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Walking with her head held high and with Sansa to her right, young Jayne Poole following her, and Osha lagging behind by a few steps, Nyra Nox walked into a sea of green and gold tents that'd been erected near as close to the ruined walls of Harrenhal as possible without actually being atop the walls themselves. 'This spot was chosen on purpose,' Nyra thought as she kept her sight forward. 'The Baratheons and the Lannisters claimed the interior of Harrenhal, as was their right as families of the King and Queen respectively. But the Tyrells immediately claimed the plot of land that was closest to Harrenhal. An attempt to show their…not dominance, but rather hopeful ties with the royal family. Ties that they hope to solidify.'
Nyra found the whole display almost…pitiful. She respected House Tyrell, or more correctly she respected certain members of House Tyrell. But their almost painfully desperate grab for the throne was…well…painful to watch. As a girl, she knew of the 'game' that the noble Houses played with one another, but she never understood it. To her, and to most of the smallfolk, the only thing the nobles playing the 'game' meant was that some—or quite a few—of them would be dying soon. Now as a noble herself and married to arguably the most influential man in all of Westeros and maybe even Essos, she had a better understanding of the 'game'. But that understanding didn't mean she enjoyed it. Quite the opposite in fact. The more she learned of the 'game', the more she hated it. But unfortunately, until things could change for the better, she would also need to play this wretched game that others seemed to find such enjoyment in.
Their escorts led them through the tents until they reached a large canopy where dozens of 'Ladies of the Realm' had gathered. "Ah, finally, some true women to be admired," an elderly voice, one Nyra recognized all to easily, called out from beneath the canopy.
Olenna Tyrell, the dowager of House Tyrell and the true ruler of the Reach if one bothered to listen to the whispers of the people. The old woman was not hard to spot, given she was quite easily the oldest woman Nyra had ever known in her life. Perhaps even older than Old Nan back in Winterfell. "Move aside girl," Olenna remarked offhandedly to one of the ladies seated to her left, though said lady could only be considered a 'girl' to the elderly matriarch as the lady easily had more than a few winters on her than even Nyra. "I'd like to have an actual pleasant conversation for a change instead of listening to you prattle on and on about your husband's and son's accomplishments. I'd much rather talk to a woman who has made something of herself instead of relying on someone with a cock to make something of her."
"Grandmother," Margaery sighed as the noble woman got up and shot both Nyra and Olenna a harsh look before pointedly marching out of the pavilion.
"Pah, I was sick of listening to that woman go on and on about her husband and son. Honestly, the girl has succeeded at nothing more than popping an heir out from between her legs. Something every woman here can, or soon will, do as well." Olenna commented as Nyra took the offered seat with Sansa sitting close to her and Jayne taking up the seat right behind her.
Osha, in her typical self, didn't bother with a seat, or even expected curtesy's of a sworn shield. The former spearwife merely gave a nod of acknowledgement to Olenna and Margaery before heading off to the refreshment cart. After sniffing the wine, she poured out a large glassful of it and then walked off with the pitcher still in hand.
"One normally takes the cup and leaves the pitcher behind, Osha," Nyra sighed at the spearwife's antics, even more so when Osha kicked another young lady out of her seat with a simple glare. "And a good sworn shield cannot protect their charge while they're seeing double, right?"
"I'm thirsty," Osha stated, taking the vacated seat behind them and drinking heavily on the wine. "This shit is little more than piss water. Ya really want me seein double, then ya would need some fermented milk or some of dat liquor from the North. Do that, and I'll be dragging one of these fine young men here round da back and stealin him for all his worth."
"Osha. Two cups worth is all you shall have until we return to the Northern encampment," Sansa stated, no, commanded with a voice as cold as the North while she picked up one of the embroidery hoops that was not in use and selected a white piece of fabric to clip into the hoop. "I will not have my sworn shield, and near melee champion, making a fool of herself."
Osha frowned, then sighed and got back up to replace the pitcher and take up the cup she'd first poured out. "As ya say, little wolf."
Many of the women gathered were staring in awe at the exchange. All save for Nyra, Margaery, and Olenna, the latter of whom was laughing openly. "Ha, now you girls all see why I wanted a wolf as the next Lady of Highgarden. Need someone strong to reign in all those headstrong, and not so headstrong, men in the Reach. Give this girl a fortnight after her marriage to Willias and she'll have even Randyll Tarly trained to sit at the snapping of her fingers."
