Lady of the Twins

On the eve of his wedding day, Forrest had long imagined and planned for an easy coyness at the denizen of well-wishers that loped through the halls and courtyard of Dragonstone. He imagined how he would face his mother's preening and elated tones, letting her know with a beaming smile that spread to his eyes that he had succeeded against an entire realm of sycophants and connivers to prove himself a worthy husband to the Princess Rhaenyra. He found such an action impossible now. Instead, he stared thoughtfully at the mirror that hung in his chambers of The Twins as his mother tugged his ornate overjerkin straight, plucking at his sleeves to not only display the fine embroidery of silver scrollwork on them but the indigo blue and pale azure fabric that draped snugly under the length of fitted white velvet. At his chest, sewn in sapphires were arranged like a great flock of mountain bluebirds that dripped from the trees. His lady mother had spared no expense, both in testament to House Frey's flush coffers and in service to her own grand vision of masterminding the riverlands' wedding of the year. Regal and indulged, she dared a thousand ill-wills from the grand list of wedding guests that were likely already disparaging House Frey's self-made wealth and questionable rank from inside the Sept of The Twins where they awaited the ceremony to begin.

Morgan's sudden arrival sliced through Forrest's track of thought. His brother motioned to Lady Barbara where she received the maiden's cloak pin that had been passed down from Damon's own nuptials. The sight of it made Forrest's breath catch. "I'll take it."

"Would you have said the same thing about Damon's widow." Morgan muttered through a short, weary breath. His constitution had not been the best as of late, least of all with the burden of his lady mother's free-spending. "You might have saved us the cost of another dowry."

"Oh son, do not bestir yourself. Look happy! It's Forrest's wedding day." She wound her hand through Forrest's arm and locked it, dainty and fluttery as a bird perched to his elbow.

"Sure! It's not like I handle the accounts for that matter." Morgan's voice rose with great exertion at which point Forrest reached forward and placed a placating grip to Morgan's shoulder, shaking him lightly with a touch of playfulness. For one brief and beatific moment, it was just the three of them intricately crossed to one another.

"Brother, I swear on the septon's fat wart that when I pass from this life, you may choose your own bride." Forrest swatted the back of Morgan's head in a show of comradery. "You can marry in a pigsty if you wish to forego all expenses, too."

Morgan's shoulders stiffened and released into a sullen slope at that. In separating himself from the stunted family chain, he shattered the little sliver of peace that all three of them would have in the long day ahead. "Be serious."

"I am." Forrest's tone was light and breezy like good headwind through the reeds in spite of the smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "But I'm still here, don't grieve for me yet. Besides, it's my wedding day! Hold your sorrow until after mother brings out the peacock at the start of the feast."

"Tch! Again with the peacock. The guests will rejoice to see it, you wait and see." Lady Barbara's rankling soothed at the tender strokes she made on Forrest's ornate sleeve, willing them forward through the castle gallery, the great hall and outside down the short road to the sept. Behind them, several attendants follow them from a respectful distance. Forrest felt his steps land slow and heavy as they neared the lone building that stood to the east of The Twins. "I saw your bride before I came for you," she said after a beat. "She's beautiful. Her lord father must have paid a fortune to dress her like that."

Forrest's throat went dry and felt his body turn numb all over. Still, his gait had not slowed. "I imagine so."

Lady Barbara's fingers clutched at his. "Jewels and dowries, seven walls and a cloaks pin. There are far more important things that build a marriage." She willed a smile to her lips that shone wistful and sad. Still, she pressed on: "With your lord father, I found that a husband and wife know everything about one another or nothing at all. It is a lifeless marriage when it is built on partial confidences — when one of you lets slip a dream, a truth, a desire that had best lain hidden and just as quickly as it slips, it is retracted. You tell them they misunderstood or they're willfully misinterpreting things, but it is far too late. The other pretends not to notice, but at times they press you till the mask falls off again." His mother stepped in front of him and fixed him with a grave look. "It is a wisdom beyond your years and experience, my son. So I ask of you to not let the mask slip and let Lady Sabitha see what dreams and desires you still hold for the princess. You cannot. Do not carry her with you into that sept and into your marriage if you intend to give each other a good life."

"I know. I will. I'll try." Forrest took her hand in his with exaggerated courtesy and kissed the back of it. He smoothened the sternness of her brow by giving her a sad, resigned smile in return. It was all he could do to stave a defeated cry that was building in his throat. "You're right. Memories should be left to their time and place. They are meant to be lived once and left where they belong."

