A/N: Hello everyone! This is the first chapter of a three way fic. May will be doing Genna's POV. Maddie will have Medea's. And I (CityGirl13) will be portraying Rosalyn. Hope you all like it!
Chapter 1: Making Camp
Genna's POV – at the Wall
Genna raced through the white snow, a trail of blood drops following her as she moved. She was covered in blood, although she was not visibly injured, and her simple clothes had various rips and tears in them. She was usually aware of her surroundings but failed to notice Benjen Stark, who was treading through the snow.
Benjen noticed her and followed, watching her as she stumbled through the snow. Whenever he lost her in his eyesight, he could pick up her trail sue to the small splatters of blood that she was leaving behind her. He tentatively walked up to her as she stumbled and fell to her knees. He knew that she knew he was there and decided against his better judgment to help her up.
"Are you alright?"
Genna didn't reply, instead she pushed him away. As she took his attire in she narrowed her eyes. She didn't trust the ones from the Wall. Even before they decided they'd attack her family and kill them.
Benjen held up his hands in surrender. "I do not mean you harm."
"You're one of them." Genna spat at him.
"One of who?" He asked, slightly confused.
"The ones who wear black. The bringers of death and destruction." She answered, stepping away from him as if he was a demon walking in a human skin.
Benjen nodded slowly before clarifying to her. "I am of the Night's Watch. I am not going to hurt you."
Genna once again looked him over. His words were kind and so were his intentions. That was what made her distrust him.
Benjen made to move, gesturing for Genna to follow him. "Come with me to the Wall. You will be kept safe until the Lord Commander judges you.""
Genna tilted her head to the side slightly. "You're different to the others."
"In what regard?" Benjen inquired.
"Another of your guard would have left me here to die in the cold. Yet you offer me refuge until you deem it otherwise unsuitable." Genna explained to him.
Benjen nodded as he took in her words. "I am not all men, it would seem."
Genna simply nodded as they began to walk towards the Wall, Benjen offering her his coat. "Thank you for your kindness."
/*0*/
"This is where we keep the prisoners." One of the guards told Jon, gesturing to Genna.
Jon glanced at Genna, noting the dried blood caked to her body and her ripped attire. "There aren't many."
One of the Night's Watch simply shrugged off his comment. "They usually die because of the cold."
"Bloody wildlings causing trouble." His companion spat, also of the Night's Watch.
Genna looked up when she heard them, her green eyes glaring icy daggers at them. Jon glanced at her, unsure what to make of her as he examined her. Her dark hair was a mess around her face and her dress exposed her pale skin which was tinted a slight blue.
"What's this one called?"
"No idea. We don't ask them." The second guard laughed.
"We just don't tell you. Names have power." Genna told him, her voice low and controlled despite the harsh and freezing wind.
"Wildling freak." The second guard spat at her, none of them noticing how it froze as it hit just in front of where she sat.
"I hope you freeze in your bed tonight." Genna stated dryly, her eyes holding a piercing gaze.
"Maybe you could join me and I wouldn't." The second guard grinned causing Genna to grimace.
"When the seven hells freeze over, I would join you." She snapped at him causing him to abruptly stop grinning.
Jon looked towards Genna. "She's a feisty one."
The first guard looked to Jon. "This one has quite the mouth. We found her swimming in a lake north of the Wall. It's a wonder she didn't freeze."
Jon nodded. "Why don't you just kill her?"
The first guard shrugged. "The commander doesn't want us to."
"Is she valuable?" Jon inquired, not understanding why the commander would want her alive.
"More then they know." Genna smirked, shifting slightly, her long hair falling over her shoulders.
The second guard let out a bark of laughter. "Right."
Genna looked to him and grinned. "Just you wait."
"For what? The seven hells to freeze over?" The second guard asked her, taunting her.
The first guard noted that another of the Night's watch was calling over to the two guards. "The commander wants us. Jon, be careful around her."
"I don't bite." Genna told the two retreating guards.
"Maybe not, but I do not trust you." Jon told her.
Genna stood up and approached him slowly. "Wise words. Who do you trust?"
Jon watched her movement as she neared him. "My family. Myself."
"Right and wrong. One should trust one's self, and one's self only. People are unpredictable, and that can be deadly." Genna told him, her green eyes boring into his darker ones.
"What do you know of trust?" Jon asked her, having heard stories of the wildlings. How they were savages and killers.
"I had a family too, Jon." Genna told him, her eyes haunted by an event he had no information on.
