Disclaimer: ASOIAF, GoT, whatevs, is not mine. I am borrowing the characters and their world.
Summary:
AU. First Part of a Trilogy, telling the story of Cadenzsa Forel, Syrio Forel's only child.
Cadenzsa's mother has decided it is time for her child to marry. Since no man in Braavos would dare touch her for fear of her father's sword - and Cadenzsa's, of course - the clever Syrio has relocated to Westeros in hopes of finding a man deeming worthy of his precious only daughter.
He has gone to King's Landing to find a Lord, or a Prince, or a Knight that will give Cadenzsa the life of adventure that she deserves. Cadenzsa, the clever girl, has decided to sail first to the North, and travel down through Westeros, in order to see the land for herself, and to learn of its people. She finds herself, though, soon stuck in the Hold of Winterfell, prey to the charms of the three young men that live there.
Robb
High summer was slowly coming to an end. Robb could feel the long summer ending, fading away like the sun slowly faded below the horizon at sunset. A long night was coming, and winter was coming. For now, though, it was good to enjoy the warm light in the Wolfswood.
And so it was that he rode with Theon Greyjoy, his father's Ward, and Jon Snow, his bastard half-brother along through the forest. Their game had been nothing but a few pheasant birds which Greyjoy shot with his arrows. The day was slowly beginning to fade, so it was that they rode back towards Winterfell.
Through the echoed woods, sounds bounced off the trees and birds suddenly flew overhead in a great shadowy blaze. The sounds of steel hitting steel and grunting and women screaming. Robb looked to Theon and Jon, who understood, and they took off galloping towards the sound. A pair of horses flew into the forest away from them, being ridden by a Wildling. Suddenly, a fair-haired, girl with a torn pink gown came bolting around the corner, flailing wildly and screaming.
She spotted Robb who rode to meet her. "Stop! Wait! Please!" she screamed, her green eyes flashing with tears. "My lady! Our carriage is being attacked! You must save my Lady!" Her voice was thick with either hysteria or a lilting accent of Essos, perhaps Myr.
"Where is she?" asked Robb, drawing his sword, Snow and Greyjoy following suit.
"Just around the corner! Please hurry! They will kill her!"
Rounding the corner as fast as they could, a scattered bunch of Wildling corpses in hide and fur armor lay around a carriage, where sword met axe in many clangs. Women screaming. Blood flew in waves on the trees. Men screaming.
Robb came towards the carriage as a Wildling grabbed a green-clad maiden by the hair and yanked her out of the carriage. Next to the carriage was, to his shock, a woman with long black hair dueling at length with another. Her sword, skinny as a needle, swung around the battleaxe and pierced the man's throat. She swung around gracefully in one movement and stabbed the man clean through the back of his leg. He fell to the ground as she came behind him and lifted his chin, stabbing through his neck.
The dark-haired woman dropped her sword and began to rush to the green-clad maiden when the last of the Wildlings grabbed her from behind by her hair. Robb rode into action with his sword drawn. The Wildling took out his knife and held it to the woman's throat.
"Yew stay back or I'll fuck 'er bloody wiff it!" he shouted through broken and rotted teeth.
"Release her at once!" Robb commanded with a voice as powerful as a wolf's howl.
"You- Hurk!" An arrow came from behind, sticking the Wildling man in the eye with the force of twenty punches. Robb spun around on his horse to see Greyjoy with his bow drawn. The pink-clad handmaiden came rushing out down the path and into the arms of the black-haired woman.
"My lady!" she sobbed hysterically. When Robb turned around, he saw it was the sword-maiden that was the Lady, and the two handmaidens who wept in her arms were her women. She looked up at Robb, whose heart stopped in his throat when their eyes met.
Greyjoy came off his horse with his bow and arrow at his side and approached the ladies. Robb then saw that the woman was bleeding from her cheek.
"You fool!" Robb shouted at Theon, who spun around in shock at his words. "How dare you loose that arrow?! You could have killed that poor girl!"
"Killed?! It was I who saved her!"
"What if you had missed?!"
