MUCHO RUIDO POR LAS NUECES

 MUCHO RUIDO POR LAS NUECES

Una anécdota de la niñez de los hermanos Baratheon 

inspirada en el poema "Les nous del berenar"

para el proyecto #CuantoPudoHaberSido

En un claro del frondoso bosque de dioses de Bastión de Tormentas, hay un nogal que ha estado allí durante décadas, tal vez siglos. Tal vez desde la época de los Durrandon, predecesores de los Baratheon. Un árbol caducifolio que ahora, en otoño, está comenzando a amarillear las hojas y cuyos duros frutos van cayendo uno tras otro por su propio peso, por delante y a los lados de la inscripción que desde hace un lustro se puede leer en medio del tronco:

STEFFON BARATHEON

y

CASSANA BARATHEON, NACIDA ESTERMONT

Después de que las olas vomitaran los cuerpos de la desgraciada pareja sobre las costas, fueron enterrados debajo del tronco del nogal, y sus nombres grabados en una placa en la corteza. A los pies del nogal discurre una fuentecita, no envenenada por la presencia de los difuntos y sí que también ha estado allí desde los tiempos de los Durrandon; se dice que la diosa Elenei, fundadora de aquel linaje de antaño, la hizo brotar para regar el bosquecillo sagrado del hogar de su marido, dejando a la flora y a la fauna del lugar libres de sed.

Tres varoncitos huérfanos de negros cabellos y azules ojos, el mayor frisando la adolescencia y el más joven de cuatro o cinco primaveras, van cada tarde a merendar juntos en este claro: tienen qué comer, qué beber y la sombra a su alcance inmediato. La copa del nogal, frondosa y esponjosa, les cubre mientras recogen nueces y rellenan sus tazas de agua, como las enaguas de una niñera o el plumaje de una gallina clueca.

El pequeñín se ha llenado el regazo de una docena de nueces, que ha cogido ansiosamente. Se vuelve a sus hermanos mayores, que están llenando sendas tazas, y se dirige a ellos con los labios haciendo morritos:

--¡Quiero cascar mis nueces, las mías, aquí y ahora!

El hermano mayor de los tres, que por cuestiones de mayorazgo se ha hecho con el liderazgo, responde intentando controlar su ira:

--Si quieres, Renly, ya te las casco yo... Tú no, porque ya sabes lo que nos ha dicho la Nana antes de salir: "Renly es demasiado pequeño para la piedra de cascar nueces. Cuando intenta cascarlas, se golpea la punta de un dedo..."

--No te lo creas, Robb --el pequeño Renly responde haciendo morritos--. Ahora cojo la piedra sin ningún dedito debajo.

Los otros dos le miran: Robert echándose a reír a todo pulmón hasta que se atraganta y se pone a toser el agua que se le fue por la tráquea; y Stannis, el hermano mediano, dando un sorbo de su taza todo serio pero con una mirada escéptica.

--¡Robb es un tirano! ¡Sólo por ser el mayor tiene siempre que tener razón y hemos de hacer lo que él quiere! --Renly, con lágrimas en los ojos, chilla esto mientras salta una y otra vez y golpea el suelo del bosque sagrado con sus piececitos de cuatroañero calzados con botines. En medio de su rabieta, todas las nueces se caen de su regazo y se desperdigan por el suelo cubierto de hojas de otros árboles caducifolios.

Robert, en respuesta al berrinche de su hermanito, le vuelve enérgicamente la espalda: --¡Tú siempre con tus saltitos y tus rabietas!-- Luego exhala con todas sus fuerzas, sin mirar por encima del hombro e intentando mantener la serenidad, algo que siempre le ha presentado dificultades.

Mientras tanto, Stannis ha estado mirando a sus hermanos de reojo. Viendo cómo Robert abraza el tronco del nogal con todas sus fuerzas y da tres o cuatro profundas respiraciones para calmarse. Viendo cómo Renly, pataleando en el suelo en su danza de ira, casca sin saberlo las nueces que le han caído al suelo. Los dos están demasiado ensimismados mientras el hermano mediano, sigiloso como un gato, se acerca a Renly sin temer nada, coge cada nuez cascada que ve en el suelo y que el pequeñín ya tiene a cierta distancia... Stannis coge cada nuez cascada, se la lleva a los labios, nota el agradable crujir y se la traga. Una tras otra tras otra tras otra... y nadie le ha prestado la más mínima atención. No se jacta de ello; es discreto y prudente y nunca ha encontrado seguro vanagloriarse de nada. Puede que sea el hermano mediano, pero es el único con sentido común. Y ese buen sentido es lo que le hace evitar las meteduras de pata.

ON WITH THE SHO-O-O-O-OW-W!!!

