LAISSEZ FAIRE ┃ game of thrones

(.II | NO ESCAPE! )

< LAISSEZ FAIRE >

chapter ii, no escape
❝COLD AND FRIGHTENED AND ALL ALONE❞

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WHEN SHE FELT AS IF SHE'D BEEN RIDING FOR DAYS, Tesha finally felt safe enough that she could allow herself to stop and rest. It had taken hours for her to get used to the feeling of the horse, and it seemed that it had taken that long for the horse to get used to her as well.

After she had ridden into the woods, she had been half tempted to stop, rest and find food and water. Her body ached with every lurch of the horse, and she felt sticky from the blood that had dried from her wounds. However, her mind told her to continue on until there was no sign of human life, then keep riding until she was sure she was miles from any Lannister soldiers.

The woods proved to be one of her many saviors that day. The cover that they gave her ensured her safety from watchful eyes. It was only when she found several fields to pass through that she took real caution.

She had ridden for a day and a night before she deemed herself safe enough to stop. To take a night of rest, for she was certain that neither she nor the horse she had stolen could go much farther. They'd found a area by a small stream, where several fallen trees had grouped together to form the perfect cover, safe from eyes far better than her own, eyes that knew these woods.

Her already raggedy dress was practically torn to bits, ripped by passing branches and thorn bushes. Incredibly, her mother's cloak was intact, perhaps the short length attributed to that. Slipping it from her shoulders, she examined the garment, admiring it's state of beauty. She couldn't help but trace her fingers over the gold embroidery, each thread weaved together so perfectly. How long had it taken someone to make something so intricate?

While the horse drank from the stream Tesha tied him to a tree, ensuring that he would still be there in the morning, while she looked through the saddle bag. To her enormous luck the bag appeared to belong to someone of noble status, for the clothes inside it were of fine quality. Good, supple dark leather and fine silk undershirts, with leather breeches and short boots with real silver fastenings. The downside to this was the higher likelihood that someone would find her worth stealing from. The leather tunic had silver fastenings on the neck, with a red jewel in the center. If anyone were to see this, it would scream, "Rob me! I'm rich!". She tore it from the top, examining it before tucking it in her pouch of gold.

Another surprise to her was a decent sized bag of gold hidden in a pocket of the bag. More than her mother had saved away for her, but not enough so that it wouldn't be easy to hide. While all this gold might do her some good, the unfortunate reality of her situation was that there wasn't a scrap of food in the bag. She had gone longer than this without food, but she knew she would need to find some soon. She had water, thanks to the stream, but water would only help her so much.

She thought of her mothers words to her, to travel north, find the Starks. That they would help her. There were many flaws in her mothers logic. For one, the Starks were at war. It would be near impossible to find their camp, and even if she did, she might end up walking right into a battlefield. Second, she couldn't just walk into their camp and say that she was Robert Baratheon's bastard daughter, asking for help. Who would believe her? All she had was her mothers word, and the word of a . . . prostitute, would not be very highly regarded among the likes of Robb Stark. No, she doubted she would find security within a war camp.

So that left her with one question. What in the seven hells could she do?

Then, there was another matter entirely. Even if she knew someplace she could go, and even if she could find her way there, her safety would be constantly at risk. Traveling alone as a woman was probably one of the dumbest things she could do, and yet here she was. If she had a knife, she could cut her hair, but she was out of luck in that respect.

Deciding that she was far too tired to think the rest of her situation, she began gathering leaves and moss to make a bed of sorts. The horse had already settled down by the stream, having had his fill of drink. She pulled the saddle blanket from his back, deciding that she needed it more.

Stripping off her dress, she threw it into the shelter. She wouldn't wear it but she could use it for a fire if she needed to. She waded into the stream, shivering at the cold water. Blackwater Bay was never this cold. Tesha had swam in it when she was a child, along with nearly everyone else in King's Landing on a hot summer day. This freshwater stream was nowhere near as comfortable, but not cold enough for her to freeze to death at least. Using a compacted ball of moss, she scrubbed the mixture of dirt and dried blood from her body, wincing as she cleaned the scrapes and gashes on her arms and legs. Without the blood, her injuries didn't look as bad as she'd thought they were. But the gash on her arm from jumping off the street ledge would need to be bandaged. It seemed that old ratty dress would prove more useful.

Allowing the fading sun to dry her bare skin, she grabbed the ragged, dirty dress and washed it in the stream. Ripping off the cleanest part of the dress, she wrung as much of the water out of it as she could before bandaging her arm. Once she was satisfied with this, she pulled on the smallclothes and breeches, then the tunic. They were slightly too big for her size, but she couldn't complain. She realized as she sat in her makeshift shelter how the majority of her survival had been credited to luck than anything else. Leaving the brothel early, her mother's secrets, evading the gold cloaks. Surviving her fall, finding the horse, the stolen belongings. She had been so lucky . . . and so many hadn't.

Her siblings, probably all of them, were dead. With a pang of despair, she remembered little Barra, and her poor mother. Mhaegen never stopped talking about Robert Baratheon, how he was sweet little Barra's father. No doubt the poor, sweet naïve girl was mourning the loss of her child tonight. Or perhaps they had killed her too. Maybe they killed Tesha's mother as well.

She would most likely never see her mother again, whether she was dead or alive, she didn't know. And she never would. If there were Gods out there, Tesha hoped that they would bestow mercy upon her mother. Let her live, let her go on.

The uncertainty of her situation was what scared her the most. Not even the prospect that she would most likely die worried her as much as she just didn't know what to do. Her life in King's Landing had been constant, dependable, and positively uneventful. It could be hard, it could be boring, but it was certain. Here, out in the dark, endless wood, her future was most definitely unclear.

What was clear to her however, according to her mother's word, was that she was a bastard daughter of a king. Shouldn't that mean something? She supposed not; with Robert dead there was a king in every kingdom now.

Tesh found herself hating the late King. It didn't matter to her that he had helped conceive her, it didn't matter that he was a king. Because of him, her mother was most likely dead, as were probably a hundred other innocent children for no other reason than sharing his blood. Because of him, she'd been forced from her home. He wasn't their father, he wasn't anything.

As the sun set on the hazy horizon, Tesha settled into her shelter, listening to the woods come alive with sounds of crickets and other animals. Her dependable, predictable life in King's Landing may have been over, but what this new life had in store for her, she could hardly guess.

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