CHAPTER 5 – THE SENTINEL
The final day of their stay in the capital came, and the guards with several of the castle hands were hard at work loading the back of the wheelhouse and a small wagon for their journey back to Mount Ardor. Falgon had been fervently welcomed by the members of their household guard, and the lesser hands that accompanied them in this journey. He learned that some members of the guard were named Sentinels of Flame, their charge was the attendance of the lord and lady. The leader of this elite group was named Berit. He was the third son of a lord to the Corridor, but chose life at the burning mountain as a sentinel to the lord and one of his close friends. For his skill and tranquillity Falgon had been assigned to the lady's side for the time being, until they reached Mount Ardor, something he was thankful for. He stood at her side in the garden as she watched the still water of the ocean from the garden grounds, and how the sunlight reflected off of it. She wore a wide sleeved dress of deep green with a delicate string of pearls around her neck, her hands folded comfortably in front of her. Quick footsteps drew his attention to a refined woman coming down the pathway with two guards in white cloaks following on each side. She stopped for a moment when she saw Falgon, then smiled at him confidently and passed him. The guards however, seemed to be debating their choice to follow or remain where they were. Then she stood next to the lady, following her gaze across the waters.
"You're leaving for the Corridor today?" she asked before turning to face Claira.
"Yes, your grace. There are matters that need our attendance." she confirmed, and the woman lowered her eyes to her hands before returning her attention to the horizon.
"I must apologise to you, lady Claira. My behaviour was not befitting of a queen." she said, seeming sincere.
"I accept your apology, your grace." Claira said, and then finally turned to her.
"Truly, I've been unmannerly towards you. And to make up for my discourtesy, I wish to present you with a gift." she said, taking a gold amulet with a fiery red ruby set in the centre from her sleeve and presenting it to Claira.
"It's lovely, your grace. Thank you." she took it and looked at the beautiful gem laying in her hand.
"I hope that you will wear it. Your husband is very capable. I've never seen my brother beat down like that. More than that I can see that he truly does love you." she took Claira's cold hand in hers, and held it for a moment.
"I wish you safe travels, lady Claira." she blessed, and then cast a glance at the sentinel standing nearby.
"But seeing that you have so many powerful men surrounding you, I don't think you should be concerned." she said, and with a final smile.
"Fair winds, and warm days to you, queen Cersei." Claira greeted, and with a pet to her cold hand the queen departed, strolling down the narrow garden path. Falgon watched the queen disappear through the shrubs with her guards following, and then turned and stepped closer to Claira.
"Shall we make for the departure, your elegance?" he asked, and she turned towards him.
"Yes. I believe that it is time we headed home." he bowed, and allowed her to pass him before following closely. As they neared a split in the garden path, a small man appeared and smiled at Claira.
"Lady Claira." he acknowledged, and she smiled back at him.
"Lord Tyrion. Have you come to see me off?" she asked as he approached.
"I would, if you don't mind it too much." he agreed, and then looked up at Falgon having to strain his back slightly.
"Oh, you're a big fellow, aren't you?" he said, examining the warrior's features.
"This is Falgon, lord Tyrion. The newest member of our household guard." Claira introduced him, and Tyrion smiled pointing up at him.
"I saw you fighting in the tourney as a mercenary. Lord Raeghun took you into his service quite recently." he recalled, and Falgon nodded.
"Very recently, my lord. But I am happy to be of assistance to her elegance." he said, and Tyrion's smile widened.
"Her elegance? Now that is something I will remember." he looked at Claira.
"Powerful, and polite. An unheard of combination, my lady. A wise choice." he said, and together they made their way to the awaiting mass to return home. They talked as they passed down long sunwashed corridors and went by nobles and castle hands alike, all sparing a glance at the small man, the fascinating lady and the tall warrior. Finally they descended the steps to the waiting procession and saw Raeghun speaking with two attending castle hands, and the king standing beside him with three kings guard in attendance. Tyrion bid the lady farewell with a polite kiss to her fingertips before returning back into the keep on other business, then she approached her husband as a castle hand came up to him and bowed his head.
"Everything is prepared, my lord." he announced, and then Raeghun turned to his friend.
"Fair winds, and warm days to you, king Robert." he said as they took arms, and the king smiled.
"And safe travels to you and your wife, lord Raeghun." he returned, and then looked at Falgon before raising a hand to indicate him.
"By the way, I wish to buy this man off you." he said, and Falgon bowed his head to the king.
"Pardon my bluntness, majesty. I am a man, not a bull. I cannot be bought." he said politely, and Robert turned to him.
"Then take up my offer. Fight for me, and I will sate every desire you have." he promised, and Falgon smiled.
"Tempting as your offer is, majesty. I'll respectfully decline. I wish to remain in the service of lord Taugere." he said, bowing.
"No one refuses a king." Robert said stepping forward, and then Falgon straightened up.
"Then I'll be the first, majesty." he said, and then Robert laughed heartily.
"Majesty?!" he bellowed, and then looked at Raeghun.
"This is a good one, Raeghun. Rock solid resolve! Hold on to him." he said, pointing at the warrior and Raeghun smiled as he put his hand on Claira's waist.
"There is only one thing that will tear me away, majesty." Falgon said as he glanced at the lord and lady.
"Good man. Very good. Fortune not always favours the rich, or the powerful." Robert reflected, and then held a hand to the lady to greet her. Falgon faced Raeghun, and bowed his head.
"With your consent, sire. I must retrieve my steed from the stable yard." Raeghun took Claira's hand and turned for the wheelhouse.
"Of course. Have several of my guards accompany you, and bring the horses I've acquired. We leave by the gate of the gods before noon." he instructed, and then led his wife to the wheelhouse to help her inside. Falgon bowed again, and then took his leave from the Red Keep and headed to the stable yard with several of the guards with him. The yard was packed with people, but they managed to retrieve a number of twelve horses that lord Raeghun acquired for his stables, among them six mares of which four were expectant, three young geldings, and three stallions including the lady's gift and the black warhorse Falgon had won off ser Gregor in their joust. He saddled his horse, and then felt the presence of someone beside him.
