She opened her eyes to ash and fire.
A gout of flame shot towards her and she slid back on instinct alone, the heat felt through her steel helmet as she brought her sword up to her shoulder in a guard position, expecting a follow-up attack. When none came, she scanned her surroundings and found only burning buildings and the sound of death.
Where am I?
Eagle eyes scanned her surroundings in more detail but she found no answers to her unvoiced question. She only saw more of a city that was clearly being attacked. Unarmed people fled down roads chased by fire, smoke and merciless steel wielded by red and gold-clad soldiers who did not hesitate to cut their quarry down.
A mother ran past her, holding a babe in her arms, her clothing-and flesh- burned and burning as she screamed to high heaven. A pair of soldiers pursued with naked blades and malice in their eyes but stopped once they caught sight of her.
Instinct took hold. Threat. Killl.
She parried a hasty thrust then countered with a cut that forced one soldier back. She followed up, greatsword swinging in an arc that claved through armour, flesh, bone and brain. Pulling away from the corpse she went on the offensive with a haste that caught her remaining enemy off-guard as he failed to parry resulting in the loss of fingers and a dropped sword. He screamed in pain for barely a moment before the tip of the blade ran straight through his mouth and out the other side.
As the body dropped the Warden took note of her prey.
Red and gold lion? Never seen that helmet design before. A Legion faction?
The building to her side collapsed, supports burned to cinders. She moved before the embers, or the flame, touched her.
Find safety. Assess the situation.
A stone keep rose in the distance. It was a deep crimson colour dotted with many towers and dominated the city. It did not appear to be on fire though the flames gave it an ominous glow.
Fortified position located.
She ran for it.
Elia Martell prayed. To the New Gods, to the Old, to anything that might help her.
She was trapped with her children within the Royal Chambers of the Red Keep. The Lannisters, the duplicitous, traitorous, honourless Lannisters had stormed Kings Landing breaking their promises to aid the embattled Aerys II Targaryen when the city gates were opened for them. The city, built by Aegon the Conqueror, supposedly on the site on which he landed his invasion force that conquered the whole of Westeros, was burning.
Rhaenys, her sweet, precious daughter huddled close, cradling her little pet cat Balerion with tears streaming down her face. Her other child, her only son Aegon, a babe barely able to even form speech, she held close to her bosom as he cried and wailed.
"Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone. Send aid to your faithful so that they may prosper.
Father, send Justice.
Smith, send Strength.
Warriors, send Courage.
Mother, send Mercy.
Maiden, send Virtue.
Crone, send Wisdom."
The chant ran from her lips with the conviction of the desperate and fearful. Elia had never been a religious sort but now, in this moment of dire need, she hoped the Gods were listening.
Something slammed against the door and she jumped. Rhaenys let out a cry and Aegon another wail.
"Under the bed sweetling" She told her daughter, trying to keep the shaking from her voice. Rhaenys shook her head and held on tighter but Elia forced the little girl's hands' away from her dress "Please little one, get under the bed and close your mouth. Stifle your tears" she wiped a tear trailing down her daughter's cheek "Dragons do not cry"
Rhaenys, bless her sweet heart, refused so Elia all but shoved her daughter under their father's bed with half thought promises and empty words of comfort.
Just then the door exploded in a splinter of wood and an ugly, brutish giant walked through. He had to have been the tallest, largest man Elia had ever laid eyes upon. Behind him followed an equally brutish, but shorter, man. Both were garbed in Lannister red and gold place but without their helmets. In their eyes Elai saw naught but malice and evil intent.
"Oh the Sandy Princess's a true beauty ain't she Gregor" the shorter of the two leered at her "Now, where's the little cunt eh?" He pulled out his sword and pointed at the Dornishwoman "Where's the little bitch you call a daughter?"
Elia refused to answer, head held high, her silence as much defiance as fear.
Amory Lorch raised a brow, sneering "Being quiet aint gunna do you much good Princess. Fine, we'll see how well that mouth of yours works after we're through with it"
Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides, moved to grab her but Elia backed away, throwing a flower pot at the man which crashed against his head but did little to deter him. With an angry roar he charged and smacked her across the face with a meaty hand.
