Curate, connect, and discover
To Tag: Myranda Royce. - Blog Posts
girls had no right being smart, had no right to be clever – or at least, that was the gist that had so long been spoken about women, the gist that had not taken hold in myranda, whose mind ticked and formulated thoughts and ideas far quicker than some of the men she'd seen taking up armor in hopes of becoming one of the winged knights. though the blackfish might not have fully caught on to her words, there was no doubting the curiosity she knew she had piqued by her line of questioning – no doubting the fact that the man who'd known her since she was little and ever more full of questions knew she did not ask unless she already had an inkling of the answer she'd receive.
myranda only smiles, warm and sweet as she brings her goblet of wine to her lips and drinks, before placing a hand upon his arm carefully. “you must stay for the tourney lord littlefinger is insisting we hold, i believe your little grand - nephew would find comfort in your presence.” that was, if the sweetrobin even made it down the mountain, she was starting to have doubts – starting to feel the ill at ease settling in her stomach that often came with a shifting tide. harry the heir was not being called to heel at last for only a sweet showing of kindness before his little lord paramount. but myranda was more interested in directing brynden's gaze to the girl littlefinger had touted as his bastard daughter, more interested in piecing together the missing link to the question of who she really was. she already had an idea, but proof . . . proof was necessary.
“perhaps he might even see fit to name you one of his winged men, if he does not find you have grown too wrinkled to wield your blade.” her lips curl into a teasing grin, the jest off of her tongue as easily as if she had been speaking to a friend her own age. “or maybe you will finally find yourself taken with a lady so that you may settle, i hear baelish's bastard daughter is quite lovely, pretty eyes. bluer than blue.”
TIME HAD SEEMED TO SLOW SINCE HIS ESCAPE . Riverrun was now in the past , as was the self - righteous look upon Jaime Lannister's face , occasionally still haunting him in short , subtle nightmares . should've socked that ugly git in the mouth when he'd had the chance . should've faced him in combat , maybe , and gone down like a true knight . . . and forsake every chance to ever help his family again . the few of them that were still alive , that was .
the Blackfish turned his own goblet in his hands , slunk down in his chair . he had believed the Eyrie safe to return to , but the news of Lysa's death had reached him just in time - and his journey thus had ended at the Gates of the Moon ; safely tucked away , for now , in the stronghold of a friend , until he had recuperated and healed the few wounds he had suffered during his escape . " I'll let you know once I've spotted a foolish girl around . " his voice sounded gruff as ever , but there was kindness in his eyes . he'd known Myranda since she was but a girl . since the days when she'd been unwed , unwidowed , and a little more lucky than she seemed these days .
Littlefinger knew of his presence and had offered copious invitations for him to stay at the Eyrie , but an ugly little weasle remained an ugly little weasle and he'd rather drown himself in the moat , than trust Petyr Baelish . to the daughter he had claimed was his , had Brynden paid no attention at all . " Catelyn , " he replied almost into his goblet , tully blue eyes grown distant for but a moment . he had failed his little Cat and now he sat trapped in the Vale , unsure of where to turn . his gaze switched to Myranda then , curiosity peaked at the odd question . she was a smart girl ; quick - witted and fast to catch on . and beyond the reputation as a terrible gossip , Brynden knew she rarely asked questions just for idle conversation . " why the sudden interest ? "
@tymptir said : " the look on your face says there's more on your mind. " , for the blackfish & myranda.
she'd always been poor at hiding her thoughts, ever visible in the curl of her lips – in the way her eyes hold life no matter how hard she tries to dull the fire within them. it comes as little shock to hear as much from his lips, even if myranda had considered him to be uninterested in the things that lingered in her head. she purses her lips for a moment, her head tilting as she casts her glance over the blackfish once more, before a soft rise and fall of her shoulders is offered in response.
“ surely the mind of a foolish girl does not bother you so much, lord brynden. ” a teasing curl of her lips as lithe fingers curl around her goblet of wine, bringing it to her lips to take a small sip. myranda knows well enough of the reputation that precedes her, for the bawdy rumors that encompass the minds of everyone when her name is brought up. a fact she cannot change, the unfortunate side effect of how her first, and only marriage, had come to its end.
“ i was only thinking of how you share a look with someone, that is all. ” keen eyed, myranda'd picked up on the similarities withheld between this tully and the girl littlefinger had sworn to be his own daughter; had also listened to enough fumbles of words from alayne to parse out enough information that she wasn't entirely who she said she was. an intriguing game it was, and one she thought perhaps, that the blackfish hadn't yet caught on to being played. “ what was your dear niece's name again, the one married to the stark? ”