Sons

Written by Charlie
Wyrlan slept more than his brother, Brynn, who longed to be rocked or carried through the halls of Fox Hollow. Mazia always felt pangs of anxiety whenever he was taken from her sight and deep secret envy, she wished to be the one who walked him.

"Rest," her grandmother always counselled as Marzia grew restless, "you'll heal faster the less you fidget." Marzia felt shut away, quarantined and left out from everything important happening in her house.

Her thoughts would often drift to Olyver and Myria in those long hours laying and healing; she worried for them both so far from her care. She knew she could scarcely ask the gods for any more favours, yet still, she prayed to them - old and new. She bid them watch over her family, to keep them safe and return them home to her.

She told the twins stories as often as she had the strength, telling them of their father Lucos and of Olyver their promised father, of their siblings far and wide. She tried to explain the complicated relationships between them all. The newborns knew little of the words she spoke to them but it made Marzia feel better as she sorted through the mess of it all and sought the bits that mattered. They all belonged to Greenmont.

She was grateful to Mara for her visits and warned the twins to heed their half-sister and not to make a poor show for Mara was one of the most beautiful women in all of Westeros and as she was beautiful so she was also wise. They would all need beauty and wisdom to weather the ugliness and foolishness of the world around them. The war council was loud and their voices would sometimes drift as far as her room, fuelled by wine and fury. Sallistraya watched them all; she was restless too.