"Nomad!" he looked up into the face of his former companion.
"It's Falgon, Baret." he corrected, and the sell sword smiled.
"You'll always be Nomad to me. You're leaving today, too?" he enquired, and Falgon nodded before returning his attention to fastening the girth strap.
"Yes. And you?" Baret stroked his horse's nose.
"Yes. Which way are you going?" he said with a smile, and then looked back at Falgon.
"Through the gate of the gods, up north." Falgon said, and then they heard a call from further back where the mercenary party was preparing to mount.
"Baret! Which way?" one called, and Baret looked back.
"The god's gate." he instructed waving his hand to them. Falgon turned back to him after finishing fastening the saddle.
"You're travelling with us?" he asked, and Baret shrugged.
"Only as far as Harrenhal, so why not?" he mentioned, and Falgon glanced away thinking on the outcomes of such a joined venture.
"We won't obstruct you. We could help you, if anything." Baret insisted, and then Falgon looked back at him and their eyes met.
"If Igon-" he started, but Baret raised his hand knowingly.
"You'll kill him. I told him as much." he assured, and Falgon breathed in deeply. They mounted their steeds, and started heading out from the stable yard and through the city to the gate of the gods that would take them north. They waited in the field just beyond the gate of the gods, most of the party allowing their horses to graze on the green grass while Falgon kept watch on the road with Baret beside him. They registered the different people passing under the gate, merchants and farmers going in while nobles and their parties of guards left.
"Do you think we've missed them? We've been waiting a while." Baret asked from his place on his roan gelding, but Falgon remained looking at the gate.
"Lord Raeghun Taugere said before noon, we should see them any moment now." Falgon assured, and then smiled as the black banners with the fiery phoenix came into view. Four sentinels led the way, bearing the Taugere banners, then Falgon bowed his head as the wheelhouse followed dragged swiftly past by the brown geldings, and then two more guards followed by the small cart and then the remainder of the guard party with the horses. Falgon glanced at Baret, and then fell in behind the column. Baret looked back at his company, the Black Bannermen.
"Let's go make some gold!" he called, and they followed along the road behind the guards and the horses. The Kings Road led them over great fields with farms on both sides where farmers tended their lands with baskets and oxen, stalks of grain already raising high. They stopped near a wooded area with a calm stream to allow the horses to drink and the company to stretch their legs and enjoy a late lunch of bread, cheese and salted meat. Baret approached and bowed low to Raeghun and his wife before looking at Falgon.
"Nomad, you haven't introduced me to your liege yet." he mentioned with a smile. Falgon raised a hand to them.
"I present lord Raeghun and lady Claira Taugere, rulers of Mount Ardor and wardens of the Corridor." then he turned towards them, and bowed his head.
"Sire, your grace; may I present to you Baret. The leader of the Black Bannermen." Baret took her hand in a kind gesture.
"It is a greatest pleasure to make your acquaintance, milord and lady. May I offer you our services as well, for the extent of our journey together." he offered. They conversed for a short while on the many journeys of the Black Bannermen, and several recent victories against small rebellions and bandit raids. When the animals were well rested, they mounted and proceeded down the King's Road. Raeghun took to riding the fierce warhorse for the remainder of the day, but remained close to the wheelhouse. By the time the sun touched the horizon they stopped to make camp for the night. The horses were unharnessed and a rope spun between nearby trees to secure the mares, and the geldings, the stallions were haltered to a rope on the other side of the camp. A great fire was made in the midst of the camp site while guards set up pavilions to house the company for the night, and several hunters left into the woodland to find their supper. By nightfall, the fire was burning brightly and several smaller torches distributed around the camp site for light. Falgon stood brushing his horse with one hand, and a sweet red apple in the other that he shared with his steed after the third bite before continuing to groom over the muscled flanks. The wind was cool on the bare skin of his shoulders, back and chest; and he thought of the many things that awaited him.
"He's so calm." he looked back to see the lady stroking the stallion's nose.
"His name is Galeo. He's a warrior of sorts himself, your grace. He used to belong to a warlord." he said and her hand glided over the soft fur of the horse's neck.
"How did you come by him?" she asked as she drew her fingers through the shiny black mane.
"The same way I did your lord husband's new steed." he mentioned smiling, and then her hand went back to his nose and his lips gently nipped a piece of carrot and drew it into his jaw before chewing.
"I've never seen him accept delicacies from anyone." Falgon laughed, and she looked up at him.
"He's a lot like you." she mentioned, again stroking the strong neck, and Falgon brought the brush over Galeo's back once more.
"There is a time for war, and a time for peace, your grace. The wise know to distinguish between the two." the warrior said looking up into the breeze, then she turned towards him.
"How interesting you are, Falgon." she wondered, and he bowed his head to her.
"I've had interesting experiences, your grace. Perhaps, one day if it please you, I may share my stories with you." he suggested, and her smile lit up while the new light of the stars danced in her eyes.
"I would like that, very much." she accepted, and then she turned after a last stroke down the horse's neck.
"Well, good night, Falgon." she greeted.
"Sleep well, your grace." he bowed low and watched her leave. In the distance he could hear the jabbering of the returning hunters from the woodlands. She followed the torchlight and rounded the wheelhouse on her way to their pavilion, and then a large man stepped in front of her, his arm resting against the side of the wheelhouse and blocking her way forward.
"Pardon, ser." she tried to pass him, but he stood his ground and lowered himself to bring his face closer to hers.
"You stole an ace from us. I would expect some kind of compensation for that." he said in a low voice, and her eyes met his.