The other Ladies and their daughters deemed not to answer Olenna's cutting remark, preferring instead to focus on their embroidery. Never having taken up the habit, Nyra instead picked up an offered cup of tea and relaxed in her seat beside the Queen of Thorns. "Do you not embroider, Lady Nox?"
Despite the seemingly innocent nature of the question, Nyra was well versed enough now to recognize the venom behind it. In the south, embroidery and sewing was considered a true 'ladies' pastime. And a noble lady who could do neither, especially one of her standing was…highly frowned upon. 'Anything to get one over on me, huh?' Nyra thought as she set her cup aside and worked out her answer in her head.
"I've never had time to pick up the art," she replied calmly. "For I fear that my duties in aiding my husband in his multiple endeavors both here in Westeros and Essos keep me quite busy. And even if those duties were not enough, I also assist Lord Stark as Stewardess of Winterfell. What little free time I have I dedicate to teaching Lord Stark's daughters, as well as teaching the children of Winterfell at the College."
Most of the ladies and younger girls kept their heads down, not wanting to get drawn into the exchange. And the Lady who'd opened the discussion was now pointedly avoiding her eyes. Yes, she might not be a 'Lady' as many define them. But Nyra had done more in the few years since her husband entered her life than most of these so-called Ladies would do throughout their entire lives. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Lady Olenna looking quite pleased with the dressing down she'd just given the ladies. A fact accented by Olenna silently toasting her cup of tea to her before taking a sip.
After that, the women fell into an uneasy silence, broken up only by a few quick questions and answers and the sound of needles weaving through fabric. "I've finished, Lady Tyrell," one of the younger ladies said proudly, displaying the rather beautiful red rose she weaved into her piece of fabric.
Olenna however was not impressed. "A rose. How original. I have roses everywhere, girl. Roses on my dresses. Roses on my cups and plates. I even have a golden rose etched into my chamber pot. Perhaps try something else other than roses if you truly wish to garner my favor."
With each word the girl shrunk in on herself. By the time the dowager was finished with her little rant, the girl was hastily undoing her ring and placing a new piece of fabric within it to start again. "Ah, the young. So eager to please, yet most lack the imagination to try and create something new," Olenna sighed before turning to see what Sansa was creating. "Now that, my dear Sansa, is something new indeed. Why don't you show these other young girls what one can create when they use their mind?"
Nyra could tell that Sansa was surprised to be called out, but she hid it well. In fact, she hid it perfectly as her face betrayed absolutely nothing. And the only reason Nyra could even tell that she had been caught off guard was because Sansa was her student as much as she was her husband's. Turning the hoop so all could see what she made. Embroidered in the fabric was an almost perfect replication of Sansa's direwolf, Lady. The direwolf was depicted sitting straight and proud with a wreath of red and white roses around her neck and woven into her mane. "The direwolf of the Starks, and the roses of Highgarden." Margaery commented, smiling widely at Sansa. "A showing of what is to come. Oh, how I so look forward to the day when I can truly call you my goodsister, dear Sansa."
Margaery was laying it on a bit thick, but Nyra could forgive her that when taking her age into account. And it wasn't like she disliked the girl. Quite the opposite in fact. Of all the Tyrells, Nyra preferred the company of Margaery the most. There was no doubt in her mind that no matter where the girl ended up, be it as Queen or a High Lady somewhere, she would make her mark. And Westeros would be all the better for having her around.
"I – I suppose congratulations are in order, Lady Nox. On your husband's appointment to the Small Council and the new seat of Master of the Arcane," one of the other older ladies said, though her tone was clearly forced. Either because she didn't care that one of Nyra's standing was now in such an elevated position, or because of the position her husband was taking on. But given her accent of the 'Master of the Arcane', Nyra was willing to bet that her issue was focused on the latter given the large ornate Seven-pointed Star that was resting against her bosom.
"Thank you," Nyra responded politely. "My husband has many plans that he has already begun speaking with the King and the Lord Hand regarding. The least of which is finally doing something about the ruins of the Dragon Pit in King's Landing."
"And what does our new Master of the Arcane plan on doing with such a ruin?" Margaery asked, the girl's tone indicating that she was genuinely curious and not just making small talk. Which made sense, if the girl's ambition matched that of her family, then she would need to know all the major happenings not just within King's Landing, but also within the Seven Kingdoms as a whole.
"About time someone finally got off their ass and did something about that decrepit eye sore," Olenna commented offhandedly, though it was clear that she too was interested in what the ruins would be turned into in time. "I take it that your husband is going to be doing something similar as to what he did in the North with the giant tower? Turn it into a place of learning for him and his, what did he call them? His acolytes and apprentices?"
