Alerie had found time to play on her harp, finally.
She had spent three days writing a new song, expressing her feelings, what she had done, how she felt. How she felt about her father and Nymeria Martell and everyone in between It was a sad song in it’s own way, but Alerie shed no tear. It had been three days since she had cried. Was she improving? Alerie hoped the gods had finally lifted the spell cast against her.
She sat alone in her solar, writing. The pen in her hand traced along the rough paper, writing lyric after lyric. I sold my soul for this? Alerie’s writing was not fantastic, but she had grown up to be a Lady. She was better skilled at alchemy, and the bunch of Pennyroyal by her side was how she’d kill Nymeria - and if that didn’t succeed, there were rumours that she had been pregnant, and depending on how far along she was, watching yourself birth a four month old child was never fun.
Alerie grinned at the thought of that.
Alester would be hers in time, and Alerie was patient, but apparently not patient enough. Sera Flowers had told her that patience was a virtue, and perhaps waiting until their wedding night was the best plan of action.
Yes, Alerie through. She’d slip into their bedding chambers, and that’s when she’d drop the pennyroyal into the wine, and then the next morning she’d be grinning like a loon when she heard what happened.
Alerie’s pen broke as she was writing the next line, but it was very much in time for Sera Flowers to enter, a grave look on her face. “My lady?” she said, “I hope I’m not disturbing, there’s… there’s news…. from brightwater keep.” Alerie eyed the letter in her hand. How had the maid managed to obtain it? Perhaps she got it after everyone else heard of it.
“Give it to me,” Alerie demanded, voice stern. As the maid approached, Alerie stood and snatched the letter from her, opening it with grace, and reading.
Lady Malora Florent of Brightwater Keep…
Alerie’s hands shook.
Lord Hyle Hightower of Brightwater Keep by right of his wife…
Alerie’s heart started pounding.
Lady Tyrell taken to Oldtown by escort…
Alerie’s eyes drifted upward from the letter, and her eyes found the hazel of the girl in front of her.
“My lady?” Sera asked.
“No, nonononononono…. no…” Alerie’s eyes twitched. Her lips and jaw and arms shook, and a sudden weakness had came to her. Lyanne, oh gods…
Alerie let the letter fall from her gasp, and fell against the desk for shortness of breath, breathing fast and heavily, tears running down her cheeks as she gasped for air. “Nooooooooooo,” Alerie wailed, pressing her knees to her chest and forcing them there by wrapping her hands around her legs.
“Milady, please,” Sera was beside her. “You have to talk to Lord Tyrell about this, please.” Flowers reached up and grabbed a cup of wine that had already been half drank.
“Noo,” Alerie replied once more. “No, no, I can’t, I can’t.”
“You have to. You have to face the world. You have to face him, like a lady, like a real lady, you can’t do this. Do this for me and Sarelle and Sanelle and Alice and Lyanne. Do it for yourself. Tell them what you want done.”
Heads, spikes, walls…
“And tell him that you won’t rest,” Sera said loudly. “Not until Brightwater is yours once more.”
Alerie shook her head. “I will murder every last one of them. Get me my black dress. The one I intend to use at my father’s funeral.”
“Are you sure?”
“I want to look serious.” Alester never took her seriously. Never would, not until she spat in his face and told him with authority what she would do to him when he didn’t listen. Sera helped her up and undressed her from her robe, and put her in a black dress. “I will dye my hair black soon as well.” She proclaimed as the dress was slipped on. It had black roses along it, with dark lace about her hands and collarbone. The dress peaked between her breasts, and was finely accented with a ruby necklace, one her mother had worn.
Finally, Alerie’s hair was tied behind her head, and she reached down to grab the letter and stormed out of her room, quick to make way for Alester’s chambers.
Avenge me, Her father told her.
Avenge me, her little sister said as well.
Their faces were along the walls, staring at her as she walked with unmatched conviction, fuming with anger and conviction.
Heads, spikes, walls. Heads, spikes walls. Heads spikes walls.
When she reached Alester’s chambers, she forced the door open and yelled at the top of her lungs. ”ALESTER TYRELL!” She cried, “Have you read this letter, seen it yet?” Alerie held the letter high in the air and glared at Lord Tyrell. “Well?”
I will murder them all.