#conall 002

the periodic spotlight of the sun and blue sky peeping through overcast grey clouds did little to defend against the natural elements of wind, light drizzle and the slight dip in temperature that came with the natural incline. "it's a good thing yer king sent you here though, ain't it? shows he be takin notice of you." and yet still, there was no better time for a ramble through the ancient surroundings of stone hedge than the current weather; cold enough to ensure some fresh air, but the walking ensured warmth.

"what do it mean to be an ambassador anyway? like, you need make sure our realms don't go to war?" was that even possible? she looked back at him, on the rock right behind her; her brows were furrowed at the prospect of their realms doing such a thing. "they'd not do such a thing...even if yer king ain't entirely accepted the queen."

beneath a checkered brown and green dress was a set of sturdy walking boots, the boots the servants used when ploughing the fields, and it were vital; lest they both find themselves slipping. since returning from kings landing, she had been desperate to go for walks such as this one again - following the path clover seemed to be laying out for them, she paid no mind to the squelch of her boots or the puddles she needed to step in.

"i don't get it, honestly. the men picked her, they crowned her. we did the whole thing, why is it the business of other kingdoms who the riverfolk want to lead us?" she asked, walking by some lavender in the backdrop as they continued to descend now. "it's not like the prince should have any crown upon his head. he's thick as pig shite."

they had both done this path before; so many a time. many of their closest friends and loved ones had, dotted distant figures moving from one rock to another - this time though, the second lord of house blackbar seemed to be her company. hardly peculiar, for it more often than not ended up being the two of them walking and talking slightly ahead or behind a larger group. "careful con, slippery rock there." she indicated, tapping the rock with the tip of her boot. "may be better to go round the one on the left."

ronan settled back in his chair, the firelight dancing across his face, casting shadows that made him look older than he felt. a glass of wine rested in his hand, the rich red swirling as he lifted it to his lips, taking a long sip. when he set it down, his gaze drifted over to conall, who was leaning back in his chair, the same familiar look in his eyes as when they were lads. “cedric’s got ye runnin' about for him now, eh?” ronan said with a soft laugh, his clover accent thick, but the teasing tone in his voice was more warm than mocking. “never thought i’d see the day. our connie, the ambassador- i'll be honest and say i was chuffed hearin it were you. welcome home mate.”

he leaned forward slightly, his elbows on the table, and his fingers drumming the side of his glass absentmindedly. the wine had loosened his tongue, but he wasn’t pushing for anything more than honesty. not with conall.

“ye’ve always had the knack for words, haven’t ye?” ronan continued, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied his old friend. “but words won’t be enough now. not with this bloody mess we’ve got on our hands. the riverlands and the reach… iona’s seat, well, it’s not one that’s easily settled. no matter how much she tries to make it so.” he paused, the silence between them thickening, filled with unspoken truths that only old friends shared. “i know ye’ve not been in this game long, not the way we’ve had to play it here, but you’ve heard the murmurs. a few too many, aye? it’s all politics, con. aidan's return could spark some issues, even if he is not the pushing factor of them."

he took another long sip from his glass, then set it down with a deliberate slowness, as though weighing his next words carefully. “i can honestly tell ya, i think iona's one to keep her crown, because she knows it’ll take more than promises and agreements. the riverlands… we ain't so easily ruled, you know that. loyalty’s earned, not granted. and the men have mighty respect for her, i ain't heard of none speaking less of her for it." ronan paused again, his eyes locking with conall’s. there was something softer there, an understanding only time could forge; he knew these words would be relayed back to those in the reach.

lucrezia awoke with a violent jolt, her body thrown against the side of her quarters. the storm was upon them, its fury evident in the way the ship tossed beneath her. she blinked rapidly, her mind struggling to catch up with the sudden shock to her system. the warmth of her bed, the soft folds of her silken sheets, were now distant comforts that had been ripped away with the viciousness of the wind and rain. a moment’s disorientation, and then the realisation hit her. no, not now, she thought, a cold dread pooling in her stomach. her management had been over, and she'd let herself drift into sleep, assuming all would be well. but this—this wasn’t a passing squall.

it was far worse. she could hear the waves battering against the hull, the creaking of wood straining against the sea’s power. she pulled herself upright, the ship lurching beneath her feet. “damn it,” she muttered, already moving. the heavy weight of her nightgown clung to her frame as she threw on a cloak of dark velvet, her breath quickening as she fastened the clasp. her fingers were still trembling from the suddenness of it all, but there was no time to lose. lucrezia knew that when storms like this came, they didn’t play nice.

she stormed out of her cabin, her eyes squinting against the furious lash of rain and wind. the deck was a frenzy of shouting men, faces illuminated only by the flickering glow of distant lanterns, fighting to stay afloat against the violent pull of the sea. the ship groaned in protest, the sound sending a tremor through her. “keep the lanterns on, don't let them go out!” lucrezia barked, her voice cutting through the noise. she had to see—they had to be able to see. the men fumbled with the lanterns, some hesitant, others quick to comply. as the light flickered into existence around them, lucrezia scanned the horizon. her stomach clenched in fear. it wasn’t the storm she feared most—it was what lay beneath it. rocks.

and candlelight was the only way they'd be able to see it, if only for a moment. she didn’t have to look twice. the jagged shapes stood out like the broken teeth of a beast, dark shadows cutting across the frothy water. her heart skipped a beat. the shoreline was too close. too close. “conall!” lucrezia shouted, her voice urgent. she could see his silhouette show up at the wheel, having darted across the deck; and now he stood at the wheel, tall and steadfast against the chaos around him. he didn’t know—but she did. the rocks would be on them within a few moments.

“left!” she screamed again, her pulse quickening, the urgency in her voice sharp enough to cut through the roar of the wind. “hard left!” lord conall blackbar was already moving, she could see him now, hands gripping the wheel as he adjusted their course, his expression one of intense concentration. he had been awake when the storm hit, she could tell by the way he was already navigating them through the tempest. the ship groaned beneath them, the wooden hull straining against the sea's violent grip. lucrezia’s heart pounded in her chest, each thud an urgent reminder that they were not safe, not yet. she looked to conall once more, her gaze frantic.