The Sick Lion

A Lion, unable from old age and infirmities to provide himself with food by force, resolved to do so by artifice. 

He returned to his den, and lying down there, pretended to be sick, taking care that his sickness should be publicly known. The beasts expressed their sorrow, and came one by one to his den, where the Lion devoured them. 

After many of the beasts had thus disappeared, the Fox discovered the trick and presenting himself to the Lion, stood on the outside of the cave, at a respectful distance, and asked him how he was. “I am very middling,” replied the Lion, “but why do you stand without? Pray enter within to talk with me.” 

“No, thank you,” said the Fox. “I notice that there are many prints of feet entering your cave, but I see no trace of any returning.”

-- He is wise who is warned by the misfortune of others. --

 The Fox and the Crow

A Fox once saw a Crow fly off with a piece of cheese in its beak and settle on a branch of a tree.

  "That's for me, as I am a Fox," said Master Reynard, and he walked up to the foot of the tree.

     "Good day, Mistress Crow," he cried. "How well you are looking today: how glossy your feathers; how bright your eye. I feel sure your voice must surpass that of other birds, just as your figure does; let me hear but one song from you that I may greet you as the Queen of Birds."

     The Crow lifted up her head and began to caw her best, but the moment she opened her mouth the piece of cheese fell to the ground, only to be snapped up by Master Fox.

     "That will do," said he. "That was all I wanted. In exchange for your cheese I will give you a piece of advice for the future: "Do not trust flatterers."

-- Flatterers live at the expense of those who will listen to them. --

A Feast of Ice and Fire (A Fan Fiction) Part III

Arrowforest had once been their mother’s favorite destination after the first trace of the summer sun appeared and sunlight glimmered on the lawn. The town was located in the middle of a grassland and was considerably smaller than Lannisport. Its walls were not particularly tall, which made it easier for the once ruling house to have it completely surrounded by a castle, Lady Alyna's had told her. She had also learned from her that because the founders had not built bigger walls, her family had taken on the responsibility to better defend them. Arrowforest was well regarded in the Westerlands by its weaponsmithing and deadly archers, warriors as fierce as they are precise. The green ones trained everyday, and when they loosened, hundreds of arrows landed on the ground outside the walls, “I look out the window and see a different forest every morrow,” the woman had said. “Though we lack true forests, arrows make a sight just as wonderful.” Hence the town’s name. Jaime and her had never returned to it after their parents had decided for them to come for the first time, so most of her memories of the place were all but gone. It had been a long time ago, before Lady Alyna had fallen ill in her old age, before their mother had prematurely died, before Tyrion!. Her mind went back to the feast when she heard a retching sound coming from Ellena.

“Pray excuse me, my lords... Hhuug... and lady. I am feeling unwell...I...Blllerrrrgh” The girl stood up, covered her mouth with both hands and rushed towards the door. The guards helped her out quickly when they sensed her urgency. You run as fast as your archers can loosen arrows, Cersei thought, if the gods are merciful your death will be just as quick. 

Soon enough, Mark got on his feet and left, his hand covering the front of his breeches.  His friend Terrance preoccupied and trailed behind him, but returned some time later with a grin from ear to ear. When he sat back on the table, Cersei noted there was redness in his eyes. Tears!

“Has something ill happened to Mark? He looked strikingly ill not long ago, and your eyes, my lord. Have you been crying? Is he. . . dead?,” she asked trying hard to sound dismayed.

“Died? Yes. But of shame, my lady,” he said laughing. “After we left the room, he decided to lock himself in the sept. I could hear him start praying. When I offered to call the maester he refused, told me it should be gone soon, and blamed it all on the sight of Lady Ellena’s breasts. Finally, he was so troubled that he begged for maester Creylen to come. When he appeared, he looked at Mark and knew right away. He saw it in his pants, he said. He told him it was natural for a boy his age, and asked him to mind something different. Yet, when the maester noticed it made no difference, he started telling us of how, many years ago, a woman from Sarsfield had put a few drops of a rare elixir into her old husband’s ale. Presumably, the drink made the old husband hard for long enough to get her with child. Eventually, rumors about its powers spread like wildfire. The maester even admitted to have acquired some of the elixir, and said he keeps it safe. So yes, my lady, I was crying for the lad, but for a different reason.” When terrance roared with laughter, his bastard brother joined him.      

“I’m pleased to hear it was nothing serious.” This, at least, shall not have to explained. On the other hand, some servant might find Ellena’s body sprawling on the stairs all smelly and soaked. It will be said she died retching her insides out. “I will assume you did not encounter Ellena on your way back here. The fact that she is not returned yet is quite troubling.”