"In part, yes," Nyra nodded. "However, my husband seeks to better not only a few, but the masses as well. To that, he plans on utilizing part of what the Dragon Pit will be transformed into as a place of learning."
"Why waste such effort?" one of the other ladies scoffed. "The Maesters are more than adequate to educate our children."
"The Maesters," Nyra didn't bother to hide the venom in her voice at the mention of the Order that was responsible for the loss of her child while he was still in her womb. "Are still trying to recover after they were rightfully culled. They barely have enough members to cover their own order let alone all the noble houses in Westeros. And besides, the place of learning my husband wishes to build will not be one solely dedicated to the education of those of noble birth. Any, be they noble or low born, will be allowed entry provided they prove themselves."
"Educating the low born," an older woman scoffed. "What a waste of time and effort."
Narrowing her eyes, Nyra glared at the older noble woman. "As a 'low born' myself, my Lady, I can safely say that it is not a waste of time and effort to educate the masses, even if they only learn how to read and write and basic numbers. In fact, doing so over the past few years has proven to be quite a boon to Lord Stark and the lands around Winterfell."
The woman still scoffed and shook her head. "Still a waste of time and coin. But if that is what your Lord husband wants to waste the crowns coin on, who am I to argue with the great Lord Sorcerer? Just don't expect the nobles of the Crownlands to blindly follow his lead in this endeavor."
Nyra didn't bother to respond. She knew that many, if not most, of the nobles would ultimately support the idea of educating the masses. Afterall, while it was much easier to control the masses if they had to rely on a few of the 'properly educated' for everything. But she knew that, once they saw the benefit of educating the masses, that other noble houses would soon fall in line and begin educating their own smallfolk as well.
And with that, conversation slowly drifted away from Nyra and her husband to other topics. Most notably the tournament and the knights and lords that were participating. Specifically, those who were still unwed or without a betrothal. Which of course perked up all the younger unmarried, and even some of the married ladies present. But as the topics kept going around and around about which knight was the most handsome, eligible, and honorable, Nyra felt her mind drift away from the conversation. Maybe once she would've gushed about a handsome knight, but no longer. She had Alim. And no man would ever be able to measure up to his standard.
"These girls cluck like a brood of hens chasing after a prized cock…which isn't too far from the truth given many of these little simpletons will lay with whatever fool they can find as long as he has a pretty face and a position of worth." Olenna sighed beside her as the other ladies around them continued to gossip about the knights, lords, and heirs.
Nyra couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her at Lady Olenna's tongue. "Indeed," Nyra smirked. "Too bad most of them wouldn't know what to do even if they caught one. Not that these 'prized cocks' even know what to do either besides racing to their own end, then falling asleep."
"All too true," Olenna chuckled, shaking her head. "Us women are taught from the time we first bleed on how to please our men. The least they could do is return the favor and think of pleasing us for a change. My late husband Luthor could've truly used such advice. It is nothing short of a miracle that I gave birth to Mace, let alone my Mina and Janna after him. The man had about as much skill in bed as a blind armless man in a melee."
Desperately shaking her head to try and get the image of the Queen of Thornes in bed out of it, Nyra tried to find something—anything!—to change the subject.
"Oh, come now, dear," Olenna croaked. "Even at my age, I enjoy a decent bed partner as much as the next woman. Though recently it has started to become increasingly more difficult to find one that can properly accommodate my needs."
Now Nyra truly needed something to change the subject. Mercifully, she managed to find one right out of the corner of her eye as she spotted perhaps the largest woman she had ever seen trying to make herself small and pass them by. And she wasn't the only one to spot the oddity as Olenna perked her head up as well. "Ah, there she is. Left, go and collect that one. I sent her an invitation to this little gathering, the least she could do is introduce herself."
One of the guards wearing Tyrell livery immediately moved from his spot outside the pavilion and made his way over to the woman. The ladies quieted as the guard returned, with a woman who was equal in height to the guard. And unlike the other ladies who were wearing dresses and jewels, this woman wore a simple leather tunic and breeches. "Lady Brienne of Tarth. You took your time getting here, girl. Don't think that just because you managed to hand all those men their own asses in the melee that I will tolerate tardiness from one that I invite to a gathering."
