Post by The Stranger on Jul 25, 2008 17:34:36 GMT -5
High in the Red Keep, stowed away, and nearly forgotten, Tristeza Martell awaited the fate she had long known to be impending. Her cell was small, but tidy, and not overly uncomfortable.
Lord Benfry arrived in the early afternoon; "Lady Martell," he nodded politely.
Tristeza looked up from the floor where she was sitting beside her nearly three year old son--they were bent over a large book from which she had been reading aloud when his address had chimed in. Her mouth was bent into an unnatural smile, which seems practiced, and worn, though her eyes were full of sadness. The child appeared fretful, and clung helplessly to his mother, defiance in his face, "Good afternoon, Lord Smith," Tristeza murmured, in the same voice she had used to recount the words of the large tome before her, "Are you well today?"
Benfry shrugged "As well as can be expected, considering the circumstances" he squatted down and said "What are you reading the boy? Does it have a happy ending? I could use a happy ending about now" he said with a sad smile
Tristeza folded the book closed to display the title: A Modern History of Sunspear, and Dorne. "The happy ending isn't in this book, but we hope it will be in the next installment," she said with a sigh in her voice, before her face became stern. "Do you have a man outside who could take my son a moment or two? A trustworthy man? I have need to speak with you..." she said hopefully, casting a anxious look towards young Horas, whose grip on her tightened rapidly as she spoke. She brushed her fingers through his hair, and against his cheek, trying to soothe his worries.
Benfry frowned "Trustworthy men are in short supply these days, Lady Martell. One of the Small Council now aids these invaders and he was one of the more trustworthy ones" he sighed "Still, I'm sure the septas can handle a 3 year old boy though" he said with a slight smile and a wink to the young lad.
After a few moments, a septa was summoned and led Horas away, after a short crying fit and tug of war with his mother. Soon they were alone in the cell. "So, what did you wish to speak about?" Benfry said plainly, taking a seat nearby with an earnest look on his face.
Tristeza remained on the ground, apparently too drained to stand, though she watched her boy go with pleading eyes. "It concerns my will," she said as her eyes left the door her son had vanished through, and settled decidedly on the unremarkable ground, "I have no much to leave my children, but I did have two personal effects on my person when I arrived in your custody--two twin obsidian daggers. They were gifted to me by the late Princess Emelia--the children's aunt. If you would see that one is delivered upon my death to Braavos--it is meant for my daughter, Isabella--and the other is to be kept safe until my son is of a proper age to weild it. But...if you could see he receives training in small blades? It would be a shame for him not to know it's way. If it is not too much to ask," she murmured with a a desperate hopelessness.
Benfry sat still for a long time as he considered the request.
"I will see what I can do, Lady Martell. I am do not know whether those objects will be lost if this city falls but if not, I will do as you request. Your son shall be given martial training as befits his rank. How good he gets with them depends on him."
Tristeza nodded, and paused a long moment as her breathing staggered slightly--her mental focus had shifted; it had trickled from business into sadness. Her eyes sparkled with moisture, with the striking resemblence of dew on grass. She murmured in a voice which clung to what little strength she had left, "Will you tell me how his life will go?"
Her words were a plea for reassurance--he would know what she wanted to hear. He will grow up well, with many friends; perhaps he will even grow close with the King and prince. He will be strong, and smart, and love you, though you are gone--he will remember you fondly, and will strive to make you proud. He will be a good ruler. He will right the mistakes you made. He will love Dorne as you did, and he will bring it to the peace for which it has long hungered. even as the echo of the words she hoped to hear rang through her mind, she turned her eyes towards the Lord Regent with a deep hope that was more pathetic than endearing--how long could a woman survive on hope alone?
Then again, she would not need to survive too much longer.
Benfry quirked a sad smile "No-one can see the future, Lady Martell - least of all me. I do not know where his life will take him. He will have a tough task reuniting the dornish people behind him. I told you as much before you returned. Though the name Martell still has strong support in Dorne, those who remained behind have little reason to love it. Unlike you and your supporters in Braavos, they were left to rebuild their shattered homes and broken lives in the midst of an occupying army" he said bluntly. He could not offer false reassurance, nor in truth did he wish to.
"I hope he grows wise, strong and loyal to the crown who will shelter him but the burdens of rule can do strange things to the mind. You and I know that all to well."