Elia screamed in pain, curling over her babe as she slammed into a cabinet, ears ringing.
Rhaenys screamed as she saw her mother's body crumple to the floor.
Lorch quickly dived under the bed and seized the struggling girl after he heard the scream, bringing her out and lifting her by her ankle. Balerion hissed and roared, scrambling out of its owner's hands as he dived at Lorch's' face with claws outstretched. The Lannister man yelled as the cat pounced on him, claws raking his face but he quickly grabbed it by its body and threw it into a wall.
Elia saw the spectacle and managed only to whisper a few words.
"Stranger, send Death"
Amory Lorch's head flew off his neck with a spray of crimson.
The Warden kicked Lorch's body away as she brought her sword to strike at the mountain of a man but a strong fist parried the thrust to the neck she had been aiming for, though not without injury.
She slid back, anticipating the swing from the other fist, then lunged, this time aiming for a shoulder. The blade struck true, slipping between pauldron and gorget but the brute barely seemed to register it as he sent a fist that struck her head and knocked her back. She rolled with it as much as she could but it still stunned her, enough for the Mountain to shoulder barge her straight into a wall which forced the breath out of her lungs. Sliding down Clegane followed up with a knee to her face throwing her head back.
Reeling from the concussive blows she withdrew her arming dagger with her left hand and buried it into the Mountain's thigh, piercing through chainmail though missing the crotch but cutting nerves and tendons still. The beast of a man screamed as he fell back, giving her space to get back up and swing her greatsword to crumple the man's right kneecap.
Her enemy would not be so easy to take down however as he drew the dagger out of his thigh and threw it at her. The distraction gave enough time for him to draw his massive sword that had been strapped to his back previously.
Longer reach than me, greater strength, great endurance. Shugoki.
She changed stance from aggressive to one suited to counterattack, and waited.
Large bedroom with multiple obstacles. Delay, unbalance, strike.
The Mountain bellowed. The Mountain swung.
She parried.
Sparks flew where their blades connected and she directed the force away leaving Gregor exposed to a thrust to his chest which hit, then another to his injured knee which only poked in before the man shuffled out of reach.
She pressed, scoring more injuries to his arms and hands but drew back when the Mountain steadied his feet.
They stared each other down, his wide, wild eyes to her own, barely visible through thin visor slits.
The Mountain moved.
She shifted to parry.
He threw a bed at her, frame and all. It crashed against her sending her back against a wall.
Gregor surged forward, uninjured knee carrying his bulk a great distance to pierce through bedding and mattress and wooden frame.
Though not through flesh, nor steel.
The blade only scraped the side of her cheek, ringing where steel helmet met steel edge.
Struggling, she rolled to the side and under the bed, sword poised to strike.
It pierced into upper arm, elbow and forearm rendering the Mountain's left arm useless.
The Mountain still swung at her.
With the bed attached to his sword.
Wood crashed against steel plate.
Steel plate won.
She moved with the blow to lessen the force of its impact, though she felt something snap in her abdomen regardless. She ignored it, shifting to an aggressive stance that would have left many holes in her defence.
If her opponent wasn't fighting with a bed attached to his sword.
Her flurry of blows rained like steel death on exposed weak-points on the Mountains armour. Elbows, fingers, hands, knees.
Face.
Gregor reeled back with a great shout, blood gushing in an arc from the cut across his face that split an eye.
The Warden swung a blow from her right side intent to cut off a head.
It cut off his right hand.
The stump moved away from Gregor's face and the screaming did not stop.
The Warden paused, collected herself, and swung overhead.
The Mountain blocked it with his 'useless' arm.
Shugoki indeed.
The kick to her stomach sent her tumbling back and she tripped over a piece of furniture.
He was on her in an instant, all screaming, savage fury, pounding with a bleeding stump and a flailing left arm and a head made of stone.
They struggled on the floor of the bedroom, his great weight pinning her down.
Elia ran the arming dagger into the Mountain's head with both hands and the fury of a mother defending her children.
It barely pierced through his thick skull.
