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He smiles. To himself, mostly, as he’s far from displeased by the question she’s asked. He’d been of a mind to ask it himself, in truth, but it seems as though he’s been beaten to it. Were he any other man, it might even bruise is ego, that she had the audacity to ask, rather than wait to be asked herself. But he isn’t any other man. He’s Rodrik.
“You’ll hear no complaint from me if you decide to, my lady.”
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“Ah, Ser Rodrik,” Sera said, giving a deep curtsey. Mira’s brother and next in line for the title of Lord of House Forrester. Two reasons to be extra nice to him, simply because she cared about Mira and, well, couldn’t hurt to make a few more fancy friends.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you too! She’s currently attending to Lady Margaery’s correspondence, but I’m sure once she’s done she’ll be down to see you once more,” she said before gesturing to the courtyard. “Perhaps you’d like to join me for some wine?”
A pause, where he considers her offer. It couldn’t particularly hurt, could it? He has some time to spare, however brief it may be. So Rodrik smiles and offers a nod of the head before he starts off in the direction of the courtyard.
He clasps his hands behind his back and turns to look at Sera as he walks. When he finally speaks, his tone is almost teasing -- but also holding a hint of genuine curiosity.
“Do you often invite future Lords to drink wine with you?”
“No,” he says, voice firm. He refuses to believe it. Gared is a member of House Forrester and-- “We don’t desert. Nobody tied to House Forrester deserts. You must have him confused with some other brother of the Watch.”
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A bow of the head. He couldn’t have come to Highgarden without seeing her, of course. Even if he is here mostly for his sister. Rodrik offers her a large, warm smile when he straightens up again, happy to be seeing her, in truth.
“I trust my sister’s not causing too much trouble for you.”
Polite and charming as always. Hard to tell if it’s intentional, or just habit these days. But Rodrik is a good enough man -- of course he’d try to be decent toward anybody he met along the way.
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If he has to have his final words, if it has to be now, with her here -- let them be words of comfort. He has a fair idea of what will happen to her and those are the thoughts that spur him to try and stand, try and fight. But he can’t. He cannot rise and he cannot fight, despite every fibre of his being telling him to do so. Instead, he falls, falls, falls into Mira’s arms and the only good he can think to do is try and bring her some comfort.
She tells him to listen, but he can’t. Hand comes up, tries to hold onto the fabric of her dress, and fails, fingers too slick with blood and his body already too weak. He tries to speak, but his breath had left him when Gryff struck, and he can’t quite seem to get it back. As she moves him, the last of it is pushed from his lungs in a pained cry, and he tries so hard to beg her to stop, beg her to run, beg her to save herself.
He’d scream it if he could, but he just lies there like a fool and can only barely close a fist around the necklace she presses into his hand. His mind is wandering, despite how badly he’s trying to pay attention to her words, despite how badly he’s trying to say something, anything at all just to comfort her.
Images of his father seep slowly into his mind. The last time he ever saw him, the horrors that came shortly afterward -- the first time Rodrik Forrester had died. He’d made peace with it in those final moments, before darkness took over, accepted that he was going to die. All this time now, it feels as if it’s been borrowed, as if it was never really meant to be in the first place. Perhaps that’s why this almost feels... serene.
Rodrik can hear her now, and she breaks his heart with her begging, her pleading. Don’t leave. Would that he could tell her to be the one to leave him.
A breath. He thinks of the times they played hide and seek in the Grove, thinks of Elaena in springtime in all her beauty, thinks of Asher hitting him so hard he felt sick. Feasts and arguments and secret, shared moments all pass him by in no time at all. He sees Asher leaving, sees his mother weeping, sees his father’s dead and empty eyes staring back at him, and Ryon taken captive.
Mira’s crying. He never liked it when she cried. He was always meant to make sure she never felt that kind of pain, his little sister. Asher must have said something to her, must have been his usual sort of self. He’s so angry... all the time...
Send me “You are my sunshine” for my muse’s reaction to yours dying in their armsStatus;; accepting
It only takes a moment, a single mistake. Rodrik should have known better, should have been more careful. The Forresters were at war, and what had happened to them was just one big FREAK accident, but war was F I L L E D with freak accidents. Ones that were beyond control of the gods, old and new.
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