"We stole nothing. He accepted the offer freely." she defended, and could smell a telling odour of ale coming off him.
"He belonged to us. He took five lives from us." he said and she felt the Taugere name screaming inside of her, the phoenix fire blazing from her chest, but her eyes remained their ever cold blue.
"And how many did he have to take for you? His debt has been paid long ago." she determined, but the man moved closer to her.
"I've never seen Nomad as enamoured with anyone, as with you. Countless whores have offered themselves to him, he wouldn't have one. You're a special kind of hag, aren't you?" he said, his other hand coming around and leaning against the wall of the wheelhouse to block her in.
"How dare you!" the phoenix fire was screeching, but he came even closer, his cheek almost against hers.
"Would I be able to break your hold on him, if I broke you?" he whispered threateningly, when a hand suddenly dug into his shoulder and hauled him backwards, and he tumbled on the grass.
"You fucking blot of hound puke!" he yelled, Falgon stood in front of her, facing the enraged mercenary.
"My pardon, your grace. I believe it best that you return to your lord husband at once." he said, and without question she hurried away to safety.
"You deceitful piece of snake gut. You belonged to us!" Igon called.
"I never belonged to you. I am hers. Have been for a long time, longer than you could try to imagine." Falgon clarified as Igon got to his feet.
"So you want her, eh? Which parts of yourself will you offer to her? On which parts are you hoping to feast behind her man's back? Are you that selfish? A woman like that, there's enough to go around." the mercenary said as he started to circle Falgon. He could no longer feel the cool of the breeze on his skin, but a warmth like dragon flame rush over every part of his body.
"Hold your tongue, Igon. Or I'll rip it out for you!" Falgon said as he watched the man slowly come around him. Then he raised his hands slightly in a gesture.
"Tell you what, I'll make the first offering to her. I'll start with your balls!" he lunged forward and thrust a fist towards Falgon's face, landing a blow to his jaw. He staggered, and saw Igon come at him again from his left shoulder with a raised fist. He pulled back sharply and the strike missed, and Igon plummeted by him. Like a constricting serpent, Falgon's arms went around Igon's shoulders and throat and he forced him to his knees in a vicious hold, then he pulled back and the mercenary strained to try and bring air into his body.
"If you ever threaten her again; if you ever come near her again, I will snap your neck." he promised, and then Raeghun emerged from the shadows with Baret close behind.
"Enough!" he called, his voice drifting over the field, and Falgon released his victim and threw him down on the ground, hard enough that his face met the soil before he stood up and stepped back. Baret came forward and threw a bag at Igon's head.
"Igon, take your raiders and ride ahead." he instructed, and Igon rose to his knees.
"It's dark, Baret." he breathed, and Baret scoffed.
"I don't care if it's dead! You have torches! Take your men and fuck off!" he ordered again, and Igon found his feet before reluctantly moving away while rubbing his neck. Baret turned to Raeghun.
"I'm so sorry, lord Taugere." he apologized, but Raeghun remained where he was.
"Your men attacked one of mine." he insisted, and Baret looked at the ground somewhere searching for an explanation.
"I'll deal with him, milord. Igon has been somewhat... unstable, for the past week or so." he finally managed, and Raeghun scanned the remaining men, and listened to the departing hoofbeats.
"See to it then. At the very least, no one was killed." he determined, and then returned to his former activities. Falgon moved through the camp site to the tents on the east side close to the fire, and leaned against the crates that were removed from the wagon earlier this day. From a water skin, he soaked his face, shoulders, back and chest, attempting to douse the flames with it. The rage he'd just experienced, was something lost to him for years; but when he saw the mercenary standing so close to her, everything about his posture screaming his intentions it flamed like the fires of hell in him… He could have killed him, he should have… gods knew he wanted to. He had no right, even the thought of anyone going close to her angered him, and he couldn't tell why. There was only one man that would enter her inner circle, that could have the freedom to touch her; to hold her, to caress her, to kiss her. Only one man that would be her lord, was there not? Only one man…
"Falgon." Berin stood beside him, and he turned.
"I'm al right. I'm uninjured." he assured, and the sentinel grinned.
"He swiped you good, you know." he said examining the area where the fist struck him.
"His muscles are all air." Falgon said with modesty, and Berin motioned to the burning fire.
"Come, we've had a long day. The rabbits are nearly done, and the vegetables are steaming nicely." he invited. After throwing on a faded shirt he joined the guards, hands, remaining 'Bannermen' and sentinels by the fire while their evening meal was distributed, listening to the many different conversations between laughter. The remainder of the evening passed without incident, and Berin walked with him back to the tents.
"Do you mind if I ask you something?" they stopped in front of one of the smaller tents, and Falgon turned towards him.
"Ask away." Berin smiled at him.
"You've been in our company for a few days, but you're severely protective of lady Claira. Why?" he asked, and Falgon had to look away from him.
"I don't know, Berin. I can't give you any answers... other than I belong to her." then he looked back at him.
"I have no words to make you understand. I could describe it as a thirst, but that would only be touching the pinnacle of the reality of it." he couldn't think of any way to clarify it. To bring sense to the feeling or any of the circumstances that led him to this.
"You love her." Berin said intentionally, and Falgon's eyes went to the large pavilion several feet away; where he knew she was safe in her husband's comfort.
"How could I love her, when she belongs to another?" he diminished the thought, but Berin remained gently smiling in the soft light of the torches.
"I'm not reprimanding you, Falgon. The more you love, the stronger you are, despite many telling you otherwise. And to do what you've done, to give what you've given, you must love fiercely." he turned and started heading away to a different tent just down the line from his. Falgon stood for a moment longer before entering the tent and assuming is place on the bedroll, he looked up at the canvas of the tent stretched out over the ground and his mind wandered from the past to the present and into the future, but again sleep would not find him.
