[center] [h3] Lindsay [/h3] [/center]

[i] Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, Rightful Queen of Westeros, of the Andals, the First Men, the Rhoynar. Rightful First Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Heiress to King Viserys by right, Protector of the Realm hereby declares War upon the Usurper, Aegon Hightower, his Lady Mother, Alicent – the former Queen and upon her House who have sought to steal my birthright. 
Upon any and all that would stand with the Usurper and his ‘green thieves’. Upon any that will not bestir themselves to join my cause and restore to me the crown that they have stolen so that I might defend and protect your rights and honour in the years to come as I ask of you to protect mine today. 

Rally your troops, ready your ships and garrison your homes. Saddle your horses and sharpen your swords. Bend no knees for this false king and his vile schemers and I vow that we will sweep this blight from history and your sacrifices, bravery and honour shall be rewarded in perpetuity.

Fire and Blood

Rhaenyra Targaryen- Your true queen. [/i]

Lindsay was lucky this time. Most days, Uncle would attend to the ravenry at around this time in the eve, but she got there first. Uncle said nothing, but she wasn't stupid. He was noticeably more tired, and when he made that false move pulling up his front piece from its defensive position, she knew something was up. There was something on his mind, no doubt, something that he either didn't want to worry her about, or something he didn't want her acting on. Lindsay hummed, lost in thought. Well, if this is the answer to her questions, it had better get answering.

The old servant was right. He was croaking to another of the castle staff, with worrying thoughts of war and crisis coming to the doorstep of the Ring. They didn't know, but Lindsay was hiding around the corner, snooping on their conversation. She remembered that day, how she ran to Uncle Frados, gasping with breath, words coming out of her mouth not entirely within her full control in an incoherent jumble of letters. He took her aside, soothed her with his ever-calm presence and soft words, and promised to have the two servants disciplined for spreading lies about the court. They never were.

Lindsay clutched the wet parchment in her hand, contemplating the words for a few seconds. Then, realizing the time, quickly rolled it back up and stuffed it into the pouch it came from, then tied it haphazardly on the leg of a random raven. The jangling of the raven-keeper's many keys was starting to get louder, and she had to run. 

The front doors leading into the main room were always creaky. This annoyed her on most days, but this one most of all. Not only that, but they also had a tendency to shut with a booming slam. Lindsay froze where she stood. There was no way half the castle didn't hear it. The clattering of groggy footsteps pounded through the walls, and Uncle Frados burst in not more than a minute later, dressed in nothing but his shorts and sleeping cap. Orphan-Maker's dark blade gleamed malevolently in the sparse torchlight, as if some evil spirit had possessed the already frightening side-sword. Ser Haraway was next, nearly bumping into Uncle as he charged through into the main hall.

"Lindsay, what are you doing awake at this hour!?" Uncle demanded, lowering the sword with a sigh of relief. 

"I . . . was thirsty, and went down to the kitchens to find water . . . and then I got lost," she mumbled, already realizing how silly that sounded. Judging by Uncle's expression, he was as convinced as she would be in the same situation.

" . . . Ser Haraway, a word, then escort Lady Roxton to the kitchens, then straight back to her chambers. See that she finds her way better this time," Uncle said, before exchanging a few more words with the scrawny knight. She couldn't hear what they were saying, but judging by how Ser Haraway seemed eager to take her away from the main hall to where she 'wanted' to go, no doubt it wasn't kind. Lindsay could feel the gloom settling in the stone walls, the castle itself bunkering down in preparation for the war to come. She felt a chill in her spine, that ran up and down her back and refused to jump off. There is a war, and it's coming for the Ring.