A Small Forest

After a while, she hears someone whistling a slow, sad melody, very likely a lament for the dead. Ahead, she could see a slender young man with fair hair, facing away from her.

He trailed off somewhat feebly, though he had shown a clear, strong tone before the interruption. He turned and she saw that he was good looking in a somewhat scruffy way. He was perhaps a similar age to her sister Aemy had been. He smiled and bowed when he saw her, though his sad eyes widened at her bright hair.

"My lady. I am sorry if I am in your way. Would you like me to depart?"

His clothing was a little scruffy but he spoke with the voice of a lord and his tunic bore some southron sigil she didn't recognise.

He saw she was injured and stepped a bit closer to her.

"I'm Lord Beesbury of Honeyholt," he said formally. "I...I came here to think about my father and grandsire. Seeing all the dead men made me think of them."

"Yes. I saw the blue one fall," Lord Beesbury said with a little sigh. "It was...sad. My father and grandsire died some years ago. But I don't forget them. So many lives have been wasted in this war. And it's been going on since before our parents were born. I always thought it would last until I died too."

"But surely we can't help but remember? I cannot. I dreamed of them last night. All the screaming. It was horrible." He sighed. "I woke up with a man's spear at my throat. That didn't happen during the battle. it was so vivid. Do you dream of it too, princess?"

"No," Beesbury said. "Should I have?" He looked her over as if the problem were physical. "Is that why you have pink hair?"

"That's odd. But does that mean it's not your own choice?" He rubbed his head, frowning. "Wy does it happen to you? Did you bang your head as a child?"

"I don't understand it. What do the maesters say?" But he began to back away as he realised that perhaps Daenya was not a safe person to talk to. He remembered a tale of a boy who had lost his hand.

He hesitated. "Oh. Um, well, are you sure you aren't tired of my company? I would so hate to intrude."

"I don't know. I've never spoken to a princess before," he said. "I didn't want to overstay my welcome, my lady."

"It tells me that I am not accustomed to girls who are blood of the dragon," he said. "I'm sure you would not wish me to give you offence by speaking out of turn."

OOC = tails