Wide eyed with horror and disbelief Elia backed away slowly as the Mountain turned his furious gaze on her.
Another dagger ran through his remaining eye.
The Mountain twitched, managing to crane his head to the Warden like a broken doll, then collapsed.
Reminder: Thank Mercy for those daggers.
The Warden looked down on the broken, bleeding and mangled form of one Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides.
Elia buried Lorch's sword into the Mountain's neck with a squelch and crunch.
Now it was a broken, bleeding, mangled and mutilated form of one Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides.
The Warden turned her visored gaze towards the other woman.
"Just in case. I would burn his body too. With wildfire if I could"
The Warden looked back at the corpse, shrugged, and decapitated it.
The woman had a point, the man had been monstrous. That her body ached from tip to toe to broken rib and dislocated jaw was proof enough.
Breathing through her mouth also reminded her of three missing teeth.
Her left brow was also cut and bleeding, sealing one eye shut, just to add to it all.
"We must escape, there will certainly be more of them" Elia said as she gathered her traumatised children, quickly fashioning a sling for Aegon and shepherding Rhaenys away from the two bloody corpses into the corridor outside.
"Come" she called out to the Warden, looking over her shoulder as she stood at the doorway. When the armoured woman didnt move she urged again "I owe you more than I can ever repay but I cannot have a chance to repay if we do not leave"
The Warden looked at her, to the bodies, then back to her, and nodded.
On the way out Elia grabbed a torch and set fire to the room.
They ran through several Lannister patrols, quite literally, before arriving at the harbour.
"To escape on horse would be folly" Elia had explained while she searched for a serviceable boat "The Lannisters would have all the gates watched and while you have proven yourself more than capable I do not wish that gamble"
The Warden thought the explanation was more for the mother's own sake that hers, to get her thoughts grounded.
"Ah, there" The Dornishwoman pointed to a small rowing boat "Get aboard"
She put little Rhaenys on first, then herself and Aegon before turning around and helping the Warden.
She sat on the bench, looking at the Warden expectedly.
The Warden stared back.
There was silence between them for a moment.
"You dont know how to row do you?"
The Warden shook her head.
Elia cursed.
They managed to figure out the rougher points of rowing and set to sea, all the while King's Landing burned and died around them. The night sky turned red and gold as the city was subjected to uncountable atrocities by the Army of Lannister.
Elia gazed at the place that had been her home, as well as her prison in the last few months. The fire did not spread to the Red Keep, at least, not from the outside.
How did it all come to this?
Harrenhall. Her Princes' - Her Husbands' - folly. His unwarranted infidelity.
Rhaegar fell for a hot blooded Northern wolf and for his satisfaction a kingdom burned.
Valiant Rhaegar. Noble Rhaegar. Honorable Rhaegar.
Dead Rhaegar.
Her heart clenched in her chest and, unbidden, tears flowed and she clutched little Aegon tighter. The babe had long since exhausted himself into slumber and Rhaenys had followed suit, holding the injured but alive Balerion the Black Cat.
Her children. The last of her beloved husband's legacy. The last children she could ever hope to have. Her beautiful, innocent children.
They do not deserve this.
The waves splattered against their boat, rocking them side to side but it was kept steady, not least because of her mysterious saviour.
Looking away from the city Elia turned her eyes towards Stranger in front of her. For the first time since their meeting Elia had a chance to properly look at the Stranger who toppled the Mountain.
Not that there was much to see behind the armour. Though the heraldry was strange enough. Orange on black with the symbol of half a skull and half a helmet with a sword driven between the two, was not one she recognised as belonging to any Houses in Westeros. It seemed strangely fitting. Considering how he had appeared as if from nowhere when she had whispered that prayer to the Stranger, dealing death with a skill that she found comparable to Rhaegar.
Dead Rhaegar.
She shook her head, banishing the thought, and the image.
Still, despite her misgivings about trusting the Stranger she could not deny his usefulness. She would not be alive if it were not for this mystery Knight.
A hedge-Knight? Hiding in the city looking to make a name for himself? But no, he would have turned me over to the Lannisters if it were so.
A Knight of the Reach perhaps?
