Deepwood Motte

[Tristeza]

A funeral Service for the late lady Natalie Glover

[Tristeza]

The funeral service had taken only a day to plan. It had been only slightly over fifteen hours since her mother's body had been discovered in the frozen woods outside of Deepwood Motte, and only just under fifteen months since her father had expired in his bed. Now, as distant relatives and emissaries from the nearest northern houses addressed her politely, consoling her for her great loss, she felt nothing at all. An overwhelming sense of numbness had washed over her. She had changed since her father's death, and she could feel the change becoming more permanent, more unyielding as she prepared to seal her mother away in the humble crypt beneath their noble keep.

Her silvery hair fluttered in the icy northern wind as the procession gathered near the Godswood, though it was the only part of her that moved at all.

[The Smith]

Roman Glover walked over to his niece, followed closely by his constant companion Cestus. Roman always dressed finely, but was still the most feared warrior in the vicinity of the Motte. He had a scar running down his face, but seemed slight despite his above average height. His blond hair was well groomed, and meticulously shaven as usual.

Cestus was his opposite in all manners, large, dark, and ugly. Looking almost like one of the Wildlings he loved to fight. He was called Roman's shadow, and was almost always right behind the shorter man.

Roman did not look at her as he spoke, "I am sorry for your loss, Nieve."

[Tristeza]

Nieve nodded courteously to her uncle, though she never broke his gaze. There was something sinister in his stare; a glimmer of darkness which she often worried would one day possess her own bright eyes. A glimmer she felt she had already begun to foster. "It is as much your loss as it is mine, Uncle. Your condolences are much appreciated."

[The Smith]

Roman spoke, "Your grief is large compared to mine. A mother is greater then a sister in law." His fingers hooked behind his belt, and he studied the sky, "It looks like it could snow."

[Tristeza]

"That is the eternal manifestation of our sky at Deepwood Motte," Nieve answered, eyeing him warily, "I have not seen it clear blue, nor black with clouds since my days at Seaguard. Here it always white with the cold of winter. Always the color of impure snow."

[The Smith]

At the words Seaguad Roman's lip curled, "You should walk outside more. We do occasionally get the stark cold blue sky." His eyes did not waver, but he added, "Where is his Lordship?"

[Tristeza]

"His Lordship will not attend the ceremony," Nieve answered deliberately, "It has been a difficult day for him. It is cruel enough for him to have lost his mother and father all in one year. He need not be subjected to the wondering gazes and false pleasantries of strangers whose consolations hold not a drop of sincerity. He is but a child still, and such a display of the hard realities of life must be reserved for a boy who is something closer to a man than our Lord Ravinder, I think."

[The Smith]

Roman frowned, "Perhaps I should see him now. I am not a stranger, and I will not offer false pleasantries."

[Tristeza]

"No," Nieve agreed, "You are no stranger." She eyed her Uncle thoughtfully, "and I am certain he would have been grateful to see you, indeed; unfortunately, however, I have just sent him off to Seaguard this morning. I intend to be gone from the keep in the coming weeks, and I am assured that a warmer climate does wonders for a grieving spirit; it is too hard to cope with sadness in a cold, and lonely keep. Seaguard will be a kinder place to him until I am better able to assist in his governance."

[The Smith]

Roman growled, "You did what? You had not the right. He should be up here. The cold forge creates the strongest blade." His hands balled into fists. And his man Cestus loomed larger, staring down at Nieve.

[Tristeza]

Nieve was repulsed by Cestus, and her thinly veiled contempt became even more painfully apparent as he attempted to intimidate her. In a gathering of all of her closest friends, apart from those distant souls so far south in the warmth of Seaguard, these men intended to threaten her on the eve of her mother's burial? A sneer corrupted her pale, blank countenance, and her apauled gaze flitted between the two incensed men. "You may be calm now, Uncle," Nieve spat discreetly, no less of an order than a plea. "He will be home in good time, and we may cultivate his blade when the trauma of this ordeal has subsided."

[The Smith]

Roman shook his head, "Do I seem excited?" He made a small motion, and Cestus backs away. "You said you were leaving. Where do you plan on going?"

[Tristeza]

"I feel compelled to remove myself from the cold and emptiness of this keep. A warmer place would be ideal," she answered vaguely.

[The Smith]

Roman ran a finger along his scar, "That is wise. You do not have the strength to last up here very long."