Several days passed without incident as they followed the King's Road to the north, and by late noon the hight towers of Harrenhal came into view on the horizon. Falgon and Baret paused on a small hill where the roads split, and watched as the Black Bannermen parted from the column continuing up to the north. Baret extended a hand to Falgon.
"And so our paths part. We head to wherever the fuck it is our next meal comes from; and you my friend, head for Mount Ardor, The Burning Mountain." Falgon took his arm in a gesture.
"You've heard of it?" he asked as they shook wrists.
"Only from tales." he turned his horse around.
"Fair winds to you, Nomad. I wish you happiness in your new duty; and I hope that you find that what you've been looking for so long." he said, and Falgon's gaze went back to the column still passing by heading to their destination, and finally his eyes fell on the wheelhouse.
"I think I might just have, Baret." he said, and they parted ways. Baret put his heels to his horse, passing to an easy canter towards the front of the group, and Falgon took his place close to the back of the wheelhouse. Another week passed without incident as they journeyed across fields and between farmsteads and past towns, the broken towers of an old ruin passed them at some point. They made camp between being hosted at a hold, and two estates. They stopped at an inn just after mid day on the 17th day of their journey. After stepping inside to speak with the inn keeper, Raeghun emerged and signalled for their company to dismount.
"We'll stay here until morning." Raeghun instructed as he helped Claira from the wheelhouse. Guards and hands started unloading necessities from the back of the wheelhouse and bringing them into the inn. The horses were stabled, groomed and fed while the party restored on chicken stew with bread and sweet mead before settling in and letting a sense of euphoria take them. After feeling well rested, Claira approached Raeghun.
"If you don't mind, my lord; I would enjoy a ride to the fields for a while." she suggested, and he nodded before standing up and winding his arms around her.
"Of course, I'm sure the wheelhouse has left you somewhat dejected." he said, and placed his lips against her in a gentle kiss.
"I won't wander far. Five guards will accompany me." She promised. A small group made their way down the road, and circled the small valley around the small hold towards a wooded area, a quiet stream drizzling in the quiet of the late afternoon. The guards brought up their experiences during the tourney, emphasizing the great matches. Falgon rode close to Claira's side.
"Your hair is beautiful, your grace. I once read a book, in which a fair maiden displayed locks of copper and onyx." he mentioned, drawing her attention from the narrow path that stretched out in front of them towards a wooded area.
"You can read?" she sounded slightly surprised.
"I can, your grace." he smiled, looking down to the ground.
"Who taught you?" she asked slowing Brazier to bring Falgon and Galeo up beside her.
"A maester, from one of the castles we served." he told, and they moved forward again.
"He must have been a kind man, to take the time to teach a sell sword how to read." she thought, imagining kind maester Adlyn back at Mount Ardor.
"He was. He spent his days helping those who stood under their lord's protection, and those who didn't." he said, remembering his days spent in the maester's chamber.
"Do you have any other skills, apart from reading and swinging a sword?" she asked, and he laughed modestly.
"I can play the lute, your grace." he mentioned.
"Strange interest, for a sell sword?" she thought, and he looked back at her.
"I didn't start out a sell sword, your grace." he said, and she looked away from him, a sense of sadness veiling her clear eyes.
"No, of course not. You wanted to be a knight, I suppose. But life took you down a different path." she assumed while reflecting on the many fates life threw at people. But he moved his horse closer, still smiling.
"Paths take many turns, your grace. They go up peaks, down hills and around bends. But all lead to the same place in the end. We don't always get to choose the pathways we take, only the way we walk them." A light breeze whistled through the treetops, and he looked back.
"My apologies for asking this of you, your grace. Can you race that magnificent steed?" he asked, and she halted her stallion, looking back at him.
"Of course, Falgon. Why?" he resumed his way forward.
"For any event you may have need of it, your grace." They continued down the path, and in a sudden horrifying moment blood spewed from the neck of the guard leading the way in front of her; a bolt lodged in the soft flesh unprotected by his helm and mail armour, and he fell from his horse. The remaining guards clamoured around her, desperately trying to shield her from the onslaught. Falgon drew his sword from his back at the sound of hoof-beats coming through the trees.
"Ride now, as hard as you ever have." he said, and she set off with two guards following; they left him and one guard there to face whatever came. Through the trees they raced, and came to a sudden halt as seven men leapt from the bushes lining the forest path. Two more arrows found fatal entry points through the armour of her remaining protectors.
"What have we here?" the men surrounding her laughed, hostile and ill. Rough hands grabbed her and dragged her from her stallion's back. Another hand grabbed for his reins, but he reared and sped off in the direction of the inn.
"Such a lovely thing, all alone in the woods?" the man approached, bringing his face close to hers.
"Release me." she demanded as she struggled against the firm hold on her.
"Lovely, and spirited. What a combination." he grinned, and looked at the others as they came closer, laughing heinously.
"Let go of me!" fear drenched in anger fuelled her body, and her muscles tensed in the unavailing effort until the hands tightened around her and crushed her against a brawny frame, driving air from her lungs, and the strength from her heart.
"Would that I could, but I'm afraid these men have not been with a woman in three months, I believe that you can understand that our situation has left them a bit... unsaturated." he laughed again, cruel and despicable as the men surrounded her. One forced her to the ground as another's hand grappled with his breeches. She tried to fend him off, but soiled hands grasped her wrists harshly and held her down. Others gripped her ankles, pulling at the protesting muscles. The man in front of her dropped to his knees and grabbed the seam of her dress, bringing it up past her knees.
"No! Let go-" another hard hand pressed tightly on her mouth, stifling the cry and limiting her breathing. A racing heartbeat pulsed in her ears, so loud it drowned out everything else, and she was left staring at the grinning faces of demons, and she resolved to close her eyes refusing to yield, and the only thing she could think of was Raeghun. 'Please forgive me, my love...' Animalistic screams filled the woods, and blood dripped from the bark of the trees around her; the unkind hands that restrained her vanished.