Kirakira Precure à la Mode - Episode 42

My Own Review

ON WITH THE SHO-O-O-O-OW-W!!!

ALL RIGHT, FELLOWS! THIS IS ANOTHER, MAYBE THE LAST, AOI-CENTRIC EPISODE... WITH MAYBE THE DISBANDMENT OF WILD AZÜRE (WTF?! YES, THAT'S THE WAY IT SOUNDS)
SO IT'S ANOTHER MUSICAL REVIEW!


The episode begins with Wild Azüre finishing up a successful show. Everyone goes to the KiraPâti to celebrate and to quench their thirst... but one member of Wild Azüre isn’t joining in with the merriment.

We are the champions, my friends...

And we'll keep on fighting

till the end...

We are the champions,

we are the champions...

No time for losers, 

'cause we are the champions...

(Ballroom Blitz percussion intro, Sweet)

 

Ready, Ryúta?

Aha!

Sara?

Oh yeah!

Kei?

... (Dramatic pause, followed by throat clearing)

The bassist and de facto leader of Wild Azüre, Kei Sonobe, 

announces that he will be leaving the band 

to concentrate on studying for his exams, 

since he is striving for as high marks as possible 

to land a university degree in the medical profession, 

following the Sonobe family tradition.

That news comes at a pretty bad time, as Wild Azüre are due to take on Misaki Ayane’s band Ganache, the inspiration for Wild Azüre itself, in another battle of the bands (the rematch for August, remember?).

Aoi talks to Misaki en tête-à-tête about Wild Azüre and Kei

So you think you can tell

heaven from hell, 

blue skies from pain?

Can you tell a green field

from a cold steel rail,

a smile from a veil... 

do you think you can tell?

Cold comfort for change...

and did you exchange...

your welcome part in the world

for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish,

how I wish you were here...

We're just two lost souls

swimming in a fishbowl

year after year...

running over the same old ground...

what have we found?

The same old fear;

wish you were here...

Upset with that development, Aoi decides to talk to her rival/role model Misaki about it. She says that Kei Sonobe is the one who formed Wild Azüre, as well as the de facto leader. She pretty much admits that it feels like her dream will be slipping away from her.
Misaki tells her that she can skip out on the concert if she wants.
With Aoi feeling down, her Precure friends decide to try and do something to cheer her up.

Akira lifts Aoi, ready to whisk her away

And that was a bridal carry to make Yukari's sang-froid waver at least slightly,

foreshadowing this winter's Snow Queen AU 

having some Aoikira scenes in the three last stories...

Whilst Aoi is walking home, she is topped by Yukari and Akira who tell her that they will take her somewhere special (to top it all, a bit of a shipping war here with the bridal carry approach!). Turns out that they are just going to the KiraPâti, but the girls do have something planned there: a pyjama party.

Aoi winds up on one front of the battlefield, and our OTP on another. 

I don't know at first on whom to cheer...

Oh, I see a "man" at the back, as a matter of fact,
 "his" eyes are as red as the sun! ]:)
And the girl in the corner, let no one ignore her,
'cause she thinks she's the passionate one! ;)

...but Yukari is ambidextrous and Akira is so tall and strong... 

definitely, Team OTP has the upper hand over Team AOI!

(Even though this ep is Aoi-centric...)

Oh yeah! It was like lightning!
Everybody was fighting!
And the music was soothing!
And they all started grooving!!

Yeah! 

yeah! 

yeeeeeah-

yeeeah-

yeeeeah

yeeeeah!!!

And the "man" in the back said "everyone attack!!"
And it turned into a bedroom blitz!!And the girl in the corner said "boy I want to warn you
it'll turn into a bedroom blitz!"
bedroom blitz!!
bedroom blitz!!

bedroom blitz!!

bedroom blitz!!

And the "man" in the back is ready to crack
As "he" raises his hands to the sky
And the girl in the corner is everyone's woman
She could kill you with a wink of her eye ;)

Oh yeah! 

It was electric!!
So perfectly hectic!!
And the band started leaving,
'cause they all stopped breathing!!

Yeah! 

yeah! 

yeeeeeah-

yeeeah-

yeeeeah

yeeeeah!!!

And the "man" in the back said "everyone attack!!"
And it turned into a bedroom blitz!!And the girl in the corner said "boy I want to warn you
it'll turn into a bedroom blitz!"
bedroom blitz!!
bedroom blitz!!

bedroom blitz!!

bedroom blitz!!

IT'S, IT'S 

A BEDROOM BLITZ...

IT'S, IT'S 

A BEDROOM BLITZ...

IT'S, IT'S 

A BEDROOM BLITZ...

YEEEEEEAH,

IT'S A BEDROOM BLITZ!!

