Chapter 1: Light in the Darkness
When Linette was young she dreamt of love. It wasn't the famous kind, though, not an all-conquering passion to fill the pages of story books, but the simple kind of love. A small burning flame rather than the fiery passions of the great romances. She dreamt of little cottages and children's laughter, a fireplace to bake bread and a good man to warm both her heart and her body when they grew cold.
Linette was sure those dreams were still in her. Somewhere. Buried deep. She'd long since given up on them. Her dreams now were far simpler, yet somehow more unattainable than ever. Truly, there was only one thing which her heart desired.
Safety. Of any sort. From any sort. She would take it in any form as long as she could stop running, stop hiding. She dreamt of the day where she could sit in an open field, lay in a bed of leaves on the forest floor and not be terrified to close her eyes...
Today, however, is not that day.
She sprints through the forest as fast as her legs can carry her. Branches scratch her face and hands as she scrambles through the thick underbrush. Her breath comes out in quick puffs in the cold air as she pushes herself to run faster.
"The lil' bitch can run cain't she!"
The men's cackling echoes behind her. Terror rushes through her veins, pushing her faster. The forest is becoming thinner and thinner which is never a good sign. Soon she'll reach the end, either to find a river, a field, a cliff, or something that equally sentences her to the mercy of the men behind her. She won't stop though. She can't. She has to keep going no matter where it takes her.
"Please, gods," she prays, seeing the forest opening up ahead, "Let it be something good. Please."
The plea passes her lips just as she bursts through the last line of trees. A curse immediately follows. A tall, sturdy looking stone wall stands in front of her, stretching for what seems like miles to both the east and the west. Her pace slows for barely a second before she forces the aching muscles in her legs to pump faster.
"No stopping now," she grits her teeth and throws herself into the air. Her feet leave the ground, her hands flailing, desperate to grab onto something. She hits the wall clumsily. Her left hand skims the top but leaves with only a fistful of crumbling stones.
"No, no, no!" she slips back down. Her feet dig into the wall, trying to find any hold she can. Dirt rains down as her right hand catches hold of a thorny vine. She clings to it for dear life, trying to hoist herself up and over the wall.
"Lookee here, boys, we got a climber!" Large, rough hands wrap around her ankle.
"Get off me!" she screams desperately, kicking out at anything she can. It doesn't help. Another pair of hands grabs her other foot and she's quickly yanked off the wall. The thorny vine rips into her palm before her back slams onto the ground.
"Told ya you weren't gonna get far, cunt." A man crouches down to hover over her. His mouth is curled up in a sickening grin, all yellowing teeth and sinful intentions.
Linette wastes no time to spit in his face. It hits him dead center of that awful grin. The look of surprise and disgust is almost satisfying, but his lips twist into something more sinister. He runs a hand angrily over his face, wiping her spit off.
"You're gonna pay for that," he snarls.
Suddenly, someone is taking hold of her wrist. Her hand is swiftly pinned above her head and reality punches her in the gut, leaving terror in its wake.
"No!" she lashes out with her other hand, swinging her fist around and back. There's a satisfying crunch as she makes contact with what feels like a nose. The grip on her wrist disappears. She ignores the flame of pain in her knuckles and jumps to her feet.
Stumbling for a moment, her dark grey eyes skim over her surroundings. There's the cursing man on the ground clutching his bleeding nose, then the man she spat at, and two others standing ready. One behind her, one in front. Her heart sinks. She can't run. She quickly reaches down and scoops a rock off the ground. It's large and rough in her hand. She brandishes it high above her head in the weakest display of defense she's sure anyone has ever seen. One of the men chuckles.
"Put that down before you hurt yourself."
She turns toward him and threateningly pulls her arm back, ready to throw it at him at a moment's notice.
"She can't take all of us," the first man speaks evenly. The man she spit on. Her eyes fly to him. She watches nervously as he pulls himself to his full height and rolls the tension out of his neck. "Just a pretty little thing. Barely big enough to hold that there rock."
"Yet, I am holding it," she spits, fire in her eyes, "and I sure as hell can bring it down on your face."
He shrugs, "Maybe, but that ain't the only thing that's going on my face today. I'm gonna have you one way or another. You going easy or hard?"
Sweat coats her hands. She shuffles backward and swallows thickly, but her arm doesn't lower.
"Hard it is," the man's grin widens. He runs his tongue over his lips, "I was hopin' for that."
Fear burns in Linette's chest as the men advance toward her like predators teasing their prey. She backs up. Her eyes fly over them, trying to decide who the best option to attack first is.
The leader, she quickly decides. She fixes her sights on him and raises her arm, ready to fight. If she's going down, she's doing it her way.
The man is only a couple steps away when a column of fire suddenly rips through his chest.
Linette watches, wide eyed, as blood drips from his mouth and onto his chin. A gurgling sound rumbles from his throat, his hands fumbling toward the hole in his chest, before the fire disappears entirely. His body falls.
"What the fuck?!" One of the other men exclaims, his voice shaking.
Although Linette is thinking the same thing, she can't bring herself to move.
