Winter's Fury
by LolaStark
| Prologue |
Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and my original plot. Everything else belongs to GRRM and HBO accordingly.
Author's Note: Oops, I started another story didn't I? Sorry about that. I am supposed to be on a much needed hiatus but I got in the mood one day to finally start writing Winter's Fury even though I promised myself I would finish one more story before I got into it. But the fact of the matter is, I have been holding onto this story for too long, over a year now, and I wanted to post it before something similar got posted and I had to regret it. Selfish, I know. That being said, I hope you enjoy this story. Selene is a character I have been writing for a long time now and I'm eager to share her. Please let me know what you think of her and this story as it progresses. And as usual, any feedback is greatly appreciated.
Thanks everyone, Lola.
| Seventeen Years Prior - Robert's Rebellion |
SELENE
She shivered with every step of her feet, her toes cold against the stone floors of the staircase. She could hear the storms outside, the thunder pulsing through the castle as if it is a stirring beast in the dungeons of her home.
She remembered thinking it was, once. Beasts, dragons maybe.
Her uncle often told her such dark stories that made her skin crawl and her fingers tremble with fear. But not anymore. Now she would be brave, she reminded herself as she descended further and further in the pit of the castle where a glowing light was now growing brighter and brighter with each step.
Her hands still grasped the railing, just in case she slipped, she thought. She did not realized until another bout of thunder shook the stone fortress that she had not overcome her fear. Still she shook as her fingers clung to the rail. Still she felt her heart pounding in her chest as if she might explode from the inside out. Still she was afraid.
Be brave, were her father's words in her mind, his voice seemed to echo into the darkness above as she glanced back from where she had come.
The shrunken stairwell, leading down into the depths of the castle belonged to the servants. It was the hidden passage from the main hall to the dungeons. It was the path she was always forbidden to take. But times were different now. Times were dire and bleak indeed although perhaps she was too young to really understand why.
She understood only that adults often talked in front of her in hurried whispers. Her father would shout, pound his fists onto the tables as he grew weaker and weaker by the day whilst her mother sobbed in the corner, gripping her stomach where there was once to be a son.
Now there was only Selene. As it had always been.
No one whispered now. There were shouts when necessary but almost always silence instead. They were too weak to argue, too weak to fight back. Even Selene felt the weakness wrenching deeper and deeper into her and each weary step made her wish she had stayed put as her mother had instructed.
But she couldn't stay put. She needed to be there, with the rest of them. She needed comfort and warmth because she knew soon there would be none left. Perhaps it was a dark thought. But she knew what fate was coming for her. She was very young but that had not stopped her father from speaking the truth. Soon there would be death and it would come in many forms.
But she did not know which would be the one to come for her.
A familiar smell hit her then, a strong smell that caused her stomach to turn. There was nothing in her stomach, nothing to heave even if she wanted to. Instead she covered her nose, scrunching it under her hand as she pretended that it did not exist. Pretended that she did not know the smell of a rotting corpse.
"My Lady," a man whispered from her right and she jumped slightly at the sound.
Looking up she saw a familiar face of one of her father's knights. He once had a warm face and a kind smile. Now he was tired and weak like the rest of them. Like her. She might have been the strongest person in Storm's End but she was too young and small to make any difference. She did not know why they wasted all they had on her.
"You ought not be here, My Lady," he whispered frantically, reaching down to pick her up but she stumbled backwards. She gasped, frightened when she saw it was a man, his eyes shut and his face gaunt and weathered. Dead, she thought and she covered her mouth as she tried not to scream.
She made her self stand, without help from the man above her. She turned her eyes from the dead man lying on the ground, only to find another just over her shoulder. She hated this room, feared it even. But she wanted to see her father, needed to see him. As soon as she started to ask, muffled shouts from the nearest room were indication enough of his location.
The door was slightly ajar and a candle flickered somewhere within its enclosed space. She knew why her father's knight wanted to usher her out. The siege had made her father hard and cold. But most of all, he was growing weaker by the day and it was something he preferred to do without prying eyes. Even his own daughter's.
"My Papa?," she whispered and her small voice was hoarse now.
The knight reached down to pick her up again and this time she let him with a frown on her pursed lips. She was too tired to argue, too frail to protest his kindness. Everyone always wanted to pick her up because of her size. She was small, miniscule to the rest of them, tall giants in her eyes. She was only a child, her fourth name day some time off yet. She did not understand everything or even most things that were going on. But she knew very well that they were in trouble.
The knight carried her from one dimly lit room to another, her head fallen weakly on his shoulder, and it was there that she saw her father. Dark circles were under his eyes as he hovered over his table with papers sprawled around him and his hair disheveled. He was the only one standing amongst his men, men who wore the same tired expressions as the knight whose arms carried her quietly into the room.
"We have no more resources, My Lord. We have degraded ourselves for that of our survival and soon, all hope will be lost. We have nothing left except the decaying bodies of our fallen comrades," one man explained, his tone defeated.
"Mace Tyrell is at our gates. We cannot defeat him. We are too weak, wasting away in here. Dying off one by one as he would have us," another tried to shout but it came out as only a desperate sigh.
"Take your family, My Lord Stannis, and leave this place."
"There is no leaving this place, not now. We are past all points of escape. This is all we have left. Storm's End is the seat of my ancestors, Storm Kings of old. I will not flee."
Her father only glanced up briefly when silence interrupted his ranting and he saw her tired eyes focused on him. He stared at her with an expression rarely seen. But she did not take her eyes of him as tears began to form in her previously dry eyes. She wanted to lift her head but she couldn't. She was tired and now scared.
