Queen of the North

Chapter Nine

There is no truth.
There is only perception.
—

With the Captain of the House Guard's broken and barely conscious, Varly stepped into his role as second-in-command with quiet authority. He sent Wyl's body to the Silent Sisters to be cleaned and prepared for a proper northern burial. Eleonora ferociously insisted her father, Jory, and all of the lesser injured Stark guards be taken to the Hand's Tower. She protested vehemently that there was no safe place for northerners in the south, but they must stay together for as long as they could. Varly did not disobey his lady, nor did he disagree with her claims. Grand Maester Pycelle was extremely offended when he was commanded to do his healing from outside the infirmary, and more so as the Hand's eldest daughter hovered over his shoulder while he examined her father like a Nighthawk.

Eleonora surrendered her bedchambers to Jory, leading the City Watch into her room. Jory groaned loudly, gripping his aching ribcage. His leather armor had been removed and his once white undershirt was now soaked with his blood. Eleonora ripped open his shirt to see the damage done and gasped at the horrific open wound from the top of his shoulder to just above his nipple. Jory heard her sharp intake of breath and sent her a weak grin as he winced in pain, "I think he just nicked me."

The eldest Stark daughter's eyes suddenly flooded with tears again as a few of Pycelle's septas stepped in to remove his shirt and clean his wound. One of the septas held a small cup of the milk of the poppy in her hands, leaning in to pour it down Jory's throat. He struggled to turn his head away, "May I have a moment alone with Lady Stark?"

"We must clean your wound and suture—"

"Only a moment," he replied, "and then I will do whatever you ask of me."

The two septas nodded quietly, setting the milk of the poppy on the table beside him, and stepped outside, closing the door behind them. Eleonora stepped forward and pushed Jory's blood stained hair from his eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks freely now, "I'm so sorry, Jory. If my mother wouldn't have captured Tyrion Lannister, Jaime wouldn't have retaliated — Wyl would still be alive and you would—"

"Nora, you not only saved my life but the others as well," he said through his pain. "I will not close my eyes knowing you bear any sort of guilt for what Jaime Lannister and his men have done. It's only because of your skill with your bow that we're alive."

Eleonora knelt over him, kissing his forehead for a long moment before breathing life into Jory with her words, "I'll be right by your side when you wake up."

"Then I reckon I should get to sleep, so not to keep you waiting," said Jory, attempting to smile through his grimacing. Eleonora reached for the cup of milk of the poppy and brought it to Jory's lips. He drank the liquid in three gulps, looking up at her one last time before closing his unfocused eyes, "Oh, how I have loved you, Eleonora."

She covered her mouth to silence her abrupt sob. A heavy knock came from behind her, "yes, septas, you may enter."

The two septas entered with their heads bowed and Eleonora immediately noticed why. The king and queen stood behind them in the doorway. Robert had taken time to dress. He wore a black velvet doublet with the crowned stag of Baratheon worked upon the breast in golden thread, and a golden mantle with a cloak of black and gold squares. His face was flushed from drink. Cersei Lannister stood beside him, a jeweled tiara in her hair. Eleonora rose from Jory's side and bowed to the king and queen. Whenever Robert saw Eleonora it was almost as if he were shocked by her appearance for the very first time and his expression did not hide this. She quickly stepped forward into the empty common space outside her chambers, closing the door behind her.