Tuesday, December 25, 2018
The Fight in the Sept
Today was quite eventful. I have been lax in my diary for a few days, the trip took too much out of us all I think and I have found much chaos here. We have been put under lock down, due to the Tully Murder. The Iron Born have a curfew and at last I learned for certain why, though the manner of gaining this knowledge is a mixture of horror and amusement. One of their boats is missing.
I went to the Sept with Abigail, to pray. There was another lady there. We shared a bit of a whisper, another whose faith has been shaken. I dare not reveal my own doubts, lest people see weakness. I envy that freedom but I know too it is dangerous. We were beset by an iron born, named Siggy Saltcliffe. At this time Margot Templeton fled as the Iron Born Saltcliffe groped the Mother's breasts and Septa Abigail lost her senses. I have seen her irate before but never to senseless violence. She is sedated by a maester now and resting, though I did swear a punishment for what she did. It was the only way to not unleash further dramatics and after my talk with Saoirse this morning I do not think Manderly can deal with more. I told her what I found out about Yoren and the same Iron Born woman who assailed the Sept.
Septa Abigail launched her prayer book, an old thing with gemstones and metal from her days as a Lady, at the head of the iron Born. She is I am told a warrior and yet my Septa who is nearing her fiftieth name day bested her. Lady Saltcliffe fled bleeding. Padraig had to carry Septa Abigail away, and she screamed the entire time. She even tried to escape her rooms to continue the madness. I do not deny a bit of amusement that my Septa bested an Iron Born but this does bring further worry about her growing disease in service.
Then due to the cries of course this did not go without notice. The Sept a mess, blood on the floor and my Septa shouting about defilers and heretic scum. Quite embarrassing for all sides. Rodrik Snow presented himself for a mere moment, and upon seeing myself with merely Randalf, who is a revered knight but one man, facing the tallest Iron Born I have ever seen and his two guardsmen.
This man turned out to be Greydon Goodbrother himself. I was tempted to flee, I haven't been that frightened in some time. My time in the war served me here as I stood my ground and we spoke on amends. I agreed to send some dessert to their rooms so they could alleviate some of the tiresome curfew's effects, and that I would see Septa Abigail punished. I will be writing the Septon in the Capital as soon as such things are possible. She flagellated herself once she was calm and that should satisfy his demand for a beating. I did not swear to that but to a punishment.
From there things became more complicated as in dicscussion of the recent events as well as the drowned god, I gained undersanding of what Saltcliffe might have meant when she said the drowned god would have saved the Tully. It sounded so incriminatory and there were many witnesses but one cannot be a woman who goes to war without at least a modicum of sensibility. I think she did not realize that we do not all know the complexities of the Iron Born religion. Lord Goodbrother humored my request. I had feared he would misunderstand and think I sought to mock him but he answered and I made clear the potential misunderstanding.
He told me that an Iron Born ship is missing since the murder, and as Suspicions grow against Lady SaltCliffe it might implicate Yoren further too. I cannot understand the mind of a murderer. Even in my rage against the Stark I do not know if I could truly move my hand to such violence, despite the desire for their downfall. I am still bemused by the weakness of the men of the North who are not Andal, to flee a Septa or to leave a Lady in such a predicament. Most would assume this to be a trait of any Bastard but Rodrik Snow is a legendary warrior and surely is above such weakness via his own deeds. Isn't he?
I sit in my bedroom a bit bemused. Still at least I averted some disaster with pies and giving my attention to those around me. It is a difficult thing and must be harder for the islanders who are so isolated from the rest of us by their own culture and tradition. I do wonder at all that has transpired on Dragonstone alone. When I next can speak to my mother and father I will update on this if my summons by the Princess does not arrive first. I dislike leaving too many letters with my efforts to gain knowledge around. If they fall into the wrong hands it could be damaging. I do not yet know if they could act upon my receipt of knowledge about Yoren's attempts to seduce the Iron Born into possible attack on us. It is a harsh accusation.