Tristeza looked again towards the ground, gazing into a vision clear only to her. Her eyes were misty, and unfocussed, and her mourth was shut tight, as though the wrong words were waiting inside to spill out.
After a long silent moment her lips parted only to allow a shallow, muted breath. Her words remembered business now, though her mind was far away as she gazed still, unblinkingly at an invisible scene. She was in a sort of trance as she murmured, "There are ten ships in Braavos which have been part of the effort to rebuild Dornish economy--they were a gift to us by the Sea Lord--it is my wish that they be regifted to whomever will rule Sunspear in my son's stead until he is of age to rule himself. If that entity chooses to destroy them in spite, or refuses to accept them, that is very well, but I would have them know I mean only the best for that city, and for that Kingdom...for...this Kingdom." she paused a long time, growing more intent on the ground. Her eyes came to a near squint as she gazed firmly in the same direction. Her voice was softer, and sadder as she finished, "If you would please try to manage that--I know you are very busy with other business. It can certainly wait for a more convenient time..." and with those words, her eyes closed, and her head hung low as her hands twisted in her lap.
Benfry snorted "There is no longer a convenient time, Lady Martell. To expedite matters, you can write to whomever commands those ships. Your message shall of course be read but, providing there is nothing which I feel will give our rivals in Braavos confidential information, I shall allow it to go in your own hand" he paused and looked at her defeated form, slumped on the floor "Is there....is there anything else you wish to settle Lady Tristeza?"
Tristeza took a deep breath before she met his eyes again. "I would very much like something to drink." she said decidedly, her eyes thoughtful, and intent upon his face, suddenly focused and deliberate.
Benfry raised his eyebrows in surprise and asked the guard to bring a pitcher of water and one of wine. When the guard returned he placed the tray on the table near Lady Martell.
"I'm afraid we don't keep many dornish vintages in Kings Landing. They are hard to come by for the most part, so you'll have to make do with Arbor Red" he said apologetically.
Tristeza's eyes did not move from his face, and her intensity was only magnified by his apology; there was a desperate, fervent hope in her eyes that was strangely at-odds with the hollow anguish which still exuded from her posture, and her the lines around her mouth and eyes. When the guard had dismissed himself she continued, without missing a beat, "There is a very specific drink I would very much like..." she murmured, her voice very low, and very soft, remembering the tone of a plea. Her expression softened dramatically as she finished, "Something that will help me sleep...I want to fall asleep with my child in my arms." Here, her lip twitched defiantly, though it was clear she devoting a great deal of effort to remaining composed.
Benfry's eyes narrowed suspiciously "I am not a man for hidden meanings or phrases, Lady Tristeza. If you wish something to help you sleep I can have the maester give you some milk of the poppy. If you mean something more permanent..." he paused
"Is the last memory you wish to give your son of you, that of dying while holding him? I am not a parent, but that sounds the sort of thing that can haunt and damage young minds. Especially those not old enough to understand the circumstances."
Tristeza sighed, "He will not understand. I doubt he will even remember..." She murmured hollowly, "It is very strange, the disparity in my thinking," she said in no more than a whisper, "Half of my life I have thought myself very strong, and the other half I have thought myself very weak..." this seemed to be a minor detour in her thought process before she found the topic at hand once more and said with some authority, though extrememly little, indeed, "I do...want something permanant." she paused for a long moment, "I have done many things in my life--some right, many wrong...but it seems to me that poison haunts me. It is all I am remembered for--I am even remembered for poisonings I did not orchestrate. To be perfectly honest, I do not even know the chemistry of a single poison. But it would be a fitting end. It is the end I want; and I have little left to want at this point. But that is on the very short list."
"Very well" Benfry said, his voice emotionless "I shall fetch the maester and I am sure he will provide something quick acting & painless. If you wish to set your instructions in writing, a parchment and quill will be provided for you"
Benfry had a hurried whispered conversation with the guard who went to fetch the keep's master.
"Thank you," Tristeza muttered; and she meant it on several counts; she owed much to the Lord Regent, though he had never had any true reason to trust her, and she was genuinely grateful, though she was not certain he was aware. She added, "and the child may stay where he is...if you think it will hurt him...I will trust in that analysis...But I would have you stay if you would..." her eyes shot away from him as she made this request, fearful that he would see the weakness in it.
