6 Ch. 6 Punishment

The Twenty-Ninth Day of the Third Moon, of the Year 289 A.C.

Every step sent fire, running through my legs. My fingers were tingling from the lack of blood flow, caused by the leather straps digging into my shoulders, and my tongue felt too thick for my own mouth.

I've lost track of how long I've been at this. All I know is the Master-At-Arms began me on a grueling workout when the sun had fully risen, and with the sun now past its zenith, I've not stopped for more than a few drinks of water and fruit.

I've been running, jumping, wrestling other pages, chopping wood, and everything else in between. There was no rhyme or reason to the order of the exercises, it was just one big haze feast designed to expend every ounce of my energy.

For the past... I don't know how long it's been now... However long it has been, I've been marching around the perimeter of the training grounds with close to ten kilograms strapped to me.

I now underestimated just how pissed Tywin is. Or maybe how sadistic Ser Broom is.

"Simply say the words, 'I yield', and you can put the pack down. Think about it, I can see your knees shaking with each step. Your body needs to rest. Say the words, and you can be done with all this." Ser Broom gently coaxed from beside me.

I ignore the aged knight and continue placing one foot in front of the other. I refuse to give in to such primitive tactics. I've played this game before, and I don't plan to lose.

He's trying to test my mental fortitude. One thing I learned from the Marine Corps, your mind is your greatest weapon, but it can also be your biggest weakness. Few people understand that their bodies can go beyond what their mind whats it to.

Besides, most of the time, the deal being offered is just an illusion, a temptation to get you to willingly surrender. I'm far too stubborn for that.

Thinking back to another guy that refused to stay down, I can't help but smirk. "I can do this all day," I wheeze in a breathless tone.

"Can you now? Well, I guess we'll just have to find out then, little page," Ser Broom said before letting me continue my walk alone.

Alone with my thoughts again, I think about the serum I was supposed to get. I'm starting to think it's broken. Or that it needs more time before it begins taking effect.

While I am physically stronger than any seven-year-old, that only goes so far. It doesn't seem much more than that. I got that wake-up call, when I had to grapple some of the older boys. None of the pages near my own age put up much of a challenge, but some ten-year-old bruiser, Ser Broom sent after me, forced me to rely on more than pure strength to win.

That little shit was squirrelly as hell and experienced. I was nearly exhausted before I locked him in an armbar.

Not gonna lie, I was thankful Ser Broom was decent enough to not send any of the squires after me. We both knew I couldn't beat any of them. The youngest one is twelve-years-old, and close to two heads tall than me.

Somehow, that stung my pride worse than anything else I've experienced in Westeros. I didn't stand a chance against a twelve-year-old! I hate it.

With nothing but time to think as I trudged around the training field, I started to doubt I received the Super Soldier Serum. Maybe it was something similar to it? Or maybe, since I've had it since birth, it has to be built up, like a normal muscle? I won't find any Vita-Rays anywhere on this planet to give my body an instant boost.

With nothing else better to do, I try to think of ways I can test my theory of needing to build up my mind and body.

The sudden lose of my pack causes me to stagger and nearly fall. Quickly regaining my balance on hollow legs, I turn to face my offender.

Ser Broom stood there with my pack in his hand, shaking his head as he looked down at me. Looking beyond the old warrior, I see the signs of early evening in the sky.

"You proved your point, little page," Ser Broom said in a tired voice. "But you'll be paying for it for a few days," he said while pointed to my shoulder.

Following his finger, I see a purple bruise spread over my shoulder from where the leather strap dug in.

Turning back towards the knight, all thoughts of pain and bruises vanish as he hands me a water skin. I push all manners aside as I try my damnedest to gulp down as much water as possible. What doesn't make it in my mouth is just as good, as the cool water spills over me.

Finally, with my thirst sated, I focus on Ser Broom. "It's fine," I said, indicating my shoulder. "I'll have Maester Volarik give me a balm to rub on it tonight."

Ser Broom gave me a confused and sad look. "You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?" I ask the knight.

Ser Broom took a breath before pushing on. "Maester Volarik passed away in his sleep last night." Ser Broom paused as he gave me a respectable amount of time to fully process the news.

I'm too tired to really think about what this means. I don't have the energy to worry if the maester's death was from natural causes or if someone helped accelerate his time left on this earth. I can be suspicious once I've had some rest.

