it... could be lady tyrell... Who: Jonath, npc's. When: Day 70, morning Where: along the shoreline Rating: PG-13 Status: Closed (except to Tyrells if they want)
Jonath eyed the mop of dark hair and the darker tinged tide pool the fisherfolk had found it in, then turned away. The lady’s dress was Tyrell green, and the last broken link of a chain of roses was telling enough (the scavengers had been quick to escape with it. Likely they’d have taken the gown as well if the blood and saltwater hadn’t ruined so much of it). There’d be no face to speak of, but the Maester was already seeing to the body. Broken limbs hung strangely as the apprentices moved the remnants of the victim to a litter.
“There’s one found leastways.”
Jonath looked at the young squire who’d spoken. “Or there’s her gown. Right hair but no way of telling with her falling like that… could be some maid or other as had a good day in the laundry.”
The younger man stared at him. “Surely their majesties or her lord husband—“
“You want to be the one sayin’ ‘scuse your lordship, could you look over this corpse’s flesh to see if the view from behind looks familiar? Pardon the bits the fish has been at- we’ll keep the lights low so you won’t notice the mottled color…”
“But a mole, a—“ The squire looked again and his face turned a little green.
“Aye, and if it were your little minx from the Vale under that? Would you be seeing so clear?”
“His majesty might…”
Jonath snorted dismissively. “His majesty has two others to worry for.” Or not, as the case seemed to be. Bloody cold lot, these wolves. Hard folk, harder to like, and hard to love if the poor thing being carted off was a testament. “Like as not they’ve shared their aunt’s fate or maybe worse… there’ll be a chore if any little ones wash up in the next days. The Lord Commander’ll be the one to speak with their majesties. He orders me to it, I’ll forget I vowed not to raise steel ‘gainst my brothers.”
“Ser Jonath,” the squire breathed in shock. Jonath ignored it. The gods would put a brain in the boy’s head soon enough or else a sword through it.
“Best you find the commander, see that someone gets word to the Regent and Lord Selester and his son, then you best get to your master. Lord Lannister’s not renowned for patience, boy.”
The young man bowed and mounted his horse. Jonath watched his departing figure for a moment before turning his attention to the masters. “Think it’s her?”
“The Tyrell’s maester may better judge, but I would say it’s nigh a certainty, Ser Jonath.”
The white knight shook his head sadly. The foolish girl ought to have left the leaps of death to the Daynes. Could her husband be such a monster? Or had someone helped her decision? Maybe it had been only a slick stone and a moment’s fancy… Then again, Starks didn’t seem too apt to indulge in whimsy, Leonora aside perhaps.