It was then, as she was looking, that Elia saw the blood flowing from beneath the great steel helmet, and how he leaned to one side and heard the way he was panting for breath.
"You are injured?"
He nodded "Simple wounds that will heal in time"
The voice was not quite as deep as she had assumed but Elia brushed it aside as unimportant.
"This is no time for false bravado Ser Knight, remove your helmet so I may bind your wounds"
Shrugging, he stopped rowing to remove his helmet.
At that moment a strong wave crashed upon them, rocking the boat violently. Salty sea water splashed over them covering them all. Balerion let out a startled cry and would have jumped off the boat if not for Elia's hold on Rhaenys. As it was the cat's struggles and the splash of water only startled the little girl awake.
"Ahh!" Sea water splashed across Elia's eyes, stinging and forcing them shut.
"We've lost an oar" She heard her companion call out.
Oh no. Her mind worked, trying to find solutions and only coming up with one answer. "We have to get to shore, if we capsize we are doomed!"
Curse the sea! Curse the Lannisters! Oh why did I not think that this could happen?
Thankfully they, or rather the Knight, had rowed them out far past King's Landing harbour so that they could run aground far enough away from the still burning city. She held her children close to her and felt Rhaenys shivering in the cold night air.
Soaked and with no warm clothing. Oh my poor little darling, be strong, please, be strong.
With a grunt of effort the Knight finally managed to ground the vessel using their remaining oar as a barge pole to guide the boat to the sandy shore.
They had landed south of Kings Landing. They could still see the city in the distance though the only thing discernable was the Red Keep from this far away.
The Warden turned away from the city to her companions. The dusky-skinned woman did her best to wrap the little girl, Her daughter?, in as many layers as possible, scavenging her own gown in the process. The babe was still swaddled and miraculously still asleep. The little girl, Rhaenys, held on to the black cat who looked at outright mess with tufts of fur sticking out, not that the rest of them were any better. The woman was wearing nothing but silken rags, black hair a wild matted mess while Rhaenys was covered in as much material as could be stripped and tied to her.
"Where to now?" She asked the mother.
The woman finished tying a piece of fabric to Rhaenys' leg and turned towards the Warden. "What?"
"Where to now?" She repeated.
The woman looked taken aback, dark eyes looking at her in confusion "Uh-I-I had thought you had a plan?"
The Warden shrugged "None"
Elia groaned, whispering something that the Warden didnt catch. "Very well, fine" She took a deep breath, steadying her shaking shoulders "We-uhm. The Roseroad, yes. Take the Roseroad to...Highgarden?" she shook her head, fingers massaging her temple "No, no, the Tyrell's are besieging Storm's End"
She took another deep breath "Storm's End then, it is where the Tyrell army is. If we can get to them and tell them of Kings Landing then they can take it back"
She looked at her expectedly, a growing conviction in her eyes of the right course.
A moment of silence passed between them.
"...Do you know where the Roseroad is?"
The Warden shook her head.
All the confidence seemed to vacate Elia's body as she stared the warrior woman with sheer disbelief.
"Who are you? Where do you come from?"
Suddenly, images filled the Wardens mind.
She was standing in the middle of a keep, one of the many that dotted Ashfeld. All around her were black ravens, so many that they blotted out the sun. She looked down and beneath her was a pile of broken corpses, dead eyes and dead faces looking up at her with empty, lifeless gazes.
There was a fire somewhere. Smoke drifted to her nose.
"Well done" she heard the clapping of gauntleted hands from behind her.
She did not wish to turn around. The voice drove a spike of fear down her spine.
She felt a hand on her shoulder. She saw the black claws of a raven out the corner of her eye. It dripped red with blood. "Now we move on to the next keep, Harbinger"
The stench of death drifted to her nose.
Elia raised a brow, one arm instinctively soothing Rhaenys as she waited on her increasingly concerning saviour.
"...Ash. My name is...Ash"
Elai narrowed her eyes. Not a name I recognise from any region this side of the Narrow Sea. Still, he has risked his life to save me and my children and for that I am ever thankful.
