an idiot. You were a little girl. You’re allowed to have dream at that age, Sansa. Dreaming is never idiotic.”

                    Sansa sniffles. A couple of tears stream down her cheeks. Margaery hesitates before softly rubbing her thumb across Sansa’s cheek. She shifts closer, enough to feel Sansa’s deep breaths against her lips. She pauses, and then murmurs, “I’m sorry for your family. I know you loved them.”

                    Sansa nods, her eyes trained on Margaery’s. “I did. I miss them.”

                    Margaery wants to pull back. She doesn’t. Her desire to comfort Sansa keeps her in place. Her stomach twists in knots from the intensity of Sansa’s gaze. Her hand still caresses Sansa’s cheek when Sansa moves in.

                    Margaery maintains eye contact up until the last moment, when Sansa’s lips brush against hers. She closes her eyes and it’s not Sansa she’s kissing, it’s Alayne. The lips feel the same when they brush hers again, more . Margaery parts her lips slightly and savors the feeling of Alayne gently sucking her bottom lip between her lips.

                    A hand cradles the back of her head and she pulls Sansa closer. When she pulls back, she half expects to see the black hair she’s loved for so long.

                    “I’m sorry,” Sansa murmurs, although the small quirk of her lips betrays her. “I think I…I pushed a little too far.”

                    Margaery swallows and shakes her head, while pushing herself to stand up. “I forgive you.”

                    It wasn’t the response Sansa was hoping for, but it was the only one Margaery felt comfortable giving. She wasn’t going to lie to Sansa. Still, she wanted nothing more than to make the pain on Sansa’s face disappear. She smiles and offers Sansa a hand. “Thank you for telling me the truth. It… I’m sorry about your family.”

                    Sansa takes her hand and pulls herself up. “Being with you made it easier. Your presence makes everything better, Margaery.”

                    Margaery’s heart pounds faster. An inexplicable warmth drapes her and suddenly she can see it. All the similarities between Sansa and Alayne. She’s falling for her again.

                     The cabin door slams shut, startling Margaery away from her realization. “Margaery! Sansa!” Oberyn calls.

                    The girls meet him by the doorway. He’s breathless, but wearing his cocky gin. “We need to prepare the extra room.”

                    “Why?” Margaery asks.

                    “Because you have your brother back, Ms. Tyrell,” he opens his arms wide as though he deserves all the praise.

                    “The breakout wasn’t until tonight though,” Sansa says.

                    “What does it matter? My girl never fails. Loras is safe because of her,” Oberyn wraps his arms around Margaery.

                    Margaery hugs him back. She presses her forehead into the juncture between his shoulder and neck. For the first time in weeks, something has gone right. Loras is safe.