Benfry nodded gravely "No-one should have to die alone, in the dark" he hesitated. "I am sorry it has come to this, if that is of any small solace, Lady Martell. A part of me wishes you could live to see your son grow into the fullness of manhood but we are each bound by our duties. I wonder at how much blood these hands have caused to be spilled, but I hope and pray it has all been for the betterment of the realm and the preservation of its unity. I truly believe we are better together, larger than the sum of our parts. Had we remained 7 seperate kingdoms, these lizards would have destroyed us in short order, one following the other. At least together we stand some slim chance..." he shook his head. "But that is not your concern at least" he finished as a meek looking maester scurried into the room and bowed to the Regent.
Tristeza offerred a weak smile as the maester trickled into the room, and whispered to King Regent before the small man entered ear-shot, "I prefer your smiles to your speeches, Lord Smith--they are of more comfort to me, and suit you better, if you don't mind my saying." It was a wry, half-hearted jest, but it was the sum of the good humour she had left within her.
As the small maester arrived beside them, Tristeza held out a wary hand for the glass he bore, and waited for him to leave, staring expressionlessly after his figure long past his vanishing behind the chamber door. She held the small inornate glass in both hands, running an appraising finger along it's smooth surface, and considering it closely. Her eyes were sad, and empty, and her lips twitched violently as she concentrated all of her energy on maintaining her composure. She looked up, shaking her head, "Is it wrong that even now, in my last moments of life, when I have liscence more than ever to weep that I am still trying to escape my own humanity? To be more than I am?"
"People face their death in different ways, Tristeza. Some, like Avery, long to be heard and listened to before the end. He had more speeches than smiles" Benfry replied with a crooked grin
"This is not a bad way all things considered and it is, at least partly, in a time and method of your own choosing" he replied calmly, his eyes alternating on the bottle and her face as he waited patiently for Lady Martell to compose herself.
Tristeza nodded, and stood for the first time, crossing silently to the solitary small window the chamber housed--it was a sad little thing with a poor view, but it opened to the south, which was the only direction that held her interest. As she gazed towards the home she had so long missed, and pictured the faces of all those who had loved her, and all those she had loved, she lifted the plain little goblet to her lips, leaning slightly against the window sill. She breathed deeply the scent of the air, and imagined it had the smell of baked sand in the day, and let the distant aroma of sea brine fill her lungs--that reminded her more than anything of home, "When I can no longer stand," she breathed to the anemic wind, which carried the sound of her voice ever faintly to the Lord Regent, with the texture of a feather on air, "I pray you will not let me fall."
She said nothing more, but began to hum a Dornish tune from long ago, and in her ears it had the sound of her mothers voice, and waves on the warm Saltshore.
Benfry stood and walked up behind Lady Martell, though he kept a discrete distance and said nothing as he waited for the end to come. He listened with his head cocked to one side as she hummed the tune, so different to anything he'd heard, even during the dornish party to celebrate the King's wedding.
The wind carried her mind far away to place where the sun was shining warm on her face--the windows were flung open, and the same heat that had often stifled her spirit now warmed the cold trenches of her heart. Her husband was there, with a rare smile on his mouth, too blue for the rich warm colors all around her. Her sister was standing nearby with her children laughing, welcoming her home--they were beautiful, and whole as they had been in life; nothing like the mangled images she had seen in her mind's eye-- she saw the wreckage of the fire fade, and heard the echoes of her sister's screams dissipate even as she watched her holding out her hands in greeting.
She began to forget the grievances of life--she remembered only the important things--her children, Sergyo, Dorne.
It was when her husband pulled her into the embrace of a man who has long missed one he loved, that she felt the world she knew slip away completely; and even as she felt it go, Lady Tristeza Martell's breathing slowed dangerously, her mind went blank, and her heart-beat stopped.
Benfry stepped forward quickly as he saw Tristeza's shoulders slump as she began to collapse. He quickly caught her and lowered her to the floor gently as her life ebbed away. He saw that a strange smile played over her face as he felt her heart flutter like a caged bird before it slowed to a stop.
He stayed that way for several minutes. Finally he called out for the guard to go and fetch the septa and young Horas, as he lifted Tristeza's body onto the cell's bed and tried to make her look as peaceful and presentable as possible
After the child had come in and had his predictable crying fit. Benfry ordered the septa to take him away and get him ready for the evacuation with King Rickon. He ordered the guard to arrange for Lady Martell's head to be removed from her body, treated, and placed on Traitors Walk next to her former husband Lord Horas.