"And what happened to them?" Jon inquired, growing curious to her words.
Genna held her gaze steadily with his. "Do you believe what they said? About how they found me?"
Jon contemplated her words for a moment. "Then how did they find you?"
"They killed my mother first, having followed her to our home, then my father and then my three year old brother. I ran and one of the kinder men grabbed me. His name was Benjen, I believe." She informed him, her eyes' darkening in what he guessed was anger.
"That is my uncle. Why did they kill your family, but not you?" He asked her, slightly confused as to why his uncle had saved her.
"They were part of different scouting parties. I was covered in blood and my clothes were ripped. He thought me to be injured." She told him, moving away from the bars.
"And so they brought you here."
"Yes."
Jon nodded before saying goodbye to her. He could tell that there was something hidden under her façade yet he couldn't tell what it was. She wasn't what he had expected a wildling to be. She wasn't savage and didn't strike him as a killer.
Medea's POV – somewhere near Bitterbridge
"Why did you even agree to join this Rainbow Guard in the first place?" Medea Caron questioned of her older brother as they rode south with their entourage. Since Renly had fled the capital, he had called all those loyal to him, and despite Medea's inhibitions, Bryce had answered the call. Renly had been pleased that the young Lord of the Marches had joined him, so he had immediately named Bryce as a member of his Rainbow Guard. Medea thought the name and idea was quite silly, just a cheap imitation of the Kingsguard, but she would never tell her brother that.
"Loras is a good friend," Bryce responded with a shrug, referring to the Lord Commander of the Rainbow Guard. Medea examined him, her noble older brother. He looked like her, with his dark hair and amber eyes. He was handsome, yet at twenty-five he remained unmarried. As he and Medea were the only surviving members of their family, she often wondered why he did not take a wife.
"So you do whatever he does?" Medea inquired with a mischievous grin. She was eight years her brother's junior, barely seventeen, yet she still saw fit to question him. As her parents had died a decade past, she had grown up a young lady still, but was a little unruly. None had managed to curb her tongue and there was a streak of mischief that the years had not taken away from her. Bryce himself had been barely fifteen upon becoming lord of Nightsong.
"No." Bryce's reply was rather curt, and he frowned at his younger sister. "He asked me to be a part of it as Renly wanted me to be a part of it."
"And now you are to be stuck wearing orange." Medea smirked at the thought. Bryce the Orange…it was hilarious, really, although she knew better than to laugh in front of him. Jokes were one thing, but Bryce would not take kindly to it. When they reached Renly's camp, she wouldn't be able to show amusement of any kind at the notion, as it would likely be considered rude.
"We may find you a husband as well," Bryce informed Medea, knowing that it would rile her just as her jest had irritated him. Medea was the younger sibling and she had no wish to marry before Bryce did. The very thought made her visibly grimace.
"Like who?" Medea demanded, her tone becoming sharp, "If it is anyone older than you, the answer is automatically a no."
In reality, Medea knew she had very little choice of who she would marry. With their parents dead, Bryce would be the one who people came to if they wanted Medea's hand – and she didn't know exactly how much influence she could exert over her older brother.
"I don't know who," Bryce retorted.
"I've heard rumours that life at Renly's camp is very entertaining," Medea remarked with a sly smile, easily turning the topic away from a possible marriage. Of course, she was certainly old enough to wed by now, but she rarely ventured away from Nightsong. The only reason she was headed to Bitterbridge with her brother was because Bryce did not feel she was safe in Nightsong, preferring to keep her by his side.
Bryce examined her critically. "How so?"
"When they're not fighting someone, they hold tourneys and feasts and the like," Medea informed him, relaying what she had heard from several of the ladies who had been gossiping non-stop on their journey. "And apparently, there is a lot of bedding going on."
Bryce stiffened. This was not the sort of talk that was supposed to come from the mouth of a young lady.
"Well if anyone touches you the wrong way, they will lose their hands."
"Relax, Bryce." Medea sounded more amused than anything, but Bryce knew what men could be like. If they so much as looked at his little sister the wrong way, they would have to face his wrath. "I know how to look out for myself, I hardly need a guard dog."
This prompted a chuckle from Bryce. Medea always had a way of finding humour in situations that he may take too seriously.
"What about you?" Medea inquired, quickly turning the tables on her older brothers. "Any women in the south for dear Bryce?"
He shook his head vigorously. "I have no desire to marry."