"Papa," she cried out and the ache in her voice caused several of the men to shift uncomfortably at her pain.
"I will take care of her," her mother declared, embarrassment in her voice as if Selene had just humiliated her in front of the entire council. But she saw her father hold his hand to stay his wife's movements. She stayed seated, her eyes watching his movements carefully but Selene did not notice if it was relief or jealousy in them.
There was only a moment's hesitation in his step, and then her father was quickly at her side. He wasted no time in taking her from the knight, conceding to her outstretched arms and pulling her small body to his chest.
She wanted to stay there, engulfed in what warmth he had left as they left the room. His hand once covered her eyes to bar her from seeing the horrors that had become of Storm's End and it's near year long siege. But now he no longer bothered. She knew what had become of her home, of the fortress that had once been so feared.
It was only a matter of time before they all succumbed.
Still, she did not want to see more death, the death the lingered in the dampness of the dungeons and so she shut her eyes against her father's shoulder. She left tear stains on his tunic, all ratty and worn because she was sure he'd been wearing the same one for at least a week, maybe more.
She did not open her eyes until they reached the great hall, the seat where her Uncle Robert usually sat was now occupied by her father as he cradled her in his arms. She fought to keep her eyes open as he glanced down at her, his normally hard eyes warm with something she did not know. But she liked it, and so no matter how badly she wanted to sleep, she fought to keep them open so she could memorize that look and keep it with her always.
"Papa, I'm scared," she forced herself to whisper into the dark room.
He simply nodded. She did not know what it meant, a nod of the head. That it was okay to be scared or perhaps that he was scared as well. Candlelight danced over his eyes and she saw there was water in them, just in the corners and she reached up to wipe them. His eyes closed when her small fingertips grazed his stubbled face. She thought maybe it was because he was tired too. Like her.
"You don't have to be scared for much longer," he whispered into her hair, his calloused fingers stroking her dark raven curls.
She thought she felt something sharp against her flesh, something cold like metal but her eyes were too tired to open once they had closed. She wanted to sleep. When she slept she didn't hurt, she didn't feel constant pain or hunger. She just dreamt.
"MY LORD STANNIS!" someone shouted and it startled her enough that she jerked in her sleep.
"LEAVE US!" her father shouted, though his shout was was strangled by the dryness of his throat.
"But My Lord! It is a miracle!" the man tried to explain and though Selene's weak mind was too tired to comprehend what said miracle was, she noticed a shift in her father's stature, in his eyes. "A man called Davos has made it through Lord Redwyne's fleet lines. His boat is filled with food!"
Food, she thought. She remembered food.
"Send him in," Stannis muttered quickly and she thought he might have tried to stand, holding her still in his arms but he wavered slightly and was soon seated once more.
Selene wanted to see the food, wanted to see the miracle man who was causing something akin to hope to flicker behind her father's eyes once more. She struggled to sit up but her head was too heavy. She laid it across her father's chest as she pried her eyes open, rubbing them with her small hands footsteps flooded the room.
He stood there, a man with a hard face like her father's, covered in rain and a hood of rather poor quality. Over his shoulder he carried a large sack which he threw to the floor as soon as he stood before her father. Both men stared at one another for a long moment before the wet man knelt before Lord Stannis of the House Baratheon.
"Milord," he started simply, but there was confidence in his voice, a strength that Storm's End has been lacking for some time since the siege took hold. But it filled the room, and Selene liked the sound of it. "I have heard of the Seige on Storm's End and have made my way across enemy lines in hopes that there were still enough people alive in here that I could do some good."
"Who are you?" her father asked. "How did you break through Redwyne's fleet?"
"I…" the man started and his eyes glance downward. "I know my way around Breakwater Bay, Milord, and I know how to do so discreetly."
"You mean of course to say that you are a smuggler," her father retorted and she thought for a moment that she heard some humor in his voice.
But the man reached for the sack that he had previously dropped and he let the contents spilled out onto the stone floor before him. It was dark in the room, only a small candle lit and soon it too would burn out like most of the others and the castle would then be engulfed in constant darkness. But there was enough light that she could see something round, something that rolled out of the bag towards where they are seated and the man wrapped his fingers around one and stands.
"May I approach, Milord?" he asked and her father took some time before he nodded his assent. "Tis but a humble offering. But the siege has gone on too long. I couldn't sit out there knowing so many were starving to death in here." He placed the round object in her father's hands and she glanced over at it as he looked it over, his eyes wide.
"How much have you brought?" her father asked then and the man summons someone with his hand. Several men filed in behind him, carrying sacks similar to the one laid out before them now and they laid them down next to the man's feet. He grabbed another round object, this one smaller and that time he handed it to her and his eyes lingered on something in her father's hand and then on her.
"It looks as if I arrived just in time," he replied quietly and there is something strange in the look her father gave back to him.
"They did say you were a miracle," Stannis said and it almost sounds like a joke.
Selene stared at the object for many moments before the man knelt down at her level and took one of the round things in his own hand before he bit into it, not bothering to wipe the liquid that spilled out over his beard.
She followed his action, remembering how her stomach growled earlier that evening and she made a face when the taste hits her tongue. The man laughed at the sight of it, finally wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his tunic as he watched her in amusement.
"You will get used to the taste of it Milady," he assured her and she took another bite.
The second bite, as it turned out, was not so bad.
A/N: Thank you for reading the first chapter - prologue - however you want to call it. Please leave any questions or comments in the review box below. And please enjoy the upcoming chapters. Thanks again!