When I told Saoirse it took some of the strength she had regained from the trip. I have made more broth for her to sup upon when she is able, with hardier options. I am grateful to have been allowed to cook here, the household staff have been absolutely accommodating to my forays into the kitchen, though I have done my best to not be an imposition in doing so.
If an accord with the Iron Born is achieved however temporarily and if Saoirse is allowed to heal from the strain on her heart from the war and her betrothal it might have come about because of pie. What a strange thing... I suppose the Seven has their own sense of humor. I will try to be more comprehensive in my writing things down. I suspect I should carry this with me for a time. It will give me some comfort as to corralling my racing and wild thoughts.
Would it be wrong dear diary to paint my Septa's strange victory or to sketch it here? I would not wish to risk someone finding it so I suppose I shall abstain but ... it tempts me regardless. I am grateful Analice could help me clean up the Sept so that there was no damage left. I would not wish to have any ire from our hosts. Is this what it has been like for my mother to be Lady Manderly? Has she sheltered us from this much chaos? I hope not, but it would not surprise me.
I went to the Sept with Abigail, to pray. There was another lady there. We shared a bit of a whisper, another whose faith has been shaken. I dare not reveal my own doubts, lest people see weakness. I envy that freedom but I know too it is dangerous. We were beset by an iron born, named Siggy Saltcliffe. At this time Margot Templeton fled as the Iron Born Saltcliffe groped the Mother's breasts and Septa Abigail lost her senses. I have seen her irate before but never to senseless violence. She is sedated by a maester now and resting, though I did swear a punishment for what she did. It was the only way to not unleash further dramatics and after my talk with Saoirse this morning I do not think Manderly can deal with more. I told her what I found out about Yoren and the same Iron Born woman who assailed the Sept.
Septa Abigail launched her prayer book, an old thing with gemstones and metal from her days as a Lady, at the head of the iron Born. She is I am told a warrior and yet my Septa who is nearing her fiftieth name day bested her. Lady Saltcliffe fled bleeding. Padraig had to carry Septa Abigail away, and she screamed the entire time. She even tried to escape her rooms to continue the madness. I do not deny a bit of amusement that my Septa bested an Iron Born but this does bring further worry about her growing disease in service.
Then due to the cries of course this did not go without notice. The Sept a mess, blood on the floor and my Septa shouting about defilers and heretic scum. Quite embarrassing for all sides. Rodrik Snow presented himself for a mere moment, and upon seeing myself with merely Randalf, who is a revered knight but one man, facing the tallest Iron Born I have ever seen and his two guardsmen.
This man turned out to be Greydon Goodbrother himself. I was tempted to flee, I haven't been that frightened in some time. My time in the war served me here as I stood my ground and we spoke on amends. I agreed to send some dessert to their rooms so they could alleviate some of the tiresome curfew's effects, and that I would see Septa Abigail punished. I will be writing the Septon in the Capital as soon as such things are possible. She flagellated herself once she was calm and that should satisfy his demand for a beating. I did not swear to that but to a punishment.
From there things became more complicated as in dicscussion of the recent events as well as the drowned god, I gained undersanding of what Saltcliffe might have meant when she said the drowned god would have saved the Tully. It sounded so incriminatory and there were many witnesses but one cannot be a woman who goes to war without at least a modicum of sensibility. I think she did not realize that we do not all know the complexities of the Iron Born religion. Lord Goodbrother humored my request. I had feared he would misunderstand and think I sought to mock him but he answered and I made clear the potential misunderstanding.
He told me that an Iron Born ship is missing since the murder, and as Suspicions grow against Lady SaltCliffe it might implicate Yoren further too. I cannot understand the mind of a murderer. Even in my rage against the Stark I do not know if I could truly move my hand to such violence, despite the desire for their downfall. I am still bemused by the weakness of the men of the North who are not Andal, to flee a Septa or to leave a Lady in such a predicament. Most would assume this to be a trait of any Bastard but Rodrik Snow is a legendary warrior and surely is above such weakness via his own deeds. Isn't he?
