Chapter 1 - Tanith

As she gazed at the view before her, the hilltops seemed to roll together into one vast swirl of mud brown and lush green in Tanith Folder's eyes. She enjoyed spending time in her room with the large window which practically covered half the wall. Her room was the highest point of Folder Castle, but it still did not surpass the Eyrie, which Tanith could see in the distance. The Vale might not be colourful, but it was enchanting in its own way. Home.

Tanith's daydreams were interrupted by her mother's intrusion. Ulna Folder was never one for knocking, especially when she had something on her mind ready to slip from her tongue.

"Tanith, my sweet girl," her mother approached her but halted about three feet from the ledge where Tanith was perched. "I have very terrible news. It is King Robert. He has been killed."

Tanith gasped, and rose to meet her mother's height. "How…"

"Hunting accident. Killed by his own kill." Ulna began to sob. "Oh the sweet but horrible irony!"

Tanith had only met the king a handful of times, but she liked him. Robert and her father, the late Lord Harran Folder, were friends from adolescence, both training as knights together. It was her father's bravery in Robert's Rebellion that earned him – and House Folder – the honour of Protector of the Vale.

"What happens now?" Tanith asked. Her mother pressed a crumpled parchment into her hand. Tanith unfurled the paper and it read:

House Folder

It is with great sorrow that the Crown announces the death of King Robert Baratheon, First of his Name, killed by wounds sustained in a hunting accident. It is also necessary at this time for the Crown to make some changes to the Seven Kingdoms, concerning your great house.

The Crown no longer sees fit that House Folder be Protectors of the Vale, especially as the Protector himself, Harran of House Folder, has passed on. Unfortunately this was a loose end that King Robert, may he rest in peace, failed to tie. The Crown wish you well, but will no longer require your title and service.

The Crown appreciates the degree of independence that the Vale has enjoyed for many years. However, under the succession of King Joffrey, First of His Name, it is required that your house swear fealty to House Lannister in a legitimate form, or risk treason.

Her Grace, Cersei Lannister

Tanith let the paper fall to the floor. Robert was probably not even buried yet – not even cold yet. The last paragraph sent a shiver through her. Whatever the Lannisters were up to, they certainly didn't play around.

"Mother…" she could barely speak. "What do we… I mean, what will we do?"

"The letter said, Cersei Lannister said, if we swear allegiance to them via a legitimate form." Tanith looked at her mother. She did not really understand where this discussion was leading, or perhaps she didn't want to understand.

"Tanith, you are my only daughter," Ulna's voice boomed across the small room. "I love you, and I hope you understand that we need to make a decision that ultimately concerns you. You are no longer a child. You are becoming a woman, a beautiful one at that. We must prepare for the possibility that we may need to use that…"

"Mother." Tanith held a hand to signal for her mother to stop. She closed her eyes, and as they opened again after several moments, a single tear fell to the stone floor below them. "Please don't," she whimpered.

"Marriage is the best way to secure an alliance," Ulna said. "I do not like the way the Lannisters seem to be interfering, but this letter is an outright threat. We have to protect ourselves."

"But who will I marry?" Tanith found her words spilling out in frantic yelps. She did not anticipate this discussion happening at all, even though her eighteenth name-day was approaching. Part of her knew it would come eventually, but a stronger part of her buried that fact.

"It doesn't have to be a Lannister," her mother reassured, placing a hand awkwardly on her daughter's shoulder. "It just has to be someone under their allegiance already."

Tanith slumped onto the floor, leaning against her bed. She couldn't face this. Not now. She wasn't ready to be taken away from her home to marry a stranger and live with him, grow his babies and be confined to whatever life he had sculpted for them.

Ulna always had an insatiable appetite for power, very unlike Tanith's father, Lord Harran. He preferred his quieter life in the few years before his death, especially since his experiences during the Rebellion had left him disillusioned with fighting and bloodshed.

"The power of the pen and the word will always triumph over the clash of swords." He used to say. Tanith adored her father, and treasured every piece of advice he granted her.

Her brother Warren was more like their mother. He cared more for Harran's tales of bloodshed and brutality during the Rebellion years, and longed to be as gallant a knight as his father one day. Warren certainly had the look of a knight of fairy tales – his golden hair shone as it floppily framed his soft, almost pretty face, and his blue eyes pierced through the slit in his favourite helmet, which he often wore. Two years older than his sister, Warren Folder was tall, athletic and injected a room with an air of relaxed confidence. He was vain, and knew of his own strengths more than anyone else. All the ladies of the Vale vied for his attention, but Ulna was reluctant to marry him to just anyone.

"What about Warren?" Tanith found herself blurting. Ulna, who had taken to awkwardly hovering and surveying some of her daughter's possessions on her vanity table, looked up.

"Warren could marry a lady," Tanith said. She sat herself down at the vanity and began brushing her hair. She always had to find something to do with her hands when she was agitated. "Hells, mother, he could marry the Queen's daughter! The girl would probably take one look at him and swoon."

Ulna shook her head, and placed a hand coolly on her daughter's shoulder, looking at her through the mirror. "Warren's time will come, but for now, it is best that you be betrothed. You know how these things work, my dear. Daughters marry younger than sons."

Tanith tried to resist a scowl. She knew what her mother really meant. She wanted to get the best possible bride for her golden-haired aspiring knight of a son. As for her daughter, Ulna Folder would settle for the first brute in lion armour to keep Cersei sweet.

Ulna bent down, clasped Tanith's chin with her hand and pulled her face to line with hers. "You're a beauty, Tanith. We will find a marvellous suitor for you." Realising that her meagre compliments would not budge her daughter, she stood straight and headed for the door. "I know this is a great deal to take in just now, so I will let you sleep. I shall reply to this raven in the morrow, and we will set about making travel plans as soon as we can. I imagine Warren will want to accompany us to the capital. He could use some training from the Kingsguards."

Tanith said nothing. Her mother closed the door softly. Tanith turned back to her reflection, and stared for a few moments. She wanted to take herself in for possibly the last time, before a life of formality, duty, southern customs and forced happiness would consume everything that made her Tanith Folder.