It is said that time blurs the edges, but contrary to the echoes of that tall tale, Geremy and Damon still lived among the halls of The Twins, and Rhaenyra in the wide berth of his mind and heart. Forrest could hear Damon's laugh and the scrape of Geremy's boots and his loud hunting horn through the trees. Somedays that was enough, but when the cold took hold and he and Morgan would be abed for weeks at a time, the memory of his dead brothers became a torment that Forrest could not abide. Both had been eight-and-twenty in their burial shrouds, the same age that Forrest was now; the third son that had never been meant to inherit, but who was now learning to do his duty with each careful step he took to the marriage altar in order to keep House Frey alive. In effect, Forrest had taken to Lady Sabitha with that same wide-eyed caution, like a bird testing the air before flight. But soon he began to tell her things over the course of their half-year courtship — deep, intimate things that felt too weighty to share with any sort of stranger. He did not ask for her advice and counsel, and even so, he found he could release the weight of repeated loss when he told her how Damon used to like his dry jokes and that his laughter came from somewhere deep in his belly. The way that Geremy was a bit like mother in that jaunty swing to his step and that peculiar bearing he had; regal and amused, as if daring the world to keep up with him. Lady Sabitha did not seem to shy away from Forrest's memories of a time that felt worlds away, not like Morgan and his lady mother had, and for the first time Forrest realized that it took having loved wholly to grieve deeply. It was not sad thing, but hopeful, and in that same vein that the crucible of distance and time had naught but stoked his love for his Princess Rhaenyra, Forrest felt certain in hoping against all odds that may be able to live beyond his eight-and-twenty years and learn to love his sharp-tongued Vypren bride as all men that love their wives.

Forrest took his place in front of the marriage altar with the practiced grace of someone being directed to pose for a portrait, standing offhandedly to the septon's righthand from where the holy man stood between the images of the Father and Mother. Forrest looked sharp, determined and steely, with none of the naive focus that he had in his chambers and in his walk to the sept. He could not lose his nerve now that he stood in the boots of the father and two brothers he had lost. Reflective light of all seven colors of the rainbow from the sept's stain glassed windows flashed across his form, lighting up his eyes and his studded sapphires. Still, the crowd of weddings guests did not begin to stir until a great stream of light shone in the narrow walkway to the altar, in signal that his bride had come at last. There were scattered, smitten glances in show of their favor for her great beauty and the largesse of her green gown. When he came to face her, he bid her welcome as he would a dance partner, pantomiming a courtly bow with a florid display of respect and gesticulation not only for her person, but for her father and his esteemed house that awaited beside her. All the while, something stirred inside him like a long-tailed thing, feather-soft and pure, his breath coming in one long and low exhale. “Who comes?” His voice belted out as if in song, his face and neck flushed as a mourning dove's breast. “Who comes before the One God with Seven Faces?”

Lord Hugo's voice thundered in response. “Sabitha of House Vypren comes here to be wed. A maiden grown and flowered, trueborn and highborn, she comes to beg the blessings of the one true God. Who comes to claim her?”

“I do. Forrest of House Frey, the Lord of the Crossing. I claim her. Who gives her?”

I. Before the ceremony

—I'm not feeding any whispers today. —Sabitha felt her voice turn colder with every word. If her mother wished to humiliated her, she would find no satisfaction. Her wit was sharp and Sabitha had never been so prepared before. She stood in front of her mother; the Lady Amarei didn't hesitate. She summoned her in the middle of the night. Sabitha could hear the frogs and crickets outside the window. She was dressed in her nightgown, but neither the cold or the dark could frightened her.

—The truth is no whisper! We... No, I have tolerated this behavior for far too long. —Lady Amarei's voice was stern, a tone that left no room for complains. —I'm your mother and I have the final say. You will no longer shame us, you are to be wed.

Her mother didn't move, yet it felt like a slap all the same. Sabitha tensed up, no tears or begging words came from her; the seal upon her future was no longer avoidable, there was no point in fighting. Her father had made a good match for his heir and Sabitha had an unwed older brother who definitely was her father's priority. She had time. At least one man could satisfied her parents without chaining her to a life of servitude. She nodded and turned around; her intention to leave the room as fast as possible.

—I will speak with your Lord Father about this!

She exited the room.

The next morning her chest was tight. Sabitha hardly slept. Watching the stars, she wrote a list of bachelors. From younger to older. Everything she could remember; their inheritances —if they had any—, the rumors surrounding them, bastards and possible dangers to herself. At the end, she was exhausted and disappointed. No man she liked had inheritance and no man her father would approve of she liked. Annoyed, she prepared for the day ahead.