The large woman with short cut hair awkwardly shifted her weight back and forth from one foot to the other. "Yes, um…Forgive me, Lady Tyrell…I was not expecting an invite li—"
"Of course you weren't," Olenna cut in. "It's no great secret that you spend more time in the yard than most men and rarely, if ever, spend your time on anything that might be considered 'womanly'. Which is precisely why I wanted you here. You're a welcome distraction. Now come, pull up a seat next to Lady Nyra Nox and Lady Sansa Stark and my own granddaughter. I prefer having the interesting women close by myself."
Brienne had managed to take a single step forward before the names hit her. "Lady…Nox? Lady Stark?" She half stated, half asked as she glanced back and forth between Nyra and Sansa before her eyes flickered back towards Osha, who was still lounging behind Sansa.
"Aye, Lady Brienne," Nyra said in what she hoped was a calming manner. "Come, sit with us. You made an impressive showing in the melee the other day. One that caught the attention of many. My own husband is amongst those you impressed. And he is not one that is easily impressed."
Brienne seemed to stand up straighter, adding to her already impressive height. "Your…I…impressed Lord Nox?"
"Indeed you did," Nyra nodded as she smiled at the woman, who suddenly looked like a young girl who'd just been praised by her mother and father. "In fact, my husband has decided to offer you an invitation to train with him while we are here in Harrenhal, and later when we make our home in King's Landing should you ever find yourself within the city."
"Take it from me, big girl, you want to train with the Sorcerer," Osha said, her cup of wine still in hand, and staring at Brienne with a large grin. "I didn't get a chance to fight ya during the melee, and if ya train with the Sorcerer I'll get me chance. Just be careful around the Norfolk. More than a few men, and perhaps even a woman or two, would be more than interested in trying to steal ya once they see how skilled you are."
Brienne's brow furrowed. "What do you mean by…steal me?"
"The Norfolk, while having almost fully having taken on the laws and customs of the North, do still hold to some of the old beliefs of the Free Folk, the wildlings. If heavily altered to as not break the law," Nyra explained to Brienne. "They respect strength and skill almost above all else, both in themselves and their potential husbands and wives. Should a man, or even a woman, come to desire a match they will have to 'steal' them. Or rather fight them to submission to prove their strength and skill over them."
"That…is barbaric and disgusting!" one of the ladies all but shouted, drawing a snort from Osha.
"Better than being sold or traded away like livestock whose only purpose is to spread yer legs and shit out children an nothin else."
"Osha, enough," Sansa cut in, stopping her sworn sword from saying anything further.
The tent lapsed into an uneasy silence, the only noise being the rubbing of leather as Brienne awkwardly remained standing in the center of the pavilion.
"Well," Nyra said, abruptly rising to her feet the moment she saw that Sansa and Jayne were both finished with their embroidery. "This has been a…pleasant afternoon. But we have much to do. Sansa, Jayne. I'm sure Lord Stark has duties for the both of you. Lady Brienne, you are welcome to accompany us back to the Northern encampment, if you wish. My husband and Lord Stark are currently engaged in talks with the King, but you will find a place amongst us till they return if you wish."
"Um, yes, thank you…Lady Nox," Brienne said quickly, moving aside to give Nyra and the others a clear path out of the tent. "I would enjoy that."
Nodding, Nyra turned towards Olenna and Margaery before giving the both of them a slight curtsey, more for sake of curtesy than anything else. "Lady Olenna, Lady Margaery. As always, it was a pleasure speaking with the both of you."
"You as well, dear," Olenna nodded as Sansa and Margaery said their own goodbyes.
Taking her leave, Nyra made her way out of the pavilion and back out into the sunlight as Sansa, Jayne, Osha and now Brienne of Tarth quickly fell into step beside and behind her. 'By the Force and the Old Gods…I hate those condescending simpletons,' she seethed, not bothering to glance backwards towards the so-called 'noble ladies of the realm'. 'Honestly, the only two worth anything amongst them are Margaery and Olenna. As for the rest of them…I'd honestly be surprised if they had a single functioning mind between the lot of them. And unfortunately, it's only going to get worse once we reach King's Landing and Alim takes up his position as Master of the Arcane. At least there was no talks about any future children to carry on the name and legacy of House Nox.'
Her steps faltering, Nyra couldn't help herself as she brought her right hand to rest on her still empty womb. 'It isn't for lack of trying…that is for sure. But still…Even after years…The seed will not take hold. Alim isn't too concerned about it, from what he said the fact that I still have my moons blood is a good sign and that it is…regular. But still…despite living here for so long and bringing many ideals with him, he still doesn't fully understand this land. Each month without a child growing within me will only embolden those who are more…ambitious. Another year…maybe two…and serious talks will begin about me being barren. And while I know that Alim will never set me aside…I…'
Taking a deep breath, Nyra ruthlessly forced her melancholy back down before it could fester. 'No. I will not think like this. I will not allow them to win. I'm still healthy and hale. And my womb, despite what happened, is still whole and capable. I will bear Alim's child…our child. Today. Tomorrow. A year from now. It doesn't matter how long it'll take. I will give my husband his legacy no matter what.'
