Post by The Smith on Oct 6, 2009 16:36:00 GMT -5
Euric studied his reflection in the mirror. "Hmmm." He had shaved off his beard and trimmed his hair so it barely reached his shoulder, yet he still did not look any younger. "It's the eyes." With a sigh he stepped back, looking down at his hands that had not known the feel of a sword hilt in a long time. He had told himself he would go down to the yard and practice but something always got in the way. And now, when he had promised himself to fix things with Alysanne, war got in the way. "I guess I just can't do it right."
"Sorry, milord?" The maesters voice came from the doorway. "Oh, nothing Gowen." Euric replied. "Your clothes are ready on the bed, milord." Euric nodded. Slowly he made his way to his bed chamber, slipping into the black and gold tunic and breeches that had been laid out. "You can wait outside, Gowen." The maester nodded and left the room.
As he sat on the bed, Euric thought about the time that now seemed so distant when he had first come to Westeros, one of many knights. "I was a young fool then... now I am still a fool, just a little older." He absently grabbed a loaf of bread from the tabled and ripped out a chunk, eating it listlessly. Topping it off with a lump of cheese and a quick gulp of water he rose, looked about his cahmbers one more time; the lone bed, the empty desk, before exiting.
Down the stairs he went, one by one, every step taking him further and further away from reality. "I should be used to war; most of my early adulthood was made of it. But here I am, still afraid of tomorrow." He passed a septa and a group of young girls, but it wasn't their faces he saw. In his minds eye it were his daughters, or possibilities of daughters, from whom he was walking away from. One girl stopped and looked up at Euric. "Why are you not smiling, milord?" She asked with all the innocence of a maiden. With a chuckle that was devoid of all humour, Euric looked down at her. "Because there is nothing to smile about." She frowned and scooted off and with a shake of his head Euric descended further.
In the yard he met his squire, a boy who was too young by far. Slowly he strapped Euric's armour to him. With every tightening of the straps and every reflection of sun off metal Euric drifted further away, his thoughts now with the Queen. There were so many conflicting thoughts and emotions, so much he needed to say but could not. Before he knew it he was fully clothed in armour, his squire holding out Dawn to him. "Boy, you'd better stay here. This is nothing for your eyes." The young man was about to complain but Euric took Dawn tightly from his hands and moved off.
Outside of the Red Keep he met his guard, men in the same black and golden livery as his own. His trip through the city went by him unnoticed, his thoughts on his wife and child. He thought of that night with Ariadne Martell, where he had been used so easily. "Damn that woman... Seven bless her damned soul."
And then he was out of the gates and in front of him were six thousand men, all of whom relied on him to lead them. Their spears were raised and their armour gleamed. Soon most of them would be rotting in the mud. "Well, men." Euric spoke, his voice audible by every man. "We march on Duskendale."
"Sorry, milord?" The maesters voice came from the doorway. "Oh, nothing Gowen." Euric replied. "Your clothes are ready on the bed, milord." Euric nodded. Slowly he made his way to his bed chamber, slipping into the black and gold tunic and breeches that had been laid out. "You can wait outside, Gowen." The maester nodded and left the room.
As he sat on the bed, Euric thought about the time that now seemed so distant when he had first come to Westeros, one of many knights. "I was a young fool then... now I am still a fool, just a little older." He absently grabbed a loaf of bread from the tabled and ripped out a chunk, eating it listlessly. Topping it off with a lump of cheese and a quick gulp of water he rose, looked about his cahmbers one more time; the lone bed, the empty desk, before exiting.
Down the stairs he went, one by one, every step taking him further and further away from reality. "I should be used to war; most of my early adulthood was made of it. But here I am, still afraid of tomorrow." He passed a septa and a group of young girls, but it wasn't their faces he saw. In his minds eye it were his daughters, or possibilities of daughters, from whom he was walking away from. One girl stopped and looked up at Euric. "Why are you not smiling, milord?" She asked with all the innocence of a maiden. With a chuckle that was devoid of all humour, Euric looked down at her. "Because there is nothing to smile about." She frowned and scooted off and with a shake of his head Euric descended further.
In the yard he met his squire, a boy who was too young by far. Slowly he strapped Euric's armour to him. With every tightening of the straps and every reflection of sun off metal Euric drifted further away, his thoughts now with the Queen. There were so many conflicting thoughts and emotions, so much he needed to say but could not. Before he knew it he was fully clothed in armour, his squire holding out Dawn to him. "Boy, you'd better stay here. This is nothing for your eyes." The young man was about to complain but Euric took Dawn tightly from his hands and moved off.
Outside of the Red Keep he met his guard, men in the same black and golden livery as his own. His trip through the city went by him unnoticed, his thoughts on his wife and child. He thought of that night with Ariadne Martell, where he had been used so easily. "Damn that woman... Seven bless her damned soul."
And then he was out of the gates and in front of him were six thousand men, all of whom relied on him to lead them. Their spears were raised and their armour gleamed. Soon most of them would be rotting in the mud. "Well, men." Euric spoke, his voice audible by every man. "We march on Duskendale."
Hope you all are well and happy.