After their pillow fight, the girls decide to make ice cream. Aoi then asks everyone what they would do if their favourite sweets ever went away. Himari would be upset, and Ciel says she would just have to go and find them.

Akira kind of dodges the question, and Yukari keeps her answer a secret

(That awkward flustering... definitely, still my OTP. Aoikira just doesn't feel quite right)

"One would have to just make more, but regardless, it wouldn’t affect how much one loves (daisuki) sweets." Aoi has an epiphany upon hearing that. Whilst everyone else goes to sleep, Aoi starts writing a new song.

Empty spaces...

what are we living for?

Abandoned places?

I guess we know this score?

On and on.. 

Does anybody know what we are looking for?

Wild Azüre ready to put the finishing touches on Aoi’s song

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!

Inside my heart is breaking,

my makeup may be flaking, but my smile

still stays on...

They put the song together, and the time of the concert soon arrives.  

(Insert song closest to Ganache's here!)

After Ganache’s performance, Misaki tells Aoi that she didn’t expect her to show up. Aoi simply retorts that they came to win.

Just before Wild Azüre can begin performing, an uninvited guest shows up, making THE MOST REDOUBTABLE ENTRANCE HE'S MADE SO FAR ACROSS THIS SERIES!!

Mesdames et messieurs...

THE GRREAT AND POWERRFUL ELYSIO!

Definitely, I Know What You Like (In Your Sissy Villain Wardrobe)!!

I know what I like, and I like what I know;
getting better in your wardrobe, stepping one beyond your show...

Elysio arrives to steal Aoi’s dream, which makes him sound a lot like one of the villains from Go! Princess PreCure (besides, he looks pretty Shut-like in that top hat and Classy Cravat; I just adore the Elegant Gothic Aristocrat look. Shut lost all his charm when he turned a Hufflepuff! #AoiApproved Shut cosplay!). He turns the audience into mook soldiers and makes Wild Azüre disappear, with the exception of Aoi.

(He already took her maidenhead, or at least there was blatant subtext... setting more Aoilysio Stockholm-syndrome enemy shipping cogwheels in motion)

The others arrive to help Aoi

Though all PreCures show up fairly quickly, Elysio has made them all disappear within a matter of moments. Even Chocolat and Macaron fall prey to the Worf Effect. 

Are you happy? 

Are you satisfied?
How long can you stand the heat?
Out of the doorway the bullets rip
to the sound of the beat...

Another one bites the dust!!
another one bites the dust!!
another one bites the dust!!
another one bites the dust!!
and another one --

and another one --

another one bites the dust!!

(To Macaron and Chocolat) Hey!

I'm gonna get you two...

another one bites the dust!!

So Aoi is left on her own, but she’s not going to give up without a fight. She transforms, but Elysio manages to get the upper hand.

In order to destroy Cure Gelato’s dream (as payback for what happened in August), Elysio traps her in a container and takes her voice. 

In the dark of the night 

evil will find her!

In the dark of the night 

just before dawn!

Aah...

Revenge will be sweet

when the curse is complete...

In the dark of the night

SHE'LL BE GONE!!

As the pieces fall into place,

I see her crawl into place!

Au revoir, petite Aoi, Your Grace...

Farewell...

In the dark of the night, 

terror will strike her...

Terror's the least I can do!

In the dark of the night, 

evil will brew-w-w-w...

Soon she will feel

that her nightmares are real!!

In the dark of the night,

SHE'LL BE THROUGH!

Elisio takes away Gelato’s voice

She is powerless to escape at first, and the tears start flowing. However, she reaffirms her resolve, and starts to sing.

In the dark of the night, 

evil will find her...

In the dark of the night, 

terror comes true-ue-ue-ue...

My dear, here's a sign

it's THE END OF THE LINE!!

In the dark of the night,

SHE'LL BE MINE!!

I guess I'm learning...

I must be warmer now...

I'll soon be turning

round the corner now...

Outside the dawn is breaking,

but inside in the dark I'm aching to be free!

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!

I'll face it with a gri-i-in!!

I'm never giving i-i-in!!

O-o-o-o-on with the sho-o-o-ow-w!!!

Aoi escapes thanks to her heart singing on

She may have been voiceless for a while there, but Gelato’s heart sang out regardless. Her song was able to reach the rest of PreCures and the other members of Wild Azüre, too. With the other PreCures returning from wherever it was that Elysio trapped them, they unleash their finishing move and force him to retreat.
After that, Wild Azüre are able to perform, and we get to see Aoi’s parents. 

Mr. and Mrs. Tategami, both pretty much alive, sharply dressed (She, Aiko, looks like Masumi Kaido --are they blood-related? Headcanon: Aiko Tategami, née Kaido-- while he, first name still unknown, reminds me of Robert Baratheon)... took the day off from their entrepreneurial duties to see their girl play. (And I must dry up a tear myself.)