Lord Benfry arrived in the early afternoon; "Lady Martell," he nodded politely.
Tristeza looked up from the floor where she was sitting beside her nearly three year old son--they were bent over a large book from which she had been reading aloud when his address had chimed in. Her mouth was bent into an unnatural smile, which seems practiced, and worn, though her eyes were full of sadness. The child appeared fretful, and clung helplessly to his mother, defiance in his face, "Good afternoon, Lord Smith," Tristeza murmured, in the same voice she had used to recount the words of the large tome before her, "Are you well today?"
Benfry shrugged "As well as can be expected, considering the circumstances" he squatted down and said "What are you reading the boy? Does it have a happy ending? I could use a happy ending about now" he said with a sad smile
Tristeza folded the book closed to display the title: A Modern History of Sunspear, and Dorne. "The happy ending isn't in this book, but we hope it will be in the next installment," she said with a sigh in her voice, before her face became stern. "Do you have a man outside who could take my son a moment or two? A trustworthy man? I have need to speak with you..." she said hopefully, casting a anxious look towards young Horas, whose grip on her tightened rapidly as she spoke. She brushed her fingers through his hair, and against his cheek, trying to soothe his worries.
Benfry frowned "Trustworthy men are in short supply these days, Lady Martell. One of the Small Council now aids these invaders and he was one of the more trustworthy ones" he sighed "Still, I'm sure the septas can handle a 3 year old boy though" he said with a slight smile and a wink to the young lad.
After a few moments, a septa was summoned and led Horas away, after a short crying fit and tug of war with his mother. Soon they were alone in the cell. "So, what did you wish to speak about?" Benfry said plainly, taking a seat nearby with an earnest look on his face.
Tristeza remained on the ground, apparently too drained to stand, though she watched her boy go with pleading eyes. "It concerns my will," she said as her eyes left the door her son had vanished through, and settled decidedly on the unremarkable ground, "I have no much to leave my children, but I did have two personal effects on my person when I arrived in your custody--two twin obsidian daggers. They were gifted to me by the late Princess Emelia--the children's aunt. If you would see that one is delivered upon my death to Braavos--it is meant for my daughter, Isabella--and the other is to be kept safe until my son is of a proper age to weild it. But...if you could see he receives training in small blades? It would be a shame for him not to know it's way. If it is not too much to ask," she murmured with a a desperate hopelessness.
Benfry sat still for a long time as he considered the request.
"I will see what I can do, Lady Martell. I am do not know whether those objects will be lost if this city falls but if not, I will do as you request. Your son shall be given martial training as befits his rank. How good he gets with them depends on him."
Tristeza nodded, and paused a long moment as her breathing staggered slightly--her mental focus had shifted; it had trickled from business into sadness. Her eyes sparkled with moisture, with the striking resemblence of dew on grass. She murmured in a voice which clung to what little strength she had left, "Will you tell me how his life will go?"
Her words were a plea for reassurance--he would know what she wanted to hear. He will grow up well, with many friends; perhaps he will even grow close with the King and prince. He will be strong, and smart, and love you, though you are gone--he will remember you fondly, and will strive to make you proud. He will be a good ruler. He will right the mistakes you made. He will love Dorne as you did, and he will bring it to the peace for which it has long hungered. even as the echo of the words she hoped to hear rang through her mind, she turned her eyes towards the Lord Regent with a deep hope that was more pathetic than endearing--how long could a woman survive on hope alone?
Then again, she would not need to survive too much longer.
Benfry quirked a sad smile "No-one can see the future, Lady Martell - least of all me. I do not know where his life will take him. He will have a tough task reuniting the dornish people behind him. I told you as much before you returned. Though the name Martell still has strong support in Dorne, those who remained behind have little reason to love it. Unlike you and your supporters in Braavos, they were left to rebuild their shattered homes and broken lives in the midst of an occupying army" he said bluntly. He could not offer false reassurance, nor in truth did he wish to.
"I hope he grows wise, strong and loyal to the crown who will shelter him but the burdens of rule can do strange things to the mind. You and I know that all to well."
Tristeza looked again towards the ground, gazing into a vision clear only to her. Her eyes were misty, and unfocussed, and her mourth was shut tight, as though the wrong words were waiting inside to spill out.
