A Song of Frost & Flame

by Chimaera1201

When Robert's Rebellion broke out, the ancient friend and ally of the Starks, House Tormont offered their oldest daughter to the Lords of the Corridor for their alliance. Powerful and respected, the Taugere family kept the way north safe and at peace for thousands of years. But a less known prophecy may declare if the world will freeze over again, or burn in the fires.

28. Chapter 28

CHAPTER 28 – THE LORD AND THE BLOSSOM

Claira sat at the head of the wide table in the Hollow, going through the scrolls brought by the ravens, and the reports sent by her lords; thinking of the bird that arrived at the maester's tower shortly after sunrise. The white raven, that told them that winter was finally here, and in the outside world you could feel as much on the breeze. Milla, the castle members and the villagers made it back to Mount Ardor late in the day after the attack; and added their efforts to the scouring and restoration of their home. Darius and his men left several days ago, after helping her people complete repairs to the village and the castle. With their extra arms, it didn't take near as long as might have been expected, and she was thankful for the support which allowed them to continue on with their lives, day by day, however hard it may be. Their fallen was honoured and buried, and the mercenaries with no one to claim them, was piled and burnt in the field. Philpot's apprentice smith, Gaiden Threefingers, called so for the fingers he lost in a number of accidents, took over the castle forge. One of the elder experienced captains of their masses, also a distant family member of lord Rames on his cousin's side called Quin was named new master-at-arms. Master of Horse was now ser Tursten Holdworth and the Kennelmaster's position was filled by Osbern Hay. They needed replacements for those they'd lost, but it still left a crack in her heart. The North was again under new rule following what was now called the Battle of the Bastards, with The White Wolf, Jon Snow as the King in the North by unanimous decree of the northern lords. Then she took another raven scroll from the table, and slowly unrolled it. News from the South that the great Sept of Baelor was destroyed, and king Tommen was dead. It was a tragic thing, he seemed to have the aptitude to be a kind and fair ruler. How long before I receive another summons? Then she lay the scroll down on the table and sat back, her hand going to her throat where her icy fingers traced the now dark scars on her neck. Again, she remained sleepless, simply enduring the long nights. But when she dreamed she could see them, staring back at her with their black eyes, grinning with jagged teeth glinting through their lips. She would scream at them as they approached, her heart throbbing through the extent of her body. And then came the dark shadow over the hall, and the heavy brown cloak settled gently on her before she woke back in her bed, clutching at the sheets as she thought of him. He protected her; against all of the odds that were against him, he saved her, and each day she wished they could find a way to thank him. Perhaps a new horse? Galeo was becoming older, after all. And there was a magnificent young destrier at the village stable she had noticed. But he had been riding her husband's Rage so often now, the fiery stallion may as well be his. Blackmantle Hall still stood deserted, and many would suggest that it was haunted or even cursed, but her sentinel was not superstitious. It would require a good deal of renewal; but perhaps he might claim it. No, he would never leave me... she reminded herself. Then she looked out through the window at the noon sky, clear blue in the distance without a cloud in the sky. It was a calm, clear and cool day, and they would only occasionally be met with a thin layer of white on their grounds, which she expected to increase over the following months, replacing storms of icy rainfall. Then a horn blew in the distance. A couple of the hounds responded with their throaty howls, but the bells did not answer, the severed cords had not been reattached yet. Then she looked up at Falgon, standing just a few feet away from to her.

"Ser Falgon, may you be so kind as to meet our guests? I will be down in a moment." she breathed, and he bowed his head to her.

"Of course, your grace." then he left the chamber, and she was left in the silence for a while, wondering where her family was, what they were doing, and how thick the mists have grown. Rhegard would certainly have ridden with the blood of Stark, and she was happy that their age-old allegiance with them was renewed once again. But with royalty on both fronts of her borders, war may come across them once again before too long and their forces were slow to replenish. To the best of her efforts, she had attempted to remain neutral of ongoing battles, but it could not remain so indefinitely. Sooner or later she must decide whom to support, and the expectations were great. Her lands were of the most fertile known in Westeros, and her forces had never been portrayed as languid or craven. Her lords, all of them, were powerful and courageous men, and perhaps the only reason they had continued to uphold their vows to her, was because of her family name. My Raeghun... Then the rush of soft footsteps drew her attention the moment before a frantic voice sounded in the passage.

"Lady Claira!" it was one of her handmaidens, sounding desperate. What's wrong? What happened? But before she could find the strength to stand, Laurene rushed inside breathless but with a smile, and shining eyes.

"Lady Claira, our lord has returned!" she announced in a voice so high of elation that it sounded closer to whimpers than words, but all Claira could do was to stare at her in a numb daze. My Raeghun...

"Lord Taugere has returned." She said again, smiling excitedly. Claira's voice vanished as she stood, and in something close to a dream she rushed down the incline with Laurene following, down the steps, through the Hall of Fire where their members stood crowded at the door and into the light of the outer bailey where her family stood waiting at the base of the steps. Her heart stopped. Tall and proud, he was mounted on a great grey warhorse with his sentinels holding their banners in the breeze behind him. She came down the steps, and all seemed like a hazed fantasy. He dismounted and approached her, his arms going out to her and she could touch him, her fingers sliding around his arms. He was real. He was taller than she remembered, and his eyes were lighter. Her hands went to his face, the warm skin of his cheeks and to the scars the lion had left, and they were gone. Tears stung at her eyes as she stared up at him, and his hands closed over hers, warm and comforting and sure and then he smiled.

"I'm home." The sound of his voice was a song sweeter than honey, he was real... The trembling started in her fingers, and stretched its way through her arms to consume her body as she battled to keep back the sobs, and his hands softly pressed down on hers to confirm his existence; taking another step closer and still smiling as he looked down at her.

"Raeghun..." but the name was nothing more than a whisper, and his gentle smile remained.

"I'm home, mother." he repeated softly, and her arms closed around his neck to smother a series of joyous screams and sobs into his shoulder while he held her tightly in a wonderful, soothing warmth. His mother was older, marked by the tiny lines across her features. But still beautiful, with her hair of midnight and starlight shining like the evening sky. Milla stood with her arms around her own son who'd returned home with the others, and then drew back. His companion from her family home, the youngster called Ormont of Highpoint, had taken the journey with them to Mount Ardor as well.

"What a wonderful day, that our sons have come home." she said and placed a soft kiss to his brow.

"It is good to be home, mother." he returned, his arms tightening around her small waist. Then he looked at his father next to them.

"I've missed everyone." he added happily, having felt his heartbeat against his ribs the moment they passed under the gatehouse, and then his mother's fingers brushed softly through his hair.

"And we've missed you, my dear boy." she said, then looked up at the couple at the base of the stairs where Rychon still held his mother securely in his arms. She hadn't seen her friend this emotional in years, but she was happy with her. So happy for her, that her loneliness will not remain.

"All of you." she glanced around, suddenly noticing that someone was missing. Bella had not come down, perhaps she did not hear the call of the horn. Then Rychon came up the stairs with his right arm still around his mother to greet them, and they received him happily before proceeding up the stairs, where the Battle Master waited patiently. Rychon looked up at him, and smiled as he extended a hand.

"Good day, ser Falgon." he greeted, and the tall warrior smiled as he returned the gesture, a large powerful hand closing around his.

"Greetings, sire. And welcome home." he replied, and suddenly Rychon moved forward throwing his free arm around the wide shoulders in a fond embrace.

"Thank you, for taking care of my mother." he said softly, and the hands rested on him.

"You are most welcome, sire." then he drew back, his attention going back to the lady of the hold.

"We should go inside, we've had a long journey." he suggested, indeed feeling tired of the roads. His uncle was insistent on accompanying them back to Mount Ardor, but he pressed that he still had yet to fully heal from his own injuries, and accounting that they've survived a battle, they could certainly survive a week's travel home on their own with the sentinels and their families, and the King in the North may need him more. Then he started inside as Berterin came up to Falgon, also extending a hand.

"Good day, ser." he greeted confidently, and Falgon took his hand.

"And to you, my lord. Welcome." the youngster smiled at him, and he felt at peace. The black wings were still there, but he was no longer frightened of the warrior, and Milla watched them as they shook hands, feeling overjoyed that the boy who once fled the sentinel's presence was now a young man who faced him fully with certainty.

"Come, I'll show you around after we've greeted everyone." Berterin said glancing at his friend beside him, who was staring at the tall warrior.

"I've seen you before." he suddenly muttered, but Falgon smiled back.

"Forgive me, but I cannot say that I recall you." he pardoned as he examined the boy, searching for the face through his memories, but then Berterin took hold of Ormont's shoulder with a shy look.

"He's never met you, ser. But Ormont has visions, usually distorted and vague. I suppose, that was where he 'saw' you." he explained.

"Visions?" Ormont gave him a sheepish smile.

"A tall stone, covered in the glitter of frost..." he told, and Falgon stared at him silently for a moment before he nodded, then Milla rested her hands on their backs to herd them inside.

"Before the sun sets, boys." she teased, and she followed them along with Gavin, Renko and their kin, still not seeing Bella and her companions among the members who came down and she decided to go look for them while the family lingered in the great hall where people crowded the arrivals to welcome them home. Suddenly, Ormont stopped looking down at the floor where a deep cut split one of the stones. He knelt down, running a finger over the deep gash, and his eyes clouded, but he cringed suddenly, like he'd been struck against his head.

"Is something wrong?" A concerned Berterin asked beside him, and he slowly looked up.

"No. No, I just... I was just wondering, what happened here..." he quickly told, deciding not to share; and Berterin glanced at the cut. It was perfectly straight, it was caused by something hard... and sharp. He looked up at his mother as she vanished through the arch to the eastern wing, and hurried down the long passages into the heart of their apartments to her daughter's room, thinking they might be there. But all whom she found were two chambermaids, one sweeping the room and the other replacing the bedding with clean silks.

"Have you seen my daughter, perchance?" she asked, and one of the girls looked up from the bed.

"Not for a while, milday. Mayhaps in the garden, or with the maester? She was carrying a book." she reported, and Milla nodded. If they were in the garden, she would have heard the horn. So, they were likely to be in the common room or with the maester, then. She hurried back, glancing over the hall as she passed where the people still stood together in their happy conversations around the nobles, then she rushed up the incline and many steps towards the maester's tower where she finally did find them, sitting around the wide desk next to maester Adlyn in his silver grey, going through the little tome she bought at the herbalist's shop while Beatrice paged through another book, and Sam and Stephanie seemed to be making notes.

"Bella?" the deep green eyes met hers excitedly as they all looked up.

"Mother. Maester Adlyn has been helping us with my book. He's found several references to the elements, like earth and air." she announced, and Milla smiled back.

"That sounds fascinating, but you girls had best come along now. We have arrivals." she told, and Bella glanced away.

"Must we really?" she may have been expecting that a vassal lord came to court again, on some or another matter.

"Don't you want to welcome our lords home?" her mother asked, and she looked back with wide eyes that seemed to sparkle.

"Our lords?" she asked, and Milla laughed.

"Yes, my sweet. Our lords." she glanced at maester Adlyn, the excitement brightening his deep brown eyes.

"Well, what are you waiting for, child? Go. All of you, go." he urged, then they stood from the table, leaving the tomes and parchments and hurried down the winding stairs and long halls lit with the lights of torches, all while her heartbeat echoed in her ears. He's home... He's come home... Finally, he's back! They'd waited so long with no word, but finally their lives would be complete again. Then she emerged into the hall, pausing at the top of the eastern stairway and looking down at the group on the second level in front of the great hearth. Her brother was home, too. And then she saw the lord with his arm around the shoulders of their lady, he was speaking with her father and the sentinels, and the happiness enveloped her. There was only one more, who needed to come home, and she wondered if the heir was still in Oldtown and if he was coming home, as well.

"Uncle Raeghun?" and then he released the lady at his side and turned, looking at her. She gasped taking in the vision that was her best friend. He wasn't a boy, any more. In his place stood a man, tall and proud with wide shoulders and a broad chest. Hair of black gold, and blazing frost blue eyes.

"Rychon..." then he smiled, making her heart skip a beat or three.

"Hello, Bella." his voice was deep and lordly, something magically alluring as the heat in her cheeks crept into her stomach. She rushed down the steps to meet him in an elated daze, but in her haste she stumbled on the last step and fell forward, colliding into him and driving the air from him. Timorously she looked up at him, but saw the grimace fade back to the beguiling smile as he chuckled.

"I know you're happy to see me, but please be careful." he teased her, and heard those around them break out is soft laughter, but she did not mind for the silliness and threw her arms around his neck while his circled her.

"Welcome home. I'm so happy that you're back." she breathed against him, and his arms tightened.

"So am I." he agreed before releasing her, and Berterin stepped forward.

"I'm home, too." he reminded in a soft tease, and she smiled.

"Of course you are, dear brother." and she greeted him the same way. This was a good day, a happy day, and it was spent with family together again, and she happily presented her companions to her brother and best friend, whom all blushed brightly. The castle hands returned their belongings to their rightful places, and when Bella finally reclaimed herself she noticed light eyes staring at her. But unlike so many of the others, there was no joy in the glare, and she took a breath to steady herself. Then she took Rychon's hand, looking up at him.

"I'd like you to meet someone." she told, and he nodded as he allowed her to lead him away to meet the guardsman. She smiled as she approached him, hoping she might change the thoughts that must be going through his mind if she presented them to one another personally.

"Rychon, this is my escort, ser Devan Locke." she said, and mirthfully she saw him smile at the stranger and extend a hand.

"A pleasure." he greeted, and Devan accepted the hand gingerly. Then she looked at the youngster.

"Devan, my dear. This is lord Rychon Taugere, lady Claira's son." she told, and he forced a smile of his own.

"Oh, yes. I've heard of you." he breathed, but the friendliness was not long lasted as he glanced at Bella, the hardness of his eyes still there.

"Quite endlessly, I might add." he emphasized as he brought his hand back. He was annoyed with her for some reason, but suddenly his demeanour was returned.

"You make that sound like a problem?" Rychon challenged, and the light eyes went to him again.

"No, of course not. Everyone is overjoyed at your return, my lord." he quickly replied, and the sudden heat receded.

"Good, then I am happy to hear that." he settled, and then looked at Bella still beside him.

