Queen of Ashes [ASOIAF]

―lyman.

           𝓘t seemed that the entirety of Castle Darry had gathered in the great hall to gawk at the farce of a trial. The King himself had taken charge of the small holdfast while his party hunted down the Stark girl and her wolf. The members of oversized traveling party were unwelcome guests; the Darrys had once fought against the man after all. But there was nothing Raymun Darry could do but hope they would be gone shortly.

           He'd even sent Lyman, his only son, to hunt down the girl the day before but he'd had no luck. In the end, it was one of Stark's own men who brought her in, yet somehow she'd ended up in front of the King and Queen all alone.

          Lyman guided Sallei down the stairs, one hand holding hers, the other on the small of her back. "I may not be able to see my toes, but that does not make me an invalid," she grumbled, but still, she made no move to send her husband away. Her annoyance wasn't meant for him, it was meant for the royal family that was occupying their home.

          "Now that they've found the girl, they should be gone soon," Lyman assured her. He rubbed Sallei's back, and she sighed.

          Castle Darry was not built for hosting such a large party. Even if they had been given proper notice, which they hadn't, the staff would have struggled to cater to everyone. It did not help that the entire ordeal was ludicrous. Lyman had heard the eldest prince's story: the smallest Stark girl supposedly assaulted him, unprovoked, with the help of a commoner and a direwolf. Prince Joffrey had sniveled and whined his way through the story, and if Arya Stark had done as accused, Lyman couldn't find it in himself to blame her one bit.

          Lyman helped Sallei to a seat near the front of the room, where she'd be able to watch the proceedings in comfort. She cast a scalding glace at the royal family occupying Lord Darry's high seat, before leaning back and using her swollen belly as an armrest. Pregnancy had only succeeded in making Sallei sour. Not for the first time, Lyman wished that they had taken her father up on the offer to stay at Seagard.

          Eddard Stark burst through the doors of the hall looking stricken. He scooped up his crying daughter, and then started in on the King and his men for putting the poor girl in this situation. They heard the stories each child told, the girl's differing dramatically from the Prince's pitiful account.

          Only the King's younger brother, Renly Baratheon, appeared to be enjoying the proceedings. He had arrived to meet the King a few days prior along with the Lord Commander and the King's Justice, as well as his own personal sword. Lyman knew little of the other knight, save that he was from the Reach. But now, as Renly joked at his nephew's expense, the knight looked as if he wanted to be anywhere but in that room. Lyman understood the feeling immensely.

          It should have been a blessing when the ordeal finally came to an end, but the wailing of the two Stark girls made it impossible to feel relieved. One of their wolves would be put to death. Lyman had a brief wish that it was the spineless Prince facing the sword, before quickly remembering himself.

          "I believe we've seen enough," he whispered in Sallei's ear. The two of them slipped into the corridor and walked until they could hear the girls crying no longer.

          "That was horrid," Sallei said with a shudder. "And your father just stood there!"

          "He had little choice. Your father would have done no different, there is no arguing with a king," he told her levelly. "I'll just be glad to see them gone."

          "Good riddance," she muttered. Sallei looked out the window for a moment, her blue-grey eyes unfocused. "Some of the Queen's ladies spoke of him, Ser Caswell," she said suddenly. Lyman leaned forward to look at the man; it was Renly's companion. "A tragic story really. He gave up his lordship to marry a commoner, only to have her die of a pox a few years later. Supposedly a favorite bard in Highgarden wrote a pretty song about it."

           "You always did love the sad songs." Lyman put an arm around his wife's shoulder, and Sallei leaned into his chest. "Me? I prefer the bawdy ones."

          She laughed. "Of course you do."