Empty spaces...

what are we living for?

Abandoned places?

I guess we know this score?

On and on.. 

Does anybody know what we are looking for?

Another hero...
another mindless crime
behind the curtain
in the pantomime?
Hold the line!
Does anybody want to take it anymore?

Though Mr. Mizushima looks as stern as usual, I can see through that he's equally warmed by that performance!

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!
Whatever happens,
I'll leave it all to chance...

I guess I'm learning...

I must be warmer now...

I'll soon be turning

round the corner now...

Outside the dawn is breaking,

but inside in the dark I'm aching to be free!!

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!

SHOW MUST GO O-O-O-O-ON!!

I'll face it with a gri-i-in!!

I'm never giving i-i-in!!

O-o-o-o-on with the sho-o-o-ow-w!!!

(Guitar solo!!)

I'll top the bill, I'll overkill,

I have to find the will to carry 

o-o-o-o-on with the sho-o-o-o-ow-w...

SHOW MUST GO O-O-ON!!

Aoi’s parents approve of her choosing to walk the path of music. As the song, and the episode, ends, we see that it seems that Misaki approves of Aoi’s new song as well.

MY OWN HUMBLE OPINION:
It's hard when the leader leaves a good band decapitated. Take Genesis before and after Peter Gabriel's departure, for an example. My favourite Genesis albums are those of the Gabriel era for a good reason.

Aoi F-ing Tategami has all the trappings of a good leader (only a little lack in the self-control department, but, like Gustavus Adolphus, that actually adds more charisma), so we're crossing our fingers and wishing for this changing of the guard to improve the band under a new leadership, that I already see as widely surpassing her predecessor Kei's!

This episode, with Elysio's revenge on Aoi and Wild Azüre's rematch against Ganache, felt like a natural second half for the diptych that began in August this year with that festival! Really exciting, also seeing how the pieces fit together and these characters --Aoi, Elysio, Misaki, and Aoi's bandmates-- have developed and their dynamics have unfurled within but half a year... a lot of circumstances can change in such a short lapse of time, right?

And maybe Kei's departure, like Syd Barrett's (bless his soul), I hope inspires tunes and lyrics that surpass those written before he left...

When Elysio trapped the other girls in a pocket dimension and Cure Gelato in a soundproof bottle, Cure Gelato continued to sing with all her heart and soul and freed everyone. After the battle, Aoi and her band gave one hell of a show with Aoi's parents approved of their daughter's choice.

The crowner are definitely the Tategamis, just like the Kaidos (seen my headcanon above?), seconding their daughter's choice of career. This weighs even more because Aoi, like Yours Truly (and unlike Minami), is an only child, with all the expectations that this condition entails. I swear even Mitsuyoshi's eyes are teary under those Scary Shiny Glasses of his once more!

I’m also really starting to think that Elysio is my favourite villain from this season of PreCure. He tends to be the one that forces PreCures to face their insecurities, and as a result makes them grow as a characters.
He also seems to be fairly manipulative, and it woudn’t surprise me if he ends up usurping Noir’s power in order to be the final challenge that the Cures must face this season.
I also really like his current method of fighting, mostly due to the different outfits he’s been getting. Yesterweek he was a raven knight, this week he's doing Shut cosplay (and nailing it at that!).

On the shipping front, we had some Aoikira undertones --bridal carry and all--. Still, those are still undertones at the end of the day, and if there ever is a threesome, Aoi will just be third-wheeling and answering for the background music, right?

IN NEXT EPISODE (42)

Next ep follows our chemistry-nerdy introvert once more...

The Prof, to gain self-confidence, has joined a talent show;

Elysio's afoot to seize the chance and cause more woe...

Is chemistry the key to find the pluck she's always missing?

And will she hold it in her heart since now, will she both speak and listen?

UNEASY LIES THE HEAD...

This decadent usurper in Thackeray's Rose and the Ring reminds me of Robert Baratheon --once a great warrior who quenched his thirst in pure springs, and now, after attaining the crown... well, a lush weighed down by the cares of state. The Shakespeare (Henry IV) quote can be applied to both Valoroso and Robert Baratheon post-rebellion, right?

He rushed to the cupboard, seizing from the table one of the many egg-cups with which his princely board was served for the matin meal, drew out a bottle of right Cognac, filled and emptied the cup several times, and laid it down with a hoarse ‘Ha, ha, ha! now Valoroso is a man again!’
‘But oh!’ he went on (still sipping, I am sorry to say), ‘ere I was a king, I needed not this intoxicating draught; once I detested the hot brandy wine, and quaffed no other fount but nature’s rill. It dashes not more quickly o’er the rocks than I did, as, with blunderbuss in hand, I brushed away the early morning dew! Ah! well may England’s dramatist remark, “Uneasy lies the head that wears a crown!” 

