"It's all right, girl," I said, scratching her head between the bony ridges that looked very much like small horns — she liked that. Though a dragon is not a kitten; it is a proud beast and does not tolerate too much familiarity in relation to itself.
After making several more attempts to return to the greenery, I realized that nothing more would come of it today — it seemed I needed to continue strengthening my power and my will.
When Herald Orm noticed that I had stirred, he stepped toward me and extended his hand, helping me rise from the ground.
"How are you, my lord?"
"Not bad."
We returned to my chambers. All the way there I pondered the new information — so, Brynden Rivers had decided to get a closer look at me. Was that good or bad? And another thing — was Brandon Stark already with him, or was he still on the way to his dwelling?
***
"How are you feeling, Margaery?" I gently stroked my wife's rounded belly. Margaery was in her final month. The pregnancy had not been easy, but her good health, the absence of bad habits, my attention, the advice of the best maesters, and the care of the maids helped make it easier to bear.
Besides, I had shown her several physical exercises that helped strengthen the necessary muscles, saying I had read about them in books. I was certainly no obstetrician, but I knew and remembered a few things.
Margaery certainly appreciated my care. The only thing that seriously darkened her life were the frequent headaches.
It was already night. The windows stood open, and the wind lazily stirred the curtains of the finest Myrish silk. The half-light was dispelled by a large candelabrum with several candles. It stood far away so that the smell of melted wax and burnt wick would not trigger another headache for my wife.
We lay on the bed and simply talked.
"If only you knew how tired I am, Joff," she sighed deeply, a note of caprice in her voice.
"Hold on just a little longer, my dear." I gently kissed her lips, and she responded with passion. However, we had not had sex for a couple of weeks now— I treated the health of the future child with caution and feared provoking premature labor. As it turned out, Margaery had also lost interest in bedplay — some women experience that during this period.
"What do you think it is — a boy or a girl?"
"Which would you like?"
"Sometimes a boy, sometimes a girl." She rested her head on my shoulder and gazed thoughtfully toward the window. "Actually, I feel as though we won't have just one child, but twins."
"That would be wonderful news if so," I said, kissing the top of her head. "Twins are usually born every other generation. After my mother and Jaime, we might have a chance to repeat it. Just hold on."
"I am holding on. But it would be much easier if you stayed with me. Maybe you could postpone the campaign for a couple of weeks? I know I'll give birth during that time."
"No, I can't. We must not wait."
"Then entrust the matter to someone else. Stay with me — I need you!"
"It pains me to say it, but I must be with the army." In truth, with all my heart I wanted to remain here, support my wife, and see our children. Yet I could almost feel that my place was with those setting out on campaign. "Forgive me," I said, kissing her, "but I must do what people expect of me. For you, for myself, and for our future children…"
"I understand," she said after a moment of silence. "Take care of yourself in this war. Don't take risks. Do you know how much I love you?"
"I know."
"Then, for my sake and for the child — or perhaps the twins — be careful."
"All right. I promise."
"Kiss me once more, Joff."
We spoke for a long time that night. And in the morning, our army marched out.
***
The common folk had already begun calling the current war the War of Kin. There was truth in that — the Starks, Tullys, Freys, Estermonts, and several smaller houses fought on both sides. And although none of my own relatives were directly present in the opposing army, and Stannis Baratheon had already passed into the next world, the name still felt fitting.
Our army numbered a little over twenty thousand. Many warriors had to remain in the city in case of unpleasant surprises. Moreover, Daven Lannister continued pressing the Greyjoys; he had advanced as far as the Crag, laid siege to it, and we sent him the necessary reinforcements a couple of times.
And of course, the most powerful force was gathering at Bitterbridge. Lord Tarly, whom I had not yet had the chance to meet in person, was doing everything possible to prepare for a long and difficult struggle with the Arryns, the Greyjoys, and the Golden Company. And for now, we were waiting to see where the enemy would strike hardest.
Part of the army had left the capital the day before yesterday and yesterday — our vanguard was commanded by Lyle Crakehall, who was incredibly proud of the honor bestowed upon him.
He had a simple and clear task: to screen the main army all the way to the Ruby Ford. At Castle Darry he was to link up with Willem Mooton and take temporary command of the combined forces. After that, they were to advance directly to the ford, secure their position, and begin harassing the enemy. He was also ordered to send several scouts across the river to learn the general state of affairs and, if possible, capture a prisoner for questioning.
Crakehall was a serious and imposing man. Perhaps his most notable flaw was excessive ferocity, which might push him into rash actions. For that reason he had been strictly ordered under no circumstances to attempt a crossing of the Trident.
(End of Chapter)
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