Lady of the Dreadfort

popping in here to say that this blog IS still alive and I will be getting back to Beth here in the next day or two. I can’t seem to catch my breath, I’ve been very busy, and have had very little muse.

She studied the young man before her, trying to place him, but she could not recall seeing him before. But this may have just been because her lord husband thought servants were best if you didn’t know they were there. Unless they were serving food, they should be quiet, efficient, and unseen. It made for a very quiet and lonely castle. But as the Lord Bolton said ‘A peaceful land, a quiet people.’

“Fetch me wine and some of those lavender cakes from the kitchens and bring them to my chambers. And then you are free to have the rest of the day to yourself. You seem a bit flustered.”

                      ‘ OF COURSE she hadn’t been paying attention. the little bolton was terrified –terrified at what was happening with her lately. her older half brother, ramsay, had been tormenting her lately and she had the scars to prove it. he USED and abused her along with his friends, but told the little lady if she dare told, that he would KILL her, her papa, mama and domeric. she sat in her room, looking away for a moment, and then back up at her mother.

                  she had to be brave. “i’m … i’m sorry, mama. i’ll be BETTER at paying attention. i promise. i just … have quite a lot on my mind.”

     Her daughter’s words caught her full attention. This was most unlike the baby Bolton. Alina was usually full of smiles and giggles, and carefree. Much as any little lady should be. However, recently the girl had been sullen, sulky, and just flat out miserable. Perhaps it was time to take things up with Roose about their daughter. To be sent away and fostered somewhere better suited for Alina to learn and grow. Domeric had prospered well when he was sent to be fostered by her sister. The time would come soon to make marriage arrangements with another Northern house anyhow.

“Not that long ago!” Shireen protested. She knew that she was not the most smiley child, and that some people found it strange, but not as much time as usual had passed since she last smiled. “It was probably when I first arrived here at Winterfell, and I saw Father again.”

That had only been a few days ago now. “You haven’t been smiling much either.” That was understandable though, with her husband’s position having been brought so low by Stannis’s seizure of Winterfell, and the fate of him and all the Boltons uncertain.

Bethany was often seen as cold and haughty. Much like her lord husband. But it was a mask she had learned to adopt. She was quiet and hardly spoke. When she did it always seemed to be in a voice hardly louder than a whisper. But, she was lady of the house, and even her quiet voice held dominance. 

          “I know what THAT’S like.”

Save for when she was sent off on her little ASSIGNMENTS– if sharing a drink with random men, laughing at their jokes, and sometimes taking them to BED could be considered an assignment– Lia didn’t exactly get out of the house. And when her uncles were busy, which they OFTEN were, she was alone.

          “Just wait RIGHT here, I’ll be back.”

Lia SCURRIED off to the kitchen, boiling some water as she collected some cookies onto a plate. She returned a few minutes later with the plate of TREATS and two cups of tea on a tray.

           “I JUST baked these yesterday. I hope              you like sweet things.”

     Beth took the moment she was alone to examine the room around her. An eye for detail she had. It made it easier to slip things in conversation. Get more information without people really realizing it. She did not want to manipulate the girl. There was enough of that going on; that much was apparent. All women who lived on the cusp of crime were manipulated. The amount of times in her younger years where she was asked to snake information out of her husband’s enemies. And it went well enough, until her only son was taken from her.

     She took a seat on the edge of a chair, setting her bag down at her feet. Not sure yet as how she were going to cut a deal with the men she had sought out. But her family and position were being optimized, and she needed a curve ball thrown into the mix. And the men she sought out, seemed well placed for the job.

     She smiled when Lia returned with the tray. Eyes looking from girl to tray. Leaning forward slightly to take a cookie and cup of tea.

“You are just a little, doll. My cook is on vacation, and I never managed to get the hang of baking sweets. Unless you like them hard as a rock, of course.” She said with a quiet laugh. Her smile fading slightly as she returned her attention Lia.

“I am Bethany by the way. Ryswell.” --She did not use her married name when conducting business, but she had not been a Bolton since her son died as far as she was concerned-- “You are free to call me Beth. Uncles, you called them, yes? They treat you well? They don’t put you in harms way? Or hurt you in any way?”

as I find time to get beth going again, I will be operating a lot off the queue.

     Domeric. Her darling son. Kindhearted and gentle. And inside she almost hated it. Those like him were a l w a y s the first to fall and hurt. Even more, he was a Bolton. Someday he would be Lord Bolton. And he needed to prepare for that in more than just his lessons from the maester. More than all the fostering in the world. Perhaps it was best that he had come back to the Dreadfort. He would learn more here than with her sister, or any other lord willing to foster the young man.

Most of her time was spent SURROUNDED by men. Very rarely were there women in sight– save, she supposed, for those who might’ve been at any of the BARS or restaurants she went to. But her attention at those times was ALWAYS focused on someone else. 

To see another woman here, in her HOME, was unusual. But certainly not UNWELCOME. She must have had some business to take care of with one of her uncles. Well.. why not CHAT with her in the meantime?

                “If you’re waiting for one of my                  uncles… I think they’re all BUSY                 right now. But… I could get us                 some tea, if you’d like some                  COMPANY while you wait?” 

     The girl was so eager to say something. It made the faintest of smiles creep up her lips. At least she had manners. Most women in these situations did not. They were usually too strung out on drugs to make any note of a regular conversation; unable to string a simple ‘hello’ together.

Uncles she had called them. Disgusting, disposable pigs is how Bethany had viewed them. All men were, in their own right. Her husband, father, and brothers included. Especially those who didn’t bat an eye to do something atrocious for the right amount of money, or things of value; be it drugs, guns, women. Whatever they could sell. And men like that were not worth her time. A woman in charge of the gun was a much more ruthless and cunning destruction.

Tagged by:  (I honestly have no idea because this has been sitting in my drafts for months. oops. sorry)

Tagging: whoever wants to!

𝐌𝐄𝐃𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐋.                   tired eyes.  coffee stains on the table.   listening to the bustle of the city. unmade beds.   loose ponytails.   sunlight seeping through the curtains.  chapped lips.  walking barefoot across the floorboards.  dusty dictionaries.   black and white reruns.  huge sweaters. the ticking of the clock. hearing birds in the morning.  fireplaces. falling asleep during class.

𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄.               freckles. the sun rising.  watching the sea.   taking shots of the city.   historical museums.   bright eyes.   looking up at the clouds. walls covered in artworks.   drawing in the middle of lessons.  tracing your fingers on the sand. painting for hours. staying in uncrowded coffee-shops. worn paperbacks.  messy braids.  going to bed with your socks on.

𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐎𝐐𝐔𝐄.                    dark hair.   a little sophisticated.   always observing the world around you.  intricate designs.   high ceilings.  extravagant musical pieces.   dim lights.  colorless photographs.  fancy furniture.  pale skin.  hearing soft footfalls coming from outside the room. mischievous looks.   bitten nails.   candlelight dinners.   dark shades of lipstick.

𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋.                 chandeliers.   the clinking of a teacup. laced clothing. modern architecture. light hair.   watching the view from the terrace.  hidden birthmarks. drinking tea in the morning. wandering about in an empty building. botanical gardens.   old films.   ancient marble sculptures.  expensive perfume.   breakfasts in bed.   reading about mythology.