Chapter 1: The Fateful Meeting

As the sun crests the Red Mountains its light shines down over the swaying grasses and calm meadows in long tendrils. Over the farms to the forests and plains it advances until it hits the walls of a grand, wooden structure. Its weathered sides bear the crest of House Briar of the Reach.

Their ancestral home, Rose Hall.

Among the first to notice the inexorable change from night to day is Lady Myria Briar, who as it happened had not slept the night before. Today was an important day for the woman, her wedding. Though this was not what was on her mind, in fact she hardly knew the man she was betrothed to, and at nearly thirty she had no desire to tie herself to anyone her lord brother chose for her. As the sun's rays creep across her ceiling, she knew there was no point in pretending to sleep any longer. Rising from her bed with a heavy sigh Myria moved first to her chair to slip a robe over her cotton shift only to step outside onto her balcony overlooking the courtyard. While she normally enjoyed her morning tea out here with nothing but the birds to disturb her it was far too late for that this morning. From her perch she could already see servants bustling about, but before any could be identified a glint of sunlight catches her eye. There in the courtyard, speaking to some of the guards that were to hold the gate while the ceremony took place, stood a tall, rigid figure clad in an ornate suit of plate armor. In fact, had it not been for the wind picking up and stirring the all too familiar silver blonde hair atop the figure she would have thought he was just one of the myriad statues that lined the corridors of their home. Though she didn't actually have children of her own, Rodrik Flowers was as close to a son as she could ever want. Brought to Rose Hall as an infant under the ruse of being her lord-brother's bastard, only she and one other soul knew the truth. It was she who had saved the toddler from the river, and she who had protected him from the ire of her abusive sibling Lord Thermos. Looking down upon the scene unfolding below she couldn't help but smile down at him, the moment bittersweet as she thought to what pain both of their futures might hold.

Feeling eyes upon him Rodrik would turn towards where he felt the gaze, and almost as if on instinct look up to where he knew his mother's room was, more than used to her watching the calveries early morning drills. Thanks to the rising sun all he could see was a shape of a person, to small to be anyone but the room's normal occupant. With a huge smile he would bow in greeting with the knowledge she would have seen and then turn back to his men, all traces of the compassion he held a moment ago gone.

"I want no soul to come through that gate without their invitation, am I understood? Nothing is to ruin this for Lady Myria," Rodrik said looking over the assembled men.

"Aye Lord!" They salute as one to their commander. As they take up their positions at the gate with the expertise expected of soldiers of House Briar, Rodrik watches from his vantage. Even his exacting eye finds no fault in their drill and at last he nods in satisfaction.

