Thread: A Rose in the Snow (heartlesskitten x Rivine)

Riyana shuffled over to her group, boys and men that looked older than she and were for the most part taller and broader of shoulder though some of the poorest were skinny and short, due to malnourshiment rather than blood. While she was not very big herself, she was well fed and her lean muscles developed from her time with Dallin in the courtyard of the Rysell keep. The wool of her cloak trimmed in heavy black bear fur that kept her neck warm and made her seem broader than she was. She kept her head down, glancing at the ones around her who eyed her with curiosity or amusement and some with envy at her possessions and horse. Her nerves were still on edge as the Master at Arms passed her, taking the name she gave and asked no more questions of the boy he saw. Flexing her hands in the black leather gloves she looked up as sensed someone approach. It was the man who had stood with the Lord Commander during the short, terse speech. He singled her out and she took a deep breath, trying not to stare at the man's unusual lavender colored eyes. She had never seen such a color, not here in the north. Riyana clasped his hand, squeezing it firmly and gave a small bow, speaking low and in that smoke soft voice, a brief hint of a smile making a slight creases of dimples flash on the smooth pale cheeks, Brydan Rivers, sir. And do not worry, it is my own. Riyana bit the inside of her cheek hard, Dallin had warned her about smiling or laughing, it would make her too appealing, not only to a man that might suspect her real sex but for those that preferred boys. So as much as she wanted to she did not react to the man's joke that she might have robbed a knight. Pressing closer to the dark garron, she held her tongue, her fair freckled face remaining still. Will I be a ranger then? she asked, unable to hold back her curiosity. She would never be a builder, she had no skill for that and being a steward seemed boring though essential, it was the rangers that had captured her imagination. Their forays into the wild for weeks and months, the tip of the bright sword that held back the darkness beyond the Wall. She had always enjoyed being allowed to take long rides and to go on hunts normally unattended by women but her father indulged his only surviving child at a time. Until that day...Riyana blocked the thought, unwilling to proceed down that shadowed path, not now. There was a rise in voices at the gate and Ser Garland, the Master at Arms looked up with a bemused expression as one last straggler came into the courtyard of Castle Black. It was a thin boy of around thirteen or so, tall and gangly with a swollen black eye and a busted lip. He carried nothing but a small sack and a moth eaten cloak around his narrow shoulders. His face was full of resentment as he spotted the bright red hair, his mouth curling in a snarl and he made a bee line for Riyana, This is all your fault you bastard! Riyana turned quickly, her hand instinctively going to her sword when facing the angry boy. Under the watchful eyes of Vorian Dayne and Ser Garland, she made no move to pull it, enduring the string of accusations with a cool expression and flashing blue eyes, even when he got in her face. I had it fine until you got me in trouble, he hissed. You should not have tried to steal from me, she replied quietly, The fault is your own. The boy sneered, The whores told me you were too afraid to lay with them, what's the matter don't your little prick work or do you like other m- His words were cut off when the heavy hand of Ser Garland landed on his shoulder, turning him around, Enough of that. What's your name boy? The whore's son had no fighting words for a man like the Master at Arms and he visibly shrank, Cason...from Mole's Town. A Black bastard no doubt, laughed one of the older stewards, his eyes twinkling with mirth as he stepped back from skinning a deer, Which one of you will claim him? A few dark chuckles were heard among more uncomfortable looks at the pointed barb. It was a fact that some men went hunting buried treasure despite their vows, likely claiming they took no wife or passed no name onto any son as a loophole in their vows. The boy blushed hard, his lantern jaw jutting out with stubbornness and he snapped, That ain't true! Quiet, the Master at Arms muttered, then wrote the name down before glancing at Vorien. Work cut out of us again, eh?