Game of Thrones: A Tale of a Coward

Rebuilding Life - Rosemary IV

Being left behind because of a war once again. It hurts. And despite Rosemary proclaiming she was well, she was, in fact, feeling poorly. Anxiety? That is what she told herself. Although it felt more than just worry; rather, instead, it was as if she knew Luciara was destined to fall in the battlefields alongside his family. There was only hope that allowed her to continue. The hope that her Lucia will return to her and father their child. But it was only hope.

The farm remained tranquil; it was as if it were half-way across the world, where there is no war. 'A world without war is only a dream,' Rosemary told herself. These wars have always been a part of her life. From birth to childhood to adulthood. This farm is solitary in that there is no conflict. Rosemary is quite thankful for that.

She finds her mother tending to Gill's baby upstairs in one of the rooms of the farmhouse. "Where's Gill?" she asks her mother.
"She went to gather food for her room." The baby begins to cry abruptly. "I remember when you were this size. Spending most of your days on my breasts, if truth be told. Now look at you. Having your own child. A Lord's child, no less. What have I done that the gods give me this pleasure?" Rosemary's mother questions rhetorically, looking out at the window, smiling, then turning back to her daughter with the same glee upon her face.
"You were just a wonderful mother," Rosemary replies. "I suppose I ought to leave you to it; we all need to pull our weight to survive, and there is some handiwork to be done."

Across the fields, Rosemary could make out the figure of Mareen in the distance. She saw her friend helping out the farmer, while Gill was collecting food with Selyse. "Rosemary," calls out Selyse. "Beautiful day, isn't it?"
"To be sure," she agrees. "Warmer than the North. Less grim."
"Well, the nights are still quite chilly," Selyse responds.
"That's because winter is coming," Rosemary explains, smirking at her usage of the Stark words.
"You lay with a Stark, and now you're one of them (!)" Selyse jests.
"Well," Gill adds. "She is carrying one."

The three of them finish collecting food and hand it out to the remaining survivors of the Winterfell cowards. Gill and Selyse go to Gill's room where Rosemary's mother is still tending to Gill's baby, whilst Rosemary continues farming with Mareen and the farmer.

"Are you sure that sending your son out with Lucia was wise?" Rosemary quizzes the farmer.
"I did what I thought was best for both of us. We'll still be able to produce plenty of food, mostly thanks to the dozen-odd companions you brought with you," he answers. The man was aging: short, white hair; wrinkled and scrawny face; gauntly stature. Even his voice was croaky. 'Us coming here must have been a godsend; he would never have been able to defend himself from Starks or Lannisters,' Rosemary tells herself.
"Who's tha' in the distance?" Mareen questions, as they see half a dozen riders on horseback, traveling up towards the farmhouse. "I hope it's no trouble you've caused 'round 'ere," she continues, accusingly.
"No. Let's go find out," the farmer says, leading the two back to the farmhouse.

Among the travelers were a man who had seen better days; his face appeared slashed and scarred from what can only be described as a result of the terrible wars. To his left rode a rather large man in red robes, whereas to the man's right sat a young, skinny and freckled man. Rosemary looked at the men in bewilderment. "Who are you?" croaked the farmer.
"I am Lord Beric Dondarrion," answered the man with the scarred face and red-golden hair.
"And the rest of you?" Rosemary asks.
"I'm Thoros of Myr," replies the one in red robes. "But you will soon come to know us as the Brotherhood Without Banners," he smiled.
"And what do you want?" Rosemary interrogates them, knowing that the farmer would not be able to fight them off.
"To protect you," Dondarrion answers. "No one protects the smallfolk during the wars, so that's why we're here. You will no longer aid Lannisters and you will no longer aid Starks. If they demand you give them supplies, we are here to prevent that. We are your protection."
"How do I know you're not lying?" she questions.
"You don't," Thoros of Myr answers. "But you have hope. I can see that. That you have hope."
"I have little of that now," Rosemary looks down, remembering days when she did have hope, knowing that building up hope builds up stronger pain also. "But I would like to have hope again," she confesses.
"Have you had any trouble?" the skinny one asks them.
"None. Not for a while," Mareen replies.

Lord Beric turns to face the skinny one, allowing Rosemary the patch that covered his presumed missing eye. Rosemary winced silently, thinking of the pain he had endured. "Anguy," he says to the skinny man. "Stay with them for a couple days. Make sure they are safe. Then return to us," Dondarrion commands. Anguy nods in agreement, dismounts and leads his horse to a fence. "I wish good fortune," Dondarrion says, then turns his horse around and leaves them with the rest of the Brotherhood Without Banners, save for Anguy.

The skinny man proved himself to be a good companion for the cowards. The two days with him were two of the most entertaining ones Rosemary had had for a long time. A lifetime. The cowards rather enjoyed his marcher ballads. Although, they found them tiring come the second night with him.

Once there was light, Anguy saddled his horse and mounted it. "You could stay for a bit longer, if you'd like," Mareen suggests.
"I could. But I won't," Anguy returns.
"Thank you for the company," Rosemary gives her thanks.
"It was a pleasure. Stay safe," he says before his horse dashes off, into the woods.

Rosemary retires to her and her mother's bed, resting for an hour before returning to help around the farm. Her thoughts are of Luciara in that hour. His black hair and black eyes. The long face of a Stark. It causes her to wonder what their child would look like. 'Why did you leave to join a fight that only ends with death? You said it yourself, Lucia, so why go? We were your family, how could you not realise this?' Rosemary wonders what must have gone through Lucia's mind to make him act nonsensical and utterly ludicrous. 'Hopefully your fight is quick. Hopefully you will find your way to me once more.' Rosemary closes her eyes, remembering the witty Lucia, and not the one enraged by war.