"Oh, how dare you!?" The Lordlings looked up to the woman, who was limping towards them, her face twisted in anger, sword-in-hand. "How dare you insult the man who has saved my life, you insolent prat?!"
Three men stood agape. Two women trembled behind one woman, who stood in a gown of orange silk, cut in a style Robb had never seen before. It was torn in several places, showing the white layers of her underskirt. Her voice was angry, with an odd lilt of an accent he hadn't ever heard before.
"Apologize!" she demanded, pointing her sword at him.
Robb felt Jon's eyes on the back of his head, and Theon's eyes as well. He somehow heard his goading smirk forming. Robb frowned. "Do you have any idea to whom you speak?" he said.
The woman's eyes went wide. She swept her head to glance around a bit, then held up her free hand. "Behold!" she said, motioning to the dead bodies around her, now seeming to Robb that they had been slain by her sword. "All the fucks I don't give!"
Theon's lips burst with a sharp spurt of air as he doubled over with a concealed laugh. He brought his clenched fist to his mouth and bit his thumb to keep from laughing at the woman's words, turning away from her and leaning against Robb's horse.
"I am Robb Stark, Lordson of Eddard Stark, Warden of the North, Lord of Winterfell," he announced, looking down at her with a stern Stark gaze.
The woman glared at him with her almond-shaped eyes. She was a foreigner, for her handmaidens had accents and strange clothes like she did. She had to have been from Essos, for her gown was not Northern nor Southern. Her skin was tanned, several shades lighter than copper. Had she not been so beautiful, Robb might not have been so unsure of what to say, other than announce his title, as if it mattered.
"The North," she said. "As in, where we are now?" Robb nodded. "So," she said, walking slowly towards him, her sword lowered, "it is your fault, then, that these things have happened to us?" She asked as Robb dismounted his horse to come towards her, a stern look on his face. "What? Don't like the harsh truth? If you are truly a Lord of the North, then it is on your lands that my men were killed, my horses robbed, my handmaidens scared witless, my things pillaged and life nearly taken? Are these the things you claim, my lord? Because if I were you, I would feel not pride, but shame. In fact, I would feel such shame that I would never leave my home. I would sit in a ball, on my bed, under my sheets, and weep for the shameful things that were happening on my lands."
Robb didn't know what to say. He had never seen a woman like her before, nor heard a woman raise her voice like that to him before - other than his own mother, of course. He could feel Theon and Jon were at a loss for words, too, for they simply stood there, barely breathing. The only real sounds there were was the sounds of her women sobbing and holding each other behind her.
"If these were common thieves, I would not think a thing of it," she continued. "For thieves take and leave. I may have even given them something to eat, for those who are thieves cannot help themselves. But these, my Lord, were brigands. Bandits. Cut-throat ruffians, big enough to work as soldiers, swinging axes. Monstrous men who not only stole my horses, but meant to rape and kill my women and I. My body would be floating dead down a river, naked, this night, and all on your lands. And you dare to throw a stone at the man who took action to save us, instead of sitting pretty on a horse, barking orders with a mouth gaping open like a codfish?" Jon gasped and gulped in the background. "I command that you apologize."
Robb gulped. He kept his gaze steady with the woman's, who held her head just as high - if not higher - than his Lady mother's. Her hair was in disarray and with blood clotted in it . "You're right," he croaked, his mouth felt dry. Robb felt his knees shaking. "I beg for your pardon, Mi'Lady-"
"Not my pardon!"said the woman, shaking her head with a roll of her eyes. "His." She pointed to Greyjoy with the bloodied tip of her sword. Robb snapped his vision to his father's ward in shock, who was standing there just as wide-eyed as him. Then they exchanged glances, and Theon's trademark snarky grin spread across his full lips.
"Better give the Lady what she wants," he said, shrugging, unsure of what else to do. Greyjoy was always good at relieving tension. Robb nodded.
"I'm sorry, Theon."
He shook his head, grinning. "S'alright, Robb." Robb and Theon looked to the woman who seemed satisfied and sheathed her sword at her side. She turned away from them towards her handmaidens, who flew into her arms in hysterics. Robb then noticed that the foreign Lady was limping.
