Madelyn I - An Arryns Sweet Song

Thorny streets of jeering crowds crept upon the Lady, donned in a dress of composed blue that accented her frame like water did skin. She held herself with grace and poise, but nothing more, there was a toughness to her as well, she slipped through these crowds and meandered the groups with ease, almost as if she was a commoner herself, though she wasn’t, that was true. She was something better, something born of honour and forever would she steel herself.

Each plain faced maiden and sullen whore who danced past Madelyn seemed more foe than friend, each one wearing vicious stares as they peered into the woman. Though perhaps that was less their truth and rather hers, as her porcelain mind had long since cracked under the pressures of heritage. Now, those cracks began to show as she returned to the place where all this truly began, the land of Kings and Queens, of dynasties fall and rise.

Her hand, just as soft as one would expect of a lady grasped the sides of her serene garment, slowly pulling it off the dirt below, allowing the hem to shake slightly as the clatter of grime hitting the ground sounded out. She stood for a moment, allowing a small smile to come to her face, her steps becoming harsher as long, thin but sharp heels dug into the ground below.

Pivoting as they left their mark, left her mark upon these grounds, each grain of filth that accumulated upon the glimmer of her footwear, another smothered symbol of failure, hidden beneath silken streets and vivid lies. No matter what regime ruled, Madelyn doubted the realism of a future without such things, as there would always be someone who didn’t think a future worth living in to be a worthy cause, but alas she was in no position to say much. She was part of the issue.

Her homeland, of broken chivalry and honour that had been torn asunder under an endless winters gaze. She could only lament the regretful fate of this necessary loss, they’d relinquished what made them the noble Vale Of Arryn, in return for survival. A suitable exchange she supposed, one that was a necessity not a choice, no matter how many would think it so.

The Vale lady stood aside, a sparse array of men coordinating around her in some sort of loosely layed out formation, an array of protection in lands that had long since become foreign. House Arryn once roamed this city with pride, now they scurried it with a quiet shame that loomed above, an axe to their napes. Few would speak on it and even fewer dared to mutter it to their faces but any who could read between the lines could hear the illicit whispers as the Vale awoke from isolation like a waking dragon wading through muddy waters, that would surely drown it given the chance.

Madelyn watched as malfeasant intentions flashed across every sly man who walked these streets, hands still prim and proper at her side. She was the very picture of a blue-blood, arrogance tracing the sharpness of her features, each line that drew together to create a maiden of House Arryn, a maiden of faith and gallantry, for that was the inheritance she bore like a burdensome weight upon her back, encumbering her.

Her mouth opened as if she was about to speak on matters that didn’t pertain to her “The Vale has reunited with the rest of the Realm, do you think we will prosper or shall we wither?” she grunted, gaze slow as it slipped across the men at arms she had called over. The stagnant falcon engraved upon plates of armour which clattered as he drew near. A congenial nod of forced approval, he had no name to stand upon so he could only adhere to the Lady Arryn’s will. Her words more valuable than gold to him, for one spinster’s lie could leave him bloodless, his body abandoned, his soul departed.

“Speak, I do not tear at my prey like a vulture, no matter what you may hear” her voice was high, as high as honour itself some would say. Though it remained calm, stable, a tranquil tide in a sea of resounding waves. Her smile, thin lines of practiced grace judged him, calling for an answer no matter what it was. Heralding the final move of whatever game she was playing, traipsing around lands that would not welcome her.

The soldier sighed, his gaze shaky, not out of fear but rather out of stress, his answer held more weight than he was used to. “I think this is the best course of action, milady” he lowered his head, his glower not holding the confidence most expected of a man of the Vale, who’d lived his life among mountains most of the southerners, true southerners would faint at the sight of.

Madelyn gave a slow clap, curt in nature as the curtain fell upon her play. The subtleties of her hands grazing each other as her neck cracked quietly “How fitting, I remember the look on your face as we neared Kings Landing and how it fell once you were assigned to me” she bit the inside of her lip gently, biting her words of poison, forcing them back down her throat.

“I am Lady Madelyn Arryn, honour is my business as your next allotment of gold is yours, so why do you look at me as if I am holding you back, as if I am some dishonourable bawd?” She watched his nose crease, his brows furrow and his temple wrinkle under whatever pressure she applied. It was almost amusing. Though not quite, to know she was this beast who chained the Vale back with her opinions, at least in the eyes of this one man, it was disheartening to say the least.

She sighed, her voice crackling with the slightest tinge of rage “Do you believe that I am wrong for wishing to keep things the way they were, to preserve whatever remnants of tradition and chivalry we can?” Madelyn didn’t allow him an answer, her dress draped slowly behind her as the woman of honour assimilated herself into the streets of Kings Landing, forcing those who were to guard her to scatter in search.