"I'll meet you again tonight." he said, and she nodded while he then left back the way they came, leaving the couple alone as she stared after him.

"So, you've seen him. Are you happy now?" Devan suddenly asked, and she turned towards him.

"Of course I'm happy. Everyone is happy. You're the only one who seems not to be." she said, and he smirked.

"I have no great reason to be. Not if you're going to discard me, now that he's here." he remarked, sending a series of bee stings through her stomach. He made no effort to hide the disdain of jealousy.

"Devan, we've been close for almost a year. You think I'd simply forget that?" he glanced up at the young man moving away from them.

"It's not hard to imagine, with how you were clutching to him moments ago." the stings became a boil through her body as the anger fumed in her.

"Is that what you think of me?" she saw him breathe out, but did not wait for an answer.

"I'm not that stupid!" then his hand took hers and he drew her closer, forcing a shy smile.

"So the gods cursed me with envy. I don't want to lose you, to anyone." he breathed, and then lowered to kiss her, but she gently pushed him away.

"Not here." she told, and he scowled.

"You're afraid he'll see?" he tried again, a bit more demanding but her fingers found his mouth before it found hers.

"It's not him. My father-" she wanted to explain, but then he pulled her suddenly closer.

"Then let's leave. We can go within a week." again he urged her, and she stared at him. She didn't want to leave. Everything she knew was here. Everyone she loved was here. This was her home...

"I... I can't." then he drew back.

"I should have known." he breathed, and she started to turn.

"Think whatever you want." she sighed, and returned the way she came to the stairway and looked up. Maester Adlyn had come down from his chamber, and he too met the young lords joyously. She took a deep breath, and allowed herself the ease again. It didn't matter what Devan thought now, if he loved her the way he claimed to, he would understand. She could not just abandon them, at the very least until she was wed. His family could come here for the celebration... but such notions would have to wait a while longer. The sunlight faded to twilight as the day vanished, and all met in the southern hall to feast together on a delightful supper of poultry roast, sweet carrots, spiced potatoes and creamy cabbage, followed by gooseberry pie along with mead and press, all in the presence of hearty laughter, gallant tales and an energetic jester with a flute. Even the hearth seemed to glow brighter behind the lady in her assumed place of the lord's seat, her Battle Master to her right side, and her son to her left where the Trentins faced them at the high table, and Bella zealously claimed the seat in front of Rychon for the evening.

"Whatever happened to Wink?" Claira asked, noting that the little ferret did not return home with them, and Rychon laughed.

"Oh, he found his own little lady of the woodland. And he decided to stay with her." he told, bringing back the day his pet relinquished the comforts of a home with stone walls for the freedom of the Wolfswood alongside a snow white jill. He was sad to see him go, but if it was what would make his little friend happy he did not mind it. He looked up, bringing his eyes to the Battle Master on the other side of his mother, mostly silent and watching the hall.

"So, when will I face my trial against you, ser?" he asked excitedly, and the marvellous eyes met his.

"There is no need, sire. I understand you have proven your capabilities quite well." he assured, and Rychon breathed out, feeling equal parts disappointment and relief. Disappointment that he would not get to test himself fully against his teacher, but relief that he would not need to face his steel again. At the very least, he could still ask him to go to the training grounds if they had the time for it.

"Not without flaws, ser. Not without flaws." he returned modestly, but saw the great man smile.

"Men need flaws. It's what makes us human." he consoled him, and for just a moment the eyes went away from his; but he couldn't decide what it was they were trying to hide for that half a heartbeat. Late into the night the hall was cleared and their people returned to their chambers, and Falgon did not escort Claira to the lord's wing as was his norm, giving her son the opportunity to do so freely in his stead. The remaining servants were dismissed, and the door shut for the night, then he turned to his mother standing on the carpet waiting for him. She smiled as he approached her.

"I can't believe that you're taller than your father." she noted, and he laughed.

"I am?" in his memories, he was always looking up at him. He had never thought he'd be as tall as he was, as great as he was. And now, to hear he might have been looking down at him...

"I suppose you take after your grandfather, Rychard. He was very tall." she mentioned, and then took his hand in hers.

"Not as tall as Falgon, but well above most men." she remembered, and then she smiled watching the blue eyes looking back at her. As light as her own, but with a blaze she did not possess. His father's son... Line of the Ardent Kings with fire in their eyes.

"It is wonderful to have you back home, my sweet Rychon." she again said, her voice high with emotion; and then he held her.

"It is wonderful to be back, mother. Coming home was the best day I've had." then he pulled back, staring at her for a long moment.

"But I've been meaning to ask you something. I thought it should wait until we were alone." she watched him curiously, and then he sighed, seeming to think for a moment on the words.

"Who bit you?" her hand came up to her neck, suddenly self-aware trying to hide the scars.

"I didn't think you noticed." she breathed glancing away.

"Of course I noticed." he gently brought her hand away, examining the blemishes. They were well healed, but the wounds were once deep.

"Are you going to tell me?" he softly pried, and she looked back at him.

"A mercenary, when Mount Ardor was attacked. But he's dead now, they all are." she revealed, and he stared at her.

"When?" she shrugged.

"Three weeks ago, maybe a little bit more. I'm not sure." then his arms went around her again, closing her in the warmth she was so long bereft of.

"I'm sorry. I should have been here. I should have been here, to protect you." he breathed, and she pressed him tighter.

"My sweet boy, you're back now. We're together again. That's all that truly matters." she said into his shoulder, and they just held each other, happy and heedless of the time that passed from hours, to days, to weeks.

Rychon Taugere was the mirror image of his father, so many had claimed. Some, even called him by his father's name on occasion, and quite by accident. As the winds blew the sun and moon across the skies and storms over the lands the youngsters settled into their former routines well, and retook their sparring each day along with the more noble obligations of their court and Rychon attended his mother in many of these matters, with the intention of taking them over completely in time, and he was fondly doted on by all, save for a small handful. He discussed the northern threat with his mother as promised, but regardless of her apprehension and those of others, messages were sent to their bondsmen to ensure that all their resources were heeded carefully, from arms and armour to training to provisions; they needed to be ready to answer a call to arms at a moment's notice. He also took the time to visit the maester from time to time on the progress of his wound, which had yet to fully heal. The healer had mentioned that should maester Wolkan have used Redquiver root paste immediately each time he had cleaned the wound, the healing may have been faster. But his persistence to purify the injury was what may have spared him yet several more months of ineptitude, and the wound was indeed healing well, if not as quickly as he may have hoped. On lord Berin's insistence and lady Claira's permission, the members of the Order of Sentinels whom had been lost were replaced, when he chose six of the most valiant and devoted members himself, men who had formed part of their household for five years and more; whom were sers Jaysen and Michalis Flare from Cainhorn Keep, Ragon of Flint, Samm Smallember, Jolly Jon from Hillfield and ser Petyr Horn. They were all fervent in skill, and zealous in loyalty. But accounting the Battle Master's continued presence in the lady's company, and the now well known occurrence in the Hall of Fire at his hands some months ago, these new members were assigned to the young lord himself and the other ladies of the hold. But there were several utterances that Devan was most displeased at not being one of the chosen, further souring his temperament. But an easement came in the Horn Festival that came and went as it did years before, and was enjoyed by all in the realm who could or wished it so, and rumours were heard of a fleet having arrived at Dragonstone from the east not too long ago. More nobles came to court as well, with the hope of presenting their daughters, sisters, cousins and nieces as possible suitors for the young lord, and he met them all graciously while many lovely ladies wished to win his affections; and quite eagerly was late lord Garrett Foch's eldest daughter, the comely Ameera Foch among them. Even Bella's own companions frequently expressed their admiration of him, giggled and whispered on how handsome and how courteous he was, sighed and swayed for how strong and brave he was, and would flush ruby red cheeks each time he greeted them. But as far as choosing a maiden to court, he kept his thoughts to himself. But yet another apparent appeal surfaced between Berterin and Stephanie, and to Milla's delight the timid youngster seemed to trust him, or even favour him. They would spend many an afternoon walking the garden and the halls simply talking, and he even offered to teach her to ride. Such days were brought through in the castle's outer bailey where at first he led her around on a small brown palfrey as gentle as she was called Daisy, showing her how to hold the reins and how to sit, while his companion Ormont sat on a barrel watching them. Later when she felt more comfortable, he would join her on his own charger, circling the bailey first on a walk and gradually to a trot, and from there the girl blossomed. Bella's days were confined to the hold, primarily in the company of her guard, or then with her ladies when he was needed. Often when the lords entered a room with her present, he would steal her away to a different place or fabricate a reason for her departure; and it was apparent that she could not find the time to share or enjoy their fellowship as much as was desired. It was a cool overcast day, well after the excitement of the festival faded away that Claira stood in front of the window of the Hollow overlooking the outer bailey, watching a group of riders make their way outside towards the fields. Her son and his company, off to enjoy a ride and an afternoon of hawking with the village falconer and four of his prized birds after inspections were completed. Usually, her own company would join his on most noons, but today she had matters to attend to. She took a deep breath, and released it slowly as her hands ran down the front of her gown, feeling the smoothness of the orchid purple silk with silver and pearl embroidery. She had prayed for years, this was her answer. Then she turned and made her way back to the table where she took her seat and directed her attention to the letters on the desktop. With a clear parchment, she claimed the quill and started the letter, bound for Earndale Palace. She finished three letters when she heard voices in the passage, and looked up when Milla entered the room, and issued her a gentle smile.

"Working again?" she softly teased, and Claira sniggered as she returned her attention to the letter.

"You might say that." she agreed as her friend came to claim the seat next to her.

"Bella has met with Jeody on tonight's supper. I hope you don't mind?" she informed, and Claira nodded.

"No, of course not. She's a great help." she said as she continued the letter, and Milla glanced at the completed messages.

"You're making preparations?" she suddenly realised and looked at Claira, who slowly nodded.

"For Rychon's succession, yes." she concluded, and Milla stared at her with gleaming green eyes.

"But... But Raeghun..." she started, perplexed for a moment at her decision; but Claira looked up at her again with a sure smile.

"It's al right, Milla." she soothed, and the eyes softened. She glanced down, away from the frost blue, unsure of how to respond. There was sadness, but no deep sorrow. No regret, but simply acceptance.

"When did you realize?" she asked softly, and watched her friend sit back against the rest of the chair, staring at the space in front of her and allowing herself a deep breath as she chose her words. And then she smiled again.

"When he came home." she finally breathed, and then looked back at Milla.

"For years, I have hoped and prayed that the lord of Mount Ardor would return to me. And he has." she told, and then looked out the window, recalling that bright and glorious day, although it was not entirely bereft of heartache.

"When I saw him, he looked exactly like Raeghun. I thought it was him. And I knew then... I knew..." she softly confessed. Her lord had returned to her. The lord of Mount Ardor was home, at last. All else that followed would be coincidental, or alternately defined by the will or whims of the gods. Then she felt a hand on hers, soft and comforting as she looked back at her court maiden.

"I'm so sorry, Claira." she breathed, squeezing her fingers gently, and she returned the pressure.

"It's al right, Milla. We'll be al right..." she assured.

"When will it happen?" she asked, and Claira thought for a moment.

"Shortly after his sixteenth name day, that should be appropriate." she calculated.

"That is still a couple of months away." Milla recalled, watching her friend.

"We still don't know where my husband is, or what happened to him; and it may yet still be many years before we have that answer. But, while I don't wish for all hope to be dissolved, the rule of our country cannot remain under me indefinitely. Our people need a lord to guide them, they need his strength and courage for their future." she explained. There was still a flicker of hope, there always will be. And if her Raeghun came home, he will meet his son as the lord of Mount Ardor, and liege of the Corridor.

"I understand." Milla said, feeling equal parts happiness and grief. Happiness that their home, their people and their future will see prosperity and joy, but grief for what the lady of their hold was willing to surrender for it.

"I didn't see Bella and her friends in Rychon's company. She hasn't been spending as much time with them as I thought she might, since they came back." Claira mentioned, finding it something odd. She saw them at feasts, and meagre other activities inside the hold, but other than that she seemed to be rather isolated from them.

"Oh, I'm sure they're just preoccupied. Their responsibilities are keeping them quite busy." Milla said, but suspected that was not the only reason. The young guardsman who was to all knowledge her daughter's close companion for a year was possessive of her company, and easily irked with her wishes to spend time with the young lords; and despite her attempts to appease him they quarrelled frequently. Berin had half a mind to send the boy away, but for her pleading he had allowed him to stay on. But this was a subject that was a matter of concern to Rychon as well. He hoped that things may return to the way they once were, or something resembling it at least; and had asked her company to join them for their ride, but they didn't make their appearance when it was time to leave, and it left him wondering why she kept to herself. She hadn't been off the grounds in weeks, it was like she was a prisoner even if she would never admit to such. It was he who kept her there, and the notion that someone was controlling her was worrisome. Bella was a lady of his hold, not some peasant wench. She should be allowed her choices, she should be allowed her freedom.

"Berterin." the youngster came up to his side, mounted on a charger as tall but not as heavy as the young lord's grey destrier.

"Yes, my lord?" he presented himself.

"Do you suppose your sister is doing al right?" he asked, and Berterin shrugged.

"She hasn't complained. Is something troubling you?" he asked, and Rychon sighed.

"She hasn't come riding with us, despite my invitations. I thought she would be happy to get out." he mentioned, feeling thwarted. He remembered the day he came back, how his heart took wing when he saw her, beautiful in a dress of coral pink with a silver brocade centre piece and her hair naturally framing her lovely face. He wanted to see her smiling like that again. Then Berterin looked away.

"I suppose you're right. She used to be a very fond rider, but she hasn't left the castle in a long time." he agreed.

"Stephanie has not said anything, but maybe they're just busy." he concluded while Rychon looked over the fields.

"I don't think it's that. Despite her ladies-in-waiting, she's being separated from others." Rychon decided, realizing the sense in that. He looked at his friend.

"I want to take her out, she'll lose her mind if those walls are the only thing she sees." he told, and Berterin smiled.