"Mi'Lady," said Robb, coming towards her. "Are you injured?"
She shook her head. Robb saw up-close that her cheeks were dotted with freckles and flushed with blood from the battle. "'Tis a flesh wound," she said.
"Please," he said, making her turn all the way towards him. "You're right," he said. "A Lord should take responsibility for his lands. And I'm deeply sorry for the loss of your men." She glanced down with a sigh. "As an apology," Robb continued, "I ask that you let me take you and your women to Winterfell. We have a Maester who will treat your wounds, lest the Rot get to you. You can rest there. And I will give you use of our horses to take you to wherever you'd like." He motioned for Theon to bring their horses towards the carriage. "Where were you headed, Mi'Lady?"
The foreign Lady cracked a smile. "Very far, my Lord. King's Landing," she said. "Tell me, is it true that the way of communication in Westeros is with the use of trained Ravens?"
"It's true," said Robb, confirming that she was from Essos in his mind.
"May I simply ask the use of them to deliver a message to my father, so he knows where I am and what's happened to me? He's expecting me in King's Landing."
"Yes, of course, Mi'Lady. Theon, help me hitch the horses to her carriage." The foreign Lady limped to a nearby rock as Jon rode towards them, quiet an shy. Theon and Robb made quick work of the horses. Theon was smiling the entire time. Robb tied them tight as Jon dismounted and began to put the door hinge back on the carriage for them.
Theon came and knelt at the foreign Lady's side. "May I see your leg, Mi'Lady?"
Robb turned over his shoulder to look at his father's Ward. She grinned apprehensively. "On the condition that I know the name of my noble Champion," she answered.
"Lord Theon Greyjoy, at your service. Your leg, Mi'Lady?"
She lifted her skirt to reveal dark-gray stockings and dark-colored shoes of fine leather and a high and thick heel. Theon removed his gloves and felt with his nimble fingers up and down her ankle and calf. She winced a little in pain.
"Theon, let's let the Maester look at her," said Robb, tightening the leathers on the horses.
"Looks like a nasty sprain," called Theon over his shoulder. Jon remained quiet, his face blushing red at the sight of her long legs. "It might swell to where she can't walk."
"Then let's get a move-on. Winterfell isn't far from here, Mi'Lady. We'll get you there as quick as we can. As an apology for your trouble, the hospitality of the North is yours."
The foreign Lady shrugged and sighed. "Very well, my Lord." She then said something in a liquid-sounding foreign language to her handmaidens. The fair one clad in pink helped her up, and the trembling dark-haired maid clutched onto her hand.
Theon reached out to her. "Mi'Lady, if I may-"
"No, no, I can walk, thank you," she said, limping towards the carriage with handmaidens on either side. "By the way, this is Darry, of Lys," she said, nodding pointedly to the fair-haired girl. "And the other is Qahari, from Braavos. I am afraid she doesn't speak the Commontongue very well."
The handmaidens smiled at the men, bowing their heads. Darry entered the carriage and held out her hands. "Slowly, please, my Lady," she said.
"Wait," said Robb. "We don't know your name."
The foreign Lady frowned for a brief moment, then suddenly gave a laugh. "Forgive me. It seems that the bloodshed of this day has made me forget pleasantries." Robb didn't know if that was a jape or not. "I am called Cadenzsa Forel, of the Free City of Braavos."
"Braavos!" said Robb. "You're far from home! What are you doing here?"
"I told you, I'm on my way to King's Landing." She boarded the carriage, Qahari holding her gown's train and tucking it in before entering the carriage. Jon closed the door gently and locked it. He gave his brother a questioning look.
Theon came and boarded the carriage on to the driver's seat, taking the reins.
Jon didn't say anything, but came and mounted his horse to ride beside the carriage. The three men gave glances to each other, as if they weren't exactly sure of what exactly had just happened. It would have gone more smoothly and amiably had the Lady Forel been not so rough. But she was wielding a sword, and one that was dripping with blood. Robb saw her kill two men with ease. What kind of Lady did that?
"Ride beside the carriage," said Robb to Jon. "Keep an eye out for anyone else."