UPON OUR SKIN

Upon Our Skin

PiperSong

Summary:

An AU look at the Baratheon brothers where the skin of folk is adorned with the bonds of family and as they grow the ones they love.

Bonus chap for Shireen.

Notes:

un-betad, yada yada, apologies for any mistakes all my own. This fic did totally not go where I was planning, but I think it turned out alright nonetheless, this first part was done mostly together and the next chapter sort of separately as admittedly a bit of a rushed afterthought, which might explain any incoherency and the slight change in style. Apologies again.
Hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 1: brothers born

Chapter Text

brothers born

The brothers were different, later Cressen would say “as all brothers are”.  They were all born with blue eyes and a mop of black hair, but their marks, the marks of a family and sibling bond were not as similar as one might expect.  Robert, first-born and heir to Storm’s End was a loud and bawling babe with the stag of the Baratheons stretched across his right forearm as dark as his hair, proud for all to see.  It was only after holding the babe, his babe that Steffon realised he had a small matching mark on the inside of his wrist to match his son’s.  Cassana too had a match, though hers was discrete above her left hip, and the happy parents would always smile as they danced and those paired marks would meet. 

Stannis the second-born had two stags, one behind each elbow, though easy to spot on his pale baby skin they were the gray of ghosts, they were faint and in a position awkward for the boy to ever see himself.  They didn’t match either, not each other, with the right slightly larger and darker, and the left a stag with antlers more petite, and not the marks of his parents.  Steffon had another stag on his wrist, it was the same paler shade, but the shape was almost identical to the mark for Robert.  The same held true for Cassana when she noticed the extra stag upon her hip.  It was only later they noticed the tiny green sea turtle hidden behind his left ear, the same as Cassana’s, she too was born with hers.

Years later Cassana and Steffon found they had their final stag, a circle of three.   Renly was born with his stag prancing  across his right clavicle towards his neck, it reminded Cassana of her growing bond, the two prongs that grew and itched across her clavicles  and confirmed a love she had dreamed of.  It was Steffon’s mark that sealed the marriage though, a green sea turtle that covered the back of his right hand, there was little at all to interpret.  Growth marks were used for marriages and alliances, they looked the same as family bonds when finished but they itched and stung and hurt, they were not meant to be ignored.

They were though, more often than not.  Because marriage is not about love or happiness or even the will of the gods, it’s about security for the family and their name, advancement through the ranks of the gentry.  The maesters or septons and septas interpreted the marks to please their holders, to reassure them and offer the illusion that they are destined to be happy.  Not all had growth marks and for most that did they were vague; such as a flower that happens to be fair maiden’s favourite and a horse with colouring similar to the knight’s, or mayhaps the knight’s first horse,

- do you not remember the horse you had once, it looked like this, did it not?

- Aye, how could I forget?

- It is destined my love, the gods themselves agree, we are blessed

robert

 There were few with marks so clear and obvious as Steffon’s sea turtle, but the splodge of green with flippers could not be mistaken for anything else.  It was the same for Robert, he was but ten and six when the black direwolf began to grow across his chest, his mark the same as he; large, obvious and proud for all to see.  It was clear enough for Rickard Stark, the Northern folk held the marks in higher esteem than their southern counterparts, a potential match was only considered after an interpretation.  But this sign was enough that Stark did not wait for his daughter’s own mark to agree to a betrothal, why when there could be no other meaning?

It was soon after that Robert met Ned Stark in the Vale, foster brothers under the tutelage of Jon Arryn.  The two betrothed hardly met, hardly knew one another, though Robert showed the mark at the first opportunity and Lyanna for all her hopes of love and future happiness with the man that Ned assured her was the best man he knew…She felt nothing.  There was no burst of emotion, no thrill that over whelmed her, the tales and songs told so oft had lied.  He was charming though, and she found herself thinking that if she were to have a pair of antlers grow along her along her clavicles like his lady mother it would not be such a bad thing. 

Then there was Harrenhal and the disappearance of Lyanna, with rumours that her mark had started growing, that Rhaegar fancied it was a dragon.  Brandon with his howling wolf and his splash of water across his torso and left shoulder were burnt alive, nothing to the flames that consumed his father.

