|Summary:||Senna puts Riordan to sleep. Medicinally.|
|Related Logs:||Bandits, Nayland meeting.|
|Lord Regent's Chambers — Stonebridge|
|A room. With new furniture.|
|June 6, 289|
Riordan's personal retainer, Stanley, was sent to fetch the Maester. However, as the Maester is currently indisposed dealing with the many recovering female guests, he instead finds Senna, letting her know that the Lord Regent requires someone with medical expertise. It's late by the time he brings her to the Regent's chambers. The regent himself is dressed for bed, but instead of being in bed, stands by the window, looking out into the night. He looks about as well as the women recently rescued - weary and haggard, not to mention certain symptoms that say more then words just what the Maester's medicines, and now their lack, have wrought in his body alongside sleep deprivation and lack of food.
Oddly enough, Senna was not so easily found as usual. But then, with so many female guests, one might imagine she finds herself a bit busier than usual as well. Once Stanley found her, though, she stopped just long enough to pick up her satchel in the closet of a space she's claimed as her own before following him to Riordan's quarters. "My lord," she says quietly as she steps inside, brow arching slightly at the sight of him. "What can I do for you this evening?"
"Mistress Senna," Riordan says, slight surprise evident that she is not, in fact, the Maester. But a quick, wordless look to his manservant is all the seems needed to understand the predicimant. "I can not sleep, not well or for long," he finally says. "When I am awake, I feel as if one in a dream. But when I try and sleep…" He trails off, and then raises his hands, showing her the tremors. "Maester Taleryth said that such effects might occur. I was hoping he… or you, would have something to remedy it…" His words trail off in a wracking cough that shakes his body. On top of everything else, it seems the Regent has gotten himself sick, as well.
Senna arches a brow. "That depends on what the maester gave you," she muses, setting her satchel on a sidebar and approaching the lord. "May I?" she asks, reaching for his hands. If he doesn't object, she'll move from there to testing his pulse at his throat and his wrist, then his temperature with the back of her hand against his brow. "I don't suppose he told you what it was?"
"He may have, but I doubt I would have understood it even if he did…" Riordan begins, not objecting as she approaches him, nodding his head in wordless assent. However, before he can speak more, Stanley has moved off and returned with the vial in his hand, now empty aside from some residue, that contained the medicine the Maester gave. "My lord, if I may?" he requests of Riordan, who again nods his head silently. The retainer will then present the vessel to Senna to puruse at her convenience.
"Ah, excellent." Senna flashes a smile toward Stanley, taking the vial and uncorking it for a careful sniff. She wrinkles her nose at whatever she finds, clearly disapproving. "I see why you went to the maester, my lord," murmurs, looking back to Riordan. "I'd have given you a glass of warm milk and sent you to bed for a few hours. Maesters," she sighs under her breath, stepping back to her own satchel. "Always thinking drugs are the answer. Are you ready to sleep now, my lord?" she asks, looking over her shoulder with an arch of her brow. "No pressing appointments for the morning?"
"Maester Taleryth did advise against it. I insisted," Riordan says, simply, placing the blame where it was due. "I knew the risks, and judged them worth it. I do not change my mind, even now." He looks thoughtful as to her question, then glances over to Stanley for confirmation. The man simply shakes his head. "Very well," he simply says, giving his assent, and moving to sit on the bed.
"I can't completely counteract it," Senna cautions, setting out a few vials of her own, along with a small stone cup. "That would only make the inevitable fallout worse. Honestly, I'd have expected the exertion of fighting a whole cave worth of bandits would have chased the worst of it out of your system. If we hadn't heated and used half the well on baths for the ladies, I'd suggest a very hot bath with plenty of steam, but…Well. Ifs and buts." Efficiently, she goes about mixing up her own concoction. "Is it only the drug, or is there something weighing on your mind, my lord?"
At Senna's question, Riordan quirks a small, utterly humorless smile. "Stonebridge," he says, simply, before scrubbing wearily at his face. "My family," he adds. "Lady Isolde and… well, is that not enough?"
"Mmmm. You tell me, my lord," Senna replies. "I'd advise leeching, but they only draw out blood, not the thoughts that keep a mind active when it ought to be sleeping. Though I'd say there's little enough to worry about as far as Lady Isolde goes," she adds, using the cup as mortar and pestle and grinding something in it, an astringent scent on the air. "Smile, tell her how you'll respect her, tell her she's beautiful, and act as though you love her, and she'll be happy and easy to handle."
"That all would be easier if I could just see her," Riordan gripes, though with little enough force to his words. "I've been doing what I can though. I've been giving her letters since I first returned from the Isles," he murmurs. More then likely Senna is already aware of that, given that servants gossip, and he visits Isolde's chambers regularly enough to drop off those letters. He shakes his head simply, then says, "Do what you can though. The rest… will come in time, I suppose."