Jon nodded silently. Robb suspected that he was still in a bit of a shock from what happened. At least the carriage wasn't terribly damaged, he thought, even though he'd be willing to pay for the repairs it might take. It looked as if it were brand new.
Robb boarded the carriage and sat in the driver's seat next to his father's ward, who was smiling in such a way that it looked like he was holding back a great deal of laughs. Theon snapped the reins a bit to make the horses pull the carriage. He nudged Robb with his elbow.
"Smile, Lord Stark," japed Theon. "You just rescued a fair maiden."
Robb snorted through his nose. Who does she think she is? thought Robb. But the more he thought about it, the more it was understandable. She was a foreign Lady, probably secretly scared witless of what had just happened to her. In truth, the thing was indirectly his fault. Surely, his father wouldn't object to letting the Lady stay in Winterfell until her leg healed.
"Ever seen a Braavosi girl before?" his father's Ward asked. "I've only seen one or two, they were short, fat things, and that was back in Pyke when I was still there. Nothing like this one. Dark-skinned...pretty." He shook his head with a wide grin. "What I wouldn't give for that wild thing to warm my bed. I'll bet she fucks like a minx."
"Shut your mouth, Greyjoy," said Jon Snow, frowning at him with that Stark gaze from his horse. "She's a Lady of High Birth. You can see it."
"Have you ever seen a Lady like that before? Ladies in Essos practice with swords?"
Robb shook his head. "I don't know. I've never seen anybody wield a sword like that before. But I've heard about it. It's some Braavosi style. They call it 'Dancing.'"
"Did she kill all of those Wildlings by herself?" asked Jon, who was suddenly chatty. "What happened to her men?"
"I wager they were killed by the Wildlings," said Robb.
"But if they killed her men so easily, what kind of warrior is she that she can strike like that? And she's a lady of breeding?"
"Sounds like the Bastard's finally found a girl he likes better than his own hair," Theon japed.
"I said 'shut your mouth, Greyjoy!'"
"Enough out of you two!" ordered Robb. "Keep an eye out for more Wildlings. If we see them, kill them."
After a short ride to Winterfell, Robb summoned the Maester himself and took Lady Forel by the arm to the keep. Theon went off to tell Lord Eddard Stark of what had happened, and Jon tended to seeing that Lady Forel's things and her handmaidens were taken care of.
"Will she be alright, Maester Luwin?" Robb asked as the Maester felt around and examined her ankle, peeling away her dark stockings to reveal the soft brownish flesh beneath. Her skin reminded him a bit of brown sugar, or perhaps a pretty copper helmet. Or maybe just gold. Her toes were long and curled and her ankles slender.
"Looks like a nasty sprain," said the Maester. "Lady Forel, may I ask what happened?"
She shrugged. "One of the men whacked me in the thigh with a morningstar, which made me trip and twist it." She said it so nonchalantly, and Robb was in a bit of shock as the Maester bid her lift her skirt high enough to her rounded thigh, which was bloodied and bruised.
"Such a shame it tore through your lovely gown," said the Maester, taking some cotton swabs and dabbing them in hot water to cleanse her flesh.
"I have many gowns, Maester, think nothing of it."
"Such a lucky thing that Robb here found you, hm?" the Maester smiled.
Lady Forel glanced up at Robb with a knowing smirk. "Indeed," she said. "A most fortuitous encounter." Robb didn't know if it was a joke or not, but her smile was genuine enough so he didn't think much of it. "But I wonder, Maester Luwin, does Robb Stark ever smile?"
The Maester laughed. "About as much as his father."
As if on cue, Lord and Lady stark entered the Maester's turret. Lady Forel looked up in question, but smiled in a way that was so charming that he wondered if it was the same blood-soaked spearwife he had met earlier in the woods.
"Lady Forel," said Lady Stark, bowing her head. "I am Lady Catelyn Stark, and may I present my husband, Eddard Stark, Lord of Winterfell."
She smiled. "A warm greeting to you, Lord and Lady Stark. Apologies for not standing in your presence, but my leg seems to be in Maester Luwin's custody."
"Lady Forel," said Lord Stark, "I have been informed at great detail of your plights thanks to my ward.
