The Song of the Dark Forest
A Fanfic for "A Song of Ice and Fire"
Long, long ago, in the Age of Heroes, there was a knight known as Tarmikos Warlockbane. He had earned this name because he had slain one of the warlocks of Qarth, a deed previously unheard of in the lands of the First Men. For this, the king granted him the hand of the beautiful Lady Donyari Jenema, the fairest woman in all of Westeros. He graciously accepted, and promised to love her until the end of time. A promise he intended to keep.
It is said that Ser Warlockbane bore a black tree on a green field upon his banner, and a matching sigil on his surcoat and shield. It is said that Lady Jenema bore the sun in her eyes, and the earth in her hair. It is said that the man's blade was made from paradoxes, things we do not find in the world today: a dead man's heartbeat, a fool's reason, and the mercy of a wight. It is said that the woman was so kind and loving that she could make angels and demons cry. And it is said that their love was so great that men and women and even the Children of the Forest would often smile upon them and bring them gifts.
One unusually fine winter's day, there was a fair in the town where Tarmikos and Donyari lived. Traders had come from as far as the lands of Asshai to sell their wares, and those wares were plentiful and exotic to say the least. There were horses from the Dothraki Sea and Valyrian steel swords of the finest make. There were wines from the Arbor, and spices from Pentos. And so it was on this day that Ser Warlockbane donned his best surcoat, Lady Jenema put on her finest gown, and the couple left their home to go explore the marketplace.
When they got there, the place was teeming with people of all kinds. The air was full of piquant fragrances, the smells of myrrh and pepper and cloves and a million other spices swirling around them like a cloud. All around them there was the shine of gold and samite, silver and steel. Everywhere gold and wares were changing hands, so quickly that the concept of ownership was shown to mean very little. Yet at the same time, to those who were doing the trading, it seemed to mean quite a bit. Everywhere they looked, someone was after this or that item, haggling over prices, and if they were lucky eventually walking away with their new possessions.
As the sun rose higher in the sky, things somehow got even busier than they had been. The two lovers picked up a few items as they went through the marketplace, although they were careful not to spend too much. Tarmikos bought some spiced meats and potatoes, so that they could have a nice dinner that night. Donyari got some new clothes, shining skirts of red velvet and a blouse of white satin. Eventually, they decided to go home, satisfied with their acquisitions and fondly smiling at each other.
Alas, it was not meant to last. As the sun's rays began to grow orange and filter through the buildings as opposed to shining down on them from above, Ser Warlockbane began to sense a foul presence coming from behind him; a kind of itch, a raising of the hairs on the back of his neck. Slowly, he turned around, and saw that which he dreaded most. Standing there in the dying light was a warlock, tall and gaunt. His sickly veins showed through his pale skin, and his lips were a deep shade of purple from the disgusting potions that the warlocks of Qarth drank to enhance their powers.
Even as Tarmikos drew his sword, the warlock was upon him, though mere seconds ago the two had been several hundred feet apart. As the knight drew the blade his opponent drew his own, a knife whose metal shone with the color of pus and decay. Ser Warlockbane barely managed to block it from being driven into his chest. And thus the battle was joined.
All around the two, bystanders screamed and fled at the sight of bared steel, running to get away lest they be caught by a stray swing of the blade, but Donyari stayed, refusing to leave her husband. Each clash of the sword and dagger rang out among the buildings, echoing off walls and cobblestone streets. Soon there was a wide circle around the combatants, formed by the few who stayed to watch at a relatively safe distance. As they looked on, the blades continued to crash together with resounding fury.
Ser Warlockbane was obviously the stronger of the two. Magic users are not exactly known for their physical strength, whereas knights train with the sword and shield every day. However, being without the latter element, Tarmikos' fighting style was put a bit off-balance. That, combined with his opponent's magic, left the two on about level ground in terms of fighting strength.
The two circled each other, each trying to find a hole in the other's defenses, to wear the other down as much as possible. The light glinted off their blades, casting rays of light into the shadows that were quickly growing around the buildings that surrounded them. As their dance of steel continued, they moved closer and closer to Donyari. Suddenly the warlock knocked Tarmikos back, and she chose the moment to strike.
She lunged; pulling a dagger of her own that she had hidden in her dress. The dagger shined as it plunged down toward the warlock's neck- until suddenly his hand shot out and stopped it. He looked from the knight to the lady and back, a perverse smile growing across his face. "This is what you care about most, isn't it?" He said in an ugly, raspy voice, "This is how we hurt you." And just like that, he was gone. As she was, too, the love of his life was gone.
And he knew that he was going to get her back.