"That sounds good." Berterin agreed, also hoping that they may find a way to release her from that jail. No matter how beautiful or magnificent or comfortable or indulgent, a prison remained a prison, and such things oft did not prove well for the mind. They settled on a wide green field, and watched excitedly as the birds took to the air. Among the four there were two Gyrfalcons, a Peregrine falcon and the spirited Red falcon with its white belly and fiery copper wings they'd come to admire, and as the day dragged on the grand animals brought down several prey items including hares and a number of birds. With dusk and a fine selection they returned home, where their family gathered around the high table and the rest of the hold shared the lower tables, and they supped on butter seared trout with cheese stripped cauliflower and creamy spinach alongside sweet mead, followed by peach pie with custard while Berry and Joldewin once again immersed the hall in their talents. The evening was calm and peaceful with fine company, and while lying in bed and staring at the canopy of his bed, Rychon wondered on his future as he listened to the wail of the wind outside that started to blow cold; but here, inside the walls of the burning mountain, it was always warm. His mind continued to wander between a recent past and a distant future, alternating once or twice with a distant past and the next tomorrow he'd see until he drifted off to soundless sleep and waking again to the rose blush of dawn. Like his father, he took to bathing in the mornings, for no particular reason other than it being a good way to wake up. After sparring and meeting in the southern hall to break their fast, followed prayer under the weirwood fountain, inspections and matters of court, and then he approached Bella and her companions, heading towards the garden.

"Bella." she turned towards him, her lovely face lighting up in a smile.

"Rychon." she acknowledged him, and he returned her smile as the others softly giggled. He loved seeing her smile.

"I again extend an invitation to go riding with us this afternoon." he told, but then the smile slowly faded.

"I can't..." she replied sombrely, and he stared at her.

"Why?" he asked, and she looked away. Devan would be patrolling on the curtain wall this afternoon, and he would no doubt notice her leaving with him. He didn't like her spending time with the lordlings, or even her brother to be entirely honest.

"I... I have things to do..." she tried, and he glanced down at the book in her hands.

"Please don't lie to me." he said softly, and she looked back at him as her friends exchanged glances.

"I'm not. And besides, Devan-" then he smirked.

"Since when do you need his permission?" he challenged, and she hardened feeling the heat in her stomach.

"I don't." she quickly denied, and then saw him smile with a glint in his fabulous blue eyes.

"Good. Meet us at the stables a little bit later." he instructed, and then turned to leave, likely to see to the arrangements, and her abdomen fluttered with little butterflies, in her secrecy desperate to escape the walls. A hand gently took hold of hers, and she looked at Beatrice beside her.

"Let's go, Bella. We haven't been outside the walls in months." she urged excitedly.

"Besides, the lady's son himself invited us." Samantha concurred.

"Please?" Bea continued, and Bella sighed.

"Oh... Very well, then." she finally agreed, but couldn't hide her own smile. If she told Devan that the young lord ordered her to go, perhaps he would not lose his temper again, Rychon was after all on all standards much higher than him. He could glower at him for a while, but nothing more. They hurried back to their rooms where she put the book away, and brushed her hair before again securing it with a jewelled pin. And then, with the help of the looking glass against her wall, she ensured that she appeared appropriate in a comfortable dress of warm, deep green velvet with gold detailing around the neckline and sleeves, and a sash of gold weave around her waist. Why are you making such a fuss? It's just a ride... she told herself, and finally discarded her fine court slippers for comfortable riding boots before meeting her companions again in the hall, from where they left the confines of the hold, heading down to the bailey, and finding the company in front of the stables awaiting them. Her brother and his friend already mounted on their coursers and Rychon on his great Storm.

"I'm sorry we're late." she breathed, making for her palfrey. A snow white elegance she'd called Pearl.

"No rush, Bella. We were waiting just for you." Berterin teased as she mounted, taking the reins up in her hands and savouring the feel of the leather saddle beneath her. The sentinels of their company helped the other ladies onto their palfreys, and she looked up at Rychon, patiently waiting.

"Are you ready?" he asked, and she smiled.

"Yes, we can leave." she said eagerly, and then he spurred his horse forward, and led their group through the gate and over the bridge into the country with three sentinels around them. For a moment she thought she heard someone calling to her, but allowed the wind to carry the voice away and into the distance as they rode, and she relished the feel of her Pearl beneath her in a gracefully balanced trot. Rychon glanced at her where she rode beside him, grateful that he could see her happy again. They took the main road past Garde's Post that would take them to the horizon, but soon turned down a narrow little pathway that passed a farm, and would lead them through the thick forest past the Willow and back home by late noon. They made their way along the small trail through the woodland which would only allow two horses close together on the path with Rychon and Bella leading, Berterin and Stephanie behind them, Beatrice and Samantha following, and Ormont with the sentinels tailing them, just enjoying each other's company and sharing their stories and adventures, heedless of the cold of a new winter and paying no mind to the sky that darkened under a thick veil of clouds. But then Rychon glanced up, suddenly thoughtful of the rush through the trees as the wind picked up. There might be a storm on the way... but the conversation remained blithe, and he hoped that the rain might only start to fall this evening when they were safe and warm at home. They ambled on over the tiny dirt road that snaked through the lush trees, when a worrisome sight appeared before them when the first of the thunder sounded in the distance. A broken tree hung hazardously above the trail, perched on a dry, broken branch of a tree on the other side, swaying in the gusts of wind as Rychon regarded it carefully. There was no way around, and if they headed back the way they came they might only arrive back at home well after dark, and he wasn't intent on keeping the girls out that long.

"We should move quickly." he advised, and another harsh gust of wind swept through the woods, and a loud crack sounded just above the wind.

"Hurry." he spurred his destrier forward to lead them through, but the wind seemed angry as they forged onward, erratically hammering against the broken tree. Bella followed, with the others close behind, when another savage gale ploughed through the trees.

"Look out!" someone's voice tore through them, and the frightening crack of wood showered them as the dry branch broke away.

"Get out of the way!" it was Berterin's voice screaming at them, and the pale horses leapt forward with painful heels in their ribs the moment before the tree came crashing down on the earth, blocking the pathway. Pearl danced around on the dirt as Bella attempted to control her, but Rychon circled them with Storm to keep them from blazing down the trail and took hold of the reins in his right hand.

"Are you al right?" he asked, watching as his friend forced several deep breaths into herself.

"Y... Yes..." then she looked up at him, with a sudden uneasy smile.

"That was close." she laughed, and he glanced back.

"Too close." he agreed, noting the dark streaks down his horse's flanks where the branches caught him. Then he released the reins as Bella secured them tightly, and rubbed a hand down Storm's neck. Good boy, you didn't bolt... then he looked up at the others in their company, staring at them from the other side of the fallen tree where Berterin held onto the reins of his own courser and Stephanie's palfrey as she clung to the mane wide-eyed, and cursed under his breath.

"Bella?" she called out to her, and the young lady urged her horse closer where the stricken youngster could see her.

"We're al right." she assured, while Rychon examined the obstacle. The branches would make it impossible for the horses to jump over, and was too thick to break off.

"And you?" he called to them, and Berterin looked at the wood blocking their way.

"We're fine." he breathed, and then brought his eyes up to meet Rychon's.

"What now?" he asked, and Rychon thought for a moment. There weren't a great deal of options, and the day wouldn't wait for them.

"Go back the way we came. We'll meet you at the keep." he told, and one of the sentinels moved forward.

"But, my lord-" he tried to persuade,

"There's no way over this, or immediately around. You'll have to go back, and we'll keep to the trail." he told.

"You're sure?" Berterin asked, and Rychon allowed him an easy smile.

"Yes. Now get going, or you'll in all likelihood miss supper." he advised, and watched as they turned their horses around to take the trail back, Stephanie spared them one final almost fearful glance.

"Rychon..." then he looked at Bella, staring at him.

"Don't worry, you're safe with me." he assured, thankful that a longsword was tied to Storm's saddle, but she blushed.

"Yes, I know." she replied, and he looked back at the small party taking the path away from them before turning and leading the way through the forest for a time longer still, and then the first drops fell. Rain was still more common here than snow, although they had their days of white flakes. As a sharp rumble of thunder sounded just overhead, Rychon looked up noting the dark blue-black clouds that hung over them.

"We should hurry, it's still a while's ride back to Mount Ardor." he mentioned glancing at her and taking up more of the reins. She nodded agreeing, and they spurred the horses into a canter along the narrow road. Moments later, the gentle drizzle surrendered to full-out pouring rain over the world, which he had hoped to avoid. Rounding a soft curve in the road, he glanced back through the drench, seeing her soaked and the drops splashing about the horse's mane. She'll fall ill if we go any further in this flood...

"Are you al right?" he asked, his voice pushing through the rush of the downfall, and she glanced up at him.

"I think so." she replied, and he noted the tremble in her voice; then he looked around, his gaze falling on the forest to their right which seemed to be dispersed enough for the horses to move through.

"Let's see if we can find some place to wait out the storm." he suggested, and she again agreed with a shivering nod before they headed into the forest searching for cover. The rain seemed less intense under the roof of leaves, but the consistent droplets from the sky exchanged for heavier falls of water caught up by the canopy. They stopped and looked around, and then she pointed.

"We could try there?" she said, indicating an old overgrown ruin only just discernible from under a mound of earth. It might have been a hunter's cabin, once. They went towards it, deeming that it looked fair. A stone level protruded from the top of the mound, supported by old and rotting wooden beams and several pillars, while a square opening which may have been a door led into the shadows. They stopped the horses under the cover of what might have once been a small hall and unsaddled, leaving them tied to vines that covered the inner wall and then retreated into the shadows away from the cold of the storm's breeze. Bella brought her hands to her mouth and blew, trying to release the chill from her fingers. Rychon put a hand on her shoulder, feeling the fabric that was soaked through, and then realized that he too was utterly wet.

"We'll build a fire, and hang our clothing to dry. It should be better when we head back." he said, and they started gathering what they could for some warmth. As they rummaged through the space, she noticed that this may have once been a kitchen, with a stone circle in the centre where a fire would be made; and several old and rotting wooden shelves along the walls that could house pots and kettles; an arched opening against the back wall indicated an old oven while the rest of the area was collapsed and filled by earth. They brought together straw that lay scattered about the floor, twigs, sticks and several splintered logs from under the unused oven and assembled it in the stone circle. Rychon took two sleek stones from the floor, and struck them together precisely; each time summoning a spark until one finally fell onto the dry straw, and he softly blew to bring life to the fire. Bella sat on a stone step, watching as he worked; and breathed in relieved as Rychon raised up and smoke bellowed from the straw, a tiny flame kindling the chaff around it and the first blissful sounds of a burning fire met her ears. Then Rychon stood and passed her.

"You can add some more twigs once it spreads." he said and then headed outside. By the time he returned with several long branches and some strings of the vine overgrowing the walls she sat next to the burning fire, adding more sticks and watching as the flames devoured the wood hungrily.

"Quite the survivalist, aren't you?" she mentioned laughing as she added another piece of wood to the fire, and he chuckled.

"My uncle used to take me and my cousins out into the Wolfswood a lot. We had to do these kinds of things all the time." he told, tying the branches together into three temporary racks and placing them around the fire, then he straightened, and looked towards the doorway again.

"Al right, I'll just be a moment more." he said and then headed outside again, returning with one of the saddle bags.

"You should get undressed." he suggested, and she looked at him from her place on the stone step, something between shock and confusion in her glinting green eyes, but then he smiled.

"So, you can hang them to dry." he added unembellished, handing one of the small blankets from the saddle bag to her, and then she stood.

"Al right." she went off into a corner of the darkness, and started undoing her dress. He smirked, hearing her struggle with the constrictive fabric that was reluctant to release her.

"Do you need some help?" he teased,

"No... thank you... I'm... fine..." she called back through her battle with the material, and he chuckled. Some moments later she returned, clasping the tiny blanket that only just stretched around her to cover her from her chest to her thighs, and he looked up at her from the stone step. The way the light of the fire cast a glow on her still wet skin, then he stood smiling.

"You look like a nymph." he teased again, coming over to her as she mimicked a laugh.

"Very funny, Rychon." she said, dropping her shoes next to the circle and handing the heavy dress to him which she had wrung most of the water out from.

"Your turn." she said, passing him. He laughed as he took the dress and spread it out on the first of the frames, then with the small blanket in his hand disappeared to relieve himself of his own sopping clothing. She resumed her place on the stone step, trying to warm herself while she waited for him. Some time later he emerged, the blanket wrapped around his waist and the garments in his hands, also wrung out. She regarded him, the way the light and the shadow danced over remarkably well defined muscles, which looked more a man closer to twenty than five and ten. He placed his own boots next to hers, and then spread the clothing out over the remaining structures to dry, and then took a place beside her, reaching into the saddle bag and seizing two apples of which he gave one to her. They ate what was left of their rations while resuming their conversation, wondering if the others escaped the rain and listening to the thunder and constant rainfall outside, a flash of lightning illuminating the walls every so often. He looked her way.

"I heard you were quite a traveller over the time I was gone?" he mentioned, and she sniggered.

"Hardly. We spent three years at Citrine Arch to help my uncle, then we came back to Mount Ardor; and a little while after that my father took back Bristlemane Stronghold; we spent another half a year there. But my father insists that his place is at the burning mountain. He wants me to go back to Bristlemane when I'm older, resume its rights and obligations." she told, and Rychon smiled.

"Then you'll be the lady of the hold." He teased, but she turned away from him.

"I don't want to go." After a moment of silence, Rychon sat back.

"Then don't." her eyes came to his.

"You would have me refuse my father?" she asked, and true it was a daunting idea.

"This is your life, Bella. You are the one that has to live with the costs of these choices, not him." Then she smiled at him.

"And you? So, how does it feel to be the lord of Mount Ardor, and the Corridor?" he came forward again.

"I'm not the lord, yet. But honestly, it's terrifying. There is this immense role awaiting me, and I could only hope that I make the right decisions for everyone." He sighed, but then he saw her still smiling at him.

"You'll be a great lord, Rychon." Bella assured him, and he felt thankful for her confidence in him, praying that she was right.

"I hope so. But, I'm not my father. I was told that there is nothing more I could be taught by words and books; and that the only way to better myself it to experience the world." He said, his eyes going to the light of the fire, the frost blue seeming to emit a golden glow from the light, and she couldn't stop staring at him.

"A while ago, I had a dream…" he mentioned, and she leaned slightly forward to listen.

"What kind of dream?" he smiled, not bringing his attention away from the fire. He hadn't shared the dream with anyone, until now. But it was easy to talk to Bella, she understood him so much better.