She looks at the dead man's body for one more moment before she turns toward the other men. Their backs face her now as they stare incredulously at a man standing over the dead leader's body. He's tall, with greying, red hair that's pulled into a bun on the top of his head. A thick bear skin cape lays over his shoulders. Linette's eyes fall past his gloved hands to the column of fire. It covers the blade of a sword. A sword the man is holding.
"Leave here and I'll spare you," he tells the men. His voice is firm yet quiet, just loud enough for those around him to hear.
"The fuck you think you are?!" One of the attackers snarls, taking a threatening step toward the flame wielder.
"Last chance," he says, his blue eyes settling on each man in turn. The first man scoffs heavily.
"Think we're gonna scuttle along just cause you tell us to?" He draws his own blade, holding it out toward the new-comer. The other two men follow the example and brandish their own weapons.
The first attacker smirks evilly, his eyes gleaming. "Three against one. We ain't pussies, but you're about to be."
The red-haired man sighs. His eyes jump to Linette where she stands by the wall, her rock still held high over her head. The moment their eyes meet, she knows what he wants from her. She nods without hesitation.
His eyes leave her, and he attacks. She doesn't waste any time either.
Adrenaline courses through her veins as she runs forward and crashes the rock over the nearest man's head. A sickening crack sounds just before he crumples to the floor, his sword clattering on the rocks underfoot. She sees the fire of the flaming blade as it flies through the air, slicing into the other two men as if they are nothing but soft cheese. Her gut lurches. She doesn't doesn't allow herself to get distracted by it though. Without slowing, she slams the rock down again on the man laying in front of her. The forest floor around him is soon coated in blood. Swirls of crimson paint the autumn leaves.
Panting, she lets the sticky, red rock roll out of her hand. Her eyes linger on the body before her, a sudden empty feeling taking over. She's had to kill before, sure, but she never enjoys it. It leaves a twisted, gnawing feeling in her gut.
"Are you alright, little lady?" the flame wielder's voice calls out to her.
Startled, she turns toward him, her movements almost too quick for her brain to catch up with. Her feet catch on a rock and she stumbles backward. Her back hits the wall roughly.
"Easy," the man soothes, seeing her alarm, and takes a step toward her. She flinches away. He stops immediately, his hands held out in a sign of peace.
"I won't hurt you, little lady. No reason to be frightened."
"I'm not a lady," she mumbles, still breathing hard. It takes a second to calm herself, but soon her heart slows and her head clears. She looks up at the man.
He inches closer to her but stops at a respectable distance. Gone is his flaming sword. She can still see its handle from its place on his belt, just barely peeking out of his bear skin, but it's sheathed. That gives her some comfort.
"Any maiden is a lady to me." He smiles then. It's a nice, yet foreign sight. Linette can't remember the last time someone has shown her the kindness. Her own lips twitch upward.
"You must consider yourself quite valiant," she says, feeling herself relax in this stranger's company. He chuckles deeply.
"I do try," he bows a little at the waist, more in jest than anything else. After eyeing Linette for a moment, he clears his throat and thrusts his hand out, covering half the distance between them.
"Thoros of Myr. To whom do I owe the pleasure?"
She eyes his outstretched hand warily. Is it a wise decision to accept this stranger? She knows she should probably run far, far away, but something makes her stay. Before she can lose her nerve, she steps forward and places her hand in his. Warmth radiates off his glove and she wonders if it is from him or his sword.
"Linette of House Breton," she says, tilting her head up a little to see him properly. He squeezes her hand gently before letting go.
"What's a little lady like you doing way out here?" He eyes her appearance curiously.
She blushes, suddenly self-conscious in her oversized clothes and scuffed riding boots. Her hands tug awkwardly at the ill-fitting tunic which practically covers her knees, trying to smooth out the wrinkles from too many nights sleeping in trees.
"I've just been running..." she mutters quietly, giving a weak shrug of her shoulders.
Thoros turns to kick one of the bodies near him, "Running from these bastards? Or something else?"
"Both."
"Mmm," his eyes are back on her, intrigued, "and how'd you get to running? Don't you have a home to get back to? Someone to look after you?"
His piercing, blue eyes suddenly feel too intense. Like he can somehow see into her. She averts her gaze to the treeline behind him, feeling far too exposed.
"I used to," she says, her voice harsher than she truly means, "but it's all gone now."
Thoros nods solemnly.
"It is the way of the world, I'm afraid," he says, his voice firm yet gentle, "Everything has it's time. The Lord calls all things to himself when they are due."
Linette frowns before turning to face him, "You still believe in all that?"
"It is the only thing I believe in."
"What about Death?" she snorts, "You believe in Death, don't you?"
His eyes are on her again, firmer and more intense than before. She swallows thickly. Something about that gaze makes her feel childish.
"Faith is only needed for what we cannot see," his voice is barely above a whisper, "and I've seen far too much of death. I don't need to believe in it when it haunts me so."
Though Linette doesn't want to hear them, his words ring true. Tears prick in the corner of her eyes.
"It haunts me as well," she meets his gaze as firmly as she can. His stoney expression softens, his lips turning up gently.