Robert fought, he fought Rhaegar and ended him, ended the man with the stars on his chest and the small dragon across his shoulder.  But there was no relief from the ache in his chest, the ache on his chest.  He raged against the family that caused the grief, he raged against his family for failing him, and found he’d nothing but rage left.  Ned had gone back North to his wife and family with his sister’s body and the child that he’d fathered, two babes to Robert’s heavy crown and painful chair.  Soon enough though, there was a marriage, and a babe, but not the ones that anyone had really desired.  He’d ordered the marriage, Arryn the man who looked at him like a son before but now had only pity in his eyes had advised this, this joining of houses between Baratheon and Florent.  The Tyrells would still have their power and Robert their loyalty, whilst the Florents expected the Lord of Stormlands through their grandson in return for their support. 

It didn’t turn out that way.

A son was born, but not to Selyse and Stannis, who was given Dragonstone not the Stormlands, instead to Delena.  Edric Storm, and Robert knows it’s another of his because another piece of the stag growing on his arm comes, the right antler joining the left and the two eyes.  It’s a strange and fragmented mark, and he had worried when the eye first appeared that Lyanna would disapprove, she had said nothing though it was clear enough for her to see when he showed her the wolf on his chest.  Cersei though, she scowled and scratched at it and hated all sixteen pieces that took to form it.  She hated it almost as much as the wolf.

He was betrothed again without quite realising it, for his behaviour didn’t change, he whored and drank and hoped that maybe someone else would do the king business.  Arryn was good at it, Stannis was good at it too even if he had ridiculous ideas like banning the whore houses.  Renly too was learning, though who from Robert knew not, the boy’s mannerisms and behaviour was from no father figure Robert had ever known and even further from Stannis.

Cersei was adorned in lions, regal and roaring, she had two birth lions she told him, and then one for each child.  He oft wondered where his children were on his own body, she told him they were on his head hidden in his hair, perhaps if he became more like Stannis perhaps others would see the lions there too.  Pycelle interpreted them, the position he told him was to show how they were always in his thoughts, his greatest concern were his children that’s why they were on his head.  Of course Robert nodded, it wasn’t true though, the thoughts he had most were where he could see them, and feel them.

It still hurt.

It would always hurt.

When the boar pierced through his skin, slashing the wolf, for all the pain, there was relief.

stannis

He envied Robert’s stag so clear upon his forearm.  Though his mother oft rubbed his ear and told him of the green sea turtle that hid behind there, Stannis wished that he too could have a stag where he could actually see it and where others could see it too, he was proud to be a Baratheon.  He asked Maester Cressen once why he had three birthmarks, the Maester looked at him and hummed and ahhed but could not give the answer, or at least one that satisfied him.  It was only later when Renly was born that it started to make sense to Stannis, he the middle brother had one for each.

He stood with Robert upon the parapet as the ship was torn apart by the waves, Renly was crying somewhere in the castle the Maester and the nurse tending to him.  It was stormy and the wind was violent, they’d been told even in good weather it was not a safe place to be, they had to be careful, to hold tight and not lean near the edge.  He stood there with Robert who roared and shouted and stamped his feet, gripping Stannis’ hand so tightly that it went numb and he just stood there, not saying a word.

Watching. His head filled with noise.

He didn’t hear a word Robert said, but it wasn’t the sound of the storm, it was the waves he heard, the only sound was the ocean fillings his parents’ screams.

It started during the siege, the prickling upon his shoulder blade, another place he could not see, he told no one, not even the maester, Cressen would only be too happy to interpret the mark and find Stannis his fated.  But he had done without the gods for six years, he wasn’t about to start again now.

The burning and prickling persisted and worsened, it was almost a welcome feeling to distract from the aching hunger in his stomach.  He was more irritable he knew, though it could just have easily been the hunger, that hunger that drove good men to treachery and wise men to consider the unthinkable.  It was the sailor-smuggler that saved them with his salted fish and his onions, it was such a relief, to sleep without the aches and pains of starvation.  Recovery was slow, and rations were still scarce but they made it through the siege and the war when Ned Stark and his men eventually came to force the Tyrell men down.  It had been a bloodless battle, or near enough when Stannis considered Davos’ left hand, he thought of the people of Storm’s End, his people.  Yes, a bloodless battle, but you would not have known from the number of dead.

Robert ordered his marriage to Selyse before the mark had finished growing, continuing its painful itch across his shoulder blade.  Stannis never told his brother of the mark, Robert had never thought he needed to ask.  He worried what it was, that all the people would see it at the bedding, see this part of him that even he did not know.  He thought little of the gods and their whims, but there were others who would care, who might even at the bedding halt the marriage and demand an interpretation. 

He feared what this mark might do to jeopardise his duty. 

He needn’t have worried.

By the close of that day, even Selyse had not seen the mark.

It finished growing in time and it did not hurt as much as he’d heard ignored marks were wont to do.  He’d near forgotten the mark, the ache it caused had dulled same as the hunger he’d once had, though he felt it sometimes it was near nothing to before.   It was during the Greyjoy rebellion that Davos brought it to the forefront of his mind, he had a cut to his back, superficial but the man insisted that if he were not to go to a maester he would at least let his most trusted man check for himself. 