"In the dream, I was sitting in a great stone hall where there was a grand feast, and there were many people there, all of them members of my family. A man was sitting opposite from me, he was a tall man, he looked like a giant. There was this energy to him, he was shining like the sun, and I could almost see the fire burning around him. He was wearing the colours of my house, and his eyes were white. He told me, that I would be faced with very difficult decisions very early in life. But that I must never make a decision based on my emotions, or even because it is what will be expected of me. He told me, that I must learn to think logically on every situation, good or bad, and consider every possible outcome; and only then decide on which will have the better outcome for everyone, despite my intensities or the wishes of others." He told, recalling the vivid vision that felt all but real and then shook his head, but his eyes retained their focus.

"It sounds grand. And I hope you will heed his advice." she breathed, and he smiled.

"I didn't know what he truly meant, or even him for that matter aside from that he was some or another lord Taugere. But he felt so familiar… Like I've known him all my life." Then his attention left the fire, and came to her; his eyes returning to his mother's frost blue, but she still stared at him.

"What?" he asked smiling, and he noted the soft blush to her cheeks.

"When you looked at the fire like that, your eyes were gold." She said, and he chuckled.

"Really? I've never noticed." He glanced away, the same flash of gold coming over his eyes. That was the thing she had always noticed when he was looking at a light, even since they were children, it had been something she fell in love with if truth be told.

"Yes, well. I suppose it's difficult to take out your eye and look at yourself." They laughed together, and then a sudden hard thunder strike from outside made her jump, bringing her closer to him.

"Don't worry, I'll protect you from the scary clouds." He promised in another light tease, and then she looked at him again returning a playful face.

"How kind of you, my hero. I hear they're quite vicious." She teased back.

"Any time." He promised, recalling his own words years ago in the woods when he made a similar vow to his teacher as he placed his hand on her knee; and he could feel her shivering.

"You're freezing." He realized, her skin icy cool against his hand, but she shook her head.

"It's not that bad. I'm fine." She denied, but he lifted his arm over her shoulders.

"Don't lie to me. Come here." Somehow, he could instantly tell when she was lying, so she tentatively moved closer until she sat against his side, and he laid his arm across her back and shoulders, sharing the heat from his body, and she eased into him, laying her head against his shoulder.

"You're so warm." She praised softly, enjoying the warmth that came from him and slowly seeped into her, hearing him gently laugh.

"It's a family trait. The Taugere men are not just hot headed." He replied modestly, feeling her softly press herself against his skin to take in more of the warmth.

"It's nice…" she breathed against him, and for a while they sat like this in silence, listening to the chatter of the burning logs, the hum of the rain and rumble of thunder outside, hoping the others could find a shelter as well from this vengeful shower. Then he looked down at her.

"Do you feel better?" he asked, and she moved slightly closer, still drawn by the warmth.

"A little bit." Then his other arm went around her and hauled her up, setting her down on his knees with hers at his sides, and his arms around her waist.

"How's this?" she smiled happily, looking into his eyes that were even with hers.

"Much better." she breathed, feeling the warmth rising into her body completely, and they shared another laugh before she looked down, at the blemish on his shoulder.

"What happened here?" she asked, and he glanced down. The wound that was now a dark scar.

"Oh, that. I got hit with an arrow." he told as if it were something trivial, and she glanced at him in a moment of shock as he felt her thumb gently caressing the newly healed skin.

"Does it still hurt?" she asked, and he smiled as a mischievous thought flashed through his mind.

"Sometimes." her finger came back softly as she studied the wound, and he suddenly jerked back with a hiss making her jump and nearly fall from his knees, but he held her steady and laughed heartily as the expression on her face changed instantly from fright to anger.

"Don't scare me like that!" she yelled at him, throwing a fist into his arm which sent a painful sear down his left side, and he bit back a groan of pain as his right hand came up to cover the injury. Her hands covered her mouth as she stared at him, the anger returning to the shock.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she apologised as her hand covered his, and he looked back at her.

"Fuck it, woman. You want to take my arm off?" he asked, feeling the burn fade away to a throb.

"I'm sorry!" she apologised again, but after a moment of stunned silence they laughed together again. He deserved that one. She smiled, and leaned forward, laying her body against his, and breathed against his neck as they held each other. She remained like this for a while, savouring the warmth from him, the feel of his strong arms around her, and his breath in her hair. He breathed slowly, enjoying each breath and the soft, sweet body in his arms. It was a pleasant feeling to hold her, something fulfilling to keep her safe from the cold, even if he did not require a sword to do it.

"I've really missed you…" she whispered softly against his ear, and his fingers went into her hair as she pulled back and their eyes met again.

"I've missed you, too." they stared at each other, for a long moment that seemed like the world had stopped, and then he gently pulled her forward, and captured her lips with his in a lingering kiss as she breathed him in, the soft touch writhing into her and rousing the butterflies in her stomach. He smelt of wild spice, and she felt herself smothered by the enticing tingling. She forced herself back from him, her shivering hands resting against his chest.

"Rychon… Please don't do this…" she begged in a whisper, and then moved to stand up from him, but his arm tightened around her,

"I can't kiss my best friend?" he brought her back against him as her hands softened and the fingertips gently slid over his chest.

"It's not that." she replied, looking down. She wanted it, he was different from Devan. His touch was gentle... his kiss didn't hurt.

"Then why?" he asked softly, and her hands went to his face as their eyes met.

"Because... I won't want you to stop…" she whispered, then he smiled and brought her mouth to his. Her arms went around him as she surrendered; their childhood fell away like the leaves in deep autumn and she was a woman, and he was a man, caught in the never-ending rush of the storms. His hand came back from her, his fingers resting gently on her leg before he slowly caressed the skin of her thigh, her hip and over her ribs as the blanket fell away from her. He moved forward, carefully laying her on the fallen blanket and covered her body with his, moving his mouth from hers down to her neck and shoulder, and hearing her breathe in deeply, her chest rising and falling beneath him. Then he drew back for a moment, and took in her form, small and slender and flawless in the soft light as her arms came around his neck. She smiled at him, then brought him closer to kiss him, and held him close as he continued to kiss her deeply, hearing a small moan as he discovered her tongue with his and engaged a delicate dance while his hand traced a line along her arm, over her shoulder and across her chest between her small round breasts, down to her stomach and over her hip to her leg before drawing her knee past him. She whimpered as his lips moved slowly down across her chest to the tender space between her breasts, feeling the pulse of her sprinting heart and her hands resting against his neck. Then his right hand moved down, and removed the blanket from his waist before moving closer to her. He came up and kissed her again while her arms wound around his neck to pull him closer, then gasped slightly feeling his warmth against her. His mouth went down to the other side of her neck as she breathed him in again while his hand resumed its place on her leg, again tracing a soft line up the contours of her body to her chest, and over her shoulder to rest on the surface below them as hers went around his sides to his back, and lifted her head to place her lips to his neck. He moved forward gently bringing him closer, and her fingers strained into the skin of his back, then she screamed as he moved again, feeling his flames burning its way through her abdomen. He soothed her with a delicate touch and a tender kiss, and then took her arms, raising her hands above her head and locking his fingers with hers, and then as he continued to move brought his mouth to her breast to tease the sensitive mound while her legs wrapped around his waist. She gasped and whimpered against him as he moved, the pain fading away into once unknown pleasure, unending bliss flooding them until finally she cried again to his pulse and his voice to her throat, and she breathed desperately as her arms lazily slipped from him. He too, claimed a deep breath before laying down next to her, allowing the cool of the stones to rise into his skin while she turned and nestled up to him, her hand slowly coming up and resting on his shoulder. Turning his hand, he marked the remnants of blood, and he cursed himself.

"Rychon..." her voice sounded softly against his skin, and he looked down, seeing her eyes looking at him, dazed and sleepy.

"I love you..." she whispered, but he felt a bitterness coursing through him. He never meant to harm her... His arm tightened around her and he tenderly kissed her brow, feeling her ease against him and slip away into soft sleep next to him while the rain continued to fall mercilessly on the world outside. But despite feeling torpid himself, he did not share the sleep and lay condemning himself for his crime. Had it been anyone else, he might not feel such crushing guilt. He'd ravaged her. Her father would hate him, her brothers would hate him, her mother... his entire family would hate him for this. But he could not undo it. Could never take back what he'd done. I'm so sorry, Bella... He gently covered her with the discarded blanket, then carefully stood to inspect their clothing. It wasn't soaked any more, and should be wearable by the time the rain cleared. Then he added more wood to the fire before sitting down, and continued his silent shunning as he watched her sleep in the light of the fire, and the thunder over the forest. She was beautiful, she was strong, she was pure... and he stole that from her. You never deserved what I did to you...

Claira sat in her common room, watching her friend where she stood before the window, scanning the grey world outside and appearing restless. The rain was relentless, and she was clearly worried about them.

"Milla?" she turned, meeting her eyes with her hands wrung together in front of her.

"The children are still out there, and it's raining hard. What if..." she glanced down for a moment.

"What if something is wrong? Anything could have happened." she breathed, but the lady smiled at her calmly.

"Don't worry, I'm sure they're waiting out the storm somewhere. They'll be back soon." she assured, and Milla breathed out, wishing she could believe it. She couldn't understand why she felt so anxious. The fighting was passed, both their sons were accomplished battlers, and Bella was very capable of defending herself. Besides, Ormont and three sentinels were with them. There was no reason to be afraid.

"You're right, I'm being silly." she breathed, and then walked back to her chair to continue her knitting.

"But, if they're not back by the time the sun has set, I will send all sentinels and every available guard out to find them." Claira offered, and Milla felt relieved then, casting a last glance at the outside far into the distance where her daughter still lay sleeping under the little blanket beside the remnants of a fire. The world was a dull silence around her, and then she felt something heavy settling on her and opened her eyes.

"Bella. Get up, it's time to go." she heard Rychon's voice, and then he moved away. She sat up, softly rubbing her eyes and looked down to see her dress lying over her. It still felt cold, but at least it wasn't wet any more.

"How long have we been here?" she asked, bringing her attention to him where he stood in the doorway, already clothed and watching the skies that was slowly starting to clear.

"A couple of hours, I think." then he looked back.

"You should get dressed. I'll have the horses saddled and ready." he advised, and then vanished. She stared at the empty space for a moment longer, and then prepared to stand, finding herself sore and uncomfortable before suddenly remembering. It was not a dream. Carefully she came to her feet, and pulled the velvet back over her skin, proceeding to fasten the laces as best she could. Then she gathered her hair back, and secured it with the pin before pulling the riding boots over her feet, and then glanced at the space around her. What was left of the fire was but burning ashes, the racks were folded and discarded against a wall and the saddle bags gone. So she leaned down, taking up the blankets and made her way outside where he waited with the horses.

"We'd better hurry, there's not much daylight left." he told, and she nodded handing the folded blankets to him, and he shoved them into one of the saddle bags as she watched him. She felt the ache to her body, and the feebleness to her limbs, but couldn't think of anything to say as she stood wondering. Did he care? Then he turned to her, his eyes hard and emotionless.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and for a moment longer she stared at him. Did it mean nothing..?Then she looked away.

"No..." she finally decided, and turned towards her palfrey, taking hold of the saddle to mount. But her limbs were unhelpful, and she could not raise herself. She heard him sigh and then his strong hands took hold of her waist, and he lifted her up enough to swing her weight into the saddle. Taking up the reins she waited as he mounted, easily and unaffected. Then he looked at her.

"Let's go." he urged his horse onward, leading the way back to the pathway as she followed closely behind him in silence, their horses plodding noisily through the new mud on the trail left by the rain. But for a while, all she could do was to stare at him, confused and feeble. He didn't say anything, he didn't even smile at her. Why..? The woods started to give way, and they emerged onto the open fields, the height of the burning mountain far in the distance bathed in the copper light of dusk, and they continued on towards it.

"Rychon..." he glanced back for half a moment.

"Yes?" she looked down at the ground, the droplets of rain still clinging to the long grass.

"Are you angry at me?" she asked, but he kept his pace.

"No. Why would I be angry at you?" he returned, but she found it difficult to find the kindness in his voice.

"I... I just thought..." she started, but wondered.

"It will be dark soon, we should get you home." he again urged before spurring Storm into a paced canter, bringing the great keep closer in every stride. They passed under the gatehouse in the deep crimson purple of twilight, and finally dismounted to give their horses to the care of the stables. After helping her from Pearl's back, she stood on shaking legs as he examined her for a moment, and then brought his hands away from her.

"I hope you enjoyed our ride, my lady." he said, and then turned and walked away. She felt cold, the cracks working their way through her heart.

"Rychon..." she took a step forward, then he paused and looked back. Again, nothing in his eyes, no emotion to his features.

"Will you not speak to me?" she asked softly, completely perplexed.

"About what?" he asked, and the chill became a stinging cold that stabbed through her chest like a dozen blades.

"About… what happened?" she tried to remind him. Did he think nothing of it? Did it mean nothing? Then his eyes went away from her for just an instant as he drew a breath.

"Nothing happened." she shattered, and tears burnt in her eyes.

"I'll see you later, Bella." he said softly, and then left while she stood there broken and profaned. He didn't care. He felt nothing. He corrupted her. The only warmth was the tears escaping her eyes, and the flame in her stomach. Then a hard hand wrapped around her wrist, and she turned to Devan behind her.

"Where have you been?" he asked, but in his eyes was not kindness or concern. He was angry.

"Out." she replied, trying to pull away from him, but his hand tightened.

"What happened?" he demanded, and she looked away from him.

"Nothing..." she breathed. Was it nothing?

"I told you, I don't want you with them!" he warned once again yanking her closer, and the ice erupted into a blaze as she wrenched away from him.

"Don't touch me! I don't want to see you! If you ever come near me again, I'll open your cheek!" she yelled at him, then turned and fled into the confines of the castle, to the safety of her chamber while the warm tears still trailed down her face. He called after her, but she didn't care. He could go jump off the bridge. She didn't want to see anyone, and ignored every stare through the long hallways. Finally she slammed the heavy door of her chamber shut, and fell down on her bed, screaming into the pillow as the thoughts came back. I want to be married to the man that takes me... She had refused him, every time he attempted to persuade her. Not if you're going to discard me now that he's here... She wanted to see Rychon again, but not because of this. I'm not that stupid... She wanted to believe she could be strong, that she could stay sensible. Not all things are forced. Some are just... not controlled. Then she cried, drenching the silks in warm tears, careless of the discomfort and heat that still lingered in her, all she could feel even now. She hated this place, hated him, hated herself... hated all of it. The heavy door opened and closed behind her, and she cringed at the sound. Just leave me alone! But no words would form through her sobs.

