Day Eighteen: Wobbly legs

Woof. I’m beat, diary. It was one of those days where I really had to work hard to get through everything. Actually work! I miss the simpler times when I could hide in a rain barrel and watch the stone masons carve chickens into the walls. That was one of the king's odder orders.

Today started when Libby kicked me out of bed and demanded ice cream. My brother Robert doesn’t actually SERVE ice cream, but Libby wouldn't listen to excuses. She smacked me with her belly and sent me sailing out of our apartment. She’s becoming pretty strong with that thing. Pregnancy is frightening.

I wandered the halls for half an hour, kinda scared of going back to my apartment, when the captain found me. He told me to get to my post, and when I said I wasn’t on duty he told me to go anyway. He didn’t hit me, for once, but I couldn’t follow orders – I needed to find Libby ice cream. Ice cream that doesn’t exist.

Gotta say, that's hard to do. All I really did was watch some royal guards spar in the training range while I tried to come up with a good excuse. I wish I had shiny new armour like theirs.

Eventually I wandered back to the apartment empty-handed, and Libby'd apparently forgotten all about the ice cream. Now she wanted, and I quote, “the flesh of a man to hurl about in frustration, because if I take yours I might just kill you. I need you alive so I can break your hand during labour. You bastard!”

Well. That was easier than ice cream. I waited on the barbican until a new batch of merchants got shredded, then used the mop to snag a spare lungfrom the Neck. I took it back to Libby and she had a grand time throwing it around our quarters. I might need to clean up later, though – that flesh was fresh.

At least I’ve gotten used to the gore. Only threw up three times today.

Anyway. When I wasn’t watching merchants get shredded for no good reason - King Jeffrey refuses to disable the traps on the Neck, and I think he not-so-secretly likes what happens - I was running back and forth, attending to Libby’s other, um, compulsions. Over the course of the day she wanted:

- Water
- Bread
- More water
- Money
- Yak tarts
- Soup, and since we didn’t have any she poured the water from earlier on my head
- A live turtle – I never saw the poor thing again so I can only speculate on what she did to it
- Bricks
- Wood, which she then turned into a lovely cabinet – I was too afraid of her by this point to watch her do it, but that’s truly amazing
- And some fresh sheets, since hers were covered in water, blood, yak meat and sawdust by the end of the day – this one was more my own request than anything

I say again: woof. I’ll sleep well tonight. My arms are sore from cleaning.

Sincerely,

Dragomir the Guard