"Then we must find some light in the darkness, yes?"
She wants to agree, but suddenly finds it difficult to nod her head. She's been searching for a 'light', as he put it, for so long but it has always evaded her. The longer she looks, the more darkness she sees. She has a gnawing, gut-wrenching suspicion that there is no light left in this world. At least not for her.
"Do you have somewhere to go, Linette?" Thoros' voice pulls her from my musings.
Her eyes snap to meet his and she's suddenly all too aware of the fact that they're completely alone. That she's completely alone, standing across from a giant stranger with a flaming sword. She takes a cautious step back. Her face must have given her emotions away because Thoros holds his hands up, away from him and away from the sword.
"I mean you no harm, lass," he repeats, his voice sounding sincere. She narrows her eyes at him all the same. He seems amused by that.
"If wanted to hurt you, why would I prolong it?" he asks.
"Pleasure," she says, knowing the answer immediately.
"I could have that too, if I wanted, but I don't. I simply wish to see you safe."
Her breath catches at that.
Safe.
Flashes of cottages and fresh baked bread creep into her mind.
"Why?" she snarls, forcing those dreams away. She grows even more defensive than before. "Why would you care about my safety?"
"It is the right thing to do."
She falters for only a moment, "Well, that's foolish! You could have died. Those men could have killed you. I could kill you."
He laughs a deep, rumbling belly laugh, "Little thing like you? Lass, the Lord of Light would have to put all his power in you to have you winning any sort of fight."
She grits her teeth. Anger flickers in her, but she quickly squashes it out.
"I don't need your help," she says defiantly, her fingers finding the handle of the dagger on her belt. Thoros grins. He eyes her in amusement, his hands still far away from his own weapon.
"Looked like you needed helpin' earlier," he says, "Don't I get a thank you for that?"
Her jaw clenches for one more moment before a gust of air passes her lips. The sigh flutters the pale, silver colored hairs around her face.
"Thank you." The words come out hard, but she means them. Without him she'd be worse than dead. She purposefully relaxes her body, wanting him to see her gratitude. "I appreciate your assistance, Thoros, truly, but I need to go."
"Alright, little lady. Understood."
He gives her an honest smile before his hand disappears under the thick, bear-skinned cape around his shoulders. She tenses immediately. In one motion, her feet have shuffled into a defensive stance, her dagger held out in front of her. Thoros eyes her and chuckles happily.
"Calm, girl," he orders, his hand reappearing from underneath his cape. A small, brown bundle hangs from his fingers.
"Here."
He tosses the bundle toward her. It lands with a soft thud not far from her feet. She can see now that it's a sack cloth. The folds are open, jostled by Thoros' throw, and peaking out is a small assortment of berries, cheeses, and dried meats. Linette's mouth waters at the sight.
"It's not much," he shrugs, "but it'll carry you over for a couple weeks maybe. If you ration it well, that is."
She nods dumbly, too shocked to take her eyes off the gift she's just been given. Thoros' throaty chuckle is the only reason she looks up again. He's grinning ear to ear now.
"What? I don't get a thank you for that either?"
"Thank you," she rushes to say the words. She's not sure if she's ever been this grateful in her whole life.
"Don't get sappy on me now, lass," he says uncomfortably, seeing her eyes grow misty. She laughs and quickly wipes her eyes with the back of her hand.
"Thank you, Thoros. For everything."
"Nothing to write home about, little lady. Just stay safe, alright? No more traipsin' about in the woods all lonesome like. The wolves might get you next time."
Linette nods as she scoops up the bundle of food on the ground.
"I'll be careful."
"Good," he gives a sharp nod, seeming reassured by her words.
"I'll be seeing you again," he turns on his heel, heading toward the forest again, nothing visible of him other than his coat and a shaggy bun of hair on the back of his head, "You can repay me for the food then."
She's too busy frowning to say anything back. How could he possibly know that they'd see each other again? He's probably mad, she decides. Just a crazy man with a flaming sword.
Shaking her head, she turns away from where he'd disappeared through the trees. Her back is to him, the wall in front of her again. Her heart sinks to the deepest pits it knows. It's just her now. Running again. Alone. Who knew what was waiting on the other side of that wall. She sure doesn't. All she knows is that it will be something new, that she'll be that much further from what she's left behind. Maybe this time, it will stay there instead of following.
"Come on, Linette," she mumbles to herself before forcing her legs to move, "The only place you can go is forward. No stopping now."
When she jumps this time, she catches hold of the wall. Her palm stings from the scrape she got earlier, but she manages to hoist herself to the top anyway. She swings her leg over the edge, one half of her body on each side, but she can't seem to take the leap.
Almost of its own accord, her head turns to look behind her. The cold forest, the North, and her home. What's left of it at least. It's easy to turn away this time. She looks in the other direction. In front of her is a field, the Riverlands somewhere far beyond, and, hopefully, something new. Something better.
She holds onto that thought as she slides off the edge of the wall. Her feet land clumsily, but she quickly rights herself.
"Maybe I will find some light, Thoros," she whispers, both to him and herself, before striding forward.