"That's no way to treat a lady." A cloak the colour of earth covered her then, and she looked up to see a dark warrior standing over her; a massive sword clasped in his hand. The remaining men stepped back, four lay dead about her. She clasped the cloak, holding it close.
"You fucking bastard!" they drew swords and lunged at him, but with a swipe quick as lightning he severed a head, opened a gaping wound to another's gut and plunged the great sword into the last bandit's chest. He gasped, and slid from the steel to find his final resting place on the woodland trail in a patch of deep red. Falgon replaced the sword on his back, and went to Claira.
"I apologise again, your grace. I must have come sooner. Are you injured?" he said, kneeling beside her. She threw her arms around him, shaking uncontrollably and after a moment of uncertainty he allowed his hands to gently rest on her back, comforting and sure.
"They... They..." The words were soft, but nothing else would be uttered.
"It's al right now, they can't hurt you." he assured, then picked her up and made his way to his bay stallion waiting nearby. He lifted her up onto its back, and mounted behind her; then they made their way back to the inn. Crossing a hill, they saw riders coming their way, Raeghun at their front.
"I do believe that your lord husband has missed you." he said calmly, but her shuddering had not eased. They met in the field, and Raeghun dismounted.
"What happened?!" he demanded as he came to them, his arms held out for her.
"We encountered ill intent on our way, sire. The lady is in need of your presence, she has been greatly alarmed." Falgon answered, allowing her to slowly slip from the saddle into his hands. He held her close, feeling the quiver of her body.
"Find them! Find them now! I want their heads!" he ordered, and several guards raced off to the woodlands.
"You may have their heads, sire. But I apologise that I stole their lives from you." Falgon reported.
"How many?" Raeghun asked as his arms constricted around her shaking frame.
"Eleven men, sire." Falgon concluded, and Raeghun could feel his skin burning with rage.
"And the guards?" Falgon shook his head dolefully.
"They fought bravely, sire. But I'm afraid our party became overwhelmed." Raeghun's paused for a moment, pressing his mouth against her hair, and even here felt the tremors like ripples through her.
"Did they-" he started, but stopped. Not knowing how to continue.
"By the grace of the gods, no sire." he reported. The lord breathed in deeply, but couldn't think of any way to further comfort her, to bring her closer to him while his arms held her like those of the feared sigil of the Greyjoys, and his lips found her brow gently; then he looked back at Falgon.
"You have done me a great service. I will not forget this." Falgon bowed his head; and they returned to the inn. Bodies and heads were brought back, a total of fifteen men. A pyre was built to burn the bandits, the bodies of the guards were prepared to be taken home so they may be laid to rest by their families. Claira had not been seen since she was brought back to the safety of the tavern, but Raeghun's voice could at times be heard as he issued orders to guards and hands. The sun disappeared from the world, and the company supped on butter baked goose and parsley sprinkled potatoes with sweet carrots and creamed spinach while long horns of ale washed it down. For a sweetness they were served 'Sunbird tails', a fried pastry soaked in sugar syrup. Long after all else had retired for the night, Falgon remained in the main hall in front of the fireplace watching the flames dance and flicker in all their shades of red and blue. He heard a door to the back open and close before footsteps sounded over the wood flooring towards him, and Berin sat down next to him with a fresh horn of ale in his hand. He brought it to his mouth and swallowed slowly, then he sat back in the chair, and joined in watching the ballet of the flames.
"What happened out there?" he asked softly, but Falgon's eyes never left the flames; the flames he could feel touching his skin this very moment.
"Men ambushed us, it seems they knew what they were doing. They targeted the guards first. They intended to rape her, perhaps hold her for ransom after they did that, most likely." he said, and allowed his eyes to momentarily dwell away from the light of the fire and scan the outside through a near window.
"Thank the gods then that you were there, Falgon." he said, bringing the horn back to his lips.
"I saved her, but I couldn't save the others." he said softly, but Berin nodded.
"The lady's safety is paramount, she is the only one you need to be concerned for. The others knew the risks of their duty, and they were willing to face whatever came with it. They died for it, and you didn't. This says a lot of your capabilities." Berin said, and Falgon looked his way.
"I've not been wounded in combat in years. And as long as I am able to move I will not allow any harm to come to her." he determined.
"You're well experienced then. Taking this in to account, I will mention to lord Raeghun to have you named one of us; as far as I am aware there has been none other that would be better suited to the lady's personal guard." he said, and Falgon's eyes went back to the fire, listening to the silence that held the inn in the deep of night.
"Claira. You need to eat something." Raeghun insisted, glancing at the untouched plate of food on the table and then back at her where she sat on the bed.
"I'm sorry..." she whispered, and he went to her side.
"For what?" he asked as he knelt beside her.
"I shouldn't have gone so far. I shouldn't have gone out... It's my fault... I shouldn't have... I'm sorry..." her hands covered her face, and her shoulders shook in light sobs. He put his arms around her again, holding her close against him.
"It's not your fault. Not in the least." he comforted, and her hands crumpled the fabric of his tunic between her fingers.
"I'm so sorry..." she breathed against him, and he moved to sit next to her.
"Claira, listen to me." he pulled back and took her tear stained face in his hands, bringing her eyes to his.