"Very well, Ser Ash" She nodded "I thank you for taking me this far and for all that you have done to protect me"
She turned to the side, pointing "But I must ask more of you for my children and I are not yet safe and" she coughed "The journey will be fraught with yet more danger. Come, please"
She beckoned but the Knight held up a hand. "One moment"
She watched as he bent down by the water, swung his visor open and washed his face.
Oh yes, he is injured. Looking around, then down at the tattered remains of her dress, Elia shrugged and ripped a length of silk. She approached him and offered it "Here, to bind your wound"
The face that turned to her was not one she expected.
A woman!?
Yes, despite the scars, the many, many scars, the face beneath the visor was feminine and the moonlight caught just right for the Princess to see a pair of dark, forest green eyes. The lady Knight nodded to her then removed her helmet. Gold blonde hair, tied into a tight braid with loose strands, flowed behind her reaching just past her shoulders.
Little Rhaenys, who had so far been hiding behind her, let out a gasp. Then "Visenya?" the little girl said tentatively.
It was enough for Elia to get her wits back together. She knelt and helped her saviour with the gash above the woman's brow, washing away the blood with seawater then pressing a cloth the woman procured from one of her pouches. "Hold this" she instructed, pressing the cloth to the wound. As she bound it in place with her length of silk she spoke to her now curious daughter.
"No sweetling, this is, erm, Lady Ash of…" she trailed off, looking the woman in the eye. "Where are you from?"
Something flickered in those forest green orbs before the woman blinked and stood. "Ashfeld"
Elia sighed and stood as well. This close she could see that Ash was taller than her by at least a head. More and more I believe you are truly sent from the Stranger. That, or you are a simpleton. To lie so blatantly, what do you hope to achieve?
"Yes, Lady Ash of Ashfeld" The Princess went along with it. At this point she was trusting more in Ash' actions than her very questionable word.
Rhaenys tilted her head, confused. Elia managed a small, fond smile and ruffled the girl's soaked hair.
"Come, let us not delay. I do not feel safe this close to the city" She lead the group away from their beached boat, Ash donning her helmet once more.
The first signs of trouble were the remains of a looted cart, overturned on the side of the Roseroad.
Ash brought them to a halt, visored helm looking around for signs of an ambush. Only when she was reasonably sure that there were none did she investigate. Whatever the cart had been carrying was gone for there was nothing nearby that could have belonged there. On the other side she saw what remained of the cart's owners. Two adults and three children, one man and one woman and three boys, all dead.
She signalled the all clear to Elia who approached with caution, Rhaenys in hand and Aegon still swaddled. Once she saw the other side she blanched, turning her head, as well Rhaenys', away.
"Could have mentioned that…" the Princess grumbled, then sighed, eying the dead with grim calculation. "I...I suppose we can use their clothing"
Ash nodded and proceeded to quickly strip the dead.
Elia tried to crush the queasy feeling in her stomach and the protests on her lips. Could have been done with more respect, surely?
Ash procured a gown that was a size too large for Elia and boys clothing which fit, with some adjustment, on Rhaenys, as well as sturdier footwear than the soft sandals meant for indoors the royals had been wearing up to that point. Their drenched silks they kept as it was easy and light enough to pack away, not to mention being useful as binding and bandages. The dead also gave them a small package of food, fruits and cheese which were eagerly consumed. The cart and bodies thoroughly picked over the party carried on, Elia urging them forward to get as much distance away.
Ash noticed the way the woman's hands shook, as well as the paleness of her skin under the moonlight, but said nothing. Those peasants did not drop dead of their own accord after all.
The rumble of hooves was the second sign of trouble.
Ash brought her greatsword to bear on a guard position as, ahead of them, four riders in Lannister garb blocked the road. Elia hid behind the steel-clad woman and tightened her hold on Rhaenys.
The four horsemen carried torches illuminating their forms in the darkness of the night. They sat, silent for a moment, watching. Then on a command two of them threw down their torches and pulled out longswords, spurring their horses onwards to a charge.
Ash might as well have been a statue for all that she moved as the two came thundering at her.
Closer and closer they came, dark shapes like wraiths and still Ash remained steady.