“Not as I was returning, but I see her now coming into the room, looking pale but well. Turn and see for yourself, my lady.”

When Cersei turned and recognize that the Ellena had, in truth, returned alive, she felt her blood boiling. You were supposed to be cold by now!

“ I beg your pardon, I was not feeling well. My belly is aching, and a chamber pot was nowhere to be found.”

“You look uneasy. I am sure another drink should help relieve some of the pain.” I should have poured the whole bottle! Unless this wasn’t what it was supposed to be. Oh, seven’s be cursed. Creylen’s bloody elixir.

“I thank you, my lady, but I would rather not. I am afraid it must have been the food. Instead, could any of you kindly help me find my uncle, I wish to start the ride back home.”
                                                                                         
                                                                                    - Alex Ramos Miranda

A Feast of Ice and Fire (A Fan Fiction) Part II

     Down at the main hall, the guest were seated. Ser Kevan himself was personally greeting guests at their tables; lords, ladies and their companions all alike. Most guests were from houses Cersei had either never heard of or didn’t care enough to remember. Her father, clad in all Lannister-crimson-leather, was sitting next to Jaime; her uncle’s and Tyrion’s seats remained empty. Now, where in the seven kingdoms might this dwarf be? This potion might be the best chance to rid us from him without raising many suspicions. Two score servants were tending to the guests, bringing them beef-and-barley stew, roast rabbit stuffed with onions and mushrooms, and iced lemon cakes while others poured honeyed wine for the ones who raised their hands. At one time, Cersei caught a glimpse of her cousin, Damion, as he tapped the shoulder and spoke something into the ears of a short-bearded man who casually stood company of other four men. The man nodded, and with a gesture the others gathered their goods and trailed behind him towards an elevated platform placed in the corner of the hall. Shortly after, no voices could be heard save for the whispers and giggles of the servant girls who evidently recognized him. He closed a fist over his mouth and cleared his throat.

    “My lords and ladies, I am myself quite privileged to be here amongst you on this occasion. A raven was sent to me with words from Lord Tywin himself requesting from me a performance in honor of his brave son and graceful daughter,” the singer said. Harrin Blacktyde bowed and took up his copper-colored stringed wood harp and gestured his fellow singers to add their instruments and voices to his own. The first song was an original of his titled At Your Name Day, Dance With Me ‘til the Morrow followed by many others that made servant girls and some ladies weep every time he put down the harp.

When the music had filled the room with a festive mood, Harwin prompted guests to take part in the dance at the center of the hall. The first to join were Lord Eddison Clanet and his wife, Lady Liane. At the next table were round-bellied Sir Roland and his sister, Marylla Weams. Many had seen her storming out of the room after their friends had roared with laughter when Sir Roland, having already drunk a full flagon of wine, pounded his fist on the wooden table and yelled to her “I’ve got a big arse. Our mother’s got a big arse. Arses are big in this family; you damned well better get used to yours, woman.” He might be a drunken fool, but at least he’s not a liar. I ought to give him that much.

At some point, a younger lady was seen requesting for Lord Tywin to be her dancing partner, but then her father approached them and claimed that if it was true that Lord Tywin did in fact shit gold, he would not see trouble in being most generous and paying her stone weigh in dragons as a way of complimenting her beauty. That remark, naturally, was not well received by her father, Cersei noticed. “You have a most graceful daughter, certainly,” Tywin said with a hard mouth, and then turned to one of the Lannister men that guarded the gates. “Sir Addam, if you would cordially show our guests to my solar. I shall meet them there shortly; I will not have it said that a Lannister failed to acknowledge a woman’s grace in front of her kin.” The knight opened the doors for the man and his daughter and asked of them to trail behind him. Lord Tywin did not even once take his leave from the hall. Words are wind, Cersei reflected. She did not remember seeing neither the girl nor her father return to the the feast.

Without doubt, her brother was more entertained than Cersei was, and was taking far more pleasure in all the foods and guests that were part of the celebration. He was no longer sitting in the seat next to his father, but rather shared a table and a stuffed rabbit with slim, red-haired Mark Minwell, Terrance Pettysmith and his bastard half-brother, Emrick Hill. All were boys of no more than four-and-ten, meaning that today Jaime was the eldest among them. He grows more manly by the day. His hair seems more radiant, his smile is getting sharper. I can even see a hint of a beard starting to grow on the point of his chin. Oh, how I wish you were not my brother. Many women live their lives searching for their true lovers, only to lose him in some battle or to another woman. But I am fortunate; mine was brought along with me into this world. Stay with me, Jaime, and be mine fore…Cersei’s thoughts came to a sudden halt when someone approached, lightly kissed Jaime on the cheek and occupied the space next to him. She was a fair girl of around her own age with long way hair that hanged from a friendly face and fair skin that elegantly complimented her deep, brown eyes. Her gown left the top of her shoulders uncovered and a wide belt helped accentuate her figure. She wore a daisy flower headband, a subtle necklace and several gilded bracelets.