"It's not your fault. Don't ever think it is." he told her, and then took her close to him again with his arms tightly around her, and she cried until she finally fell asleep against his chest. With the sunrise they left the inn, watching as the smouldering pyre from the night before disappeared behind them. Claira distanced herself from their household guards and the hands that accompanied them, she kept to the safety of the wheelhouse and only left it in her husband's presence after the camp sites had been fully prepared. She ate very little to nothing as the sight of food left a disgusted feeling in her bowels; she fell asleep in his arms each night and would wake screaming before strong arms held her and she recognised Raeghun's voice. One late afternoon they passed a stately farmstead, and the kind farmer, a large man with dark auburn hair and a full beard invited the company to remain there for the night and share his comforts. The guards erected their tents on the grounds as the farm worker, an elderly ebony skinned man herded cattle into a corral while his son, a youth that had seen his twentieth year chopped firewood next to the stone farm home, a smaller stone home stood off to one side already alive with candle light inside. A selection of livestock roamed the farm-grounds, four ewes and a ram stood grazing on the grass while a flock of chickens and geese pecked at the ground and sounded their calls into the twilight air. In a thatch roof stable a pair of great plough horses nibbled on fresh straw as a small foal nursed on his mother, and in a pen aside the home several pigs were chewing on their supper of discarded vegetables and grain while others lay in a muddy pool. The lord and lady was offered lodging inside. They shared supper with the farmer and his family, and the farmer's wife, a woman of equal size to her husband with soft strawberry coloured hair under a headdress and a kind face offered to have a bath prepared for her honoured guests. The house worker, a short plump woman stirred a great cauldron of beef stew while the farmer's wife prepared bread and had her son, a boy with the likeness of his father that could have been ten, roll a barrel of mead from their stores to sate their thirst, and a long blonde haired little girl aged around six or seven was charged with wiping filth from wooden spoons. On Raeghun's instruction, the sentinels would take their watch in the main hall. Amidst their feast they conversed on topics of the land, and many other light events. Raeghun lowered his goblet to the table after the plates were removed from the table, and the farmer's wife and her assistant led the lady away to a warm bath, the little girl skipping along excited at the prospect of being allowed to brush out the beautiful marbled locks. Raeghun remained in the company of the farmer while most of the guards took their leave to retire for the night. Berin took a place in front of the fireplace to begin his watch.
"You treat your people well, my good man. It is something that, sadly, not all get to experience." Raeghun mentioned.
"Thank you, my lord. That man is not just my helper, he's like an older brother to me. We built this farmstead together, from a tiny little vegetable patch to what it is now. Our families have spent many winters together, in front of one fire. He came to Westeros from somewhere across the Narrow Sea as a boy, and my father took him in. We've been tilling fields together ever since." he told, and Raeghun smiled.
"It is good that there are still people that value the lives of others, no matter their origin or their circumstances." he said, and drank from the horn.
"What is the value of gold, against a life, my lord? Slaves are bought and sold, but the life we have here, what that man and his family helped me build, could not be acquired with a hundred chests of silver." the farmer said, and a moment later the aged ebony face of the house servant glowed in the fire light behind him.
"Your lady awaits you, milord." she announced, and Raeghun emptied his horn.
"I wish you a peaceful night, and thank you for your hospitality." Raeghun said as he stood, and the farmer smiled at him.
"Any time, my lord. It is not often that we are graced by finery such as yourselves, and your lovely lady." he said as he raised his horn to bid the lord good night. Raeghun ascended the steps and made his way to the room that had been prepared for them while the farmer's son laid his head to rest on a soft sheepskin bedroll on the floor of his sister's chamber down the corridor. He found Claira sitting on the feather bed, dressed in a soft blue gown of chiffon. She stood as he entered and closed the door behind him. He went to her, and put his arms around her.
"We've had a long day." he said, intending to make use of the bed. She leaned against him, her arms winding around his waist.
"I don't want to sleep. When I sleep, I dream; and in every dream they are there around me, on me..." she trailed off, and his lips pressed against her brow. He cursed himself for feeling so useless, for not knowing what to do. How do you protect the one you love, against something you can't see or touch? She pulled back slightly and pressed her mouth to his, kissing him longingly while her arms circled his neck and he could feel heat stirring inside of him. His hands went up to her shoulders to release her from the dress, but then he drew back and laid his head against hers.
"Claira, I won't." he said, and her arms tightened.
"I don't want you to feel this way. I don't want you to feel like you can't touch me, that you can't love me. I want things to go back to the way they were." she said, hoping that his passion will break the hold that what happened, and the recurring the dream had on her. He breathed in.
"Claira..." her left hand touched his face, icy fingertips running down his cheek to his jaw.
"Please, Raeghun." he leaned forward and captured her lips with his, and gently pulled the dress ribbons from her shoulders, and the dress fell to her feet; her bare skin softly glowing in the candle light while she returned his caress. He rid himself of his clothing, and lifted her from the floor before retreating to the comfort of the bed. Her skin was ice against his fire, and his hands gently caressed the contours of her figure. She breathed him in, her hands straining against the flesh of his shoulders. His mouth traced the line of her neck down to her chest and her skin rippled under his touch. He gently brought her knees past his hips and closed the distance between them, then kissed her again. He heard her gasp when she felt his bare skin against hers, then he strained and moved, making her breathe in sharply as he entered her. His hands gripped the furs on either side of her face and hers clawed as his back, prohibiting him from retreat. He moved again, bringing soft sweet moans from her chest as he made love to her. Slaked, they lay close together with his arms around her, and her breaths against his chest. Sleep took her then, deeply and securely. She was riding again, through a woodland where dark shadows cast long masses over the field. The field was a haze of grey, and thick mist veiled the heavy hooves of the horses as they trudged along an invisible trail. A calm breeze rustled through the thicket, but made no sound. She could see the guards around her talking to one another, but their faces were featureless, only shadows where eyes and mouths should have been. "Your hair is beautiful, your grace. I once read a book, in which a fair maiden displayed locks of copper and onyx." she looked around, but could not pinpoint where the voice came from, it seemed to flow by her like the wind through her hair. "I didn't start out a sell sword, your grace." the voice was calm and comforting, it made her feel safe in this grey fog. She could make out other voices, far in the distance. Urgent and aggressive, but the words were muffled and unclear. The guards around her did not seem to notice the humming. "My apologies for asking this of you, your grace. Can you race that magnificent steed?" the earth pounded as the sound of hoof beats rushed across hills, all on the horizon that she could not see. The sound of a sword being drawn brought her hands to her chest. "Ride now, as hard as you ever have." the world shattered into shades of red, and the guards around her were riddled with arrows and bolts protruding from every possible angle and they fell slowly to the mist covered ground; large deep shadows drowned out screams from their faded mouths. Dark masses emerged from the fog around her in a circle, eyes glowing yellow like embers and lips grinning with teeth like snarling wolves. Rough hands took hold of her and dragged her from the back of a horse that was not there.