Elia hunkered down, covering Rhaenys with her own body and prayed.
As they came close, so close that Ash could see the whites of the horses eyes, she let fly her dagger.
The blade flew true and struck a horse in its eye sending both horse and rider to the ground.
The other horseman slashed at the Warden.
The Warden hewed his arm off.
He rode away screaming.
The other two horsemen were startled into action, throwing their torches and charging with blades.
Ash finished off the rider on the ground, recovered her dagger and prepared to receive a charge.
The two horsemen veered off each other, one moving to outflank the lone Warden.
Ash waited, keeping her front towards one horseman, hands slowly moving across the handle of her sword.
They charged, swords high.
Ash turned as both horsemen closed, lashing out with a thrust at the rider behind her. Momentum and muscle worked in deadly tandem, skewering the horseman on her greatsword.
The other cut a deep slash across the Warden's back.
Elia stifled a scream, holding onto Rhaenys even tighter.
Flinging the body away Ash deftly mounted the now riderless horse and brought it around, kicking harshly with her steel clad heels to spur the horse to chase.
The horseman ahead made a fast turn, prepared for another charge.
The Wardens greatsword lopped his head off, helmet and all.
It landed on the grass, a permanent expression of surprise on its face.
Elia finished wrapping the makeshift silk bandage around the blonde's body, pointedly ignoring the multitude of that scars that covered her. Or how her own hands were shaking, even with the warmer clothing.
"There" the Princess tightened the knot "Try to keep still, the stitching is fresh and not my best work under these conditions. Though, how you can even move at all is nothing short of miraculous"
Elia might not have been a fighter but having been around the most seasoned Knights of the realm gave her some knowledge of how much a man can endure. The woman before her should have at least been moaning in pain with a gash that deep across her back but no, she remained as stoic as ever. In fact, looking at her face, Elia could see that Ash was confused at her concern, as if such an injury was a daily occurrence that did not warrant anything more than a passing glance.
Though, by the number of scars you bear, such thinking might not be so far fetched.
They had scavenged the dead, this time Elia hardly feeling a lick of guilt, and appropriated for themselves two horses and supplies and equipment, including a sewing kit which Elia put to use.
Currently they made camp at a distance from the Roseroad in a ditch to keep hidden. While Elia would have loved to have some more warmth they did not light a fire for fear of discovery so, as to not freeze, they huddled up together like rabbits. Ash had taken off her armour to smooth out the inside and repair as much as she could, leaving her in a pair of leather breeches and a woolen shirt dyed orange and black.
As they huddled, little Rhaenys sleeping between them and Aegon comfortably swaddled, Elia tried not to be too obvious in her attempts to draw as much heat from the other woman as possible. Compared to her slender, shivering and exhausted form Ash could not have been anymore the opposite. Her muscles were well defined and the flesh covered in scars, some so large the Princess wondered how the woman's arms were still attached. She was warm too and showed little signs of exhaustion.
Elia did not even realise she was tracing a particularly vicious scar until Ash spoke "A Berserker's axe"
Startled, she pulled her hand away and her body would have followed too if she were not so utterly tired. "Oh, I apologise"
"Hm" Ash shrugged "He swung hard, buried it right to the bone"
It took a moment for her mind to comprehend that statement.
Who are you, Stranger-sent? Are you truly an agent of death?
She sighed and shook her head. "I see". I wish I didn't.
"Sleep, I'll keep watch"
Elia didn't even argue.
In the silence of the night, with Elia and her children and the cat asleep, the Warden wondered what she was doing, what she had been doing since she opened her eyes to ash and fire.
Cowardice, her mind answered her in a voice of a woman whose presence made her tremble. You fled, ran away.
She couldn't argue against that.
And yet, she did not feel the shame, the revulsion she had felt from before. Disgust at her own actions, anger at her cowardice in continuing to commit them. The hopelessness of it all.
Protecting. It was because she was protecting someone, something. Something worthwhile.
It felt good.
Looking at the frail beauty huddled close to her, to the young child with silver hair and to the small babe Ash felt, for the first time in her life, like it was worth it.