With disgruntled reluctance Stannis removed his undershirt and forgot completely the mark that once prickled his skin.

Davos gasped despite himself “A ship?”

“Aye” Stannis replied as though this was nothing new, he winced as his skin stung where Davos’ fingers traced the mark.

“I’m sorry, I forgot myself, m’lord”

“The cut, Davos, how fares the wound?” Stannis snaps, he’s in pain that has nothing to do with battle.

Davos brings Maester Cressen, and he tells himself because it’s the wound that needs attending to, but another part of him knows had it not been for the ship with script so familiar, yet to himself unintelligible, he would have let Stannis be stubborn.  But his curiosity wins, and the Maester struggles to hide his surprise and hurt that this is something Stannis has not shared with him.  He tends to the wound in near silence, only to apologise for the pain he causes and admonishing Stannis for not having the sense to see him immediately.  He mutters something to the stubborn man who grits his teeth and mutters a reply, their voices too low for Davos to make out,

As he leaves he beckons Davos to him, quietly he thanks him, “Take care of him, Davos, you are more important to him than you will ever know.”  He says it as though Stannis should not hear these parting words, but looking back to the dark haired man with the ship now half covered in bandages, he knows that Stannis heard it all, he had the strangest feeling that the words meant more to Stannis than he could understand himself.

Stannis continues to ignore the gods, he has no time for them and remains unaffected, but the mark it still prickles and aches. 

He tells himself he’s ignoring that too, that it would make no difference.

But he’s glad for the prickle, he fears for the day when it might stop and there’d be only an ache.

renly

He’s the youngest of three, but he might as well be an only child for all the attention the household pays him.  And Renly adores it, knowing that he’s loved, by the cook who sneaks him extra sweets, by the nurse who sings him songs of summer and the tailor who makes him clothes that would be fit for a prince.  It is not what he wants though.

He wants Stannis to laugh with him and smile at his enactments, he wants Robert to come home and to stay home and teach him to use the war hammer that he talks of and he wants the parents he’s never known to tell him how proud they are, how much he’s grown.

Robert promises a great many things, he promises Renly a sister he will love, he promises to teach him as their father had, he promises to keep Renly safe.  He promises again before he leaves to fight.  By the time Renly is master of laws he’s learnt the weight of Robert’s promises.

They live through a war, Stannis and he and the household.  But it is nothing like the battles in the tales, there’s no thrill and glory.  Only hunger and sadness.  He sees Stannis training in the yard with determined regularity and he’s good, second only to Robert and his warhammer they say, but there will be no glory for Stannis, there is nothing the sword can do against the battalion that lays in wait outside their gates.  When Renly trains he holds the sword with distaste, it is not his weapon of choice.

It’s a common man who saves them.  For all his gratitude for the food Renly cannot help but wish that the man had thought to bring fresh fruit, sweet fruit like grapes and apples and peaches.  He holds his tongue though at the sight of Stannis and Cressen who tell him the news, the old man is frail but he’s smiling as though the fish and onions might be the best food in the world and Stannis doesn’t smile, he hasn’t in so long, but there’s relief.  Renly knows his brother feared for them, he never said anything though, not to anyone.  For all that Renly said, and he spoke a lot, Stannis said little in return, he spoke with actions and hard looks that required few words.  He had to concentrate when he was younger to understand Stannis, to pay attention to the subtleties that were so easily missed and harder still to interpret.  His brother hardly said when he was pleased or impressed, so Renly took care to make sure he could know despite it.

When they were to meet again in King’s Landing, Renly stopped looking, he didn’t pay attention to the stubborn clench of his brother’s jaw at Robert’s overruling, though the grinding and gnashing of teeth was hard to miss, he didn’t see the short quirk up of Stannis’ lip when he made a worthy suggestion nor hear the sardonic tone in comments levelled at Littlefinger.  No, because he’d decided long ago when Stannis had left him that he no longer cared.

He has a squire in time, though he knows he’s hardly a knight himself.  Loras Tyrell, from Highgarden, Mace Tyrell had suggested it, though Renly knew it was the Grandmother who pushed it forward.  He was loathe to take Loras from Highgarden as he was loathe to leave it himself, he fostered good relations with the family that had stood opposite himself on the battlefield.  He fostered good relations with many families those with and against the great rebellion, he was good with people, good at talking to people, he knew because they told him so themselves. 