"Bella?" her mother's voice would normally calm her, but instead it deepened the pain and contempt.

"Bella, what's wrong?" she sat down on the edge of the bed beside her, a gentle hand to her back, but the cries remained.

"Bella, will you please talk to me?" her mother begged, but she gripped the pillow tighter to smother the screams.

"I can't help you, if you won't let me." Milla tried again, and the dismal cries softened into whimpers.

"I can't tell you..." she sobbed, and the gentle hand ran softly along the length of her back.

"Did you and Rychon fight?" Milla tried to find a reason.

"No..." she tried to breathe instead of scream.

"Bella, please. Please tell me what happened?" Milla pleaded again, but Bella felt her stomach twist and churn and seethe. How could she tell her? What greater shame was there? But she sat up, wiping the tears from her cheeks. What more could happen?

"We were separated... We were waiting for the storm to pass... Rychon and I... we were alone... and... what happened... I just... we..." her hands covered her face, and the words suffocated her. But she felt arms around her, holding her tightly.

"Oh, my Bella... My darling child..." but she was shivering, too; and again she could not stop the cries.

"I'm sorry, Mama... I'm so sorry... I... I have disgraced you..." she sobbed, but her mother's hands remained gentle, and her comfort was blessedly calming.

"It... It will be al right." Milla tried to soothe through the heartache. Her only daughter, the heiress of their line. Once she had dared to dream that their houses may be joined... but not like this. Then Bella looked up.

"Please... Please, don't tell father." she begged, her deep green eyes desperate and frightened.

"Please..." she continued, but Milla's heart sank away.

"Bella, I have to." he had to know. She must tell him. This was not a secret she would could keep from her husband.

"Please don't tell him. He'll hate me..." she sobbed, and Milla held her close again, softly rocking.

"Oh, my sweet child. Your father will never hate you..." she soothed as Bella cried against her. She would have no choice, but she would approach him delicately if she could. Berin has always been froward, oft unpredictable and easily irked where his children were concerned. But Bella, his baby girl, was the light of his life. There was no telling how he would react to this...

Rychon stood facing the hearth of the lord's hall, his body as much aflame as the logs in the fireplace. The servants were dismissed when he'd entered, but having no desire to eat or sleep he lingered here for an unknown amount of time. Berterin and the remainder of their group had taken refuge from the storm at the farm bordering the woodland after the rain started to fall, and returned to the keep after dark, and while he was thankful that all were home safely, he still continued hating and cursing himself. He'd lost himself when things were so easy with her, while she trusted him to keep her safe. Then he heard the heavy door behind him open, and the Battle Master's deep voice greeting his queen good night after all had been settled and cleared. She returned his gentle words, and then her soft footsteps came his way after closing the door.

"You were not present for supper." she noted.

"I wasn't hungry." he replied, and he could feel her stare at him. Her frost blue eyes digging into his back like frozen arrows.

"Are you al right?" she asked softly, but he did not turn to meet that frigid stare.

"It was a long day." he returned, and the brief silence that followed was more disturbing than he would have imagined. He couldn't tell her what happened, what would he say to begin with? Was there any explanation he could give her, that would lessen the shock, would soften her rage, would stifle her hate for his shame?

"Rychon, is something troubling you?" she finally asked, and the flames tore through him painfully.

"No." he breathed, in his desperation trying to keep his voice low.

"You may tell me anything." she reminded him in her gentle way, but only a small smile made it bearable to look at her.

"Yes, I know." he said when their eyes met in half a heartbeat, then he turned away from her again as his mind screamed and begged for the fire through him to ease. He could tell her anything, but not this...

"Al right. Good night." she sighed, and then started making her way towards the steps.

"Sleep well, mother." on other nights she would kiss his cheek before departing for her chamber. But perhaps, his behaviour told her differently this night. And she was right. He was deserving of no kindness from anyone. He was meant to be the lord of this domain, and already he had fucked up. Finally, he decided to exchange the carpet for his bed, but sleep would not be his as his mind continued to wage its war that was all but maddening, and when the sun cast its rich light on the horizon he might have been on the verge of losing all reason. He rose again warily from the mattress, gathering his garments he made for the bath chamber to cleanse. Relishing the warmth of the water, he decided to ask Falgon to go out to the grounds for training, that might clear his head enough to think. Or he'd go alone. Either way, he needed to get away. He needed the seclusion, and the silence. He dressed in dark woollen breeches, good riding boots and a pale tunic under a belted leather jerkin before leaving the wing to seek out their Battle Master. He found him on his way up to assume his place at the lord's wing, awaiting their lady.

"Ser Falgon." the warrior looked up to acknowledge him.

"Good morning, sire." he greeted, and Rychon stared at him for a moment.

"I'd like to go to the grounds for training today." he told, and his former teacher nodded.

"Of course. Shall we head out with noon?" he asked, and Rychon hesitated for a moment.

"In truth, I'd like to leave early. If that's al right?" he asked, and saw Falgon smile at him.

"You are not asking me for a favour, sire. You give me a command, and I obey." he told, and for the first time Rychon felt a spark of confidence, and he could smile back.

"Good. Have the horses saddled, I will call for rations. And Gavin will see to my mother." he decided, and Falgon bowed.

"As you bid, sire." he returned back down the steps, heading for the doors to the outside world, making for the stables as Rychon sighed. Their Battle Master at least had a comforting presence, irrespective of his fierce prominence. Then he proceeded down to the barracks to give Gavin his assignment before going to the kitchens where cook Jeody supplied two saddle bags with bread, hard cheese, salt pork, fruit and waterskins. He slung the bags over his shoulder and then left the kitchen, but a presence on the second level made him look back briefly, where she was standing. Watching him, and the ache deepened. He claimed a breath to stifle the burn, then turned away from the deep green eyes and left the keep, passing a party of guards on their way to their rounds, receiving an acrid stare from one. But he paid the guardsman no mind as he vanished through the doors, and Bella stared at him for a moment longer before noticing Devan looking at her. Then she dismissed the thoughts, and continued on her way.

"Is something wrong, Bella?" Samantha softly asked next to her.

"No." she replied, but she still felt affronted, still resented his warmth that lingered in her.

"Did something happen?" Beatrice gently pried, but she couldn't find the need to confide in them.

"I... I told Devan that I don't want to see him any more." she confessed, but perhaps he wasn't deserving of her scorn. Had she heeded him, then perhaps this may never have happened.

"Did you fight again?" Sam asked, and for a moment she felt her fingers burn before a gentle hand wrapped around hers, and Stephanie softly squeezed her fingers.

"No. He's just... a bit demanding. I need some distance." she told, and heard Beatrice giggle.

"It's because of Rychon, isn't it?" she teased, and Bella faced her suddenly ireful.

"It has nothing to do with him! If I don't see him again either, it couldn't bother me." she declared, and again she hated it all. Then she turned away from them to hide the waiting tears.

"I'm leaving for Bristlemane in any case... So, what does it matter?" she breathed, and it might be better. To get away, and leave it all behind to find a different life. But try as she might, force herself as much as she wanted, her mind kept going to him, and the rage continued to battle the sweetness of their time together as she wondered where he was going. Yet, deep into the woods they reached the clearing, and dismounted their steeds, leaving them to graze. They walked over the grass, and Falgon examined the grounds. It was clearly eradicated, the logs dangling at angles with broken ropes, or fallen on the ground. The shafts too were snapped, and worn. With no one to maintain these grounds, it was left wrecked by time and weather.

"This must be repaired before you resume your training here." he mentioned.

"I suppose so." Rychon sighed, and he looked back to where the youngster was seated on a stone, his head resting in his hands, and he seemed desolate as Falgon examined him. He was burdened, and pained.

"You didn't come here for training, did you?" Falgon asked softly as he approached him, and after a lingering silence he saw Rychon's shoulders rise and fall in defeat.

"No..." he whispered, and Falgon settled down beside him. They shared the silence for a while, but if his presence was all the young lord needed right now, he would allow him that. And it was comforting, but he wished his father was home. He would give him the guidance he needed, he would tell him what to do. Then Rychon looked up, lowering his hands.

"Have you ever done something, you wish you could change?" he asked, and Falgon regarded him calmly.

"I've done countless things, that I wish I could change." he told, but it felt like the words breathed peace into the world around them, and Rychon sat slightly back. He, at the very least, would not condemn him to death like he knew others would.

"I've done something terrible. My entire family will hate me for it..." he started softly, but there was nothing but silence as the warrior listened, simply attentive with his striking eyes, and so he felt the comfort to tell him everything.

"I... I took Bella..." he confessed, and suddenly all the flames of his anger and rue broke over him in a fury, rising in a flood from his hands and feet into his core.

"I feel horrible. I never meant to hurt her. She didn't deserve what I did to her." he confided, expecting harsh words from the tall sentinel, whose root was set in the protection of their fairer and gentler counterparts. But his response, was certainly unexpected.

"Did she refuse you?" he asked softly, and Rychon shook his head.

"No. But if I hadn't kissed her, it might not have happened." he told.

"Oh. Oh, I see." he breathed, looking up at the shadows creeping between the trees on the other side of the grounds. He knew what the young lord was feeling, all too well. He had no reason or justification for contempt. But Rychon had to strangle a laugh. That's it?

"And you're not going to say anything?" he asked, and the eyes met his again solidly.

"What do you want me to say, sire? That it was wrong? It was, and you had the capacity to realize that on your own. But wishing it didn't happen, won't undo it. Your only choices left, is what to do, going forward." he told, without anger; and Rychon looked away from him again.

"Maybe, I don't wish that it didn't happen. Just the when." he thought, and heard the sentinel sigh.

"One course, might be to wed her." he suggested, but that was not something he could bring himself to so suddenly. And he couldn't subject her to something he wasn't sure of, either.

"I don't want to marry, yet. If I turn out to be a shit lord, what kind of husband would I be?" Rychon asked, casting him a glance. He might have expected the rigor of an obligation, but instead he was met with compassion.

"You don't need to be a great lord, to be a good husband." Falgon told him, but Rychon sighed.

"But still... I need to be sure of my competence, and my stability. I must be sure of myself." If he would only make her miserable, there was no point in it. And in that instant he shunned the words she'd given him when she lay bare against his skin.

"You don't love her?" the warrior asked, a gentleness that deserved the truth.

"I care about her deeply, but I'm not sure if it is love, yet." he confessed, and then lowered his eyes to the ground.

"But whatever happens, I will care for her... for both of them... They will always be well provided for, no matter what." he resolved, fully intent to hold his feet in any situation. He would support her regardless of anything else. Then he felt a hand on him, just for a moment imagining the strength of a father on his shoulder, and looked up into a soft smile.

"That is a decision a man would make. I am proud of you, Rychon." he approved, and the youngster felt courage come back to him. He might not be able to make it right, but at least he could make it better. Then he sighed softly.

"Can I ask you one more favour?" he asked, and Falgon nodded.

"Of course." he agreed, and Rychon sat back.

"You have always been close to my mother, and you are far more eloquent than I am." he started, and the sentinel laughed softly. He knew exactly what he meant.

"I will speak with your mother for you, but that might be the extent of my benefit." he agreed, and Rychon had to share his laugh.

"Thank you." he breathed, and then looked back at the training grounds; only now realizing that it was in a state of impairment.

"You won't be able to get much training done today. But, we can stay a little bit longer if you want, or we could head back." Falgon suggested, and Rychon concurred.

"We'll head back, and start the repairs in a few days." he decided, and then stood. They took the time to inspect the grounds for what was needed to restore the labyrinth before remounting and taking the way back to Mount Ardor, and returned just past noon to find Berterin and Stephanie in the outer bailey doing their rounds on their horses while Ormont watched from his perch on a barrel, calling out his advices. Once in a while, they'd dare to pass over to a slow canter for several steps before falling back to a trot, and he generously praised her efforts. They surrendered their horses, and whatever was left in the saddle bags to the stable boys before entering the great hold, and heading up the stairs. He'd missed most of the morning, but his mother might be going over the reports in the Hollow; and that was where they found her with maester Adlyn and Gavin, a selection of scrolls waiting on the table from where she looked up at him.

"You're back early." he smiled as he approached.

"The grounds are in need of restoration before I can resume my training there. We'll have that done in another day, or two." then he glanced at the parchments on the table.

"Go and rest, I'll take care of these." he proposed, and she glanced at the letters.

"It's just entreaties." she said, and he laughed.

"Then I should be able to handle them." he assured, and she looked back at him.

"Are you sure?" he gently took her hands to draw her to her feet.

"Yes. You've been doing far too much." he urged, and she sighed.

"You're so admirable, my Rychon." she breathed, but despite the painful sting to his heart he brought her cold fingers to his mouth.

"Thank you, for believing in me so." he said, softly stroking the skin on the back of her hands. Then he brought her from the table and allowed her to leave the counsel chamber, watching dismally as she departed with her sentinels behind her, knowing that the news would crush any faith she ever had in him. But whatever came, he must face it. Then he turned to the maester.

"Shall we continue?" he asked as he moved to take his place, and the maester nodded.

"Of course, my lord." he agreed, and reached for a nearby scroll while Claira made her way up the passages and stairways to her common room. With Stephanie in the bailey polishing her riding skill, and Milla in the garden with the girls it would still be a while before they joined her, but she might take the time to sort the basket, and she would admit in secret that Bella was out of sorts since they've returned from their ride the day before, and it proved unsettling. She would even dare to say that she was rather cynical if she wasn't silent completely. Like Rychon, she was not present for supper; and although she joined their table this morning while he chose not to, she barely breathed a word. Sweet Stephanie even suggested that she see the maester, which she declined – as politely as she could. She entered the common room, finding it vacant save for a couple of servers clearing and restocking the tables. As she made her way to the basket, she heard a brief exchange between her sentinels at the door, where Falgon excused Gavin for the rest of the day with the assurance to resume his place in her company for the remainder, and then he left. She glanced down at the clutter in the basket, threads and needles and fabrics and wools in a colourful mess. But barely had she reached down to pick up the fabrics that she heard his heavy footfalls coming up to her.

