Who: Gareth Bolton, Tyrith Lannister, Sindra (sort of) When: Day 54 Where: Godswood of the Red Keep Rating: PG Status: Open
One thing that could be said of the godswood was that it was peaceful. An old faith held only truly by the Northron and forgotten by most others, there were few people who came to visit and fewer still who remained to sit.
Gareth liked the silence; Kings Landing was a metropolis and even if he had his fill of watching people, there were very few places of true isolation, unlike the wilderness of the North. So he came here, to the godswood. He had borrowed a book from the library, some treatise on the Asshai faith, the worship of a god of flame and shadow. Dristan had always teased him, saying he would make a good Maester.
However, thoughts of Kyra and the murder of the princess distracted him from his reading and he spent great lengths of time simply staring up at the glimpses of sky between the canopy of leaves.
Apart from her, he could think of his sister in the same cold, remote way he thought of everything else. The murder, the evidence against her, what she may have actually been doing that night and whether it would matter in the end. The trial was inexorable and it seemed that she was being taken to task not because they thought she had anything to do with the murder of Aenyris and more because she was a Bolton.
Gareth closed his eyes, processing his choices. Given that there was little way to circumvent the trial without bribing or murdering every witness involved, there was going to be a trial. He weighed the odds of finding a way through the dungeons, of escaping Kings Landing, of being able to prepare some place to hide or some means to a comfortable life in exile; all this against the odds of his winning in a trial by combat.
Even in thought, Gareth's ears remained keen to the sound of someone's footsteps moving across the grass in the distance. He opened his eyes to narrow slits, looking towards the source of his disturbance.