"Oh, I doubt that, my lord," Senna laughs softly to Riordan's talk of seeing Isolde, pouring a thick liquid from one vial into the mix. "The lady is increasingly pregnant at the moment, which tends to make a lady less amenable to just about anything. Wait until she's delivered, though as soon after as possible. When she's first holding the babe in her arms, she'll be so full of love it could spray out and stick to anything." Because that's the sort of romance he's hoping for, right? "Besides, you'll be all the dearer to her for being a light during her captivity."
Riordan murmurs something similiar to a sound of light agreement, though for now seems mostly content to just watch Senna work. Stanley, for his part, remains nearby, should his lord require anything. "I don't suppose you know a remedy for a broken heart, do you?" he asks, after a moment, in a quiet tone.
"I've heard theories, my lord," Senna replies with a faint smile over her shoulder, more pitying than sympathetic. "Some say time. Some say revenge. Others choose drink. Some just jump head on into the next thing, to help them forget. Personally, I've found that keeping my heart to myself keeps others from breaking it." She makes a few more tweaks to the concoction in the cup, then looks to Stanley. "Is there a tea pot here?" she asks him in an undertone. "I'll need one, and some water as well."
Stanley nods, and moves to gather said tea pot and water. "Hindsight and all that, I suppose," Riordan murmurs in simple response. He lapses into silence after that, his eyes staring off in a haze as if at something not there.
Once Stanley has the pot and the water, Senna adds the mixture to it and hangs it over the fire to brew. "I'd offer to help ease the ache, my lord, but it wouldn't be the same," she admits as she approaches to check his pulse again, fingers cool at his throat. "Hearts are the hardest to heal. They do it in their own time, and usually only when there's someone else to fill in the cracks."
"If a warm body were all it took, there'd be few enough women left straight-legged from the Wall to Dorne, I'd wager," Riordan quips lightly, giving his head a small shake. "But thank you, Senna. No… your skills with medicines is enough. And your cool head." He smiles at her, a certain fondness for this servant that so loyally serves his family, and pats her hand gently. His skin, meanwhile, is warm to the touch, bordering on feverish, and his pulse races a bit faster then it should while at rest.
"Some men it's enough," Senna admits. "But they don't tend to really suffer from broken hearts anyhow." She frowns at his temperature, sighing in exasperation. "My lord, in the future, please skip these sorts of measures," she chides gently. "I may not be a maester, but I've spent a good deal more time with fighting men than any of them."
"They had my sister and my cousin, Mistress Senna," Riordan says, apparently still counting it a good trade. He smirks, however, at her expression. "Besides, then you wouldn't have an excuse to come visit me," he points out. "And you would miss my charming company."
"My lord, I can come and visit you whenever you like," Senna laughs softly, moving back to the fire to check on the brew. "It's likely less expensive for the family than letting you destroy rooms full of furniture every time you get upset," she adds with a knowing arch of her brow.
"No woman has yet been able to quell my father's temper fully, though many have tried, whose disposition is similiar to my own," Riordan notes, with bemused and tired eyes. "Not that I doubt your skill, of course," he says. Since, you know. One should always be nice to someone about to give you drugs.
"No, but it's always nice to have someone to take the glass out of your hand before you cut yourself with it," Senna replies with some amusement, pulling the kettle off the fire. "By which I mean to say, my lord, that if you find yourself in need of someone to yell at before things build up quite that badly, please do call on me. In the worst case scenario, I could always just knock you upside the head and let you sleep it off."
Riordan gives a chuckle at Senna's suggestions, though it ends in a light cough. "I shall certainly keep the offer in mind then, Mistress Senna," he says, when he has recovered himself.
"Good. Now remember that while I pour noxious concoctions down your throat to put you to sleep and nip that cough in the bud," Senna says lightly, taking a teacup and pouring a hefty measure of the thick liquid into it. She does have enough pity to add a generous helping of honey to the mixture, at least. "You will sleep," she warns as she offers over the cup. "Probably longer than usual. But your body needs it."
"Not too long, I hope," Riordan says, looking perhaps a bit uncertain now. But, he's commited himself, so he simply nods and takes the cup from her, and will take it as directed.
"As long as you need," is all Senna will say about how long he'll sleep, watching to make sure he drinks all of it. It doesn't exactly taste /good/, but the honey covers the worst of the bitterness. And once he's done, she'll take the cup back and fill it again before passing it back. "One more. Then out of your clothes and into bed," she instructs firmly. "Send Stanley for me when you wake up and I'll bring food, send for a bath, and get you properly shaved again."
Riordan nods his head, and grimaces at the taste, but forces it down. "Yes, mother," he says, wryly. But, right now, he's not about to object. He realizes he needs to beat this, so he'll follow her instructions. For now. Senna would have learned from the Isles… Riordan is a horrible patient. He'll probably ruin all her precautions by tomorrow.
It's all right. He's thoroughly drugged now. And with the drugs in his system, Senna moves to draw down the covers on his bed. "You can call me mother if you like, my lord," she chuckles. "So long as you go to sleep."