After a long silent moment her lips parted only to allow a shallow, muted breath. Her words remembered business now, though her mind was far away as she gazed still, unblinkingly at an invisible scene. She was in a sort of trance as she murmured, "There are ten ships in Braavos which have been part of the effort to rebuild Dornish economy--they were a gift to us by the Sea Lord--it is my wish that they be regifted to whomever will rule Sunspear in my son's stead until he is of age to rule himself. If that entity chooses to destroy them in spite, or refuses to accept them, that is very well, but I would have them know I mean only the best for that city, and for that Kingdom...for...this Kingdom." she paused a long time, growing more intent on the ground. Her eyes came to a near squint as she gazed firmly in the same direction. Her voice was softer, and sadder as she finished, "If you would please try to manage that--I know you are very busy with other business. It can certainly wait for a more convenient time..." and with those words, her eyes closed, and her head hung low as her hands twisted in her lap.
Benfry snorted "There is no longer a convenient time, Lady Martell. To expedite matters, you can write to whomever commands those ships. Your message shall of course be read but, providing there is nothing which I feel will give our rivals in Braavos confidential information, I shall allow it to go in your own hand" he paused and looked at her defeated form, slumped on the floor "Is there....is there anything else you wish to settle Lady Tristeza?"
Tristeza took a deep breath before she met his eyes again. "I would very much like something to drink." she said decidedly, her eyes thoughtful, and intent upon his face, suddenly focused and deliberate.
Benfry raised his eyebrows in surprise and asked the guard to bring a pitcher of water and one of wine. When the guard returned he placed the tray on the table near Lady Martell.
"I'm afraid we don't keep many dornish vintages in Kings Landing. They are hard to come by for the most part, so you'll have to make do with Arbor Red" he said apologetically.
Tristeza's eyes did not move from his face, and her intensity was only magnified by his apology; there was a desperate, fervent hope in her eyes that was strangely at-odds with the hollow anguish which still exuded from her posture, and her the lines around her mouth and eyes. When the guard had dismissed himself she continued, without missing a beat, "There is a very specific drink I would very much like..." she murmured, her voice very low, and very soft, remembering the tone of a plea. Her expression softened dramatically as she finished, "Something that will help me sleep...I want to fall asleep with my child in my arms." Here, her lip twitched defiantly, though it was clear she devoting a great deal of effort to remaining composed.
Benfry's eyes narrowed suspiciously "I am not a man for hidden meanings or phrases, Lady Tristeza. If you wish something to help you sleep I can have the maester give you some milk of the poppy. If you mean something more permanent..." he paused
"Is the last memory you wish to give your son of you, that of dying while holding him? I am not a parent, but that sounds the sort of thing that can haunt and damage young minds. Especially those not old enough to understand the circumstances."
Tristeza sighed, "He will not understand. I doubt he will even remember..." She murmured hollowly, "It is very strange, the disparity in my thinking," she said in no more than a whisper, "Half of my life I have thought myself very strong, and the other half I have thought myself very weak..." this seemed to be a minor detour in her thought process before she found the topic at hand once more and said with some authority, though extrememly little, indeed, "I do...want something permanant." she paused for a long moment, "I have done many things in my life--some right, many wrong...but it seems to me that poison haunts me. It is all I am remembered for--I am even remembered for poisonings I did not orchestrate. To be perfectly honest, I do not even know the chemistry of a single poison. But it would be a fitting end. It is the end I want; and I have little left to want at this point. But that is on the very short list."
"Very well" Benfry said, his voice emotionless "I shall fetch the maester and I am sure he will provide something quick acting & painless. If you wish to set your instructions in writing, a parchment and quill will be provided for you"
Benfry had a hurried whispered conversation with the guard who went to fetch the keep's master.
"Thank you," Tristeza muttered; and she meant it on several counts; she owed much to the Lord Regent, though he had never had any true reason to trust her, and she was genuinely grateful, though she was not certain he was aware. She added, "and the child may stay where he is...if you think it will hurt him...I will trust in that analysis...But I would have you stay if you would..." her eyes shot away from him as she made this request, fearful that he would see the weakness in it.