Sighing to himself Rodrik makes his way up onto wall over the gatehouse and looks over the surrounding area. 'This morning has gone better than expected, in all honesty', he thought to himself. He had woken before dawn and had gotten dressed in his armor and weapons before heading down to the kitchens. Breakfast had been a silent affair of Porridge and tea that he had created himself which allowed him to think on what had to be accomplished today. After breakfast he had gone and trained until an hour before dawn, and then after training he had rallied the full force of House Briar and posted them all over the Hall. There would be no disturbances today and the soldiers were on high alert due to their sworn enemies, the Ravenholts, arriving soon to attend the wedding. As far back as he could read in the books of the library no one truly remembers the reason the feud with the Ravenholts started, but many attribute it to a rumor about House Briar stealing Rosecutter, his family's ancestral sword, from the grasp of one of the Lord Ravenholts hands during a war long ago. From then on the two families had been at each other's throats and the conflicts between them had steadily escalated until the Paramounts of the Reach and Stormlands had to intervene. Hostages were exchanged and one of their own, Emma Briar, was sent to the Ravenholts while Arabel Ravenholt came to them. It was no thanks to that exchange the two houses were always on the brink of open war but not outright neither wanting the scorn that would come with killing an innocent. This changed when his Lord Father Thermos Briar decided to bury the past. He called the Ravenholts to the wedding so that peace may achieved between the two or at least so he said. One could never tell with Thermos until he had shown his hand. Perhaps that was why the normally stoic commander couldn't hide the anxiety that came with council meetings with the man, then again, the years of abuse likely hadn't helped anything. Wrapped up in his thoughts he did not notice the soft footsteps coming behind him until the shadow of the figure crossed over the wall in front of him, and the man took his place by the commander's side. Looking over at the person Rodrik's eyes widened in surprise at the man standing next to him. Standing only a few inches shorter than Rodrik the man was unbowed and unbroken by age. A full head of salt and pepper hair connecting to a full beard that held two twinkling eyes filled with amusement as he looked upon Rodrik. This man was the master of arms before Rodrik took the title nearly a month ago following his predecessor's failing health, and the man who he considered his father, one half of the duo that made him who he was. Giving a quick bow to the man "Master of arms Lorgan, it is good to see you but I thought you would still be in bed at a time like this. The wedding is not until tonight and you are needed with your son." It was true at least, as Master Lorgan had been sick for quite a long time now. Combined with his advanced age and the unknown disease that had been ravaging his body he had been confined to more and more bed rest over the months. Yet Lorgan was all smiles, waving off his adoptive sons concern "Rodrik how many times must I tell you to call me father when Thermos isn't nearby? Besides I came out here to breathe some of the fresh air our beautiful home provides us. It does me some good to at least wander outside and not stay cooped up inside of my room like an invalid" he'd announce, deep voice still carrying the pride of his many years and the pain of the battles he'd faced. "I believe it is every time, father. That does not take away from my second point that you should be with Carth. I'll be fine, you did teach me everything I know, so I think I can at least handle security of a wedding" Rodrik would retort, prompting a sorrowful look from the older man. Placing one hand upon his hand upon his shoulder, Rodrik instantly recognized the gesture to mean there was a lecture coming and he'd best not ignore it.

"I cannot neglect one son in favor of another. You are my boy as much as Carth is, and if not by blood then by the grace of The Seven for putting you in my life. Carth is handling things fine without me thanks to his overseas fashion lessons. Before this wedding was even announced it had been at least six years since I'd last seen him anyways, the crazy boy off trying to learn swordsmanship from one of those fools in Essos. At least I can live the rest of my days knowing Myria will make a man out of him. It's the son that's been made a man a hundred times over I worry for. Truly you can't mean to stay alone the rest of your life, Rodrik. You're turning twenty four this harvest, aren't you worried you'll be struck down in battle before you have a son of your own?"

There it was. The ugly truth that even Myria had been bringing up more and more. It had been years since he'd even visited a brothel and to be honest he wished his heart hadn't stopped him from going if only to portray to others that he was still a happy bachelor and keep his parents off his back. Even then, he knew better than to assume their nagging was out of a desire for grandchildren, if that were so they would have already set him up with someone they liked. Even the fact that the normally hands off Lorgan was getting involved seemed suspicious to him. Yet he knew they were right, and all he could do was sigh again and look out towards the now illuminated northern hills.

"Yes father I know, I feel the loneliness everyday. Yet how do I not chastise myself for how selfish it would be of me? To make a woman mine and pledge my love to her only to die in battle before the birth of a son is nothing short of cruel. While we aren't at war with Dorne or the Ravenholts you know first hand just how bloody the altercations can be if we catch them raiding parts of our lands. Besides, was it not you who encouraged me to never marry unless I loved a girl? So many women catch my eye, but none have ever called to my heart and I don't intend to lie just to create a new generation. Even then, I can't say I've been looking. Things just don't feel right around here. It's like The Seven keep whispering to me that everything will be changing soon. I am not sure if it is good or bad but I just can't shake the feeling that it is going to happen tonight. I feel it in my gut and now the air itself it seems to have baited breath. I doubled the guards just to put myself at ease."