"I have heard the rumours about Renly," Medea told her older brother delightedly, her amber eyes flashing with wickedness, "Perhaps you're like him."
Bryce offered her a scathing glance. "I doubt that."
"Perhaps so, Bryce the Orange," Medea retaliated in a teasing tone that told her older brother she took the situation very lightly indeed. "I still don't doubt the south will be much fun indeed."
/*0*/
Medea examined her surroundings with intent curiosity as she rode into Renly's camp with her brother, and she found that the rumours she had heard were not far wrong. It would seem that Renly, who was of a similar age to Bryce, was a frivolous young man and when they were not fighting, they were feasting and bedding and dancing. She watched with rapt fascination as they passed a fire-eater.
"Pay them no mind," Bryce instructed her, seeming indifferent as his sister observed the colourful camp with wide eyes. He climbed off his horse as a stable boy quickly came to gather the reins, and Medea slid off also. She followed her older brother over to the pavilion under which a large group of finely dressed men and women were feasting and gossiping at a long table.
"Bryce Caron!"
A dark-haired young man, between Medea and Bryce in age, rose from the table and crossed over to envelop Bryce in a manly embrace. He turned his attention to Medea and immediately took her hand, kissing the back of it.
"This must be the lovely sister I have heard so much about. Medea, is it?"
Considering he had heard so much about her, he should at least know what her name was. Despite this, Medea hoisted a smile across her features, dropping into a respectful curtsy and averting her eyes in a show of demureness.
"Your grace."
At the table, several ladies had put their heads together and were talking in whispers, glancing over at Medea every now and again. Their sudden attention made her feel slightly uncomfortable and alienated. She wondered whether she would eventually fit into their circle, or whether she was condemned to be an outsider.
"You must be tired from your venture," Renly said, although he was speaking more to Bryce than Medea now, "Come, sit at the table and have something to eat. You can meet your fellows of the Rainbow Guard as well."
Rosalyn's POV – Bitterbridge
Rosalyn Tarth crested the hill, flanked by ten of her House guards, at the insistence of her father of course. She would have been perfectly happy to ride on her own, but he was forever wanting to make sure she was safe. And unlike her elder sister, Brienne, Rosalyn had no real argument to put up considering she was no soldier. So she endured the forced company as she traveled from her home island to Bitterbridge, and the camp of King Renly Baratheon, first of his name. Brienne had left long ago to answer Renly's call to arms, but it had taken the subsequent weeks that followed for Rosalyn to convince her father that she should be permitted leave as well. He could hardly blame her for wanting to get out though, all her life long she had not left the island of Tarth, and she wanted to badly to see the world! But her father was so intent on keeping her close to home.
One would think that he was worried more about Brienne than her, what with her elder sister being the unconventional one. Brienne was a lovely soul, but in all honest truth she was not what the world wanted in a young woman. She was not fair to look at, save her eyes, and she also held a dream of becoming a knight. But she was still their father's heir, so that saved her from at least some maliciousness, but it couldn't save her from gossip. Men came to Tarth to see the sisters, Brienne was heiress to the island and all its wealth, but Rosalyn was the pretty one. She hated being called that, her eyes were the same as her sister's and their mother's set into a delicately featured face, while her hair was a golden blonde not unlike that of a Lannister's. But it seemed so vapid, Brienne was ugly and she pretty, therefore other people automatically took more of a liking to her. She hated it. Hated the way it was done, and how people didn't even know they were doing it. Perhaps if it was conscious it might be easier, but it wasn't, they didn't think as they judged on appearance.
Perhaps that was the reason why Rosalyn had become so unruly as a child, wanting to defy the stereotype of a girl such as her. Running around the island of Tarth, climbing trees, swimming in river and sea alike no matter the weather; but she had never let Brienne teach her to fight, despite her sister's attempts. It drove her father slightly mad she thought, he probably wished his daughters could be solely one thing, as opposed to split like Rosalyn and Brienne were. Unfortunately all her escapes hadn't spared her a 'proper education' in being a 'lady'. Of course this didn't mean that she kept to her teachings when alone, Brienne loved to point out how she was lucky her suitors didn't see her going about her normal activities, she'd scare them off herself with that apparently.
"Are we expected my lady?" one of her guards asked.
"I should think so," she replied; not turning away from her study of the camp, "Father sent a raven, perhaps we should ride down. They must be busy, we cannot simply assume that there will be a welcoming party."
She urged her horse forwards, and of course the guards followed her, muttering amongst themselves.