"Your grace." she turned back, met with the great mass behind her looking down.

"Might I beg a moment to speak with you? Alone, if it please you?" he requested courteously, and the air in her chest froze over for that instant. This was a very rare request, and quite uncommon from him; but if he did, it was something important. She looked at the girls.

"Leave us, please." she instructed, and they gave her an anxious glance before leaving and closing the door behind them. Claira waited, listening to the footsteps vanishing down the passage before returning her attention to him, and saw his shoulders rise and fall.

"You might wish to settle down, your grace." he suggested, and the ice in her chest increased.

"Is something wrong?" she asked worriedly as she took a seat on her chair, and he stood in front of her. His eyes were soft, but stern as he finally knelt before her.

"Your son came to speak with me, on a matter that is a dire concern to him." he started, and she felt the ice spread into her stomach and cheeks. She'd noticed that he was acting strange, that he was aloof and distressed. But despite knowing he could always come to her, he chose not to; and she did not favour interrogation.

"Why didn't he just come to me?" she wondered, but saw her sentinel glance down with a gentleness in his eyes.

"I'm sure he wanted to, he just didn't know how." he replied, and then looked up to meet her eyes again, but the cold would not relent.

"He came to me, not because he did not trust you with his truth; but perhaps because he knew that you would be angered and ashamed." he further explained, and she sat back against the rest of the chair, wondering what happened, and the bees started to stir in her chest. What happened? What did he do?

"I don't understand..." she finally managed through the intensifying uneasiness, but he remained composed and controlled, and yet this did not ease her.

"Yesterday, when the youngsters went riding, the group was separated. Rychon and Bella took shelter from the cold of the storm, waiting for it to pass. In the comfort they felt with one another, he claimed her maidenhead." he explained, soft and calm; but the ice erupted in flames through her while the bees attacked every limb.

"You can't be serious!" somehow she abruptly rose to her feet livid, resolved to return to the Hollow to admonish him sharply for this scandal, and on their own family, no less! But he stood before her, gently taking her shoulders.

"He knows he has faulted, and has confessed his regret for his actions. He has vowed, that whatever the outcome, he will not reject her or the child. They will remain well cared for." he assured, and she felt suddenly dizzy as the flames left. How could this happen? This was far from what she'd imagined for either of them, and her heart wept as her fingers strained into his arms.

"Falgon..." she felt like crying herself, but was too appalled to even think clearly beyond the blow, and he carefully had her retake her seat. What should she do? Milla will be devastated, and Berin will be furious... and Bella... their beautiful Bella... she felt Falgon's hands on hers, and then looked up at his eyes. He was still as calm as a soft summer eve. How could you be so tranquil?

"I know that, as a mother, it is a difficult situation. But I ask that you not further berate him." he asked, so tenderly it was difficult to refuse him, and then he smiled in his gentle way.

"He is trying to find his way." he assured, and she sighed as the flames left and all that was left was the draining tingling through her body as she sat back resting her head in her left hand.

"I... I can't believe this..." she breathed dismally, but felt his powerful hands around hers and the soft pressure to her right fingers.

"Give him the chance." he urged, and she drew a deep breath. There was no way to change it, and as unfavourable as it was, there was naught to do but to accept it and live with it.

"Al right." she finally agreed. Whatever happened, she would keep them, and sustain them, and give her aid in anything that was required.

"He is becoming a man. And he wants to be a good one." Falgon again said softly, and she wanted to believe that. This was just so... so unexpected. Then she looked up again.

"What now?" she asked, and astonishingly he only shrugged.

"I promised that I will speak with you. But, the rest he will have to deal with on his own." he sighed, and her heart sank away. No doubt there will be a brutal exchange, and immeasurable tension in their home, their families might even be torn apart. She could only pray to the gods, that it will not come to any violence, and that the formidable sentinel may at the very least stay his hands. But such wishes, may be sadly forlorn as the head of their Sentinel Order stormed up the passages, drowned in rage. In the safety of their bedchamber where he discarded a torn tunic for a new one after sparring, his wife had approached him carefully, and spoke tenderly to withhold his wroth. But it was ineffective, and he ruptured. He cursed and he screamed, his fist still throbbed from striking the wall, and blood dripped from his fingers. She tried to calm him, but he tore away from her, listening through the burn as she cried and called after him, all to no avail. He should have him vaulted, should have him starved, he should have him whipped, should have him strung up by his feet. Had he more power, he would have his head for this! He entered the Hollow, all but blind.

"You impudent wretch!" he fumed heedless, met with the shocked deep brown eyes of the maester, and the blue of the youngster whom he had just addressed.

"Be mindful to whom you speak, lord Trentin." he returned disturbingly calm, and then looked at the maester at his side.

"You may leave us maester." he told, and the old man struggled to his feet before hastily making his departure, and closing the door. But all Berin could do was stare at the boy looking back, who had betrayed his family.

"You took my daughter!" he accused, and Rychon sat back.

"She did not refuse me." he replied, and the fire in him swirled in a maddening daze. That does not give you any right to her!

"You were like a son to us! As close as a brother to her! And you have defiled her! You have destroyed any possible future she had!" he continued, his hands aflame and the wounds across his knuckles searing. But Rychon regarded him, almost coldly.

"Regardless of your thoughts, your daughter remains a lady of my hold. All will be in accordance to her stature, here." he told, and Berin forced a deep breath into his chest.

"I expect you will see to it that -" he started, but the sudden voice silenced him.

"I will do what is necessary. And I expect that you will henceforth retain your courtesies as is appropriate." he decreed, but the flames came again. It was not enough.

"If you got Bella with child-" suddenly Rychon stood, his hands slamming onto the table surface.

"Then I will not be the first Taugere to father a bastard!" Berin fell silent. The boy he'd been chastising, was not a boy. He was a man, taller than he was. And he would be their lord.

"You have my standing on the matter. Now, get out." he ordered, and after a moment's baleful glare Berin turned and left, still livid. He had not offered any excuse, nor any remorse. He was vile, and self-seeking. He would be a ruin on this house. Suddenly he noticed the maester slowly shambling up the passage, and approached him heedless of the shadow vanishing behind him.

"Shall I assume that you overheard our exchange, maester?" he asked, and the old man turned back, his eyes still revealing his anxiety.

"Not intentionally, my lord. I swear." he quickly told, and Berin again forced his silence. The healer had wronged no one, he deserved no harshness.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that." he said softly, and the maester could claim a breath of his own.

"It's quite al right." he said, and then looked down at Berin's hand.

"Your hand." he noticed, and Berin brought it up. Most of the blood had dried, but the wounds were still glistening.

"It should be fine." he said, and maester Adlyn nodded.

"Come, I will bind it for you. I do find myself in need of some aid to reach my tower, though. I've sent my page to feed the ravens, and I'm afraid he has not returned yet." he hinted, and Berin had to smile. Their healer was a man well into his nineties, but regardless of his persistence he could be allowed his failings that most men would never see.

"As you wish." he held his arm to offer the maester some stability, and escorted him to his tower chamber where the maester cleaned the wounds with boiling wine and dressed it with an ointment before binding the injuries.

"If this has any meaning to you, lord Berin. I am sorry, for what happened." the maester said softly, and Berin sighed. He knew the truth now, there was no point in shying away from it. But the thoughts still angered him.

"May I offer you some tea?" the maester asked compassionately, and Berin sat back in the small chair.

"Thank you." the maester moved away, recovering the small pot from the fire over his hearth.

"I never expected this from him. He's not the boy I remember! He's impudent, he's conceited, he's arrogant-" he started as the flames came again, but oddly his broken hand felt cold. Perhaps from the balm. Then the maester looked at him.

"That may be, because he no longer is a boy, lord Trentin." he gently interjected, and then replaced the pot on the table as Berin scoffed. That was something he had to agree to, though.

"And it's not about arrogance, my lord. It's about respect." he added, coming over with the cup in his hand and presented it to the lord whom slowly took it. Was it really about that? Then maester Adlyn took the seat at his side.

"Rychon is still very young, and an only heir besides." he told, and then dared a long sigh.

"Please understand, that he cannot allow anyone to treat him with contempt, no matter how close they are to him. If he permits any form of impiety against him, he will not long hold the honour and loyalty of his vassal lords. And in all perspectives, that is something that he must have." the maester explained, and while there was a truth to it, did it make him above reproach? None of the Taugere lords would have tolerated disrespect, but neither would they abuse the powers they held for amusement.

"But maester, what he did..." he started, the flames gradually diminishing.

"Was not without guilt, or shame. But I do believe, that he will never blatantly disgrace your daughter, my lord. He will do the right thing, regardless of all else." the maester assured, resting a withered hand on the lord's arm. There was comfort, and consolation. But, in spite of his intensities, what the old man had said was his honest truth.

"Do you truly think so?" Berin asked, and then saw the maester's sure smile.

"Of course I do. He is a Taugere, after all." he reassured, and then Berin sat back with the tea in his hands.

"I hope so, maester." he sighed, but then strangely the maester sat back as well, seeming almost mournful.

"This house is powerful, and respected, and ancient. It has stood for thousands of years beyond many odds. But, the Taugere line has never been as thin as in the last century..." he breathed, and Berin found himself stunned. Why would he be telling him this?

"Lord Raeghun was an only son. And while lord Rychard had both an older and a younger brother, the eldest was not true born, and the youngest died a boy. Lord Varin was an only heir. Lord Vaeghun, was an only true heir after an older brother was stillborn... and while his father was a powerful and virile man, he was easily swayed by others. And they all came into their rule young." he continued to tell, and then looked out the window.

"In the chronicles as left by maester Arngard before me, it tells that lord Vaeghun was sent to Storm's End as a boy to be warded. He served lord Baratheon for many years as a cup bearer, and squired for lord Lyonel Baratheon, that great knight known as the Laughing Storm. In his absence, his father was murdered and an assumed ruler claimed his wife, much as was attempted with lady Claira some years ago. The country disintegrated, and there were multiple rebellions. When the White Phoenix returned as a knight at seventeen to claim his father's seat, he had to sacrifice much and more; and the lands were drowned in blood of both enemies and allies." he told, and then looked back at Berin.

"Is this thinning of their bloodline a curse for an unknown crime? Who might know, but the gods themselves." he sighed,

"I cannot give you cause or issue, and I will not blame you for any anger you hold. But Rychon is the only living heir of house Taugere's name, and if he falls, so does this house and all it has stood for, for over ten thousand years." he softly breathed, but Berin nodded.

"I am angry, maester. I have every right to be. But..." then he smiled.

"This is my home, and my family. I will never allow this house to fall, so long as I stand." he said, and the maester smiled back.

"Good. Very good. I am relieved to hear that." he breathed. After finishing their tea, discreetly infused with a drop of Nightshade essence, Berin left calmer than he'd come. But maester Adlyn remained staring out of the window, suddenly ponderous. His own service started under lord Varin, whom was still a young man. But... while he was black of head and blue eyed like any true Taugere, he recalled another man with long hair white as fallen snow, and burning blue eyes. It could have been Aemon Targaryen, they've spoken at the Citadel from time to time. But his eyes were a bright orchid purple, and his hair cut short. Lord Vaeghun Taugere, the White Phoenix... Was this a dream, created by the many different accounts? Suffice it to say, that the memory was not clear, and yet it was so distinguishable. Yet, for all his vague and vivid visions, he was the oldest member of this house, and would never know for certain.

With another two days gone, ropes and shovels and wood beams and bags were loaded onto a small cart to start repairs on the training grounds in the woods. There were no more harsh words, but the tension remained in the halls. Courtesies were upheld, but without true kindness, and it was heartbreaking. Bella and Rychon paid no more mind to one another beyond an occasional greeting, and their interactions were less than they were before that unfortunate day despite sharing a table at meals. Berin was silent as well, and ignored the youngster unless directly addressed, and even then his replies were terse. With noon while two destriers, a charger and a mule left the gate of the burning mountain for the training grounds, Claira watched them go through the window of her common room with Milla next to her, awaiting the younger ladies.

"I'm sorry, Milla. I'm so sorry for what happened." she breathed softly.

"You shouldn't be sorry. This was their choice. All we can do, is to live with it." she sighed, and Claira looked at her, her stare lost on the outside world.

"You are handling this remarkably well." and then her light green eyes met hers, calm but grief stricken.

"What is left to us? We cannot change it." then she looked away again.

"It's just tragic, that this has separated our family so." she said, and then felt Claira's cold hand on hers.

"I never imagined, that it will come to this. But whatever the future holds, Milla. I will face it with you." she promised, and saw her friend smile.

"I know." Milla was grateful for her, for the assurance they had. The lady of Mount Ardor had become a powerful woman, with a tender compassion. They would stand together in wind and snow and storm. Always.

"Come." Claira led her back to the chairs where they took their places, and shortly later were joined by the girls to continue their works, sharing modest conversation except for Bella whom remained quiet and reserved, and spoke only when spoken to, and even more sorrow lingered over them that she wasn't their happy girl any more. Then she stood and lay her knitting down on the armrest to stand.

"Bella." she looked up.

"Walk with me, please. We must discuss this evening's serving with Jeody." she told, and the girl rose to her feet.

"Yes, my lady." she agreed, and they left the chamber, moving along the passages where servants and guards crossed their path. Until a single long passage left them alone, and Claira stopped turning to Bella.

"Bella..." she looked up at her with eyes empty of emotion.

"Are you still happy here?" she asked, and the girl looked down.

"Of course I am. This is my home." she said joylessly as Claira examined her.

"And yet, you wish to return to Bristlemane?" she asked, watching as Bella fumbled her hands together.

"It's not just me, aunt Claira. My father wants me to assume the rights of the hold." she explained, and then felt cold fingers around hers.

"Well, whatever you decide, whatever happens, you will always have our support." she said, and Bella felt a new burn of tears to her eyes.

"I... I didn't want to go... I never wanted to leave here... But..." she started slowly, and a tear escaped as she broke.

"But?" Claira gently urged, and she looked up again.

"But... if my presence here... will be something miserable... I... I don't know why..." she sobbed, and Claira held her.

"My sweet nymph. Why are you miserable?" she asked calmly, allowing the girl to cry.

"Because... Because Rychon won't talk to me... He... He just told me that it was 'nothing'..." she whimpered, and Claira softly stroked her back, but she rather focused on breathing than the fire in her chest. Nothing, was it?