—After King Jaehaerys built the kingstoad they have slowly but surely become wealthier. —Her father always spoke facts. He sat behind his desk, with a piece of paper and an inked pen in her hands. —Their Lord refused to wed after being left heartbroken by the Realm's delight... Not that he ever stood a chance to marry our Princess. But you, my daughter, can captivate him.

—Fool Frey. —A third son who inherited after his brothers died. “It could be worse”. Sabitha could recall her list, Lord Forrest was a galant khight with no rumors of bastards or mistresses. She wasn't exited about a future as a lady of a glorified inn. —Who would take me seriously if I marry a known fool?

—A Lord on his own right. All men from the Riverlands tried to court the Crown Princess, he was no exception. No shame comes from honesty. He must not be judged differently as you'd do Lord Bracken or Lord Blackwood so keep quiet and meet him first.

Her mother orchestrated a meeting. Her father order her to hide her “unladylike behaviors”. They both agree it was in her best interest. A Raven was sent. Another answer. She was told to act and she did. A woman dressed in a blue velvet dress approaches Sabitha at her solar. Lady Barbara, once a Regent for her first son, now Dowager Lady for the third.

—I heard, you kissed a Lady and tried to tarnish her; or she was trying to tarnish you? Who knows? The very same people say you were to be sent to a Motherhouse, but now it seems there was a change of plans.

—Oh. —One doesn't openly say they kissed enough maidens to probably become known for doing it. Sabitha probably was the reason behind some urgently arranged betrothals and its subsequent marriages; including now her own. She carefully watch Lady Barbara, a pause to gather her thoughts. “My future depends on making a good impression on this woman.” Sabitha hated it. She wouldn't allow a stranger to have so much power over her; and yet she stood, trapped in that very position.— My talents are too good to be wasted and forgotten inside a Motherhouse. I wish to accomplish something greater. I'm sure I can do it.

—We'll see. Meet my son, and we'll see

Six months of courtship was a privilege Sabitha was grateful for; he talked about his fallen brothers, she spoke about how she missed her dear brother living half a realm away. Lord Forrest didn't need compassion or condolences, but an ear willing to listen.

Sabitha found herself opening up. Wholeheartedly. Willingly. She show him her poems, her fascination with frogs, her love for horseriding and her passion for archery...

Guilty. Sabitha couldn't help but feel ashamed. His soft hands and heart would never be loved in the way the realm expected from her. Her Lady Mother called her sinful, Sabitha knew it was simply her heart's nature. She couldn't feel the desires her family had hoped for her, and it left her heartbroken.

II. Preparing for the ceremony

The dress... Her dress. Sabitha caressed the light fabric as her handmaids were flying across the room. Her mother had decided everything; from the silver hairpin and crown in her hair to the damn shoes. Sabitha couldn't protest, because she looked fantastic. “Almost like a princess”, the thought make her nervous; to live in the shadows of a woman living far away, a life completely detached from her own.

She was dressed by her mother herself. Five layers of satin, silk and velvet. The first layer was a piece of cloth that covered the front of her chest. It had four strings, and was fastened behind her neck and back. The second one was a black wide-sleeved undershirt. A long, flowing dark green dress that was decorated with intricate embroidery to enhance the visual appeal. Silver thread for lilypads and frogs. A light green, cross-collar upper robe with a wide, straight-cut lower garment. Black thread for twin towers. Finally, it was finished off with her belt. The blue fabric shined as she moved.

Her mother didn't rushed the details; red lips and eyeshadow. Comfortable slippers so she could dance all night. Sabitha was gifted emerald hearings and a silver necklace full of sapphires. Her fingers were left naked; “so you won't appear too frivolous” Lady Amarei said.

Lastly, her father arrived to escort her.

III. At the ceremony

A mix of spite, rage and faith. Her feelings were a blade made to cut her open and let her bleed out as she walk inside the castle's halls. The Crossing. Her new home. As the only crossing point over hundreds of miles in either direction, the castle was visited for hundreds of travelers. Lady Barbara left no household uninvited. Sabitha worried everything that could happen during her wedding would soon be spread around the realm. Any mistake exaggerated by hundreds of mouths.

Her house's cloak was heavy. The green and black fabric dragged from her shoulders to the ground. The weight would not crush her. House Vypren wasn't wealthy, powerful or mighty. Opportunist that jumped from a lilypad to another; slowly climbing but never reaching the top. Persuasion was their best weapon and tool. A double edge talent she had learned to use.

“Mother Above, grant me courage”. The Sept smell of incense and candles illuminated the place. After the past six months, Sabitha finally started to feel nervous. She was sure of the path ahead, she grew to look forward to it. Forrest made her laugh and she loved to ride across the river alongside him. Her fingers discreetly played with her sleeves.

