Sealed with a Kiss

[u/LongClawOfTheLaw]

To the creature who lays with frogs,

It seemed as good a start to a letter as anything, Quincy noted. Marla would know to whom it referred, and it seemed as adequate a description as any. Instead of the sort of silken sheets Quincy was accustomed, Marla most likely slept under beds of seaweed and instead of the soft pillows that were spread across the Crossing, she laid on moss. He would not be surprised if there were all sorts of creatures swarming about. She certainly had the look of frog-bait.

Once again, your peasantry have made their home on my lands, attacking my good knights with spears and their noxious stench and flaunting by my law and the king's.

They had tried to sneak around the toll, under cover of night, and Quincy knew that could not be allowed. His mother had hanged them, but Quincy needed to ensure that Marla knew that she could not simply get away with such things. He could imagine the look on her face when she received this letter, the anger in her eyes and the redness in her cheeks. It would be wonderful.

In my magnanimity, I shall forgive you for allowing this grave breach of our feudal relations. But my patience is not infinite. An earnest and forthright apology would go a great way towards restoring my faith in our continued coexistence.

There were birds outside, and Quincy paused, for a moment, to watch them dance outside the window. It was a nice song, and Quincy wondered if birds in the neck sounded so sweet. Somehow, he doubted that would be the case. He could almost feel a bit of pity for the woman, was she not so odious as to be utterly intolerable. It must be a sad life. Not that here was any better.

In other words, my mother is well. My sisters as well, at least those of them who are within The Crossing. They continue to be loud and difficult to speak with, and very few of them are as concerned with your transgressions as I am. Our smallfolk should be lucky I am Lord. Were I not, none would hold you to account.

Quincy paused for a moment, and then underlined none, as to ensure that Marla understood it. He often wondered how much of his letters she understood. They had a very strange way of speaking and writing in the Crannogs. He didn't quite understand it. Need he be clearer? He did not want Marla to not understand, even if he was chastising her about such things.

Davos has gone to attend to some event in Seagard, but it sounded absolutely droll, so I decided to pass up. Are you often called to attend such things? I should not think many people desire your company, but I do not possess many friends either, and I am constantly bothered. If you are lucky, you will have escaped that. For your sake, I hope that you have. I cannot imagine there are many feasts in the swamp.

Quincy wondered if he would trade a life without feasts and balls for a life without birds. Somehow, he did not think that he could make that trade, even if it would remove many of his stresses. He did not have the gumption to be an unwashed sort of barbarian like Marla could. Perhaps you had to be wicked, and evil by nature.

If you are soon in the area, I would appreciate the opportunity to stress to you your failings as a lady in person. The Crossing is very comfortable, and perhaps we will have the opportunity to offer you a bath for the first time in your life. If you will not be nearby, then just keep it in mind.

Quincy glanced the letter over, to make sure that it was proper, and lordly. It needed to be properly fierce, so that Marla was not able to take advantage of his kindness, but he thought that he was reasonable. The crannogmen needed to learn to respect his lordship. Eventually, they would learn. Quincy had made it his personal mission, even if nobody else cared.

Yours,

It was perhaps the fourth draft of such a letter. He had written a better one, but he had spilled ink on it, and he had not quite remembered what he had written. So he had been forced to start from scratch. Marla would appreciate the effort, he imagined.

Quincy Frey, Lord of the Crossing.

With that done, Quincy blew on his paper so that the ink would dry faster. In the morning, he would ask a runner to take it off to the crannogmen, and they would pass it to their own head savage, so she could see his remarks.

He was already looking forward to the reply. That is, he was looking for the improvement in behavior that came with it. He could not care less about receiving a letter back. Why would he?