A flower blooms on his left shoulder and though he’s ashamed to admit it his first thought was of Margaery.  But he knows the next time he sees Loras and feels the oft described prickle that there is only one explanation.  He both seeks out Loras and avoids him as he waits for the mark to finish growing, he watches to see if Loras too has these feelings, a mark of the stag.  But he cannot have Loras see him, they’re friends, more so than a squire and his Lord have any due to be, and Renly fears, irrationally he knows, what if Loras is not the same?  What if it’s all a grand misunderstanding and it’s Margaery after all?  He knows though, that if Margaery had any sign of a stag there would be no waiting on Mace Tyrell’s part, she would be put forward as Joffrey’s betrothed with little delay, the Tyrells were not subtle in their lust for advancement.

He tries to learn from the songs and histories about the great loves and how one might approach the other.  It’s all man and woman though, all so very simple you make a grand gesture of showing your beloved your mark and with a look of fated recognition they fall into your arms with unrivalled joy.

It’s Loras that makes the first move, they waited, perhaps in a mutual unspoken understanding, until he was knighted, Ser Loras Tyrell one of the best jousters in the land.  Renly wasn’t envious, and he revelled in the attention his handsome knight received, because he knew, that the handsome knight had eyes only for him.

shireen

It wasn’t an easy birth, but at least this time there was reward for all the struggles.  And perhaps Selyse was disappointed that the squalling babe wasn’t a boy like the silent children before her, and maybe she was fearful that her husband might not care for the child, might not care for her.  He did his duty yes, but what duty does a father have to a daughter beyond a convenient betrothal?  She had hoped that this child could help them, that she as his wife would give him the ultimate gift of life of an heir and he in the joys of fatherhood might soften his permanent scowl and speak the sweet words the songs had taught her to expect to hear. 

But she smiled at her daughter, calm and sleeping now as she held her waiting for her husband to arrive and decide upon a name, stroking her soft downy hair already looking the black of her father’s.  The babe had a fox behind her right ear.  “Ears befitting any Florent child” Selyse thought sadly as she remembered the teasing she had endured as a child.  But this babe,her babe was the daughter of a great lord, the Master of Ships, niece of King Robert Baratheon himself, there would be no children so bold as to tease a Baratheon about her ears. 

She clutched her daughter closer as she heard the impatient footsteps of her husband approach the chamber, he’s come faster than she thought he would, it was when Stannis stops outside her door that Selyse realised she saw no sign of a stag or even a sea turtle upon their daughter.  She looks at the child again, it’s an insult worse than being a daughter.

He waited in the solar continuing with the business of Dragonstone, he was of no use to the women and the maester, they would tell him when it was time.  If the wind blew right he could hear her cries, it was taking so much longer this time and he found his concentration lapsing, made evident by the angry scratchings upon the accounts he was trying to manage.  Was it a good thing it was taking longer?  This babe though early was older than the others, but those times it was the babes that had not survived, he feared that perhaps this time his wife might not. 

The noise stopped, though the wind might have changed.  Stannis returned his focus the matters at hand only to find his hands covered in ink and his quill irredeemably broken.  He gets up to clean his hands at the basin provided, but he doesn’t return to his desk when he’s done, he leaves the solar and heads towards his lady’s chambers. 

Cressen says nothing as he sees the young Lord with his face so determined, he was on his way to tell him, he smiles knowing there is only one way for the father of the child to have known before him. 

“They are both well my lord” he says without the preamble he knows would be wasted on Stannis, “both my Lady and your daughter.”

Cressen watches closely catch the twitch of a smile that crosses his face, only to stay there.

They stop outside the door, when Stannis finally delivers his reply.

“Good.”

It happens that the daughter has inherited her mother’s ears with the Florent fox behind the left and her father’s strong jaw.  Her hair is black like her father’s, but not so coarse, it’s finer and she’s grateful for the joy she sees her mother have in stroking and combing her hair.  She likes her blue eyes too, the same as her father’s Cressen says, blue Baratheon eyes and black Baratheon hair, she is her father’s daughter the old Maester often says. 

Shireen had a stag of house Baratheon too, it covered her cheek in the colour of her skin.  As a babe Cressen told her once it was only visible when she cried or blushed to make her cheeks red, then it would stand out and be seen.  She wonders sometimes if that might’ve been better, though she is not one to cry often now or blush if she can help it, her birth mark might not be easy to see but she would know it was there nonetheless. 

There is little point in wondering though, childhood illness that should have left her dead left her with only a cheek marred by dying skin that cracked and peeled and made the hidden stag bright and obvious.  She had learnt over time it was no use to hide her cheek and the mark that graced it. 

She was Shireen Baratheon, survivor of greyscale, of the Northern Winter and the beasts that accompanied it and bringer of peace to the war torn lands of Westeros.

 Able and just it was the white stag across her marred cheek that showed the people who she was, more than any Queen’s crown ever could.