"That was a terrible thing to say." she said, the flames burning its way through her chest, having a mind to chide him for that. His father would never have reacted in such a way, but... perhaps there might have been a reason?

"Were you alone when you put it forward?" she asked, and Bella took a breath to calm herself.

"We were in the bailey." Bella recalled, the air in her chest suddenly feeling hard.

"Were there others?" Claira asked again, and her breath became suddenly solid. Devan was behind her. That was what Rychon looked at before he left.

"I... I don't know..." she whispered, and then Claira drew away from her.

"I will speak to him. But it you still wish to leave, I will not try to convince you otherwise." she softly promised, and Bella wiped the tears from her cheeks.

"Thank you. But... It might be best." she said and then felt a gentle hand secure a lock of hair behind her shoulder.

"As you will. But there's still lots of time." she eased, and then led her further down the passage to complete their task, while in the woodland there was progress on the fallen training grounds. Berterin had insisted to accompany them, but had difficulty controlling his thoughts as he worked. They used the shovels to renew the path through the maze, and replaced the broken shafts while repositioning those that had fallen. Berterin scaled a tree with a length of twine, and shuffled along one of the low branches before lowering the end of the twine to be tied to the rope so he could bring it up, and cast it down again. Falgon took hold of it, and with his great strength pulled the beam up and secured it at the proper height. With much of the day gone, three of the logs were repositioned, while fifteen others awaited the repairs.

"We'll tend to these tomorrow." Rychon decided, feeling worn. Then glanced at Berterin, dropping from the tree.

"Take a rest, and then we'll head home. We've done a lot today." he proposed, satisfied that the state of the grounds were already considerably better than before. He headed to the stone where they left the saddle bags to distribute what was left of the water and rations. He'd wanted to speak with Bella, but whenever he saw her she was with her ladies, and she might not agree to see him alone. Perhaps he could ask her for a walk tonight before supper, or tomorrow morning. He brought the waterskin to his mouth, and savoured the cool liquid before turning to hand it to his friend, but a sudden hard impact met his cheek and dull pain ran down his neck as he staggered, and the waterskin dropped from his hand. Dazed he looked at Berterin behind him, his hands clenched into fists.

"Bella is my sister, not your harlot!" he suddenly told him, and Rychon turned towards him.

"I never said she was." he replied, fuelling the youngster's anger.

"You never said anything! You just ignored her! If you'd acknowledged her, I might not have cared!" he swung at him, but Rychon ducked away and the blow missed, then he moved forward shoving his friend back.

"I didn't ignore her!" Berterin came at him again, he was fast; and a number of savage blows were thrown. Berterin's fist aimed for his face, but again he avoided it. He watched the flames of the lordling's right hand race for his stomach, and shot back as the fist swung by him. Once more he turned and brought his elbow towards his ribs, but the same hand blocked the blow, and the fire of his left hand came flowing towards his head. He dropped his weight, and the arm passed him. He could see it all so clear, it was easy to avoid him. If he could only surpass his strength... more blows were swung of which none connected. Again, Berterin threw his weight forward and they collided, rolled across the grass before finally Rychon found himself above his friend, pinning him to the ground with his fist raised, and then a powerful hand hauled him back.

"That's enough!" Falgon's voice shattered them, like thunder through the forest; and Rychon stood perplexed watching his friend rise to his feet.

"You fucked my sister, and then you discarded her!" he accused, his eyes glinting.

"I will never discard her! Never!" Rychon denied it. The world could burn and drown before he abandoned her.

"I said that's enough!" the sentinel roared again, and then turned his attention to Berterin.

"You! Sit down!" with the black wings spreading, he obeyed and sank to the grass, close to tears. Then Falgon looked back at Rychon, just staring at the space in front of him.

"Are you al right?" the youngster turned away from him, the left side of his face throbbing.

"I'm fine..." he lied. He wasn't. Not really. He expected harshness, expected others to hate him. Perhaps he should have expected this, too.

"When you said you wanted to take her out, I was happy... It was nice that you cared about her... If you'd courted her, I wouldn't have cared..." then Berterin looked up.

"And then you go and do this!" he yelled, tears escaping his eyes.

"This is not your battle to fight! Not your judgement to make!" Falgon chided him, but Rychon rested a hand on his arm.

"It's al right, Falgon." he eased him, and then looked back at Berterin.

"I don't know what you heard, but I do care about Bella. I never meant to harm her." he told, and then walked forward and knelt in front of his distraught friend.

"I deserve what you did. But she is a lady of our hold, and always will be. I swear, I will never reject her." he told, and slowly the eyes softened.

"Then why? Why are you avoiding her? You haven't spoken twelve sentences since you got back." he breathed, and Rychon looked down. I haven't gotten the chance... No. I don't know what to say... Maybe. She hates me... Definitely.

"I will. I just..." he had to.

"When?" then their eyes met again.

"Soon. I give you my word." he promised, but she must agree to it. Then he focused on his cheek again for an instant.

"How hard did you hit me?" he asked, breaking into a smile and Berterin looked at him puzzled.

"I... I don't know..." but then he laughed.

"Hard enough, I suppose..." Rychon took his hand, and drew him to his feet.

"Ser Falgon." then he looked at the sentinel.

"This altercation never happened." he dismissed, and then he nodded.

"As you say, sire." he agreed. Children fought, boys fought, men fought, for multiple reasons, good and bad. But if this was discovered, lord Berin's son could be arraigned. It was death to bare steel against your liege lord, raising your fists to his son might be much the same. They gathered their belongings and took the trail back home, arriving at the keep with the twilight settling over the lands, and they settled into the southern hall for supper where they were served stuffed pheasant and raspberry pies, after which Bella excused herself with her companions. Presuming she wished for an early evening, he watched her disappear from the hall but could not deny the longing. Others also left, and finally with the hall cleared they returned to their chambers, where Rychon again found himself standing in front of the lord's hearth, looking up at the sword on the shelf, praying that he might have the strength to wield it one day. Then his mother came from the bath chamber, dressed in a soft yellow gown and her hair falling naturally down her back. Then she paused to look at him.

"You still haven't spoken to Bella much." she noted, and he sighed.

"She seemed exhausted." he replied softly, but she could only nod. Your father would never have ignored something like this! Would never have avoided a situation, no matter how dire! She wanted to tell him, but had agreed not to rebuke him.

"She... She means to return to Bristlemane." she told him, and he looked down.

"I see." he breathed, and she approached him.

"If you said it was 'nothing', I can't change how you feel. But she's heartbroken-" she started, and suddenly his eyes met hers, burning in the flames.

"It wasn't 'nothing'. I've thought of it every waking moment since that day. But, I couldn't discuss it with her when she wished, because we were not alone. What kind of reaction would that have created? What would have been thought of her?" he asked, and the heat receded slightly as she stared at him. He risked wounding her heart, to protect her honour.

"Then do something nice for her, please." she begged, taking hold of his arm, and he looked back at the hearth, his doubts already conquering him.

"Give me one good reason she would want to see me now." he said, and she suddenly hardened.

"Because now you share more than just a childhood spent in one home, Rychon." she told him, and he sighed. It wasn't like he didn't want to talk to her, he just couldn't find the best opportunity.

"The longer you wait, the harder it will be for you." she told him, and he nodded.

"Al right. I'll try." he agreed, and then looked back at her.

"I just hope... she'll accept it." he breathed, and she gave him a comforting smile.

"She might be waiting, for you to come to her." she urged, and then gently took his face and brought him down to kiss his cheek.

"Good night." she whispered, and he smiled.

"Sleep well, mother." he greeted, and then she started towards the stairs. But before vanishing up into the hallways, she looked back at him, still staring at the sword and she drew a breath.

"Rychon." he looked her way.

"When you take up your father's sword, you take up all the rights and responsibilities of our house. I just... want you to be ready for it." she told, and he smiled.

"Don't worry. I will be." he assured, and she returned his smile before leaving up the stairs. Their country was in the best care, as his mother would remain regent until his father returned to them, or otherwise proven. But, he would make himself stronger and wiser as best he could, so he would be worthy of that. And he must start with Bella. He'd go to the carpenters before sparring, to commission a carving for her. Something special. And after meeting for their morning meal, he might ask her for a walk, if she wasn't busy, and if she would agree to it. Then he turned away from the flames, to relinquish himself to his bed.

The morning followed much as planned, and along with Renko he slipped from the hold with the dawn to find the carpenter's guild master just opening his doors. After a fair deal of detailing, he finally assigned the creation of the Trentin sigil, which will be refined by their member Qudo; who was by all notions exceedingly far better skilled in sculptures than wagon wheels; and if given the day to himself the carving should be done by nightfall. Returning to the keep, he discovered that he was late for sparring, and had to face Berin. Fists were harder than swords because your opponent was closer with more freedom, especially against him. But despite having to push himself hard to meet the challenge he was put to and ending up on his back no less than four times, the blows were not brutal. Worn of the bout, he took a seat on one of the bales while Berin reclaimed his shirt.

"How did I do?" he asked, and Berin spared him a fleeting glance.

"You're getting better." he replied, then pulled the fabric over his skin.

"Try not to be late tomorrow, my lord." he advised, and then turned and left into the hold. Rychon sighed as he stared after him. No more harsh words, but no less anger than there had been in the days before. He retained his courtesies, as well as his bitterness. It will be a long time before you can look at me without hate, won't it? He pulled the shirt over his shoulders, then stood and entered the castle to cleanse his hands before heading to the southern hall to join their family to break their fast on eggs, sausage, bread, cheese, fruit and fresh press. Bella would keep her discussions to her companions, but would cast him the occasional glance. I have to speak to her today. I can't wait any longer... As the serving girls were clearing the tables, their members left the hall; and he followed the ladies into the Hall of Fire.

"Bella." she turned, meeting his eyes.

"My lord..." she stood waiting, and a fire stabbed into his chest. I can't wait any longer...

"May I speak with you?" he asked, and she glanced away.

"I..." she started, searching for words.

"Please, I beg you." he pleaded, but still she hesitated. Please! Please let me talk to you. Please... then she managed a tiny smile.

"As you wish." they turned for the garden, but the sound of a warhorn drowned the world, followed by the tolling of the bells and a meagre few barks and howls from the hounds. Oh fuck! Why now? He turned towards her, watching him expectantly. Then took her hands.

"I will meet with you again later, I promise." he quickly brought her fingers to his lips, and then disappeared from her to meet the callers. But for the first time in days, she had a grain of optimism. She watched as he left the hall for the bailey, but as others joined him they followed. Rychon stood at the top of the stairway, awaiting the oncoming party with his mother, her Battle Master and the head of their order with him. Several taxing moments later, a group of riders entered into the bailey, and Rychon recognized two of them. With black hair and black eyes, the White Wolf rode at their front, with grizzly ser Davos Seaworth at his side. There was another hoary knight with them, whom Berin recognised as ser Jorah Mormont of Bear Island, who'd fought in the siege on Pyke, and fled Westeros at some point years later, as well as another black haired and blue eyed youth, and a number of soldiers. Rychon descended the steps to receive them as they dismounted their steeds, and surrendered them to the grooms and stable boys.

"Your grace." Rychon extended a hand to greet Jon as he turned to face him, and he took the hand easily.

"Good day, young lord Taugere." he smiled, and Rychon returned his gesture kindly before glancing back to the others joining him.

"Mother, my lords; this is Jon Snow. King in the North." he announced, and then returned his attention to the visiting party.

"May I present my mother, Claira Taugere, Lady of Mount Ardor, Wardeness of the Corridor." he presented, and Jon held his hand out to Claira while she surrendered hers.

"Such a pleasure, my lady. We've met before, many years ago." he told, issuing a gentle kiss to her fingertips.

"I remember. Welcome, to all of you." she replied, followed by more introductions.

"I did not think to see you again so soon. What may we do for you?" Rychon finally asked, but for half a heartbeat the young king seemed unsure of what to say, until his advisor came to his aid.

"We came to ask your help. Again." the old knight said, recalling their request at Pale Haven some months before.

"With what?" Berin asked curiously from Rychon's side.

"An assignment of great importance." ser Jorah put forth discreetly as he took a step forward, and for a moment Claira seemed uneasy before nodding. He was a large, robust man with hard features and hard eyes.

"Then perhaps we may discuss this charge, under better conditions?" she proposed, and Jon managed a grateful smile.

"Of course, my lady." he agreed immediately, and she started leading them into the hold.

"May we offer you anything?" Milla asked as the group entered the castle, and ser Davos looked up.

"Thank you, milady." Bella and her companions lingered behind, watching the lords and lady's progress into the shadow of the keep, in all likelihood intent to continue these discussions in the safety of the Hollow.

"What's happening?" Bella muttered, feeling unusually anxious as a vision from her girlhood came back, when the Young Wolf rode through the gate of their home. If strangers from other regions came here unexpectedly, it did not bode well. But then she felt a soft hand to her back, and looked up at her brother beside her.

"I don't know. But it seems important." he replied softly, veiling his own uneasiness. There were no threats – not directly at least. But if this was anything resembling of a war council, he might not be permitted to join them.

"I'll try to find out." he said as he led them inside, then watched as his mother made her way to the kitchen while their lady, her son, her Battle Master and the head of their Order accompanied the group up into the passages of the castle to the Hollow, and then followed. Three serving girls soon brought pitchers of mead where the members settled around the wide table with Claira at its head, Rychon and Berin to her sides, Falgon behind her left shoulder, maester Adlyn present, and the others close. Two girls left while the last remained to supply the goblets with fresh drink, and Berterin stood in the doorway, finding the atmosphere sombre he wondered if he should leave.

"Berterin." he suddenly noticed his father's eyes on him.

"If you insist on joining us, you'd best close the door and take a seat." he hinted, and so he did, quickly taking his place next to maester Adlyn where the server lastly filled his cup as well. A moment of silence followed as they waited, and Claira looked up.

"The hospitality of Mount Ardor is yours for as long as you need. What business do you bring to the burning mountain?" she asked, and Jon sat forward.