"Let go of me!" the scream was dry, bereft of any sound as the air was driven harshly from her lungs. "Would that I could, but I'm afraid these men have not been with a woman in three months, I believe that you can understand that our situation has left them a bit... unsaturated." those words tore through her like a stone through a pond, leaving a tormented surface behind.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" was little more than a breath as they tore the dress from her, the fabric ripping like parchment. She fought, but her limbs felt like lead and she was easily overpowered by the shadows and forced to the ground where cruel hands restrained her. A shadow dropped to its knees in front of her and fumbled to release himself before leaning forward onto her. She screamed until her chest ached, but every cry was drowned out by the intense pounding of her racing heartbeat. She closed her eyes and wished for death when he entered, every muscle wailing in resentment as she tried to resist the onslaught, while the shadow painfully destroyed her. The sound of a blade slicing through air and flesh made her gasp, but this time she did not wake like normal and the pain suddenly vanished as gentle arms brought her up from the ground. She opened her eyes to see a lush green field while snowflakes dropped on the breeze from the sky, and the sun cast its bright rays upon them, and a feeling of complete calmness washed over her. Glancing down she wore a warm fur lined dress of blue silk that kept the cold of the frost wind away. And then her eyes went up to the face above her, dark hair falling around powerful shoulders. For a moment she thought of Raeghun, and then he moved and blocked the sun from her eyes. Bright eyes the colour of blood looked down at her from her sentinel's face; and then she realized where they were. He was standing with her in his arms, in the midst of the standing stones. She woke with a start, breathing in deeply and trying to suppress the prickling in her muscles. She looked to see Raeghun at her side, still asleep and she breathed out calmly. She stood from the bed and ventured through the silence of the farmstead, making her way down to the main hall where a warm fire still burned. She found him sitting in front of the fire place, his attention on the flames and she approached him softly.
"Falgon?" he stood and turned before bowing to her.
"How will I serve, your grace?" he asked, and for a moment she couldn't think of anything to say.
"I never thanked you." she confessed, and he smiled gently.
"No thanks is needed, your grace." he insisted, and then she looked up at him, the shadows casting dark lines across his face.
"But still, you saved me, again. So, thank you." he bowed his head to her, then she glanced to the sword leaning against the wall next to the hearth.
"This is an astonishing sword." she noted, and he looked back.
"Thank you, your grace. It is named Summit. It belonged to my father, and his before him." he said as he took it and traced the blade's edge with his eyes. She held out her hands.
"May I?" she requested, and he rested the blade on his free palm to present the sword to her.
"Of course. Do be careful, I've just sharpened the edges." he warned, and her fingers slid around the leather woven grip. His hands slowly eased away from the sword as her hand strained to lift the blade, but she lifted it with less effort than she thought.
"It's lighter than I expected." she mentioned before turning and bringing her arm over to rest the flat of the blade on her palm while the tip rested on the floor behind her.
"It's Valyrian steel." he clarified, and she studied the face on the sword.
"The carving, I've never seen anything so... frightening." it had the likeness of the front features of a horse skull, with long jagged teeth. Long horns curved out from under what seemed like a bristled mane from the sides to form the cross guard, and deep, dark crimson eyes leered at her.
"A representation of... something old, and lost." he explained, and watched as she examined the fine edge.
"How did your family come by this sword?" she asked, tracing the carved lines with a thumb.
"Old family heirloom, your grace." he said.
"Only noble houses have these kind of weapons." she mentioned, bringing the blade back around her and resting it on her hands again.
"Perhaps, somewhere in my history there was a nobleman." he shrugged, and she smiled before looking at him again, and their eyes met.
"You bear it very well, Falgon. You deserve a sword like this." she praised as she handed the sword back to him, and he bowed his head again.
"It kept me alive all these years, but it was made for better things. Now I may use it to defend you, and bring honour to your house." he said, placing the sword back in its place next to the hearth and turning to face her again. He lowered himself slightly, to bring his face closer to hers.
"I will never allow any harm to come to you." he promised truly, and a light red flush lightened her cheeks.
"I know." their eyes met a final time.
"Good night, Falgon." she said, and he bowed low.
"Sleep well, your grace." she turned and then paused, turning back to him as he sat down on the chair on the hearth.
"By the way, how did you know?" she asked, and he looked back at her.
"I didn't, your grace. But I spent five years with mercenaries, we flushed out rats from places like that before." he said, and she nodded. She made her way back to the room and resumed her place next to her husband who drowsily wrapped her in the safety of his arms, and they slept until the sun peeked over the horizon. They departed the farmstead that day, leaving a purse of gold coins as compensation for their stay. The road took them over and between green hills where honey farms produced the name of the gold fields. They made camp and for the first night in days, she slept without torment. By noon the day after, the burning mountain loomed from atop its hill with banners fluttering in the breeze. The column passed by the road that led to Garde's Post to the portcullis and they spread out into the bailey. Castle hands emerged from the doors to stable the horses and unload the cart to bring the chests and crates inside. The court master dressed in black and crimson waited on the steps to welcome them home while the smiling court maiden waited behind in the doorway dressed in summer green velvet. Bright eyes regarded them from a beautiful face and long ash blonde locks fell down her back. After issuing their greetings and the lord and lady entered the hold, she came down the steps to the dismounting guards. Berin handed the reins of his horse to a stable boy, and opened his arms to her as she hurried to him. Her arms wound around his shoulders in a warm embrace as his closed around her waist in a gentle swing.
