the harrenhal

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"it's not the despair that destroys you, it's the hope"

A moon later...

281 AC, King's Landing

They were standing vigil, all of them. The bier was placed in the antique museleum of the kingsguard, Silent Sisters were cleansing the area, roaming around it one by one while shaking their fragrants and they were standing vigil, all in white, all in armour, all lost in thoughts; the bells were ringing, holy brothers and sisters were singing outside the tower and they were standing vigil.

Gerold, Barristan, Lewyn and Jonothor; Arthur and Oswell were too far away to be there so it was their duty to wait for their fallen brother, Harlan Grandison.

"The king will want to appoint someone else quickly.", Gerold remembered Lewyn saying to him as they moved in haste and worry. His end was declared even before Pycelle came to see him. "Someone to send it to the prince, someone as a spy.", Gerold wasn't sure if he was thinking at all, all he could do was to watch the way Barristan pulled his bed sheet over Harlan's head. This was not the first time he lost a brother, or a guide, it was a rare occurrence both happened at the same time. "You cannot allow that."

"He just died.", he remembered his own whisper in echoes. "This is no such time to think about these."

"On the contrary,", Lewyn pressed. "it is the exact time because if you don't think about it, someone else will."

"We need to write to Arthur and Oswell.", Barristan said before they entered to the museleum. "They need to be aware of it. They would like to join."

"They cannot.", Gerold refused. Now it was not the time for emotions but logic. "They are needed elsewhere."

"Who will be the next brother?", Jonothor asked before they started their vigil, he leaned down and whispered. "My brother would be honoured to join to our ranks."

Gerold would rather switch places with Harlan than to see Willem Darry as a kingsguard but he didn't say it out loud.

"I'll decide later.", he chose to say and took off his helm, laid his sword down and started to his finaly duty to his friend.

Not without feeling he was the only one that felt sorry for his death.

*

272 AC, Pinkmaiden Castle, Riverlands

Nine years ago...

"Is he dead?", the woman with the bright red hair tried to remain composed but when she got no answer, the corner of her lips almost crawled into a smile.

"I need to go and take Clement back here.", the man said with distaste for the woman. His lady she might be, and the sister of his liege lord above that, but like everyone in late Lord Piper's household, he despised her guts. "He is the new lord now. And shall I order for them to pack your things, given the funeral shall be held today?"

"No need to worry Handerson.", now her lips did indeed curled. "I still have some authortity here, I can order my way out."

Perhaps half on hour later Walter's right-hand-man from Harrenhal was standing in front of Oswell's room, who was staying there for some political reason by the order of his brother, alongside with Oswell's squire, waiting for the noises of loud moans and grunts to end.

"Who is he with anyways?", he couldn't help but ask when it seemed like it was going on forever.

"Amarai fucking Tully.", the squire answered pointedly and Oscar, Walter's best friend and favourite knight widened his eyes and parted his lips in shock.

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