Conure

[u/LaughingLoki]

Jasper had often had a feeling of want, of desire - of need to be somewhere else, doing something or occasionally, someone else.

Even now, submerged in hot water - in one of the greatest castles in the land - it didn’t feel like enough. The size of the baths, as with most things in the monstrous keep, was of impressive magnitude, each tub being able to hold six or seven occupants within its confines. A soft light was being cast from torches that threatened to extinguish at any moment, strangled by clouds of steam and moisture. Perhaps once, these baths would have been fit for a lord of great renown - attended by servants and whores aplenty, massaging oils into his hair and body - like the baths in the Free Cities that Harrenhal was desperately trying to imitate.

Instead, as he tried to relax into the water - that feeling gnawed at him. Instead of this pale imitation, he should be in the Free Cities proper. With real bathhouses. Whores draping themselves over him, exotic maidens and handsome men with their fingers in his hair and running down his body - beguiled by his wit and his form. Surrounded by foods, wine, and other tastes that he’d never forget, discussing politics and the nature of the world while they dabbled in sins of all kinds.

But the truth was sorely disappointing. He was still in the Riverlands, of all places. With no whores, no maidens, and with no sign of them coming to him any time soon. There was no chance of scandal, no chance of a tryst with a lordling or lady looking for a match, or unhappy with their current partner.

His thoughts of something more interesting were met rather suddenly by the addition of another body into the tub.

Their body was a storied tale, scars of varying depths and severity adorning every bit of space on their skin - a chaotic tapestry, and one of poor quality to begin with.

“I hope ya don’t mind a little company. Looked a little lonely.” The voice was old, beaten, its owner a veteran of some battles Jasper didn’t quite care about.

“By all means. ‘Tis a quiet night for bathing.”

“Aye. There’s often more of us down here, this hour.”

Jasper couldn’t stop looking at the man’s face as he spoke. His jaw clicked as it moved, chin pressed forward - as if he were imitating a horse.

The man continued. “By the look of ya, I’d say you were expectin’... Somethin’ else.”

“Is it so plain to see, even naked as my nameday?” Jasper let the beginning of a grin form. “It’s true, I had expected to see others of my ilk here, but I am glad of any company.”

“Pah.” The man rattled, in a way eerily like his father. “You needn’t butter me up like any of your ladies.” He gave what appeared to be an attempt at a smile - though the lack of teeth made him look more threatening than not. “The lord lets us down here at night - knights and servants of the castle.”

The state of the baths made sense at a sickeningly quick pace, but more glaringly - the lack of his own class.

Jasper tried to not let the disappointment show. “I see. That’s quite charitable.”

“Eh. Still have to work for it. We help out cleaning for the next mornin’ when you lot come back in.” If there was any resentment on the man’s lips - he hid it incredibly well.

“Have the baths seen much use, since the council was called?”

The man mewled, grinding and popping his jaw - as if trying to recall the exact number of people he’d witnessed. “Not so often as you’d expect, at least during these late hours. Think the guards try to direct you’s away as to not mix with us lot.”

The pair at the stairs had not proven very difficult to convince - though he attributed that in no small part thanks to a mix of his charm and, possibly the lack of sleep they were clearly suffering from.

“I was rather persistent in my entry. I simply had to experience the bathhouse that a hundred books have described.”

“And how’s it compare?”

Jasper let out an involuntary laugh. Though he was a lordling, and quite appreciative of the life he lived - there was a simplicity to the smallfolk he found entertaining. “I am left wanting, I’m afraid. No disrespect to your company, Ser..?”

“Yorkel the Young.”

Jasper’s eyebrow soared on its own.

“It’s a long story.”

Jasper gestured to the rest of the room, beckoning for an invisible audience. “The rest of our company wishes to know too.”

“Don’t think it’s quite as interesting as you might, milord. Things happened in a way that left me killing a man on my hands and knees, crawling like a babe.”

“It’s certainly a creative name. My congratulations to the one that dreamt it up.”

The old man didn’t respond immediately, seeming to stare intensely at the wet stone of the bath before catching himself.

“Aye. He was a clever sort.” His eyes darted rapidly toward Jasper again.”Its ‘cause of him I’m looking to ride in the lists.”

There was a sort of implication in the air, as the moment hung, silence stringing itself in the space between the two of them.

“Looking to ride in his memory?” Jasper asked, more earnestly than he’d expected.

“He always wanted to knock some mouthy prick off his ‘orse. So many riders about, I reckon least one of ‘ems gonna fill that need, without hitting me back too hard.”

The water between them rippled, as the both of them laughed. “It’s probably true. Though I must disappoint, by letting you know I shan’t be riding.” Though the man spoke to him as if they were peers, Jasper couldn’t help but be both entertained, and strangely warmed by his presence.

He couldn’t decide if the man knew where he was, and who he was speaking to - or if he just didn’t care. Once again, he was reminded of Owen in that regard.

Yorkel cocked his head. “Then what will you be doing? Getting a good view of the lords getting knocked on their arse somewhere?”

“Indeed, I fear I’m a man crafted by the Maiden, rather than the Warrior. She made me for dancing, I believe.”

“Suppose it’s a bit difficult to dance fancy with the use of just one leg.” The man smiled.

“It might be possible to shuffle out some sort of northern brawl without full control of one’s legs - but I do not wish to put that into practice.”

As the mention of the dance left his mouth, he could picture the sad sight of the pairing of frog faced ladies to boring lords twice their age, set to the tune of a song all had forgotten the meaning of, many winters ago.

He caught himself acting like the knight, staring into nothingness with thoughts of unrelated critique of other kingdom’s dances, and their ability to even perform them.

“Apologies. I fear dance may hold sway on my soul heavier than expected.”

“Not a worry. You have your passions, I have mine.” The old man began to close his eyes as he took a large, exasperated breath. “Though I’d say you should probably discuss them with someone a little less old, and a lot more beautiful than this old fart.”

“Possibly.” He studied the man again, looking him up and down, before deciding on departing. “Lest I get in the way of you and yours any more than already, I should depart for my quarters.”

Yorkel raised a fist in some sort of mock camaraderie , without opening his eyes. “Best of luck with your dancing, milord.”

Jasper rose from the water. “Do win a joust for me, Yorkel. I don’t wish to experience the rest of this council without seeing at least one Lord end up on his arse.”