"May the Father judge him fairly," I quietly say.

"Fortune favors him. Most men pray to die as old me in their beds, but few get that chance." Ser Broom respectfully said. "Return to your quarters, little page," Ser Broom suddenly said.

For some ungodly reason, I couldn't stop myself from questioning the Master-At-Arms. "Is training done for the day?" I stupidly ask.

A wicked grin spreads across Ser Broom's face. "Oh, no," the knight said. "You seem to forget your families living quarters are on the fifth floor. Enjoy the climb, little page." Ser Broom said with a bellowing laugh.

I do my best to ignore the man and begin to make my way to my family's living quarters.

"Return at sunrise, little page," Ser Broom calls after me.

Yup, he's a sadist.

After the most miserable climb of my life, I finally reach my family's door. I'm honestly not sure how I'm able to even left my legs. I just stare at the ground in front of me as I navigate through our greeting room.

With my eyes still focused on the floor in front of me, I ignore the rest of the world. Not paying attention, I barely catch the sight of a speeding blur before a force collides with my waist, rocking me to the side and into the wall. A groan escapes me, as the sudden movement sends renewed fire through my body.

"Welcome back, Lan," Willem gleefully shouted from his hug to my waist.

Before I can return the excited toddler's greeting, Martyn slams into the two of us. Even seeing the incoming toddler-missile didn't keep me from letting out another groan.

My ears are bombarded by non-stop questions from the short four-year-olds as they fight for my attention. The twins, normally, are not this excited to see me, but they haven't seen me since dinner last night.

Sharing meals together is something mother insists the family does whenever possible.

I'm trying to pry the boys' arms off of me when our mother walks in. I helplessly turn to my savior, only to have my hopes crushed by the sight of Mother enjoying the view of her three children together. If I thought it would help, I would pout right now.

"Oh, Lan. There's no need to pout," Mother lovingly reprimands. "They just miss their big brother."

I prepare to refute Mother's heinous lies about me pouting when a frightened look falls over her. As if she could teleport, Mother is suddenly beside me, inspecting the purple bruises on my shoulders.

Before I can fully process what is happening, Mother has me stripped to the waist and looking over every inch of my torso. I didn't even hear her send Marie after a healing balm. Then again, Marie may have been waiting nearby with it in hand.

That woman is prepared for everything.

As the warmth of the cooling sensation sinks into my skin, I let out a sigh of relief. Between the balm and the soothing touch of fingers rubbing my back, I slip into a relaxed sleep.

I'm brought back to the land of the living, by an insistent pushing on my arm. Forcing my eyes open to look at my assailant, I find the familiar face of Marie standing over me.

It takes a moment before the world comes into focus, but I notice I'm lying in my bed. Willem and Martyn are curled up beside me as well, sleeping soundlessly.

Looking back to Marie, she places her finger over her lips and gestures for me to get up. A quick glance out of the window shows a pink hue fighting back the darkness. It's nearly dawn.

Unable to escape my fate, I sluggishly climb out of bed and towards my wardrobe. I finally notice I'm wearing my sleepwear, and I can smell a hint of bathing oil. I guess someone bathed and changed me last night after I fell asleep.

Thank The Seven! I would have hated waking up covered in yesterday's sweat.

As I'm putting on my training leathers, I notice most of the bruises on my body are completely gone. Even the bruises on my shoulders look like they've had a week to heal. Is this from the serum, the balm, or both?

Regardless of the answer, I've wasted enough time already. Finished with getting dressed, I stuff my pockets with food and make my way to the training grounds.

When I reach the training area, I notice I'm the first one here. Unsure what I'll be doing today, I occupy my time with some stretching. I take my time and move through every stretching exercise I learned in the Marine Corps. Another thing Westeros doesn't have proper warm-up routines.

"Done yet?" The rough voice of Ser Broom asks from behind me.

I don't flinch from his voice, but I had no idea anyone was behind me. That's pretty damn impressive, considering the man is wearing leather armor.

"Good morning, Ser Broom," I state as I turn to face the old knight.

Ser Broom ignores my greeting and steps up to me. With a calloused hand, he pushes my collar aside. "Looks like you were able to find a balm after all," Ser Broom said after inspecting my shoulder. "Those shouldn't hinder you too much. Change of plans," Ser Broom says as his wicked grin returns.

Fucking sadist.