Until she saw him. Sabitha never thought a man could look beautiful, Forrest was certainly becoming her exception for a lot of regards; beauty included. Sabitha was all smiles. Half a year ago she would have not believe it.

The bride-to-be stepped closer, just in time as the sun reflected the stained glass windows, filling the room in colors. The septon started the ceremony talking loudly so all the guests could hear:

—Who comes to the before the One God with Seven Faces?

Her father's voice returned in response. —Sabitha of House Vypren comes here to be wed. A maiden grown and flowered, trueborn and highborn, she comes to beg the blessings of the one true God. Who comes to claim her?

—I do. Forrest of House Frey, the Lord of the Crossing. I claim her. Who gives her?

—Hugo of House Vypren, the man who raised her from sprig to towering tree.— She could see a half smile on her father's face, proud and full of memories. He faced towards her. All the guests looking at her.— Lady Sabitha, will you take this man?

—I do. With this kiss I pledge my love and take you for my lord and husband. We'll endure together, survive together and live together; this week, this month, this year and the next and the following one. Until you and I wither to dust. I'll be your shield and your support, no one can stop me from protecting you as I am your flesh, your heart and your soul.

Another would not understand. Forrest told her his fears and worries. That he would not pass from eight and twenty. Sabitha refuse to be a widow so soon, the gods could plan their downfall and she would spit back in their faces. They kissed. It was tepid and awkward and did not linger beyond propriety. Sabitha was thankful as his face separated from hers, a longer kiss and she might have turn red. A blushing maid on her wedding day. Singers loved them, but Sabitha wanted to be remember by her bravery instead.

The septon declare them to be man and wife. —One flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever.

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Lady-Vypren. Independent. Mutuals Only & Mutually Exclusive blog. Portraying Sabitha Frey from Fire and Blood / A Song of Ice and Fire. Headcanon-based, follows BOOK canon only.

Lady-Vypren. Independent. Mutuals Only & Mutually Exclusive blog. Portraying Sabitha Frey from Fire and Blood / A Song of Ice and Fire. Headcanon-based, follows BOOK canon only.

Lady-Vypren. Independent. Mutuals Only & Mutually Exclusive blog. Portraying Sabitha Frey from Fire and Blood / A Song of Ice and Fire. Headcanon-based, follows BOOK canon only.

8th day of the 12th month, 129 AC

with.— @theprincessofd0rne

Sabitha arrived back at King's Landing for the Royal Wedding. Her second visit was easier, calmer and quiet than before. Theo stayed home, under the care of his uncles and aunts. His health was too delicate and Sabitha worried the journey would be too difficult for him this time. Her second pregnancy wasn't taxing on her body, but her mind could definitely use some distraction. Talking with the Queen or her sister wasn't enough anymore, she couldn't turn to her favorite hobby; riding wasn't comfortable while, apparently, carrying twins.

So she improvised, Sabitha walked across the Red Keep's hallways, the path now intuitive for her; she found the training yard empty. Thankfully, she didn't want any witness around. To be judged for her tastes was one thing, to be judged for doing archery while pregnant was another. She had brought her own bow with her; the dark oak made a nice contrast with her light blue silks.

Sabitha prepared her arrow, the familiar motion appease her mind. Mermatize with her own actions. She was ready to shoot when someone else's arrow hit the target. « Impeccable shot, it must be Alysanne. » Her friend was the only archer that had ever bested Sabitha. She turned around searching for her but instead found a different woman next to her.

Aliandra's eyes slowly moved from Sabitha's face to her belly and she counted two and two together. "Impressive to see a lady in your condition still shooting I would advise against it but I applaud your dedication and skill." her voice was filled with admiration and genuine respect after all from what she has heard of carrying a child she has learnt that it was a rather exhausting process.

Aliandra drew another arrow in her elaborately decorated bow and aimed. she nocked the arrow and pulled the string taut, her stance steady and balanced. She let the arrow fly, and it sailed through the air with a loud whistle before embedding itself in a nearby target.

She quickly glanced at beautiful dark haired the women next to her, Aliandra tried to remember who she was usually she did not have such a problem but her mind felt too scattered today, after half a minute the answer came to her the lady of the crossing- sabitha frey

Conversations couldn't last unless she talked though. She forced herself to speak. —You might be the first to say that, your Grace. My Lady-mother was mortified when I shot during my first pregnancy. —Lady Lythene had different expectations for Sabitha, in marriage and pregnancy alike. Her mother wouldn't call it a pleasant memory, but she did. Aliandra shot and Sabitha soon follow. Her arrow hit the target with the usual, clapping sound.