Chapter Text
Ned was jolted awake by a way too cheerful Alys, given that the sun seemed to just have risen behind the curtains she had mercilessly pulled open with broad gestures and even broader words. Her wish of a good morning (yes, right) to him was followed by rapid chatter he tried in vain to understand until he realized she was speaking in Valyrian to someone he hadn’t see yet. Briefly panicking as he was still trying to discern up from down, he saw an older woman clad in an apron walking toward him in decided steps. She snorted as what he guessed was a rather creative hairstyle on his part and dump an enormous tray of food on his lap, before simply skipping out of the room, Alys in tow.
After rubbing out sleep clinging to him like warm molasses, he squinted at the thing and saw a variety of fruits, jams and eggs he was too tired to think determine the provenance of. He tucked in, washing it down with what appeared to be some kind of tea, even though it smelled like nothing he knew of. It’s bitterness achieved to wake him up, and he hazily remembered he was supposed to meet Lady Daenyra to tour the island. Washing up quickly (even the soap smells strange, gods), he dressed up in layers, not knowing what kind of weather they’re would have or even what kind of places they’re were going. He iddly wondered if he was to forgone leather and wool for billowing silk like the rest of the islanders, and snorted at the image of himself wrapped up in some sort of black and white toga.
He strapped the dagger at his waist and pondered weather or not it had a name already.
As Ned opened the door of the solar, already resigned to get lost in the unending castle, he pretty much ran into the older woman who brought him breakfast earlier.
«Oh ! uh. Good morrow, my lady…? »
She smiled warmly at him.
«I am Maegga, my lord, Maelys’s sister. Lady Daenyra sent me to fetch you. She’s waiting for you downstairs. »
Gesturing for her to show the way, he thanked the old gods and the new he did it try to address her like he would a serving girl, although his mother always insisted him and his siblings were polite and courteous towards them as they would be toward someone of noble birth. As he followed Maegga in the now bright hallway, he noticed she indeed wore much too elegant clothes to be anything else than of gentle birth, heavy swiping black and red skirts, tight corset over a still thin waist despite her age, and a silver necklace so high it looked like a collar. Ned wondered if maybe she held her head so high because she didn’t have much choice on the matter. He also noticed that if she were speaking the common tongue perfectly, her accent was much thicker than her sister’s.
They took a turn before they could reach the great hall, and there next to a little glass door stood Lady Daenyra. As she smiled and greeted him, Ned was once again hit by her beauty with all the might of a warhorse at full speed. The bloody runes and extravagant jewelry were gone, as was her long dress, yet the replacement wasn’t much of an improvement for Ned’s concentration. She wore what would appear to be riding attires, black smooth leather pants so close to her legs they looked painted on, and a high collared jacket with scale-like embossment at the shoulders and wrists. Strangely enough, some sort of pearl covered mesh covered her chest until just below her breasts. Ned thought of the siren’s story Old Nan would tell him as a child, the ones she heard from her Ironborn grandsire.
While he was no doubt gaping like the simpleton he was now certain to be, he still managed to bow and kiss her ring clad hand, addressing what he dearly hoped was a smile and not a grimace.
«Good morrow, my lord ! I trust you slept well ? » she said with a radiant smile.
He chuckled, remembering his adventures amongst the pillows doing their best to smother him.
«I did, my lady, although I must confess the heat of the room might have knocked me out very effectively… »
She nodded, thoughtful.
«Yes, I will tell Alys to stop trying boiling your northern blood. We do like it warm here. »
She clapped her hands suddenly, making him start.
«To begin our tour, I thought I’d show something that might bring you some kind of familiarity, if you would ? »
Intrigued as to what could register as familiar in this strange land, he gesturing for her to lead the way, which she did after taking hold of his arm with surprising force. She looked eager, and Ned was charmed by her enthusiasm.
They walked out and around a cloister built in graceful column of white stone, surrounding a bush of tall trees with bluish leafs and peeling pale bark. She tugged him through a low door he barely had time to duck under, lest he’d be short of a few brain cells he didn’t felt like he could do without, and was blinded by the bright sun peaking out from over the trees of a new courtyard. When his eyes focused again, he was amazed to discover that those trees were indeed tall and sinouous weirwood trees, assembled in a small clearing with two stone benches. A calm feeling washed over him immediately, and he found himself whispering in the quiet.
«A Godswood… »
She nodded quickly, pleased by his surprise.
«It is. My grandfather, he was a northerner like you, you see. He planted those trees almost seventy years ago, and we kept them even after his death. »
Ned took a few steps forward, placing a hand on the trunk of the biggest one, next to the familiar grimacing face streaked in red tears. Many questions were already swirling around his mind.
«Do you keep the Old Gods on Matarys island then ? »
«A few of us do, as The North has been our closest neighbour for nigh on four hundred years. When I was a little girl, my grandfather brought me here often, teaching me about the old gods, singing to me in the old tongue. He would sit on this bench for hours on end, meditating. He was a broody man, my grandsire, yet here he always seemed to find peace. »
Ned thought if his own grandfather, loud and boisterous and angry, and how even him seemed to quiet down and release that tension when he sit under the weirwood tree of Winterfell.
«Was he Maelys’s husband ? That northern grandfather of yours ? »
«No, he was my father’s father, Maelys is my mother’s mother. »
«How did they met, with your grandmother ? »
He was more than a little curious, as every wedded couple comprising a Matarys islander seemed to dissolve into the fog, never a shout, or a war of any kind. The rest of the North was usually barely aware of such an union, merely taking account of what house or farm was theirs.
«Legend has it, one day that she was buying Dornish Red in Stillrest Harbor, she saw him in the shop, and decided here and there that he was to be her husband. She dragged him back to Matarys Island, married him, built him a godswood, and gave him seven children. As far as I know, he never went back to mainland. »
Ned laughed, amazed by the women he was meeting since his arrival, so drastically sure of themselves and of their desires. It was nice, this change of pace, and he was reminded not for the first time of the woman of Bear Island, as at ease with an axe than with a sewing needle.
«Do you know where he was coming from, did he ever told you ? »
She shaked her head, a little frown on her face.
«No. I always thought… we always kind of assumed he was running from something. He was apparently ready to embark for Braavos, never to return. But he never said, and we never asked. »
Ned hummed. He knew of some similar cases, runaways from a sometimes too harsh justice and their quests to go far enough to be forgotten. In a roundabout way, he could relate. Although it seemed that what he envisioned as a prison was in fact going to be much more agreeable than he thought.
Why would I be lost, if the Old Gods can reach even here…
He turned back to Daenyra, a genuine smile warming his face.
«Thank you, my lady, for showing me there. I feel a lot more at home already. »
She beamed at him, eyes glinting in the morning sun.
«I am glad to hear it, my lord. I trust that in time, you’ll feel much the same about the rest of the island. »
And for the first time since he stepped on that boat, Ned believed it.