"At great detail?" said Lady Forel, glancing at Robb.
"I apologize for your plight. I invite you to stay in Winterfell until your leg has fully healed, and the use of our Ravens to get word to your father."
"I don't wish to impose, Lord Stark, and Lady Stark. I have money - I will stay at the nearby Inn, if it pleases."
"No, please," said Robb, sounding a little more desperate than he wanted to. "It is only just that we should keep you here."
"My son is right," said Lady Stark. "And to hear of howyour men died...we are so sorry for your loss, Lady Forel."
"Such things happen," said Lady Forel with a wistful shake of her head.
"Lady Forel," said Lord Stark, "I hear you come from Braavos?"
"I do," said she proudly. "I am off the boat from Braavos just early this morning."
"And such a rough greeting for you, too," said Lord Stark. "Forgive me if I intrude, but are you at all related to the Braavosi Dancing Master Syrio Forel?"
Upon Lady Forel's face grew a smile Robb hadn't ever seen before. "I have the honor to be his only child, Lord Stark."
Robb's father smiled a toothy grin. "I knew your father a very long time ago. You were probably a wee thing when he was in Westeros last."
She laughed. "I was! And he is here again. Which is why I was traveling to King's Landing, to greet him."
"Off the boat from Braavos to the North," said Lady Stark, wringing her hands. "One might think that it would be an easier trek were you to boat there directly. Such a long road can have an effect on people."
Lady Forel shook her head. "I wanted to come and dock here in the North, so I could travel down Westeros's famed King's Road and see the land for myself. It is so rare I get to travel to new places such as these." She then laughed. "Perhaps it would have been wiser to sail straight to King's Landing as you say, Lady Stark."
Lord Stark nodded with a smile. "Adventurous," he said. "Your father was the same. He liked Westeros when he was here, and he traveled the King's Road once, too. I'll send your father a raven myself in King's Landing and let him know you're here."
"Thank you, Lord Stark. Lady Stark."
"We'll have a warm room for you and your handmaidens made up," said Lady Stark. "Perhaps after you rest a bit, you'd care to join us in the Great Hall for feasting?"
"If it's not any trouble," said Lady Forel.
Lord Stark shook his head. "Any daughter of Forel's is a friend to the Starks. Robb," he said to his eldest son, "let's let Lady Forel rest a bit."
Robb bowed his head to Lady Forel, who smiled in return and turned her attention to the Maester. Robb and his parents left the room and stopped out in the hall. Lady Stark went to make preparations for the feast. Ned and his son walked together.
"Greyjoy told me what happened," said his father.
"Did he tell you everything?" Robb asked.
"You mean did he tell me that she called you a prat?" Robb couldn't help but laugh. "Greyjoy's always been a blunt one. But she is right, you know. Though you can't control the Wildlings, it is on our heads when an innocent man dies. We are the Wardens and keepers of the North."
"I know."
"It's the right thing to do by keeping her here, especially since she's the daughter of an old friend of mine."
"I know." There was a long pause as they walked. "I saw her fight. I saw her kill two men that were twice her size like it wasn't anything to her."
"Her father is the First Sword of Braavos, which is the greatest Swordsman in the city. Bravosi people practice such a dueling style, a thing called Water Dancing, and that's what you saw today, most-likely."
"But she's..."
"'A woman?'"
Robb looked up, and slowly nodded.
"Essos is a different land. Braavos is a different city. It's the world, Robb. Did you think it would be small?" Ned smiled. "It takes a few days for a raven to get to King's Landing from here. We'll hear back from her father in a week or so. Then you'll never have to see her again, if she bothers you so much."
"She doesn't bother me," said Robb, keeping his eyes forward. He then smirked. "Best keep her away from Arya. She'll never let Lady Forel out of her sight if she hears about a Lady playing with swords."
Thanks for the read, you guys! I'll be updating this and "The Grey Lady" periodically, so that way it will be not only more fun for me to write, but it'll be a mystery for YOU to see how the story unfolds! Read, Review, Follow...whatever it is the kids are doing nowadays!
Also, this was my first time EVER writing for Robb. So be gentle on me! 3