276 AC

A Song of Dreams and Starlight

By Odeveca

1: Leila

A clarion trumpeted in the High Hall of the Eyrie, "now, now, everyone settle down. We have drunk our fill, and ate this fine meal," the clattering of plates and utensils ceased, at last the Valeman were finished with the served meal of roasted nuts, garlicked meat, and boiled sweet onion stew which had filled their bellies to the toasty brim, their ears and dancing feet prepared for the night's festivities, "and now my daughter, will sing us a song," Lord Jon Arryn said, and sniffled upon his throne cut from the finest of white weirwood, his nose ragged bright red from blowing, and yet his soft blue eyes shined with admiration upon his court.

"My Leila," he summoned her, "where is she?"

The ruling Lord, her dear father, had not spoken to her all day, the House of Arryn was alas busy as ever, mountain clans raiding and pillaging, nobles giving their disgruntled complaints, and her father called upon to intercede even during private meals. Despite the Lordly crown he bore the brunt of, Leila never felt more love for him than she did now, "I am here father."

"Ah, there you are, come forward," she did, leaving her seat next to her dearest cousins, Alyssa Waynwood and Elbert Arryn.

Leila's plain white hands had been in her lap, a demure creature, head bent in humble salutation, but now the crowd could see her standing before them, face youthful, body primped into thick rich fabric beginning at the curve of her neck, and flaring at the hips. She lifted her aquiline bird nose, pointed chin, bright butterscotch curls tied in tight braids, to show trusting baby blue eyes like her father.

'The perfect mask,' she would tell herself when she portrayed the submissive woman she was breed to be, leading herself to believe that her knowledge hungry mind could be hidden, the tug and pull of two things she really was not, yet before the company of lords and ladies of the Vale she felt like small thing wrapped for her future husband, a cyvasse piece in a bigger game.

Her father said, "We will have a song from you, on this remembrance day of King Artys, a hero to our people, sing of us the Winged Knight that flew upon a huge falcon," the company chuckled at that, the imported Arbor wine had done a fine job, and Leila enjoyed the joke as much as they did, "sing of the man that led the Battle of Seven Stars,and how his dominion gave to House Arryn."

Leila's cousins cheered at that, her heart did also, she knew the song well, "yes father."

The young Lady Arryn came upon the dais, she was given kind claps, she stood in the center of the Hall, surrounded by the inebriated crowd, the moon door was shut, but she still shifted in her soft padded slippers, for she could still feel the stomach-dropping drop below, and the vastness of how far their roost stood over the evergreen hills and valleys sprawled before them.

"The Winged Knight," she said aloud, her voice tapered from the dizzy sensation of the song already singing in her bones, buzzing between her ready full lips, and she fought against the panic of faces staring solely on her.

A harp was struck, and her voice went with it,

"A King he was,

On carven throne,

In many pill'ared halls of stone,

With golden roof,

And silver floor,

And runes of power upon the door!"

She turned to the court, spotting the noble House Royce, line of the Bronze Kings, runes of power still were theirs, and they wore them with pride. Lord Yohn Royce, Leila's uncle by her mother's side, knew the song well. Her mother had sung it once on her wedding day, and even though her Royce mother died giving birth to her so many years ago, so strong was their memory of her, their love for the Arryns. We Remember, indeed.

"The light of sun,

and star and moon,

In shining lamps, of crystal hew,"

Leila raised her hands to the lighted silver sconces hung upon blue-veined white marble walls, they flickered against the black glass of the high-arched windows, and through her spread fingers she could feel the holy light of the Seven.

In high cloud, or shade of night,

They sing forever of the Winged Knight!'

"With the mountains grey,

The valleys cold,

Savages' fire still will burn,

so hear my call, and join the fray,

Beware the shroud,

In our home among the clouds!"

If you were to rip away the song, the grim faces of knights, sons, fathers, wives, and so many children lost would be left. There was a great sadness that enveloped her people, Leila only heard it in whispered tales, and felt sympathy to the wounds that could not heal with a thousand sweet songs.

"We still remember, the King's flight from us,

And how his legend united our love!"

The company whistled, clapped, banging their hands upon the tables, goblets clunking against wood, her young Waynwood cousins squealing in girlish glee as they rubbed and clung their excited hands upon her womanly thighs.

"My lovely songbird," said Aly, Leila could still remember the way Alyssa took her hand afterwards as they sat to hear other Bards sing, kissing it as they listened about another song of sisters to be wed, and to her left Elbert patted her shoulder awkwardly, "well done Leila," an unsure smile tugging upwards on his mouth, and she could not help herself from loving his awkward endearing self.

Afterwards, when she got her father alone, he told her, "You did well my daughter, you have truly surpassed the Bard Lothos," he whispered of the Bard that had come all the way from Nightsong, where House Caron claimed dominion over, and professed that they birthed the greatest singers this side of the Narrow Sea.

"The student has yet to surpass the master," Leila told him kindly, "because she cannot even move men to tears like good Bard Lothos has done time and time again."

"You don't inspire tears Leila," he shook his head kindly, "you inspire love, so much love that it fills the soul with nothing but awe," he whispered, as he walked to her to their rooms in the Moon Tower, the torchlight hung bright and moon cascaded through the open archways, she could hear the echoes of shouts from their guests, and her Waynwood family departing for their room's in the Maiden's Tower, "perhaps that is why your songs have surpassed the Master."

"You honor me father."

"No you honor me."

Pure was their glee for the freedom of the night hours, free of the toil of day, always an honor for family, gratitude for the safety of their palace in the sky, and the great appreciation for the reliable warriors the Vale had sacrificed for their family. The people of the Vale had supported them through the harshest of winters and the most fertile of springs. These lands of numerous lords and castles had been good to them, and in turn they had vowed to do the same.

This was her home, her song to House Arryn.