I sit in my bedroom a bit bemused. Still at least I averted some disaster with pies and giving my attention to those around me. It is a difficult thing and must be harder for the islanders who are so isolated from the rest of us by their own culture and tradition. I do wonder at all that has transpired on Dragonstone alone. When I next can speak to my mother and father I will update on this if my summons by the Princess does not arrive first. I dislike leaving too many letters with my efforts to gain knowledge around. If they fall into the wrong hands it could be damaging. I do not yet know if they could act upon my receipt of knowledge about Yoren's attempts to seduce the Iron Born into possible attack on us. It is a harsh accusation.
When I told Saoirse it took some of the strength she had regained from the trip. I have made more broth for her to sup upon when she is able, with hardier options. I am grateful to have been allowed to cook here, the household staff have been absolutely accommodating to my forays into the kitchen, though I have done my best to not be an imposition in doing so.
If an accord with the Iron Born is achieved however temporarily and if Saoirse is allowed to heal from the strain on her heart from the war and her betrothal it might have come about because of pie. What a strange thing... I suppose the Seven has their own sense of humor. I will try to be more comprehensive in my writing things down. I suspect I should carry this with me for a time. It will give me some comfort as to corralling my racing and wild thoughts.
Would it be wrong dear diary to paint my Septa's strange victory or to sketch it here? I would not wish to risk someone finding it so I suppose I shall abstain but ... it tempts me regardless. I am grateful Analice could help me clean up the Sept so that there was no damage left. I would not wish to have any ire from our hosts. Is this what it has been like for my mother to be Lady Manderly? Has she sheltered us from this much chaos? I hope not, but it would not surprise me.
Saturday, December 22, 2018
A Dornishman, A Bastard Knight, A Warrior Maiden and A Manderly
Today I met the most amazing people. I came to Dragonstone without any hope. How can someone hope when they have lost so much? I have wondered at times how my parents have lived. I do not know how Moira lived. It pains me greatly to have lost my brothers but how do parents live through it? I know they love us more. I wish I could understand that depth without fearing loss but my duty means I must risk losing. I fear too often I suspect but my duty demands I push it away, duty demands my parents push their own loses away. Tonight I saw taht pain in Moira again. I see it every day in my parents. It is a wound that cannot heal. At times because of this I do not want to be a mother.
I met a Knight who is in his sixties. I did not know it was possible. Deryn Hill is clearly a man of strength and skill. One does not survive a war with dragons and even more without strength and skill yet he is also kind. I asked if he had at least had a wife and he refused to taint her. It is my hope to see a change to Bastardy. If a man like him were still allowed to live as he truly deserves perhaps then we would not face the risk of another war as Baelor failed us. Too chaste to breed. I fear writing my true thoughts even here on that matter but despite my fear I will not fail my people if it is within my powers. I do worry I may be sterile, does every Lady not have this fear? What if my womb is an echo chamber of my weaknesses?
At least until my sister is wed I need not worry. Still after breaking bread with Lord Dayne, Lady Mormont, Lady of Lannister, and others all from different sides of conflicts I am aware I must try to put my anger aside. I cannot let it drive me. I promised my brothers justice if possible but is justice more war? I do not know. Ser Daryn said I am not free of hope like I think though even my Septa tells me I am a hopeless girl. I do not feel happiness often but I did this night. I like how it felt to gather with different people.
Mother would gain six more grey hairs if she knew a part of me wants to be more than a Lady supporting a man. That never goes away, even after that night with Moira. If I were born a man what would I be? I will allow my ambition to override my anger and my ambition is to see a King crowned without a war.