"Welcome home." she said, and he drew back taking her face in his hands.
"Gods, how I've missed you." he leaned forward and kissed her. Then he looked up and called Falgon over to them.
"Milla, this is Falgon. I hope to have him assigned to the sentinels, he's a skilled warrior and a loyal friend." then his eyes went to him.
"And I have the great honour of presenting lady Claira Taugere's court maiden, Milla. The sunflower of the Corridor, and my light in the dark. We trust to be wed in the sept by the next full moon." he said wrapping an arm around her.
"Such a pleasure to meet you, ser Falgon." he bowed to her.
"The pleasure is mine, lady Milla. But please, I'm no 'ser'." he corrected politely.
"It makes no difference to me whether you were knighted or not ser, you are a part of our order now. I shall address you accordingly." she said, and Berin laughed.
"Beautiful, and strong willed. I was favoured by the gods." Falgon shared his laugh,
"If your gods favour you any more, you'll find yourself with attempts on your life." he said, and she blushed.
"Come, there are many others that have yet to meet you." and they led him inside the hold. Milla resumed her duties as Berin showed Falgon the barracks where they would be housed. A stone hall with several long tables and a warm hearth connected to the Hall of Fire, while another door led to the tower with its many bed chambers. A second door opened to a level with stairs going down to the outer bailey, and a third led to an inner bailey where the guards trained on dummies and straw targets. He found Mount Ardor as pleasant as it was fascinating, and for the first time he could say he felt like he had come home. The day passed on, and later orders were issued to prepare the Hall of Fire for an accolade the following day. Milla stood rummaging through a long wardrobe, helping Claira choose a garment for the coming ceremony while she sat on the bed. She pulled an ivory dress and displayed it to Claira.
"May I suggest this one, my lady?" Claira glanced up.
"It's lovely; but perhaps something more suited to our house name. Light colours are not befitting of the occasion." she dismissed, and Milla continued her search. They finally decided on a deep red cloaked gown with wide sleeves and a gold thread sash. A gold string of pearls and rubies would adorn her throat along with a gold and silver intricate circlet set with a garnet around her brow.
"Thank you, Milla. You may retire for the day if you so wish. The court master Metron can see to the rest. I'm sure you would relish some time with your betrothed." Claira said, and Milla smiled gratefully.
"Thank you, my lady." she said, but remained a moment longer.
"Are you al right?" she asked, coming over to her.
"I'm fine. It's been a long journey." she said, and looked up and out the door to the balcony overlooking the fields.
"You've met Falgon?" she asked.
"I have, my lady." Milla replied, and then Claira looked at her.
"What do you think of him?" she asked, and Milla reflected for a moment.
"He's pleasant. He is well mannered, and strong for many reasons. Some less obvious than others." she said, and sat down on the bed next to Claira.
"Does he worry you, my lady?" she asked, and Claira chuckled.
"No, not in the least. He saved my life, more than once. The gods may curse me for saying this, but I am glad that he is here. His presence makes me feel safe." Milla leaned forward.
"Then that is good. I've heard tell that Berin wishes for him to join their order of sentinels. He may even be assigned as your personal sentinel, given his devotion to responsibility." she mentioned, and Claira breathed out slowly.
"I trust that my lord husband will make the best choice, and regardless of his position he will remain here at Mount Ardor as a member of our household guard." Milla nodded.
"I'm sure he will. Good evening, my lady." she stood up, and Claira smiled.
"Good night, Milla." she left the room, and Claira lay on the bed finally free from the confines of the road. Deep and peaceful sleep took her suddenly. She dreamed of the endless green fields, the summer blue sky and clear rivers of the Corridor; and woke to a lightening sky with Raeghun next to her. The morning was busy with the final preparations for the ceremony, and by mid day their people massed in the Hall of Fire, and Raeghun took his place on the throne in front of the blazing hearth. Claira stood on his right side with Milla and Metron behind her, and Berin to Raeghun's left. He accepted several young men and boys into the castle guard and service before his attention went to Falgon.
"Come forward, and state your name." he called, and Falgon moved forward. He knelt on the steps, and lay his sword at his feet before bowing his head, and then looking up to the lord.
"I have been named Falgon, sire. It is the name your lady wife chose to give me." he said, and lowered his eyes again.
"Lord Raeghun Taugere, sire of Mount Ardor. I offer my services to you, and to your lady, Claira Taugere. I will shield you, and keep your counsel, and give my being for yours if need be. I pledge my sword, my very existence to you, for every reason you may need it. I swear it by every god there is, or will be." he vowed, and Raeghun smiled.
"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that may bring you dishonour. I swear it by the old gods and the new." he agreed, and Falgon raised his eyes.
"I am yours, lord and lady. Now and always, until I am reclaimed by the earth." he further added, and Raeghun stood. His voice filling every corner of the great hall.
"Arise. Let it then be known throughout my halls, and my domain – you have been named Falgon. I further name you Falgon of the Fire Hall, and Sentinel of Flame. It is the highest position in my power to grant." he announced, and was met by applause from the attending people.
"You honour me, sire. Beyond merit. To the best of my abilities, I will not fail you." he promised, and Raeghun's smile broadened.
"Keep your promise to me. I assign you as my wife's sentinel. Shield her life with yours." he said, and Falgon found his words swept away from him. Raeghun held his hand for Claira, and brought her fingers to his lips. A girl emerged from behind them with a brightly coloured pillow in her hands, on it lay a pin fashioned from gold in the likeness of a flame. Claira descended the steps towards him with the girl following, then took the pin from the cushion and fastened it to the cloak around Falgon's shoulders on the left side, just above his heart.