Festival of Roses

The tallest tower of Grassfield Keep, Raven’s Tower, was the domain of the Meadows’ maester. At the top was the rookery where Hubert tended the ravens, beneath that was his private room, and beneath that was his study. On the ground level, a room mostly unused, had been converted into a sickroom.

A narrow bed had been brought in and placed beneath the window. A little sunlight filtered in, but there was nothing to be seen but a solid wall of greenery keeping anyone who cared to look from peeking in or out to the garden beyond. Harben was propped on a stack of pillows, looking at the leaves that crossed just inches from the frame. He skin was ashen, and he wore a simple shirt, open at the neck, the common fabric undyed. A peasant’s shirt.

Whatever the room usually held had been removed. There was nothing but the bed and a low stool the maester sat upon to tend the boy. The room smelt fresh and airy, lacking the dreary stench of sickness. A sheen of sweat clung to Harben’s brow, despite the stone helping keep the room cooler than outside.

Accompanied by a grumpy Kevith who had just woken up from his sleep, Mariessa had been anxiously awaiting news about Harben, until she couldn't wait anymore and simply just had to inquire if he at least was well enough for a visit. That he at least was better than yesterday was a relief, and she had spent a lot of the afternoon offering prayers to the Warrior and the Mother to keep him safe.

Harben had heard the footsteps. Hubert and various servants had been in and out, and he’d been of a mind the ignore whoever it was this time, but Kevith’s heavy gait caught his attention. With difficulty, he slowly turned his head, blonde hair never leaving the cradle of pillows as he did. Catching sight of Mariessa, he groaned, but the strength was not in him to turn away again.

Mari nodded to Kevith to wait outside the room, and the big warrior found a wall to lean against.

With concern and relief, Mari entered and approached the bedside. "... Thank the Seven you're alive, Harben." She managed to say, feeling a bit at loss for words, considering how horrible it all had seemed. And how horrible it all was that someone had tried to poison him.

“Please don’t, Mari,” his voice was hoarse, “you shouldn’t be here.”

"What..." surprised at his words, Mari felt... a little hurt. She had thought maybe he'd like someone to visit him, rather than just be surrounded by servants and the old maester.

"... I'm sorry..." she looked away from him, out the window instead. "I was worried and thought maybe you wanted some company..."

“I didn’t want you seeing me like this,” he confessed.

"Harben," she sighed and looked back at him, her smile a little weary. "Honestly, I'd rather see you like this, alive and recovering, than the alternative."

The young man groaned weakly, “I’m not so sure this is better. Hubert says if I survive the week, then I’ll probably live. Maybe I’ll even recover,” there was a hint of bitterness.

Finding his hand, Mari folded both her hands around it and squeezed it gently. "I believe you'll make it. You're not one to give up, and maester Hubert is skilled." Even if she had been scared when it all happened, Mari was resolved to be brave for Harben.

"I just can't believe someone could do this. To you, of all people."