Perhaps this is what Just Tom was so worried about too. We cannot afford another war, Westeros could fail if we do not unite. I feel as if I am a speck of dust in history but perhaps I will be as old as Septa Adelaide someday, looking back on these words and knowing what could be. I learned tonight what sharing a moment of kindness can do, and I do not doubt that kindness is important as a tool, perhaps a weapon. I cannot stop wishing ill of the Stark but maybe it would be best for Saoirse to get her foolish wish to wed. I am afraid she will find violence at the hands of her future husband, and that is where my quandry lies. How can i trust Yoren. Maybe he will show me he is better than I remember, we were all younger then. Nineteen is not a great age of wisdom, I will never admit this to my septa but I am well aware my inexperience is at play in my sense of desperation.
I did not miss that Lord Dayne mentioned his son my age. I immediately suggested Saoirse as to wed before her would be a slight but I do think this could be an interesting match politically, at minimum if I handle myself well I can be a strong tool for my father. I jest here but perhaps I could be queen. That won't happen. Queen's are Lannister and Targaryen brides, I am not pretty enough to put in such a place. I do not think we have enough political sway either but I could be wrong. My view of politics is fairly limited to White Harbor for now.
I still feel Dragonstone is a creepy place, but the people are not. IT was built to cause a sense of doom, as a tool. I will remember this.
I met a Knight who is in his sixties. I did not know it was possible. Deryn Hill is clearly a man of strength and skill. One does not survive a war with dragons and even more without strength and skill yet he is also kind. I asked if he had at least had a wife and he refused to taint her. It is my hope to see a change to Bastardy. If a man like him were still allowed to live as he truly deserves perhaps then we would not face the risk of another war as Baelor failed us. Too chaste to breed. I fear writing my true thoughts even here on that matter but despite my fear I will not fail my people if it is within my powers. I do worry I may be sterile, does every Lady not have this fear? What if my womb is an echo chamber of my weaknesses?
At least until my sister is wed I need not worry. Still after breaking bread with Lord Dayne, Lady Mormont, Lady of Lannister, and others all from different sides of conflicts I am aware I must try to put my anger aside. I cannot let it drive me. I promised my brothers justice if possible but is justice more war? I do not know. Ser Daryn said I am not free of hope like I think though even my Septa tells me I am a hopeless girl. I do not feel happiness often but I did this night. I like how it felt to gather with different people.
Mother would gain six more grey hairs if she knew a part of me wants to be more than a Lady supporting a man. That never goes away, even after that night with Moira. If I were born a man what would I be? I will allow my ambition to override my anger and my ambition is to see a King crowned without a war.
Perhaps this is what Just Tom was so worried about too. We cannot afford another war, Westeros could fail if we do not unite. I feel as if I am a speck of dust in history but perhaps I will be as old as Septa Adelaide someday, looking back on these words and knowing what could be. I learned tonight what sharing a moment of kindness can do, and I do not doubt that kindness is important as a tool, perhaps a weapon. I cannot stop wishing ill of the Stark but maybe it would be best for Saoirse to get her foolish wish to wed. I am afraid she will find violence at the hands of her future husband, and that is where my quandry lies. How can i trust Yoren. Maybe he will show me he is better than I remember, we were all younger then. Nineteen is not a great age of wisdom, I will never admit this to my septa but I am well aware my inexperience is at play in my sense of desperation.
I did not miss that Lord Dayne mentioned his son my age. I immediately suggested Saoirse as to wed before her would be a slight but I do think this could be an interesting match politically, at minimum if I handle myself well I can be a strong tool for my father. I jest here but perhaps I could be queen. That won't happen. Queen's are Lannister and Targaryen brides, I am not pretty enough to put in such a place. I do not think we have enough political sway either but I could be wrong. My view of politics is fairly limited to White Harbor for now.
I still feel Dragonstone is a creepy place, but the people are not. IT was built to cause a sense of doom, as a tool. I will remember this.
Friday, December 21, 2018
Just Tom
Just Tom
Thursday, December 20, 2018
Almost There!