Benfry nodded gravely "No-one should have to die alone, in the dark" he hesitated. "I am sorry it has come to this, if that is of any small solace, Lady Martell. A part of me wishes you could live to see your son grow into the fullness of manhood but we are each bound by our duties. I wonder at how much blood these hands have caused to be spilled, but I hope and pray it has all been for the betterment of the realm and the preservation of its unity. I truly believe we are better together, larger than the sum of our parts. Had we remained 7 seperate kingdoms, these lizards would have destroyed us in short order, one following the other. At least together we stand some slim chance..." he shook his head. "But that is not your concern at least" he finished as a meek looking maester scurried into the room and bowed to the Regent.
Tristeza offerred a weak smile as the maester trickled into the room, and whispered to King Regent before the small man entered ear-shot, "I prefer your smiles to your speeches, Lord Smith--they are of more comfort to me, and suit you better, if you don't mind my saying." It was a wry, half-hearted jest, but it was the sum of the good humour she had left within her.
As the small maester arrived beside them, Tristeza held out a wary hand for the glass he bore, and waited for him to leave, staring expressionlessly after his figure long past his vanishing behind the chamber door. She held the small inornate glass in both hands, running an appraising finger along it's smooth surface, and considering it closely. Her eyes were sad, and empty, and her lips twitched violently as she concentrated all of her energy on maintaining her composure. She looked up, shaking her head, "Is it wrong that even now, in my last moments of life, when I have liscence more than ever to weep that I am still trying to escape my own humanity? To be more than I am?"
"People face their death in different ways, Tristeza. Some, like Avery, long to be heard and listened to before the end. He had more speeches than smiles" Benfry replied with a crooked grin
"This is not a bad way all things considered and it is, at least partly, in a time and method of your own choosing" he replied calmly, his eyes alternating on the bottle and her face as he waited patiently for Lady Martell to compose herself.
Tristeza nodded, and stood for the first time, crossing silently to the solitary small window the chamber housed--it was a sad little thing with a poor view, but it opened to the south, which was the only direction that held her interest. As she gazed towards the home she had so long missed, and pictured the faces of all those who had loved her, and all those she had loved, she lifted the plain little goblet to her lips, leaning slightly against the window sill. She breathed deeply the scent of the air, and imagined it had the smell of baked sand in the day, and let the distant aroma of sea brine fill her lungs--that reminded her more than anything of home, "When I can no longer stand," she breathed to the anemic wind, which carried the sound of her voice ever faintly to the Lord Regent, with the texture of a feather on air, "I pray you will not let me fall."
She said nothing more, but began to hum a Dornish tune from long ago, and in her ears it had the sound of her mothers voice, and waves on the warm Saltshore.
Benfry stood and walked up behind Lady Martell, though he kept a discrete distance and said nothing as he waited for the end to come. He listened with his head cocked to one side as she hummed the tune, so different to anything he'd heard, even during the dornish party to celebrate the King's wedding.
The wind carried her mind far away to place where the sun was shining warm on her face--the windows were flung open, and the same heat that had often stifled her spirit now warmed the cold trenches of her heart. Her husband was there, with a rare smile on his mouth, too blue for the rich warm colors all around her. Her sister was standing nearby with her children laughing, welcoming her home--they were beautiful, and whole as they had been in life; nothing like the mangled images she had seen in her mind's eye-- she saw the wreckage of the fire fade, and heard the echoes of her sister's screams dissipate even as she watched her holding out her hands in greeting.
She began to forget the grievances of life--she remembered only the important things--her children, Sergyo, Dorne.
It was when her husband pulled her into the embrace of a man who has long missed one he loved, that she felt the world she knew slip away completely; and even as she felt it go, Lady Tristeza Martell's breathing slowed dangerously, her mind went blank, and her heart-beat stopped.
Benfry stepped forward quickly as he saw Tristeza's shoulders slump as she began to collapse. He quickly caught her and lowered her to the floor gently as her life ebbed away. He saw that a strange smile played over her face as he felt her heart flutter like a caged bird before it slowed to a stop.
He stayed that way for several minutes. Finally he called out for the guard to go and fetch the septa and young Horas, as he lifted Tristeza's body onto the cell's bed and tried to make her look as peaceful and presentable as possible
After the child had come in and had his predictable crying fit. Benfry ordered the septa to take him away and get him ready for the evacuation with King Rickon. He ordered the guard to arrange for Lady Martell's head to be removed from her body, treated, and placed on Traitors Walk next to her former husband Lord Horas.