Introduction

Introduction

278 AC

Lorath, a city apart of the nine Free Cities, was an island that Mathina could not find herself missing. The poorest of the nine cities, Lorath had little trade and little communication with other nations. It lay in the Shivering Sea near Essos and was governed by magisters made of nobles, priests and merchants alike. Her own father, Fernez of Lorath, was a noble that sat on the table of magisters, and for such an old man – Mathina thought he had far too many wives and far too much gold.

He had sent her to Westeros, Storm's End to be exact, to receive the Westerosi education of a noblewoman and one day marry a man of her own picking that was of high birth. It was uncommon for a woman of Lorath to be in Westeros as many Lorathi did not leave the islands, choosing to travel from Norvos, Braavos and Ib for their needs. Her father knew her to be different though. As rich as the other nine cities were, Westeros had stability and peace, and that is what he desired for his daughter.

And so that is she how she ended up in Storm's End, as a lady-in-waiting for Lady Cassana Baratheon, the wife of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands, Steffon Baratheon. A title Mathina had learnt from the Maester of Storms End, the castle the Baratheon's called home, was respected and near king. Her father had written to her, telling her to use her time with the Baratheon's as an education. To learn out about Westeros, learn its lands and people's, their likes and dislikes, who was the richest and poorest, who did not get along, and most of all; who could she marry?

She had no intention of marrying, perhaps that was her defiant nature speaking, but all the men she had met did not excite her nor make her blush. Granted she had only met two her age, Robert and Stannis Baratheon, the sons of Cassana and Steffon. Her Maester had also told her that unlike Lorath, the nobles were bred to take their roles so the title of Lord Paramount would be passed to Robert and not the most capable man that others had voted for.

Mathina was now stood on the parapets of Storms End, watching as the ships of many great houses sailed towards the harbour. She recognised some of their sigils from Maester Cressen's lessons she had been attending for two years and with Cassana's grace had studied Westeros. The golden rose flower of the Tyrell's, the three-headed dragon of the Targaryen's, the white direwolf of the Stark's, her favourite one, the Lannister lion. There were many others, but Mathina could not concentrate on them for too long.

Renly, the youngest and newest addition to the Baratheon family, squirmed in Mathina's hands. Cassana tutted at her son, "Mathina, take him inside, won't you? I don't think he enjoys the wind." Cassana said, smiling softly to the girl.

Mathina, who had known Cassana for two years and had been there every step of the way of Renly's birth, nodded back to her. She turned around, with two guards behind her, and made her way back into the castle. As she walked the halls back to Renly's nursery Mathina heard heavy footsteps running towards her.

"Hello you," it was Robert Baratheon. The growing boy was late for welcoming guests having slept in or being up to no good, as he always was. "And you," Robert had stopped in his tracks, pinching Renly's cheeks and causing his younger brother to fall into fits of laughter. He was a similar age to Mathina, only having just turned six and ten. "Are they here yet?" He asked Mathina, holding the door to the nursery open for her.

Mathina thanked him, bowing her head as she walked past him, she placed Renly into his comfortable cradle and turned back around. "They are docking the harbour," Mathina responded, smoothing out her soft yellow dress. It was a favourite of hers and made her dark skin look as though it were silk. She caught Robert gazing at her, his eyes going from her feet to her shoulders and finally to her head. She knew growing up the looks that Robert had given her, the way he spoke to elicit a response from her, but she also had known him to be betrothed to the eldest Stark girl; her name she could not remember.

Mathina was the only conquest Robert had not yet won over in Storms End, every trip he made from the Vale since his turning of six and ten had consisted of him finding a new woman or women to hunt down. But he forgot about them soon after. Her father had warned her explicitly not to allow herself to become a forgotten bastard womb and if she would become a paramour rather than a wife, to make sure the lord who took her in had given her a home to call her own and a household to run. And Robert, by his drinking and jolly nature, was no man to be a father or hold honour to women.

"Will you be joining us for the feast?" Robert asked her, knowing that if the conversation were to continue, he'd surely be late to greeting his father's guests and that would not be a good look on the heir.

"If my lady wishes me to join, I will join," she responded, smiling lightly at him.

"Then I will convince my mother that you must. You are looking for a husband, aren't you?" his bright blue eyes gleamed as he smiled. Mathina, who had been stood by Renly's cradle, neared the door and placed two delicate hands on the handle. Robert had always thought she walked as if she were gliding, her feet barely touching the ground, her shoulders and back in perfect posture and never spoke out of turn. But he had seen her once, only once, whispering to a stable boy and causing him to go beet red – he was unsure of what exactly Mathina had said to him, but Robert had never seen a boy stop breathing at the words of a woman.

"Goodbye, my lord." She closed it, leaving the young Baratheon on the other end with a bruised ego and hurt pride.

He wanted to call out, say something witty or flirtatious, but the sound of a horn being blown called him back to his reality. Robert was never one to fall in love, he already had a betrothed to fall in love with – and he loved everything Ned had told him about Lyanna during their time shared in the Vale – but he was also never one to lose nor be turned down. Especially not by women.

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