/*0*/
Meanwhile in the camp Brienne was pacing as she stood guard outside Renly's tent while the King took lunch with some friends. Her impatience was running high, where was she? Then something caught her eye, people cresting the hill and stopping to look down at the camp. She couldn't be sure at this distance, but she was almost positive that the banners they carried were her own. She quickly ducked into the tent, only four people sat to lunch, Renly was joking with his knights Loras and Bryce, while Bryce's sister ate in awkward silence. They all looked up when she entered, and she went to her knee before Renly.
"Your grace, might I be momentarily excused?" she inquired, "My sister has just arrived and I wish to greet her."
Loras Tyrell arched an eyebrow, curiosity written all over his handsome face, "I should like to meet this sister of yours, perhaps we should all go as a welcome party?"
"Your grace?" she looked to Renly to see what he thought.
The King stood, "I think it is a wonderful idea."
Bryce the orange followed his King's lead, gesturing for his sister to do the same. The young girl looked so out of place, Brienne felt sorry for her.
"She is of an age with you Lady Medea," she said as they left the tent, "Perhaps a year younger."
The young lady smiled graciously, "It will be nice to have someone of my own age Lady Brienne."
Loras and Bryce took up the rear of the small party, while Medea drifted in the middle. Renly gestured for Brienne to talk beside him.
"What is she like, this sister of yours?" he questioned, "I don't believe you've mentioned her all that much."
She blushed a little to have him paying attention to her, "She is very different to me your grace."
"Is she fair?" Loras Tyrell popped into the conversation.
The comment immediately after she'd stated they were different didn't bother her, she was used to it from the likes of him. But his interest made her frown a little, automatic reflex really.
"Yes, and she'd only sixteen."
Renly arched an eyebrow as he turned to look at his most loyal knight, "Curious dear friend?"
Loras smirked, "Perhaps. Attractive young women to tend to interest most."
"Some of us are preoccupied with other things," Bryce put in with a shake of his head.
Renly laughed, but he and Loras shared a glance that she couldn't decipher, she could still see the curiosity on Loras' face though.
"Sixteen," she reminded firmly.
He arched an eyebrow, "And?"
However at that moment Rosalyn had ridden into the camp and spotted her sister. She dismounted and tossed the reins carelessly to one of her guards, they set their mouths firmly, but knew better than to try and call her back. She marched over to the group approaching her and went right up to her sister.
"There you are! What took you so long?" she demanded.
Brienne looked down from her height, already being taller than many men, and Rosalyn was rather short, "Still an impertinent brat I see."
"Still playing at the night?" Rosalyn shot back.
Medea Caron blinked several times in shock, not quite sure what to make of this exchange between siblings.
"How many dresses did you bring? Let me guess, the entire wardrobe?" Brienne questioned.
"Do you own a dress?" Rosalyn retorted.
Bryce Caron didn't' share his sibling's shock, he was gazing at the exchange with more amusement than anything else. Loras Tyrell was struggling hard not to laugh, eyeing Rosalyn up with a small smile.
"Pampered princess," Brienne said haughtily.
"Great ox," Rosalyn replied with force in her voice.
The sisters stared at each other for a moment, matching eyes remaining void of expression. But then it was too much. They both burst into laughter and embraced warmly, the bystanders looked rather unsure, as if they weren't positive what had just happened.
"That was quite a show ladies," Loras congratulated; applauding them.
Rosalyn remembered whom she was standing before, and curtsied low for Renly, "My King."
Renly still had a slightly shocked expression on his face, but smiled warmly none the less," Welcome Lady Rosalyn."
Brienne made the ensuing introductions, gesturing at Rosalyn first, "This is my younger sister, Rosalyn Tarth," she then began indicating everyone in turn, "His grace, King Renly Baratheon, the first of his name. Ser Bryce Caron, of the Rainbow Guard. Ser Loras Tyrell, the Lord Commander. And Lady Medea Caron, she's only a year your senior sister."
"A pleasure to meet you Lady Rosalyn," Medea said politely.
Loras Tyrell stepped forward and gallantly bowed over her hand, raising it to his lips and look up at her, "She is indeed fair."
Rosalyn blushed, "It's good to meet you all, Brienne's letters were nice, but to meet you in person is a fine thing."
"Tyrell…" Brienne said warningly; noting the behavior of the Knight of the Flowers.
"If you will all excuse me, I promised my lady wife a ride today," Renly bowed to them all and then took his leave, Brienne staring after him.
