#drownaed.

alyra  could  still  see  it,  if  she  thought  on  it  hard  enough,  the  northerner  who  had  attempted  to  end  the  life  of  the  witch  of  the  north,  the  northerner  who  had  lost  his  head  for  stabbing  the  king  who  shoved  his  advisor  out  of  the  way.  it  was  that  moment  that  forced  her  to  recognize  the  truth  of  her  gifts:  they  were  not  well  accepted  and  this  would  not  be  the  first  time  someone  tried  to  kill  her  over  them.  and  that  was  when  she  started  her  prayers,  for  a  kind  death,  a  swift  one.  ❛  i  quite  like  that  interpretation,  my  lord.  ❜

there  is  something  horrific  about  being  seen,  regardless  of  the  details  of  one’s  life.  as  someone  who  has  made  countless  sacrifices  in  the  name  of  saving  lives,  alyra  couldn’t  help  but  feel  as  though  derran  had  seen  something  that  he  certainly  should  not  have.  the  pseudo  witching  table  drawn  in  the  dirt  was  one  thing,  something  perhaps  explained  away  as  boredom  in  the  gardens.  but  if  he  was  implying  what  she  thought  he  might  be,  then  she  was  almost  certainly  going  to  be  put  to  the  sword  for  her  actions.  robb  knew  only  as  much  as  he  needed  to,  even  brandon  didn’t  have  a  full  sense  of  the  way  alyra  got  all  of  her  answers.  for  now,  though,  she  would  swallow  her  fears  and  play  dumb.  surely  it  couldn’t  be  all  that  hard,  brandon  did  it  all  the  time.  ❛  that  they  do,  lord  drumm.  war  is  full  of  them.  ❜