The man with a cane

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the next 2 chapters will be quite... entertaining, so this one is a bit shorter but hopefully you'll like it ♥

 entertaining, so this one is a bit shorter but hopefully you'll like it ♥

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Tyland Lannister's face expresses nothing short of shock. He bewilderedly looks from Daemon to Lia and back, and his smoky-blue eyes give out how out of place he feels. He's dressed in all green, the fabrics rich and posh and the least suited for wandering in the woods.

"You used to hunt with the King, did you not?" Daemon completely overlooks the man's discomfort.

"A couple of times, your grace," Tyland forces out a smile. "But it was Jason who enjoyed it the most so —"

"Well, your brother isn't here," Daemon shrugs. "And you look like you'd enjoy being outside for a day. A brief foray into nature and all that, who wouldn't want to spend some time there?"

Tyland actually looks like the man who has no wish to do that. But he is also the one who serves and appeases, and tries to think ahead — and maybe his quick thinking suggests that it isn't the worst idea, after all.

"There is some truth to your words," he finally agrees, a tad more complaisant already. "The Kingswood is a beautiful place, indeed. And a breath of fresh air would never hurt anyone."

"That's the spirit!" Daemon approves. He's the first one to notice Ser Harrold leading out a black stallion — placid, graceful, and looking much healthier compared to the day Lia first brought him in. "Ser Tyland, feel free to pick any horse you'd like," the prince charitably tells him. "Your loyalty deserves to be compensated, and I wish for your trip to be spent in comfort."

When the lord goes into the stable, Lia takes the reins, and the animal fuffs at her friendly. He fattened up pretty fast and turned out to be an easygoing trotting horse with a pleasant temper. He caused no trouble and welcomed the training, but he obviously grew to love Lia the most, and she made sure to visit him daily. For his dark color, he's got called Raven, and the girl found the name perfectly fitting.

"Ser Tyland mentioned that his brother seemed more suited for the ride," Lia notes while the horse munches on the apples.

"Whatever Jason's talents may be, you wouldn't want to ride with him, trust me on that," Daemon rolls his eyes.

"And why is that?"

"If all the cunts of the Seven Kingdoms were to compete to find the biggest one, he would win just by showing up," the prince cackles, earning a side-eye from Ser Harrold, although the knight himself is fighting a smile.

"Then I'm glad he's not the one accompanying me," Lia adjusts the saddle, securing the bag to it.

"And I can't wait to hear of your adventures at dinner," Daemon grins, pats the horse, and then walks out of the stable.

Ser Harrold goes to follow him but at the last second comes back.

"You've got yourself a smart stallion, I've heard," he tells Lia, his voice quieter. "And although I hope his training will not come in handy but," his face grows serious, "Shall you find yourself in a situation that doesn't seem safe, just command the horse to go back to the castle — one of the stable boys let me in on that trick. If we see Raven with no rider, we'll come to look for you right away."

Lia gives him a promise to do just that. As she watches him leave, a sludge of uneasiness settles in her chest but she tries to push it aside. Raven leans his head toward her, wiggling his ears, and she pets him some more, his thick skin silky, his snout smelling of apples and fresh hay.

While she is standing in the middle of the sunlit paddock, out of nowhere, Lia gets that feeling again — like she is being watched, and that sensation crawls up her spine like a wet spider. She turns around, slowly taking her surroundings in, until she's met with a pair of eyes staring right at her. The man they belong to is a stranger to Lia: brown-haired and thin and short in stature. She notices him using a cane, and yet, there is something alarming about him. She thinks the threat comes from his focused, pale green eyes. He looks her up the way a hunter does his prey before skinning it.

"A great day for a ride, might I say," he drawls with a lazily put-on smile.

"So where is your horse?" Lia doesn't shy away from his gaze.

"I fear the gods did not make me for riding," the man gestures at his curvature right foot, the shoe on it cased in iron. As her eyes dart to it, she also discerns a bee engraved on the handle of his cane.

"And yet, you are here," Lia points out. "One may wonder what are your motives, then."

"You see, if one is deprived of the ability to participate, one can still learn to... observe," he replies evasively, and his smile doesn't reach his eyes.

"Do you only observe horses? I wouldn't want to find you watching me one day, ser."

"Isn't watchfulness always beneficial?"

Although his tone is ingratiating, she doesn't like the sound of it. Nothing about this man is to her liking — and everything about him hints that he cannot be trusted. She notices Raven pinning his ears flat against his head, his fuffs growing irritated with the unknown visitor. She caresses his snout and shares his irritation.

"I thought you should only watch your back if you are being threatened."

"That does seem logical to me, Lady Lia," the man agrees innocuously, but his gaze stays cold.

She tenses up, her brows furrowing. "Would only be fair for you to tell me your name —"

"Lord Larys," Ser Tyland interrupts them, and his face lacks friendliness when he looks at the man. "Never thought I'd see you in a stable."

"Can say the same about you," he replies unabashedly. "Or does the Master of Coin find the stable in need of repair? Shall we expect more taxes under that pretext?"

Ser Tyland glares at him but tames his anger. He's an image of a man who puts duty above emotion.

"The Master of Coin will do anything that his Queen — or her lord husband — commands," Tyland punctuates. "And right now I have another command to follow."

He leisurely pats his horse — a fine noble animal the color of milk — then swiftly gets on it, and Lia follows suit. Lord Lannister makes a mannerly remark: "Please be careful, Lord Larys, some horses here have a temper. I fear your silver tongue will not be of much help," he gives the lord a thin smile and turns to the girl. "Shall we?"

She nods, and he rides out first, without looking at Lord Larys again. Lia doesn't spare him a glance either, but the man's gaze persistently follows her, and it feels stinging.

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