“Does m’lady wish more pomegranate juice?,” asked one serving woman. “m’lady?”

Cersei could not help but notice how Emrick and Mark sat there fascinated by her presence. “What do you make of that?,” she asked the woman and turned her face to the table, “and be honest.” But watch your words.

“Well . . . m’lady. . . I . . . in the town I come from we’d say they are bewitched. . . done by a crone, or a wicked princess o’ sorts, like in the old folk tales.” Or a Queen! Maybe they have seen her in some whore house. Might be she’s a queen, the queen of whores, for all I know. She even wears her crown. The fact that Cersei had not met the girl before made no matter; she had given her reason enough to be despised. “I need you to deliver a message. I need you to go to that table and tell my brother that my father has urgent need of him, and if he asks tell him it regards a gift from King’s landing,” she said. “And hand me that flagon over. I’ll see that our guests don’t lack for a drink.”  

“But . . .m’lady shouldn’t . . .take care of such things. If someone were to find out. . .I”

“Someone should be the least of your concerns. You should not make my father keep on waiting for my brother. Now go on, and do as you’re told.”

Trembling, the woman handed the flagon over to Cersei and wend her way towards the table where Jaime and the others were seated. I guess the dwarf will have to wait, she thought as she hurriedly pulled the cork out from the vial and let several drops into the flagon. She hid the bottle back up her sleeve. The sound of Harrin’s sweet harp still lingered behind as she saw her brother leaving the hall. She walked towards the table. They all paid close attention to her hand.     

“As you see, it appears we lack enough servants to tend to everyone. I took the freedom to assist. Do any of you want more juice?” Only Mark and the friendly-faced girl nodded. “How do you fair today? I hope you have found the feast most entertaining,” she asked as she poured steadily into their mugs. I must serve him, too, else I would look suspicious.    

“We have, my lady,” Terrance answered for himself and his bastard brother. “It saddens me to think that we my father does not employ cooks this capable back at Darfield.”

“That is certainly a satisfying remark you make, my lord. You’re most welcome to take some of what you most like to your father, and if the seven so wish, he’ll hire new cooks.”

The comment made the three boys laugh, but the girl kept her face solid.

“Where did you find this singer, may I ask?. It’s not even midnight and I have heard him play the same songs more than thrice already,” she suddenly said.

“We must not have been properly introduced,” Cersei answered defiantly.

“They call me Ellena . . . Ellena Torrent, if it please my lady,” the girl said with a halting voice. Have you lost your courage now?

“A Torrent. I assume your mother is Lady Alyna? Your names sound almost identical.”

“It would please mother to hear that my lady remembers her.” She sipped her drink.

“Indeed. Maester Ranald is a capable man. I am sure he is taking good care of her.”

A Feast of Ice and Fire (A Fan Fiction) Part I

                                                                        Cersei

S

er Kevan, had insisted that any man and woman, boy or girl, who could lend a hand, or two if not a cripple, should assist in the feast preparations. For that reason, the halls and steps that led back to the main chambers were without a soul, and the only hearable sounds were the weak, crackling sound the torches made as they burnt and the steady rhythm of her own steps on the stone. In her mind, however, the walk back to her bedchamber was anything but silent. He still takes me for a child! I am a woman now, and already flowered. No. . . . I am a lion. I don’t take any orders from sheep. I dress in silks and linen; need I remind him his rags are made up of wool? The mere recalling of that conversation was enough to bring Cersei’s blood to a boil.

     “Tell me, Maester,” she recalled saying as she explored the maze of shelves that covered the place. “How acquainted are you with the vials and herbs you keep here?”

     “In all honesty, not as wholly as I did once. You see, time can make of a man’s mind a grievous thing, and there’s naught a maester can do to mend it. I saw what it did to your lord grandfather’s when you were but a little, blushy, plumpy. . .”

      “Yes, Maester, I have heard the story.” she stopped him. “I have also heard that you keep some pokeweed extract somewhere around here. ”

      “Oh, yes, indeed, indeed . . . it is a rare and powerful thing.” The Maester stood from his chair, walked towards one of the high shelves at the far end of the room and pulled a small, blue dusty bottle with a cork stopper. “What you see here is not of much use to a maester in treating wounded men. Its contents are harmless to a man’s health, so long as he’s already dead. but it still makes a fine collectible; any maester would tell you that, for sure.”