An ease that was erased with the frail pat to his back that followed "Well if things are to change then I am glad I have left the house in your hands then. Who knows, maybe The Seven will see fit to send you a wife and that's what all of this is about. I am proud to have you as my so-" Lorgan would begin before he was cut off by a coughing fit and the once proud and strong man would start to double over. Shocked Rodrik would catch him and put his arm around his shoulder, starting to walk him back towards the room. "Come on father let's get you back inside and back to helping Carth get ready for the wedding. I will join you once all the guests have arrived." He will say as they walk inside the Hall, the wind picking up just as soon as they had stepped through the doors.

Later that afternoon, just as the sun was beginning to turn west and descend, the chattering of two women could be heard from one of the upper rooms of the hall, peaking the interest of a little sparrow who decided to call their open window it's new perch. On the bed sat a rather cross looking young lady, brown hair hanging to her shoulders in a loose braid with white flowers twisted throughout, a chestplate fitted over her body. "Evelyn Briar you cannot wear armor to your aunt's wedding and that is final", chirped a voice from within a wardrobe and suddenly a pale orange gown would land on the bed in front of her. With a scoff Evelyn would reply, "Well I'm not wearing a dress that's for sure! I'm more comfortable in my armor and besides, Rodrik gets to wear his!"

"That's because Rodrik's is the sentinel, his position demands it and Thermos would rather die before letting him be seen at the wedding. You are a lady, now grow up and act like it!" the wardrobe voice growled as she tossed the corset and stockings she had grabbed right at Evelyn's face. As she stepped out of the wardrobe in a mass of light pink fabric, Arabel Ravenholt cursed whoever had come up the invention of the corset to begin with as hers was killing her thanks to all of the bending that she had to do just to find a pair of matching stockings for the other almost twenty year old. With a huff, Evelyn would finally comply and move behind the dressing curtain and start to remove her armor if the clangs against the floor were any indication. Straightening herself out, Arabel had to step over to a mirror in order to ensure each strand of her nearly waist length dark blonde hair had stayed pinned up after all of that. However no sooner had she finished her check did someone decide now was the perfect time to knock at the door. Without wasting a moment she gestured for a serving girl to open the heavy oak just to be greeted with the main part of Evelyn's argument. There, in his freshly buffed armor and damp hair was all six feet and four inches of none other than the sentinel. With a smile, the Ravenholt girl would stand and practically glide over to the man she considered to be her brother. "Hello Rodrik, you needed something?" she'd ask. Looking more sheepish than she'd ever seen him, Rodrik would just twiddle his thumbs and examine the toes of his boots, a red creeping over his cheeks. "I.. I want to know if you could… Well see I just need… I.. I need help." he'd admit, the frustration in his voice more than obvious and now revealing itself to be the source of his inability to get out a clear thought. "Thermos has ordered me to attend the feasting portion of the wedding and made it clear I was to show up looking like a Briar, though you can imagine the words he used instead." he'd finish.

