Seven Devils » 𝕘𝕒𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕙𝕣𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕤 «

I. [a knock in the night]

"I told you, there is no help here. Be gone already!"

"Rhaella sent me," Freya's voice cracked like splintered glass. Her heart dropped to her gut when the woman's face twisted from bored indifference to calculated rage.

She bared her teeth, snaking an arm around Freya's wrist as she yanked her inside the cottage. The warmth from the fire filled her bones, and she closed her eyes in the moment of relief, though she could not yet feel her toes.

"Do not think you may speak so freely here, girl," the woman spat, whirling around to face the young handmaiden. "Even the trees have ears and mouths."

Her hair was the color of a deep red wine, silky smooth where it fell in long, curled tendrils to the small of her back. Her gown was a simple black with maroon trimmings, but with a queen's maiden's eye, Freya knew it was made of an exorbitant fabric. The eyes that scanned her up and down were dark, almost black, showcasing the flames that danced in the reflection. Then they landed on the babe clutched in Freya's arms.

The woman took a slow step forward, as if she was a predator creeping through the woods surrounding them.

"Is the child yours?" The woman narrowed those deadly eyes.

"No," Freya's response was hardly a whisper.

The woman sighed and laid a hand across her chest. "Does the King know?" She took another step, reaching for the babe. "Did anyone see you?"

"No, I was unseen." This spoken truth covered Freya's entire life at King's Landing. Always in the background, hidden in the shadows, invisible.

Except to Rhaella.

A door clicked shut on it's hinges, and Freya flinched, slinking to the corner of the room as she clutched the bundle closer to her chest.

The woman rolled her eyes and dusted an invisible fleck of dust from her skirts, settling down onto a plush velvet armchair across from Freya.

A man with a swelling gut and thick, ruddy cheeks rounded the corner, fumbling with the hilt of the sword resting at his waist. His crystal blue eyes twinkled with something like kindness, a hard contradiction to his female counterpart.

"What could possibly be so important that I am awoken at this hour?" He demanded, his gaze snapping between the women, back and forth.

"Jesmynda, answer me at once."

Jesmynda's eyes narrowed, and she leaned back in the chair as she picked at her long nails. "Don't worry yourself, husband. A promise made long ago is coming to fruition, that's all."

The husband watched Freya in the corner, who found herself unable to move an inch in any direction. He nodded once at the babe in her arms, one eyebrow raised in question.

  "I shall find you a clean blanket for the little one," he grunted and looked down, quickly exiting the room.

  Freya sniffed, tracing a shaking finger down the line of the cloth that framed the babe's face. She smiled up at her, blinking a few times in an attempt to push away the sleepiness overcoming her.

  "She needs to eat," Freya murmured, rocking the bundle in her arms back and forth. "I was lucky to still have my milk from my own child back home." She looked to Jesmynda, who nodded to the chaise across from her.

  "You may rest. Feed her, stay the night. Then you must go."

  Freya swallowed hard, already unbuttoning her cloak. "Will you keep the child?" She couldn't imagine any other reason for her Queen to send her to this place, to this woman that radiates with dark magic.