But even with her renewed faith, the small kernel of doubt that'd been festering within her mind ever since she laid Khem on the funeral pyre would not go away.
The warm winds of Dorne kissed her face and exposed skin as Arianne Martell, heir to the rule of Dorne, stood upon her balcony watching the few ships at House Martell's command enter and leave the harbor far below. With the trade that she'd brokered with the North, Dorne was finally able to truly expand their naval fleet beyond just trading vessels. She doubted they would ever have a fleet that could compete with the Redwyne fleet, the Ironborn, or even the royal fleet. But Dorne would finally have some presence at sea.
But despite her eyes being trained on the ships below, her mind was not on them. No. Her thoughts were far to the North. Something had happened with her betrothed and their lover. She didn't know what it was, but she felt something…shift. Change. Grow… Perhaps saying something was…added to their three-way relationship was the best way she could describe it. But what that was, she had no idea. It wasn't another woman or man. That much she knew for certain. But ever since the Red Comet had flown through the sky, she had felt the change. It was…stronger than ever before. She could almost feel Jon and Ygritte as if they were within the confines of the Sunspear instead of on the other end of Westeros.
Jon had often spoken about this strange ability to sense others even if they were not in the same room as he. And while she didn't doubt the abilities of her betrothed, the idea had seemed rather farfetched. At least it did until she found herself capable of…feeling both of her loves even from so far away. The first time she'd sensed them it'd been so…intense that she was positive that the two were in the same room as her. It was so…strange. To feel another inside of her mind.
'And that is not the only change,' she thought to herself, glancing towards her naked hand, the talisman Jon had given her laying across the room on a manakin hand. Holding her palm upwards, she concentrated on the air just above her skin. She could feel a pull from within her as the air shifted above her palm, twisting and turning until a sphere of water the size of a large orange was suspended in the air above her hand. Her magic just came easier to her now. She no longer needed her talisman to manipulate water. In fact, she was even starting to manipulate other elements like fire, air, and earth to her will as well. Water still came easier to her than any of the others. But the change was so…rapid and unexpected, it left her with a pit of excitement and no small amount of fear in her belly. Things were changing. And whether that change would bring ill-will or fortune she did not know.
Hearing her door open, Arianne didn't need to turn around to know who it was. "Any word, Tyene?"
Her fair-haired cousin stepped fully into her room, an amused smile playing across her beautiful face. "And here I thought that I was being quiet enough to avoid detection. Either I'm growing sloppy, or your powers are coming to rival the power commanded by your betrothed and perhaps even Lord Nox's."
Arianne wanted to snort. "The day I can be considered a rival to Lord Nox will be the same day my father and my uncle break bread and dine happily with Tywin Lannister. And as for Jon… Well, he might have the power and strength between the two of us, but I know full well how to command him."
"Oh, I know," Tyene replied with a smirk. "Half the serving girls are still waiting for his return, hoping that you might share him given his apparent prowess."
Shaking her head, Arianne turned away from the scene beneath her. While it was true that the Dornish were much more open with the physical nature of their relationships, Arianne was finding herself becoming a bit more…possessive of Jon and Ygritte as of late. That wasn't to say she wasn't interested in seeing him with her cousin, or two. But some random girl? Or her and Ygritte taking some random man to their bed? The idea just didn't seem to appeal to her nearly as much as it did back when she was younger and just discovering the joys of the bedroom. "And speaking of Jon and Ygritte, has there been word?"
Tyene shook her head. "No. I just came from the Maester, and there has been no message from the North. And truthfully, cousin, is this not so surprising? This feeling you had came upon you just a few days passed. Even the fastest of ravens would be hard-pressed to make the journey from the North to Sunspear in such a time."
"I know," Arianne sighed. "I just dislike being in the dark. I know something happened in the North. To Jon and Ygritte in particular. And not knowing just 'what' happened is…irritating."
Making her way to the small desk she had in her room, she quickly grabbed a raven's scroll and quill. Penning a quick message, she rolled the scroll up and sealed it with a bit of wax and the sigil of House Martell. If Jon would not tell her what she wanted to know, then she would just have to do the asking.