We are almost to King's Landing. It is a breath away. I am already home sick. I have decided to draw myself back home. perhaps if this sketch is enough I will paint it. One cannot paint whilst in travel but I have brought my easel and paints. A part of me fears my future husband will forbid my art. Paint has quite the strong scent and it does demand a well lighted space. After the war I am no longer certain about having a kind husband. I have no expectation of love. I find such notions are disingenuous to our reality. Love is for the smallfolk and those who can afford to throw peace away. I do not believe anyone truly can afford this. Yet many do not think of their position this way. I certainly did not before the war. Marrying for Love and becoming a Septa is a waste. It is just the same as sending men to the wall without cause. While the position is vital and gives purpose to bastards and a second chance to smallfolk, at times wastrel Lords are sent away. I am grateful to be a woman or being the youngest likely I would be sent to the wall for Familial Honor. I know such honor is important but, the loss of my brothers gave me a new insight to the youngest brothers... they are not just a cushion against a lost future of course but such a vow cannot be withdrawn. What comes after every heir is lost? A part of me wishes to see with the Stark lineage. My inner vengeance. I dream of seeing Yoren die, head rolling to my feet. His father's tears would be genuine then.
Still, at least I can draw myself home, away from such concerns. Was there ever a time when those concerns were beyond me or was that merely the dream of a child?
Still, at least I can draw myself home, away from such concerns. Was there ever a time when those concerns were beyond me or was that merely the dream of a child?
Wednesday, December 19, 2018
Kings Landing
We are finally en-route to King's Landing. A part of me has waited for this for a lifetime, but now I face this with dread. My sister is hoping for a reconciliation and the future she was promised so long ago. I do not know if I can hope for anything. I know my duty and that is not an issue, it matters not what I want for my future, I am to create a peace with my body and mind. I fear I am perhaps not capable of this. I look at all my mother has done and struggled with, could I ever be as strong as she is? I do not know.
When I used to dream of the Capital I dreamed of the food I would eat with my family. My eldest brother always liked what I would create, he would eat anything even when it was horrible and tell me, "Iss you know just what I like." I miss that. I miss the smiles of both my brothers, and I do not know how to fill the spot where they were in my heart with anything but grief and anger. It is worse for my parents.
I do not remember my father being as quiet as he is now. Perhaps that was something missed as a child. I remember when he was the tallest man in the world and unstoppable. Nothing bad could happen because Papa was there. He seems so much older now. I hope to make him proud. I know it is impossible to be perfect but the world does not have to know that.
I worry we will not survive the peace to come. A part of me thinks perhaps we have become something else, not just Andal North but something not yet seen in Westeros or beyond. I know this diary could be a weapon but it has been my only companion for so long.
One thing I do know is through my thoughts and my art at least I will forever have the faces of my kin. If I leave Kings Landing with another name, I will still be Manderly, it is my blood after all. I remember in my lessons being told of my ancestor. When we were the First Men there was one of us who did all she could to protect her people until she was forced to choose her life or what would become Manderly. She lay down and her blood flowed into the waters, consecrating White Harbour for us. Some fish tasted the blood and they wept at the sacrifice, making the sea rise. These same fish leapt from the sea into the boats and made the land prosper again. Her last words were, "I die for family." I think she would have now said, "I die Manderly."
I do not know if Saoirse can live this way, she has spent so long dreaming of being Lady Stark. I cannot know what it was to live with the betrothal, the promise and to have it shattered. Yet how can she forgive the losses we took? I wish I could understand her. I suspect she feels the same way about me. Every step away from home makes me think on the past. It feels permanent somehow. I know it may be, everything I care about is with me.
If I wed, will I have to give up my art? Will I have to change for him? Can I? Who would even have me? I do not mean this in a lack of worth but more there is so much need for peace and I am but one woman. I suppose it is when, but time will tell. I know it will never be a matter of the heart despite the stories of maidens and heroes. This does not mean I will not wed a hero. Perhaps he will understand why I will always mourn.