        “I shall have some of that. ” she said excited.

       “Pray excuse me, my lady,” she remembered the man saying. “but it just falls under my responsibilities as Maester to oversee that all herbs and components the castle provides me with are put to best use. Plus, I do not see what need a lady your age would have on such things. You should repel those ideas ”

        “I am not asking for it, Maester.” she said, already angered.  

        “I am afraid I cannot do as you bid, my lady. Now, please, there are more urgent matters that require my attention before your lord father arrives. Should not my lady be greeting guests as they arrive?”

            Despite having heard earlier from her uncle that Lord Tywin and his personal guard were but a few leagues away from reaching the gates of Casterly Rock, Cersei’s impatience built up as dusk fell upon the castle without servants or horns announcing the arrival of the lion lord. The longer she waited, the angrier she became. She could feel her face warming and the vein on her neck growing more and more noticeable every time she turned herself towards the mirror. How much longer will it take? Is it old horses they offer hands to ride in the capital? She wished that her father was there. She wanted to get her hands on the gifts he had surely brought her and Jaime from King’s Landing for their name day. Yet, more than anything, she could hardly wait to let him hear about Maester Creylen’s insolence and Tyrion’s face when he saw her leaving the old man’s chambers.

            Someone knocked twice at the door. What is it now? Has the old man come to his senses? She went to see who it was.

            Her twin brother was gallantly dressed in a crimson linen long coat that was fully buttoned up to just above his waist; all held together by a brown, golden-threaded leather belt. The long sleeves on his coat are long and loosely fitted. His pants were plain dark, which added an informal touch to an already elegant look.

            “Your face. . . What happened to you?” It was the first thing Jaime asked when he saw her. Cersei couldn’t find in her the words to tell Jaime what happened without sounding foolish, so in the hope of having him stir the conversation in a different way, she said nothing.

            It worked, and after a brief silence, Jaime resumed. “I have just come to inform you that father arrived a while ago and requests our presence at the feast. Guests are starting to be seated and we don’t want them to grow impatient.” Someone should have had the decency to let me know!  He took a moment to study her from head to toe. “Best you change to a finer gown and a comely face better suited for a day like this,” he said. “Here, let me help you.” He closed the door behind him. There were few things that could appease her inner lioness, but not even the scent of the lavender oils she treasured could compare to the feel of Jaime going wild about her neck.  

            “I need your help, Jaime.” she whispered with a hint of pleasure.

            “I am helping you now, sweet sister.”

            “I need your help with a different matter. There is something of Creylen’s that I wish. An old ‘treasure’ the fool would rather have me beg for.”

  Jaime let go of her neck and looked from side to side with half-closed eyes giving himself time to consider. “Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin and answered. “On the condition that you shall not make me beg for yours after all this feasting is over.”

     “I promise we will have our own little feast afterwards.” If we go unnoticed, she reflected, and so it was settled.

Being on their way to the maester’s chambers was without question considerably less burdensome for Cersei than it had been earlier that day. Though much to her surprise, despite Jaime’s presence, silence still remained. She noticed the lightning on the halls was dimmer this time. Some of the torches that lined the walls burnt out, for there was no one to see to them. Cersei thought to have counted two-and-ten overall by the time they reached the maester’s door. Maybe there were more, but trying to keep up with Jaime’s hurried pace caused her to lost count at some point and so she quit it altogether. There was no sign of light from under the door, so Jaime pushed his ear up against the door, listening for even the slightest clue of clinking of metal against metal on a chain. When he hinted at her that there was naught inside, she grabbed the handle and slowly pushed the creaky door open. If the halls were low on burning torches, the maester’s room completely lacked them, and that night’s moonlight was not powerful enough to thoroughly illuminate the chambers. She stood inside the room trying to remember from which shelf the maester had pulled the potion.

            “What are you waiting for? Just grab it and be done with it,” Jaime urged.

            “Shut your mouth; I need to think. Best keep your eyes open in case someone comes looking for us.”

            “If it please my lady,” he said with a grin from ear to ear, as he listened and kept guard at the door.

            Cersei quickly decided to look over the shelves and open drawers hoping to catch sight of the small, blue vial. It was not before having inspected a fourth shelf that she finally found it placed behind a volume of A Maester’s Guide to Dornish Wild Seeds with Descriptions and Applications. She grabbed the potion and hid it up the sleeve of her gown. He is a greater fool than I thought. “I hope you still haven’t watered yourself while standing there, brother. Better not, there’s no time to change your small clothes. We must attend the feast.”