With a chuckle Arabel would just rise to her tiptoes, ruffle the mop of blonde hair in question and pull him back out into the hall, already anticipating his needs. She had no idea why her two closest friends seemed unable to grasp the finer points of court fashion, but she couldn't be too cross at them for giving her a purpose other than her growing poison business. "There there.. We'll have it fixed in no time you poor hopeless man you." She'd tease as she nudged open his door and headed straight for the wardrobe she'd stocked just last year. Met with the clanging of armor once again, she simply set to work shuffling through the well organized bits of fabric, glad that at least one of her fashion pupils hadn't messed up her hard work. "Why does Thermos want you at the feast?" She'd call over her shoulder, trying to pick between colors for now. "Probably to humiliate me. That or to remind your father of who has been beating back all of his men whenever they try to raid our borderlands. Have you heard word about if they plan on giving Emma back to us now that you're of age?" With a rueful chuckle Arabel turned with what she had finally chosen for him, a light colored pant with a much darker navy colored shirt. Tossing the garments over top of folding curtain that separated the two of them she'd call back to him. "Even swallowing his pride enough to come to this wedding is enough to humiliate my father. Though no, I haven't heard anything. My father only writes to me when he needs something done, so most of the time I just ignore the letters and carry on with my life." After a few moments a very bare chested sentinel would reemerge, blinking a few times as he unfolded the doublet and tunic he was to put on. "Needs something done? I assume you mean needs a poison made and pretend part of me didn't just hear a security threat to our house." he'd tease, the soft smile on his face enough to assure her he didn't really believe she was of any harm. Though as he turned to face a dressing mirror she had to admit, her train of thought turned from the pain that was her family, to the rather enjoyable view of their very toned sentinel the mirror afforded her. Though she was certain someone had considered pairing the two, her interest in the Sentinel went no further than enjoying the shirtless morning training he and the twin cavalry captains held on lazy weekends. Her plans for herself extended far beyond the Reach, and though she did love the sentinel as she loved the rest of her host siblings, she knew that the piece of land on the edge of the Briar's territory he'd been given when he was made a knight was the only thing he could offer her. Besides, who really needed a man to meddle in the affairs of a woman like her? She handled her own finances, had her own thriving business, and knew a husband would only stop both of those in their tracks just to preserve his own ego. So even though she knew she would have enjoyed much more than looking at the rippling muscles in some knight's back, she had decided long ago men simply weren't worth the trouble. Though through her quick evaluation she missed Evelyn's heels clicking into the room her arms out for them both to examine the offending sunset colored dress. Arabel quickly closed the doors on Rodrik's wardrobe, flashing the Briar a smile. "Yes! It's perfect. And would you look at that? You aren't dead!" she'd rub in, enjoying the way Evelyn smiled at how she looked despite not enjoying the dress. Immediately after however she would turn back to now fully dressed Rodrik and set him down in a chair so she could fix the silvery strands of hair that were still a mess on top of his head. "You'll need to fix this after you get out of your armor later, now behave and try not to mess it up before the ceremony." she'd warn, finishing her task in no time and dragging Evelyn back to her own room to finish with hair and makeup.

Yet Rodrik still had work to do, and so he found himself once again in front of the gates and back in his armor with the proper clothing underneath. The Ravenholts were due to arrive at any moment and he had to be the one to greet them. Bread and salt had to be offered as well as giving assurances that they would not be held longer than they wished to stay. It was unfortunate that Thermos could not be there to greet them but he and Corwyn the Castellan were deep in talks on how to approach the Ravenholts about the peace treaty that would be discussed on the marrow. All the political talk went right over his head and as such he was ordered to stay here to welcome any all visitors. It was tedious and unfulfilling as most of the guests when met by him wore strained smile at being greeted by anyone but a servant that would wait on their every need. To make matters worse the Ravenholts were late and the wedding was expected to start within the hour, and he knew people were already stalling to buy the offending party more time. "Damn Ravenholts not even accepting an olive branch" he'd say spitting at the ground and preparing to walk away until he heard the bark of a dog coming from the open gateway. Curious he turned back to face the gate and that's when he saw a short cloaked figure with both a longbow and a hunting bow visible on their back. The guards had stopped the person with swords on their hips. "Do you have an invitation?" The one on the left would say, their sword edging closer to the figure his men taking caution given the weapons this stranger carried. "I do not have an invitation, I wasn't.. I didn't.. Nobody told me I needed one. I… I came to offer my services to House Briar." the figure would explain, their voice clearly carrying the higher pitched tones that identified them as a woman. Even so, the trepidation in their voice was almost instantly picked up by the second guard, who would scoff at her in response "And why would our house take someone like you huh? I bet you're just some peasant wannabe who doesn't have the skill to even fight!" As the back and forth continued, the sentinel witnessing the scene was first glad that they were following his orders but as the man continued to berate her something inside Rodrik screamed at him to go over to them. As he stepped forward the wind itself started blowing in that direction as if urging him forward, the howling of the gale whispering for him to keep going. As he walked up his heavy footfalls made the man pause in his rant and explain, "Sir I was just telling this vagabond that she was not welcome here without her invitation." Yet Rodrik would walk right past them and hold his hand out for the man to stop his explanation. "That's enough Gerald I'll take it from here. Both of you back to your posts the Ravenholts may still arrive and we need men to meet the party." Looking at each other then back at their commander they would nod and go back to guarding the outside of the gate while he continued on into the grass. Until finally she was close enough to touch, her hood still in place over her head and obscuring her features from clear view.

