Chaosrpstarter - Blog Posts
[ open starter ] [ post purple wedding ] [ highgarden ]
Some may say Harry was out the door before the Boy King hit the floor.
Perhaps he was paranoid, or maybe he had just seen his fair share of poison. He hadn’t had the best of views of the proceedings, but he had heard the cries for help and the rush of well meaning lords and ladies to the table of honor, all wanting to get a look at what was happening, very clearly. But he was not one of those fine folk, Harry had been raised differently than them, he always expected the worse, Harry’s strongest instinct was one of self-survival. And while King Joffrey may have very well choked on a pigeon bone, the criminal in the back of Harry’s mind thought otherwise, and urged him to get out while he still could.
Harry knew that if a pigeon bone proved not to be the downfall of the King, Highgarden would most likely be closed off, no one in or out while the perpetrator was hunted down, and he did not want to be stuck in here with these people, partially due to his dislike of them, but mostly due to the fact that the once lovely and precious Highgarden would soon turn into a powder keg, and Harry did not want to be the next casualty. He doubted that he was of importance for any sort of planned assassination, but he thought it likely he could get caught in the crossfire.
Thus, as many rushed forward, Harry carefully slipped out, making sure to avoid any and everyone, to avoid looking suspicious. The last thing he needed was one nosy guard to say they saw a Targaryen supporter running out and to lose his head over it. Knowing the news probably hadn’t spread past the hall quite yet, Harry put on a casual aire as he approached the stable boy in search for his horse, spouting off some non-sense of wanting to leave early to avoid the rush on the King’s Road. The stable boy either approved of his sensibility, or didn’t care much to think about it, as Harry was quickly handed the reins to his horse and off he went.
Harry’s mind raced as he made his way out, head on a constant swivel and eyes darting in every which direction. Where would he go? Should he make a break for home? Ride hard and buy new horses along the way? How long would that take? A fortnight? More?---But then the thought came to him, he had been a ward in the Vale with a Florent boy, and he wondered if this old acquaintanceship could leave him with a place to stay at Brightwater Keep, not even a half a day’s ride from Highgarden.
Even with his hood deafening sounds around him, Harry swore he had heard footsteps falling behind him. He continued on as if they hadn’t pricked his ears until the sound came closer. In a fell movement, Harry had spun, pinned his follower to wall and taken out his own dirk.
“Why’re you followin’ me?--Huh?” he questioned, his paranoia reaching a new high.
