5 - Ghosts of the Past

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The beating I received for Joffrey's humiliation was well worth it. I knew I wasn't untouchable when I challenged him, but I didn't care. I still don't. The guards managed to leave my face intact, per Joffrey's annoyed request. Just a cut above the right brow. I have a sense that father had something to do with that, not that it matters anyway. I only feel sorry for Stalia having to clean up my blood and soothe the aching bruises forming already.

"They ruined my favorite dress," I say, wincing at the hot water on my open cut.

The blood had ran into my eye when the butt of the sword cracked against my face. It was most unpleasant, though I was pleased with myself that I hadn't shed a tear. Nothing they do to me will be any worse than surviving House Frey or any of my miseries before that. I take great pleasure in knowing that.

Stalia shakes her head, working silently on the swelling. My dress is in tatters, showing some of the scars I'd prefer to stay hidden. My torso in particular is decorated with them as if a lavish painting of pain is to be displayed. Very few have seen them. Stalia being one in particular due to her helping me change every day. I didn't like revealing them even to her, but she hasn't said a word.

"You don't need to worry," I say. "It isn't as if they can do much worse. Even Lord Tywin would never allow it. Too much of a headache for him."

Stalia's jaw clenches. "You do enjoy provoking powerful people."

"It's a gift."

Once my skin is taken care of, she helps me into something softer but still acceptable enough to roam the kingdom in. I'm not sure if I possess the energy to begin with. She fastens the string in the back in a corset-style manner. She doesn't bother much with my hair. She simply brushes through it, leaving long wavy strands down my back.

"And what does Ser Jaime have to say about what happened?"

I narrow my eyes, turning to her. "Why? Do I detect a fondness you share for him?"

"He's your brother and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard," she says, giving me an exasperating look. "Surely he could've done something to prevent this."

I try to hide the scowl from my face. "Ser Jaime serves the King, not me."

"But-"

"Thank you for your assistance," I say firmly. "That will be all for now. I'd like to be alone for a while."

Stalia hesitates, then bows her head respectfully.

"Of course, Lady Lysandra."

After a moment, she closes the door behind her. Right before the door latched, I could swear I heard father's song playing in the far-off hallway. I shake my head. More delusions I suppose.

I make my way to the windowsill, welcoming the brush of the sheer curtains against the warm breeze. That's when I notice the stack of books left on my small, round table. A note is weighed down with a small stack of gold coins. Already knowing who sent it, I pick up the note and read:

For the dull evenings cooped up in your chambers. You've always been one for sulking. Do show your face more often. It's a rather soothing sight in this dark world.

~Tyrion

I smile, considering visiting my brother this very moment to thank him. But I don't want to raise questions or worry with my appearance. I'll stay here as long as I can stand it and hopefully sleep will bring a better morning. I'll read one of Tyrion's suggestions and talk to him about it tomorrow. I can't fathom venturing off anywhere now. Not with the sun beginning to sink in the sky and the thought of Grey Wind's ghost still fresh in my mind.

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