Medea smiled at Rosalyn, "It is good to have someone my own age in the camp at last!"
Loras was smirking at Rosalyn and giving her an appreciative eye, but she did not notice this as she returned Medea's grin , "It's a relief to have someone my own age in general! Everyone back home it either older, younger, of simple visiting. Have you been married long?"
"Pardon me?" Medea looked rather puzzled.
"I thought…" Rosalyn glanced between her and Bryce.
"Oh, I see!" Medea laughed and looked rather amused, "No, Bryce is not my husband. He's my older brother."
Bryce himself had begun laughing at Rosalyn's little muck up.
"Well Brienne did not state Medea's relation to Bryce," Loras defended, "Although if you will notice carefully, they both have the same amber eyes." He turned to Rosalyn and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, "And you do have lovely eyes yourself."
Rosalyn flushed a little from embarrassment at her mix-up, and at Loras' rather forward touch, "I'm sorry! I just assumed…"
"I take it you're not married Rosalyn?" Medea half stated, half enquired.
"Of course she isn't," Loras answered on her behalf; flashing a charming smile her way.
"She's not," Brienne agreed before Rosalyn had the chance, sending Loras a pointed look, "I'm sure you won't mind releasing my sister's hand."
Rosalyn dropped his as if it were a hot coal, having not realised until then that he hadn't let go. He chuckled, and did not move any further away. Thankfully she was saved from having to recover the conversation when a soldier in Baratheon uniform rushed up to her sister.
"Brienne, you're wanted," he said.
Brienne sighed and looked over at Rosalyn, "Will you be okay? I'll talk with you this evening and we can catch up."
"Of course," Rosalyn agreed with a nod.
"I should probably go and sort out the drunkards throwing knives," Bryce said; casting a frown at said men, "Rosalyn, I trust you don't mind sharing a tent with Medea?"
"I don't mind," Rosalyn assured; turning to Medea, "Do you?"
"Of course not!" Medea exclaimed; smiling.
Bryce gave a curt nod and walked away with Brienne.
"You are very beautiful indeed," Loras noted; still eyeing Rosalyn.
Rosalyn fiddled with her hair and let her gaze dart around with no focus, "Umm, thank you."
"Don't mind Loras," Medea said with a laugh, "He's quite the flirt."
"I never flirted with you young Medea," Loras put in.
The girl smirked, "That's because if you did, Bryce would nail your manhood to a tree."
Rosalyn managed a grin, "I don't doubt that Brienne is capable of the same."
"There's nothing quite like an overprotective brother," Medea agreed with a laugh.
Loras glanced at Rosalyn, "I could take up that role."
She arched an eyebrow, "Be my overprotective brother? Alright, you're on."
"I won't let a man touch you," he vowed; then traced his fingers up her arm, "Well no one but me."
Rosalyn took a panicked step back and her heart began racing, she had to remind herself that this was not that man, this was a different place. That was far behind her, she should just let it go.
"Loras, leave her be, she's only just arrived, "Medea chided; offering Rosalyn an apologetic smile, "He thinks he's a charmer."
Rosalyn pushed the memory away and let a grin come on her face, "I think I picked that up, rather confident isn't he?"
"I am still here you know," Loras grumbled.
"Perhaps you shouldn't be," Medea retorted, "Don't you have things to be doing?"
Loras glared at her, Rosalyn patted his arm in a slightly mocking manner, "Aww, did we offend you?"
"Hardly," he scoffed, "If would take more than you two to offend me."
"We'll have to try harder then!" Rosalyn vowed.
"You see Rosalyn, his ego is so large that it would need more than just a poke," Medea informed.
"It is not," Loras defended.
Rosalyn went up on tip toe and waved a hand in above his head, "The very air feels thicker."
He caught her wrist," Now, now. It isn't ladylike to tease you know."
"And who says being ladylike is a constant requirement?" Rosalyn challenged.
Loras opened his mouth in mock horror, "I would think that it should be."
Medea rolled her eyes and took Rosalyn's arm, "Perhaps we should escape his arrogance while we can..."
Rosalyn grinned at Loras, "Never let appearances fool you, let me give you a hint about what I mean. Brienne's the knight, but she was the better behaved and less errant child." Then she linked her arm happily with Medea's.
"We shall see you later, Loras. Unless you are too busy preening," Medea fare welled.
"But...what..." Loras seemed to have lost the conversation a few sentences back.
Rosalyn looked back over her shoulder and flashed him a smile, "Farewell honorary brother."