As the wind died down it left Rodrik alone with the stranger and the silence that hung between them, a silence that carried on until the figured whistled and from over the hill came a rather large black and white spotted dog, presumably the one that had barked moments before. As the animal padded up to what he assumed was its owner and sat by her side he would finally speak. "Show yourself. Remove your cloak", he'd command, knowing that though his tone was harsh it would carry the unspoken threat that he was not to be disobeyed. Indeed, she began to comply, arms being revealed first, but only so her hands could grasp the clasp securing the fabric over her body and undo it with one deft motion. As he'd previously assumed she was a woman if her voice already hadn't revealed her, he would have had no trouble guessing her gender thanks to the rather shapely curves the part of him that hadn't been made a monk spotted neigh instantly. Though what stood out the most to his military mind was the longbow that now rested on the ground with her cloak and just how small it's wielder was compared to the men he normally had using one. Granted he was not a small man, but compared to him this woman was tiny, the top of her head only barely reaching over the tops of his shoulders. The second most noticeable thing about her was the ringlets of copper colored curls that framed her face and offset the few freckles that looked as if they had been dusted across her nose. It was only then that he noticed that even though she didn't wear any jewels, this woman had been made in shades of the most precious materials he could think of, as her eyes were the most beautiful stormy grey color he had seen in his life and her skin put ivory to shame. However it was not her beauty that drew his curiosity the most, it was the bruises and cuts that his trained eye managed to pick out, some looking fresh while others had the signs of being purple and nearly healed. The cloak and dress she was wearing only added to the mystery he was trying to solve, as they certainly were high above the price point of a peasant, and that wasn't even adding in that she seemed to have two bows and a short sword. He might not have known who she was, but it was clear she was a bit more than just an average peasant. Looking her over her would stare at her, not realizing that he didn't want to stop looking at her until his brain reminded him to blink. "What has brought you here to House Briar, my lady?" He would ask as his eyes scanned the area as well, ensuring this was not a trap he had unwittingly walked in to. "My name is Clara Flowers and I am here to offer my services to the house my lord. I… Well.. I am just a Flowers but I can shoot a bow and I just wish to serve a noble and honorable house." She would say in a rush as she knelt in front of him, the dog following suit and laying itself on the grass. Contented with the investigation of the surrounding land he was certain she was alone, and so his mind turned instead to the conflict he faced. To accept her meant talking to Thermos and facing his ire of having yet another noble bastard under his banner, and to make matters worse he wasn't sure what family she even came from. He was more than a little tempted to send her away but her bruises reminded him of all the times Thermos beat him instead of his siblings or Arabel when he was in one of his rages. It reminded him of how much he wanted to do what she had done, escape. Finally making up his mind it was with a sad smile at what he knew would come for him tomorrow that he would reach down and offer his hand to her. "Well Clara it seems to be your lucky day. I have a spot in my forces that has recently opened up and I would like for you to have it should your skill prove to be worthy of it." To her credit, she looked more than shocked as her trembling hand slipped into his own and she got back to her feet. "O-Of course Ser I would be honored if you would have me, so would Pepper the Shameless." he'd hear, and before he could question the dog's strange title, the beast would explain it for him, happily rubbing against his leg and trying to worm her way under his hand for a pet. With a laugh he'd relent and give poor Pepper a good scratch behind the ears as he motioned them towards the barracks. "I still have some people to meet but I shall be with you shortly. Tell the servants that I sent you to take Willin's room and they shall have everything prepared" he'd explain, giving her a gentle push in the right direction. As he watched her head off, he didn't seem to notice the wind had vanished along with her, or the fact that in its absence the air around him had only grown tenser.