"Why would it be so plain?" It is a truth, of course: as a girl, she had presumed the most base meaning of each word, but she fancies herself knowledgeable in the ways of the word now, having lived so far from her home and seeing so much of the twists of history in her brief lifetime. "By blood alone, there is no law in Westeros that would not name you a rightful king of Gondor, and you have long since learned that my lord father was gambling on this truth. Why should the witch have Seen anything different, when all she had was blood? And who says the king and queen will reign eternal, produce healthy issue?" She realises how this must sound, in the face of his most fierce argument with her lord father, and though, astonishingly enough, no greed had marred her features, she presses on regardless. "I found something fonder than a crown in your arms. But fate is a twisted thing. Gods, Faramir, the Red Death or the bloody flux wiped out whole cities in their day." Who is to say it will not fall to him to guard the throne, if only until some son or other is old enough to sit it in his stead.
"Who is to say no one will send our children crowns of gold – you have seen my father's proudest hall." The one, of course, with walls and walls pleated in the purest gold, decadent and shining. "Who is to say he will not wring the life from me while I am still young, who is to say the king will not ask you to wed anew to quell some unrest back home? Walder Frey counts eighty years, and he is on this seventh wife when last I heard. Nothing is a thing of impossibility, and the horrible blind witch has been right before."
She is gripping his hand so fiercely her nails dig into his skin as they had done the night Borahîl was born. "Do not discount a word she said. Even if none of the rest comes true, do not let it be my life that you wager on so shallow a hope."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2022-01-22 11:31 pm (UTC)"Who is to say no one will send our children crowns of gold – you have seen my father's proudest hall." The one, of course, with walls and walls pleated in the purest gold, decadent and shining. "Who is to say he will not wring the life from me while I am still young, who is to say the king will not ask you to wed anew to quell some unrest back home? Walder Frey counts eighty years, and he is on this seventh wife when last I heard. Nothing is a thing of impossibility, and the horrible blind witch has been right before."
She is gripping his hand so fiercely her nails dig into his skin as they had done the night Borahîl was born. "Do not discount a word she said. Even if none of the rest comes true, do not let it be my life that you wager on so shallow a hope."