When I used to dream of the Capital I dreamed of the food I would eat with my family. My eldest brother always liked what I would create, he would eat anything even when it was horrible and tell me, "Iss you know just what I like." I miss that. I miss the smiles of both my brothers, and I do not know how to fill the spot where they were in my heart with anything but grief and anger. It is worse for my parents.
I do not remember my father being as quiet as he is now. Perhaps that was something missed as a child. I remember when he was the tallest man in the world and unstoppable. Nothing bad could happen because Papa was there. He seems so much older now. I hope to make him proud. I know it is impossible to be perfect but the world does not have to know that.
I worry we will not survive the peace to come. A part of me thinks perhaps we have become something else, not just Andal North but something not yet seen in Westeros or beyond. I know this diary could be a weapon but it has been my only companion for so long.
One thing I do know is through my thoughts and my art at least I will forever have the faces of my kin. If I leave Kings Landing with another name, I will still be Manderly, it is my blood after all. I remember in my lessons being told of my ancestor. When we were the First Men there was one of us who did all she could to protect her people until she was forced to choose her life or what would become Manderly. She lay down and her blood flowed into the waters, consecrating White Harbour for us. Some fish tasted the blood and they wept at the sacrifice, making the sea rise. These same fish leapt from the sea into the boats and made the land prosper again. Her last words were, "I die for family." I think she would have now said, "I die Manderly."
I do not know if Saoirse can live this way, she has spent so long dreaming of being Lady Stark. I cannot know what it was to live with the betrothal, the promise and to have it shattered. Yet how can she forgive the losses we took? I wish I could understand her. I suspect she feels the same way about me. Every step away from home makes me think on the past. It feels permanent somehow. I know it may be, everything I care about is with me.
If I wed, will I have to give up my art? Will I have to change for him? Can I? Who would even have me? I do not mean this in a lack of worth but more there is so much need for peace and I am but one woman. I suppose it is when, but time will tell. I know it will never be a matter of the heart despite the stories of maidens and heroes. This does not mean I will not wed a hero. Perhaps he will understand why I will always mourn.
Pre Kingslanding Diary
OOC Note: The section of the diary before the roleplay begins is full of drawings, the earliest are of course not as good as the current pieces and contain pictures of idyllic life, sketches of cats, dogs, people. A few pages are ripped out, any with a stark on it. Those with too much to lose have the faces carefully removed leaving blank spaces or spaces with ink saturating them, depending on the reverse of the paper.
Closer to the war the images begin to change, not just in skill but in content. She begins to document the effects of the war both in her writing and her experience. The biggest secret is her writing about meeting Moira Mormont and asking to learn to fight, discussing her deep fear of losing everything and the men not being alive to protect her or her family. These images include battle, the aftermath of battle, and countless dead and dying men. There are also detailed notes of how to treat wounds, with drawings of the wounds. Sometimes smudges of blood, though this is rare as she is careful with her diary.
Regarding learning to fight, she did not do so though she did take up archery and began to learn more about how to interact with people and the signs of danger itself. The book also contains a drastic change in respect for the Starks. Blind Faith in their honor to someone who cannot believe any Stark can be trusted. The name for her is permanently tarnished.
Closer to the war the images begin to change, not just in skill but in content. She begins to document the effects of the war both in her writing and her experience. The biggest secret is her writing about meeting Moira Mormont and asking to learn to fight, discussing her deep fear of losing everything and the men not being alive to protect her or her family. These images include battle, the aftermath of battle, and countless dead and dying men. There are also detailed notes of how to treat wounds, with drawings of the wounds. Sometimes smudges of blood, though this is rare as she is careful with her diary.
Regarding learning to fight, she did not do so though she did take up archery and began to learn more about how to interact with people and the signs of danger itself. The book also contains a drastic change in respect for the Starks. Blind Faith in their honor to someone who cannot believe any Stark can be trusted. The name for her is permanently tarnished.