"Thank you, my lady. And I do apologise for this unexpected calling, I realize that circumstances have not been favourable." he said softly, and then the discussion continued among the members. The threat from beyond the wall, the meeting with Daenerys Targaryen whom had recently taken up the island stronghold of Dragonstone to the east of King's Landing for her aid, irrespective of the battles waging forth in the south. That they hoped to reach suspension of hostilities until the army of the dead was dealt with, but could only achieve this by providing proof to queen Cersei Lannister whom currently sat the Iron Throne. They went on to explain that they travelled by ship to Boatwright, rather than making passage to White Harbour and travelling down. But they came here with the belief, that they could plead for their help once more. That they may stand together against the Night King, and his force.

"An army of walking corpses?" Berin breathed dubiously.

"This threat is real. I've been beyond the Wall, I've seen them with my own eyes." Jon insisted.

"If we don't do this, and do it together, we will all die." Davos agreed, and Claira scanned the faces.

"Why not simply send a raven?" Claira asked, and Jon sighed.

"We've sent ravens to other houses for help before. Many did not believe, and our words have been left ignored. Perhaps you wouldn't have, either." he supposed, and she sat back.

"My son has told me of this. And while I cannot say that I believe you, I knew your father for a man of his word. I have no cause to think you are any different." she said softly, and then met his eyes.

"And so I will give you the benefit of your words." he breathed out, seeming relieved.

"The Corridor has stood in direct alliance with the North for as long as what could have been the Dawn Age, and if you need our help then of course you shall have it. What is it you need from us?" she asked, and Jon glanced at Davos.

"We are heading North to hunt down one of these soldiers, and once we have it we will return to King's Landing to present it to the queen. Your lord husband had once given his help and guidance to my brother, and I had hoped that we will have your support in this as well." Jon told, and for a moment Claira only stared at him with a frigid sting to her heart. She remembered that morning, too well. The sight of her husband at the head of their masses, his armour flashing in the early sunlight. And then he vanished into the distance, not to be seen by her again... It was a bitter-sweet memory.

"Yes, my husband gave his aid to your brother. And he has yet to return to me... You would ask me to lose my son to you, as well?" she asked, a crispness to her voice but no true anger. But all the visitors could do, was stare back abashed. Davos finally dared to breathe slowly.

"Milady, I know you have lost much. But if we do not make this work, we will all lose everything." he tried, almost soothingly. Flames were etching their way down her arms, but then a hand rested on her knee under the table, and the painful flames receded to a calmer tingle as she looked at her son, smiling gently.

"Your name is well respected throughout the kingdoms. Its importance will carry great efficacy for us, if we are able to attain this soldier." Jon softly agreed.

"You still need to capture this creature?" maester Adlyn asked, and Jorah nodded.

"It will be a hard endeavour, but we must make a success of it." he told.

"You're going alone?" Berin asked.

"There are more that might be able to help us, but we can't take an army north." Jon said.

"You won't need an army, just a few more men with experience." Rychon finally said, glancing at his mother.

"But, as regent it is left to my mother to approve." he hinted, and a sudden uneasy flash brightened her eyes. A heartbeat of silence felt like a day.

"My son has only returned to me barely three moons ago..." she breathed, but then looked at him.

"However, there are some choices that must be left to him, if he is to take his father's place one day." she allowed, and a heat burnt through him. She believed in him, she trusted him, and still does. Then he smiled, looking back at Jon.

"I will accompany you myself, along with two of my strongest." he said, and a deep voice filled the chamber.

"Shall I join you, sire?" Falgon asked, and Rychon looked up at him. He was their strongest, by now it was well known. Berin was their strongest, but he will not expect him to risk his life for what he'd done to them. He had to choose others.

"No, you are our Battle Master, and will remain here to see to the defence of the burning mountain, and to protect my mother, as is your duty. I take Renko and Jay-" he started, but then Berin silenced him.

"I'll go." he said solidly, and Rychon stared at him. I... I can't let you...

"You are the head of our Sentinel Order, lord Berin." he reminded him, and the deep green eyes met his securely despite the soft smile.

"And the head of the sentinels' place is at the lord's side, my lord. I will go." he returned persistently, and Rychon sighed in secret, in his heart deeply relieved. Then he looked at Jon.

"When do we leave?" he asked, and he spared his own companions a quick glance.

"As soon as possible." he told, then Rychon nodded.

"We will start preparations immediately, and head out with the dawn." he decided, then looked at his mother who sat silent, but for the pain in her eyes.

"With your permission, we should start tending to our measures." he requested, and she slowly nodded, and with that the members took their leave from the counsel chamber, and orders were sent down to prepare the horses to ride at first light, along with a cart to hold their effects. In the passage, on his way down to the barracks to see to the needed arms and armour, Rychon again approached Berin.

"Lord Berin..." he turned back, looking up at him and the guilt left the youngster silent for an instant.

"You... You don't need to go." he again told softly, and then the sentinel faced him fully.

"I will. You are still my brother's son, after all." he replied, compassion in his voice for the first time in days, and Rychon looked down. Loyal beyond all else...

"Thank you." Berin bowed his head, and left again down the passage to complete his task. The swords would be sharpened anew, including his own. The armour must be sufficient, and they would certainly be in need of warmer attire for the journey. Winter had come, and they were going into the heart of it. You are still my brother's son, after all... No, it wasn't just that. You were like a son to us... he sighed. You still are... Much of the day was spent on preparations and alterations, and with noon Berterin did not call on Stephanie for her afternoon riding lesson. To be fair, he'd been absent for much of the day, following the meeting. But passing the castle armoury from asking the smith to examine a recently discovered lax horseshoe on Storm, Rychon found him there inspecting his sword, and entered curiously.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and Berterin looked back.

"Making preparations, as you've ordered." he replied easily, and another surge of heat went through the young lord. No... I can't let you go... Not you, too...

"You're not going." he refused, and Berterin gave him an odd look. An almost defiant look.

"Excuse me?" Rychon sighed.

"I need you to stay here." he told, but his friend still stood staring at him.

"There's no way I'm letting you go off alone." he insisted, but Rychon scoffed slightly.

"I'm not going alone." he denied, but the eyes remained hard and resolute.

"If what Jon said is true, you'll need every sword." he continued, and it was true. But one Trentin life was already put on this, he could not have another.

"Berterin, we can't-" he tried, but a hand to his shoulder silenced him.

"You're not changing my mind, Rychon. I'm coming with you." he told, and Rychon knew then that even chaining him to a pillar in the Hall of Fire, would not keep him here. Then he laughed.

"You're stubborn, just like your father." he teased his friend, and received a proud smile back in turn.

"I am his son. As you are yours." he said, but for an instant Rychon wasn't sure if he should feel honoured, or ashamed. He wasn't his father, he'd done things he never would have. But, if he could, he would redeem his name.

"Al right. Make sure your equipment is sufficient, and that you're warm enough." he suggested, and then returned to the keep. In the kitchen, bags were stocked with salt meat, nuts, hard bread and hard cheese, provisions that would hold until they could replenish. In the wings, crates were supplied with warm clothing items, including thick wool doublets and furs. In the stables, the chosen horses were given larger portions than normal, and in the bailey the wagon was examined for any faults that might need repair. All, while night came too soon. With the preparations well under way and the wind blowing cold in the darkness, the lives of the hold assembled in the southern hall with their guests to share a last kind evening where they supped on warm leek and potato soup, followed by hearty mutton pies, and berry cobbler with custard. And as once before when he was a child, the King in the North found himself admiring the great sentinel whom he'd once named his friend, happy that his once small wish to meet him again could be granted. Everything he remembered remained the same. The dark hair, the striking features, and the fierce, honey-gold eyes, touched by a spark of red. Only...

"You're not as tall as I remember. I always remembered you, looking down at me from the heavens." Jon reminisced, but saw the warrior smile.

"You're not as young as I remember, majesty. You were a base-born boy of six when we met, and now you are a king of three and twenty." he reminded him, and Jon was awed for just that instant. Has it really been that long? He hasn't changed... at all.

"But I am relieved, that you took my words with you. That your birth does not determine who you are." then Jon laughed. It was good, to hold on to those words. Perhaps, in some small way, those words had brought him this far, as well. With the ladies escorted to their chambers to retire, the lords lingered at the table over a final horn of ale, discussing their way forward. They would start on the Honey Road to where it met the Roseberry Trail, then follow that up north to where it joined the King's Road for a couple of leagues and then continue on to White Harbour. And from there continue on to Eastwatch by the Sea, which was the closest Wall Castle to Hardhome where the Night King was last seen. They would set out with daybreak, and only stop to make camp with twilight should they not have the benefit of an inn, farm or smallhold for shelter. If the road and the seas favoured them, they would reach the Wall within a fortnight, but with all that awaited them before they could claim success, they would not see home for a number of months. It was difficult, with no guarantee, but the path had been set and there was only one way to go. Forward... After sating their thirst the hall was cleared, and the remaining members and guests made for their apartments. The visitors, having been given free choice of any of the chambers in the west wing vanished down the great passage, japing on their full intent to make use of the luxurious bath chamber before claiming a good night's rest while Rychon parted ways from Berin and his son to return to the lord's wing himself. But unexpectedly, he found his mother in the lord's hall in front of the hearth, again neglecting her sleep.

"Mother?" then she turned to face him. Her features were soft, but her eyes were drowned in sorrow.

"Must you leave?" she asked, and he approached.

"I want to help them. Father would have." he told softly, and she looked down.

"You only just got back, Rychon..." she whispered softly, and his arms circled her gently.

"I don't what you to go... I... I can't lose you..." he held her tightly, softly soothing her aching heart.

"You're not going to lose me, mother." he tenderly kissed her brow.

"I will come back to you. I promise." she looked up at him,

"How could you promise me that?" she asked, but he smiled.

"Because I am the son of lord Raeghun Taugere. There is nothing alive – or dead – that will keep me from my family." he told confidently, then her arms circled his neck and she held him.

"You are... of course, you are..." she agreed, stifling the sobs.

"Thank you, for allowing me this choice." For a while they stood, surrounded by the light and shadows until a soft knock at the door drew his attention.

"Enter." they released each other as a handmaiden carefully peeked inside.

"My apologies for disturbing you, milord and lady." she pardoned, and Claira acknowledged her.

"It's al right." she eased, and Rychon faced her.

"Is something wrong?" the girl smiled with a subtle blush.

"No, milord. A crafter from the carpenters guild begs an audience." she announced, and it struck him like a bolt from a crossbow. Fuck! I almost forgot...

"I will meet with him, thank you." the handmaiden nodded, and then vanished again as Rychon turned to face his mother.

"Go to bed, there's one more thing I need to do." he urged, and she nodded.

"Al right. Good night." she started towards the stairs, and he left the lord's wing rushing down to meet the crafter; while Bella lay on her bed watching the stars through the window. Today hadn't turned out at all how she'd hoped. He'd promised to meet her, but with this sudden turn of events, and the rush to gather their means, the notion must have fell between the cracks of his thoughts. And they were leaving tomorrow. Perhaps, when they were gone, she would leave as well. It might make her parting from her home less painful. She buried her face in the pillows, her arms wound around herself, shunning herself. She could still feel him. Why could she still feel him? Why would this heat not leave her? By all the gods, why? But, somehow she couldn't bring herself to hate it. It was a pleasant warmth. A kind warmth. A gentle warmth... and maybe- She shot up as a soft knock sounded at her door, but thinking she had slipped into a dream, she waited until it sounded again. She stood, and made her way to the door to open it. The sight left her stunned for an instant.

"Rychon?" he stood facing her, his blue eyes bright.

"I am sorry if I woke you. I didn't mean to come so late." he apologised, and she smiled.

"It's al right." she told as she stared at him, elated that he'd come after all. Elated that he was speaking with her. And then he glanced down at the object in his hands.

"I came to give you this, along with my apology for my behaviour... and my actions. I pray you might forgive me." he said softly as he presented the carving to her, and she took it gently in her hands. It was a mounted knight, less than perfect, but the crafter took great care to meet the smaller details on the knight's face, feet and hands; and a flowing mane, tail and caparison with dark spheres on his flanks for his steed. And instead of a banner blowing in the breeze, he was holding a great sunflower. Regardless of the few flaws, she fell in love with the tiny knight and smiled.

"Did you make it?" she asked as she looked up, and he laughed. Could that be a blush?

"I wish I could say yes, but I asked the guild." he confessed before bringing his eyes to the carving.

"If you don't like it-" he started, but she laughed.

"He's charming. Thank you." she said, adoring her little warrior. She would name him 'Veric', and his place would be on her dresser in the morning sun where he could watch over her.

"My mother tells me you mean to return to Bristlemane." he said, and she looked up at him.

"I have thought about it." she mentioned, but saw him nod.

"If... If you'd permit me, I would be pleased if you'd stay." he said softly, and in that instant she felt her heart flutter. He... He did care... He does-

"At least until I returned." he then added, and the fluttering died away.

"Oh... I..." she couldn't find the words.

"Please?" then she sighed.

"As you wish, my lord." she agreed, and he glanced down the passage.

"I shouldn't keep you, it's late." then he looked back at her, with a soft smile.

"Good night, Bella." she returned his gesture.

"Sleep well, Rychon." fleetingly he leaned down, placing a kiss on her cheek so softly she may have missed it, then he turned and left. Her hand came up to the skin touched by his lips, and smiled. It was warm, and the touch was true. She might have laughed, but decided not to, and rather returned into her chamber and closed the door. But the heat refused to fade, and she could hope again. She crossed the room, and set Veric on the dresser in front of the window before falling down on her bed, and waiting for sleep and the world faded away to return with the dawn, and with it the departure of their loved ones. After breaking their fast on sweet roasted grains with fruit, thick cream, honey and tea; they gathered in the outer bailey where the horses were ready and waiting. While the visitors reclaimed their assumed steeds after bidding their hosts farewell, Rychon, Berin and Berterin lingered with their families where the Head of the Order held his wife.

"I will return to you." he promised her yet again, and her arms tightened around him.

"You always do..." how many times had he left her side, and each time he came back. Then father greeted daughter, and sons greeted mothers.

"Stay safe. Look after one another." Claira whispered into Rychon's shoulder.

"We will." They held each other tightly for a moment longer, then he kissed her brow and left for his horse with Berin and his son following. He swung into the saddle easily, where a longsword awaited his hand in front of his left knee, then glanced at the group around them, and finally his eyes settled on Jon.

"Lead the way, your grace." he nodded, and they departed the burning mountain for a far off cold horizon while their family watched, and waited, and prayed...