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.

30. Chapter 30

CHAPTER 30 – THE FAITHFUL

Berterin stood in his chambers donned in polished plate mail, waiting as his mother helped him finish securing the straps to his armour. It was a bright winter day, the sun high in their sky. The weeks passed by much faster than he'd thought while excitement and nerves came and went in a whirl multiple times; but today, he would take his place among the protectors of Mount Ardor.

"You look every inch a Sentinel, Berterin." Milla admired as she examined him a final time, her eyes going over his figure, a longsword secured to his side. He was taller than she was, not as much as his father but she still needed to look up to meet his eyes.

"This is heavier than what I'm used to." he mentioned, and she laughed.

"This is only for the ceremony. It is your skill the lord needs." she reminded, and he nodded.

"I'll give it my best." he promised confidently and she smiled at him, her fingers tenderly touching his cheek.

"I know you will. I'm so proud of you." she said, and drew a deep breath.

"So much has happened so quickly... Your name days passed, Rychon became the lord of Mount Ardor, now you will become a Sentinel, and Bella's name day will be upon us as well, soon." Milla reflected. It seemed so short while ago that the children were still playing in the garden... then she felt his hand on hers.

"Don't worry. Everything will be al right." he soothed, and she laughed.

"Of course it will." she agreed.

"Well, we should almost head down." he sighed, most of the preparations had already been tended to earlier today. Then she nodded and made her way to the wardrobe where his cloak hung. It was old and slightly faded, but it should serve well enough. She took it down and shook it out to release it and discard whatever debris may be clinging to it, and then a knock to the door drew her attention. She looked up at the door for a moment, and then glanced at him.

"Expecting someone?" he shrugged as he shook his head, and she set the cloak down on the backrest of the chair before moving away to meet the visitor. Opening the door, Bella stood in the passage with a folded sheet in her hands, dressed in warm peach orange velvet with a pearl centre piece and Devan at her side. But she smiled.

"Almost ready? Everyone has gathered." she told, and Milla glanced back.

"Yes, we'll be there in a moment." she assured, and Bella looked at her brother wondering if knights looked like that. She couldn't recall if she'd ever seen a real knight, but this was the image she'd had of them all her life. It was glorious.

"May I come inside?" she asked, and Milla nodded. As she stepped through, Devan might have wanted to follow but Milla blocked his way.

"Would you give us a moment, Devan?" she asked, hiding the annoyance. If he'd given her daughter an hour to herself beyond her own chamber doors each day, it was a lot. It was enough that they'd started spending time together again, but since the lords' return from the south he'd insisted on being Bella's constant guardian, which she herself agreed to, replacing Petyr as her sentinel. A second Falgon, but a much, much darker one. Then he nodded and looked at Bella.

"Don't take long." he said, and it didn't sound like a request. She sighed looking back at him, and then agreed. He turned away as Milla closed the door, and came back.

"Bella, this is becoming excessive." she softly told, and Bella looked away.

"It's al right, mother. He's just trying... to protect me." she pardoned. He has not been chosen as a sentinel, but if it appeased him to make him feel like one she would allow it. But Milla stared at her.

"From your own family? I don't think-" she started, and her daughter took her hand.

"Please, let's not do this now." she pleaded, and then smiled looking at her brother.

"Today belongs to my brother." she told, the sheet still held in front of her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, and Berterin breathed in.

"Good, I think." he tried. All kinds of emotions had run rampant through him for the past several days, but the better part of him felt proud and accomplished. And the greater part of the castle members were happy for him as well, although he did receive a degree of rancor from those who felt he was favoured because he was a close friend of the young lord, and kin to be fair. His sister's companion among them.

"You haven't put on your cloak yet." Bella mentioned and he glanced at the dark fabric hanging over the chair.

"I was just about to when you came." he replied, and then she laughed.

"Then it's good I did. You can't be seen wearing that faded old thing." she said as she unfolded the sheet in her hands, letting the white linen drop to the ground, and presenting something very different to him. He stared at it for a moment.

"Father's cloak?" then she smiled.

"Father has his own cloak. Falgon has his. I thought you should have yours." she said and he gently took it from her. The cloak was sturdy royal blue velvet, lined with crimson satin. The colours of the Trentin house.

"I made it myself." she added happily, and he laughed feeling the fabric in his hands. If it wasn't tattered by weapons or cast into a fire, this would last him decades to come.

"Thank you, Bella." his arms circled her waist as hers went around his shoulders, and he softly kissed her cheek.

"You're welcome." she held him. Her baby brother who'd become so strong, who would be the lord's Sentinel, and in time perhaps the Head of their Order, just as their father is, if he deserved it. Then she released him, and smiled.

"Well, I should get going. We'll meet you in the great hall." she excused, and then quickly slipped away closing the door behind her.

"Well then, let's finish up." Milla urged, and they secured the cloak to his shoulders. It was a bit longer than expected, but he still had two years of growth so the cloak might not touch the ground and be better then. Finally it was time to leave, and they departed the east wing for the Hall of Fire where every life of the castle gathered to witness his acceptance to their grand order, their members assembled on the second level on either side of the great hearth. They were talking excitedly, and he quickly took his place at the base of the steps with the other youngsters who would be taken into service. Three boys to the guards, almost his own age. Another handful of different years to the maintenance of the hold and a couple of girls for the kitchens, and he felt the pounding of his heart against his ribs. The last week was spent with his father telling him what to do, and teaching him the vows he would be expected to say, and he hoped for a moment he would remember all of it. Then he looked up at the ladies next to the stairs, shining in bright colours, his sweet Stephanie among them with an orange pillow in her hands. If all went well, he might ask Rychon's permission to marry her in a few years. If she would have him... Then the hall was drawn to a silence, and from the eastern stairway emerged the Head of the Sentinel Order and the Battle Master to assume their places, followed by the lady of their hold, glistening in bright red silk with pearls and rubies around her waist; then came her son the lord of Mount Ardor in dark breeches and boots, a long sleeved white tunic under a fine deep red quilted velvet doublet and his own father's black cloak with the phoenix pin to his shoulders. Suddenly the pace of his heart quickened, and he wondered. But then the fear subsided, and he knew he had nothing to doubt. Rychon took his place in front of the throne with his mother to his left side, and welcomed his people, commenting on this day when the lives of his home grew once again; and then took a seat, and called the youngsters forward to accept them. And then finally it was his turn when those blue eyes settled on him.

"Come forward, and state your name." the lord called to him, and he drew a deep breath to still the shuddering muscles before walking forward and making his way up the grand staircase, five steps down from the second level he stopped, and looked up.

"Berterin Trentin, my lord. First born son to lord Berin and lady Milla Trentin." he announced, and then proceeded to the first step where he drew his sword and knelt, laying it down on the stones, and bowed his head.

"Lord Rychon Taugere, liege of Mount Ardor. I offer my services to you, and to your family. I will shield you, and keep your counsel, and give my life for yours if need be. I pledge my sword, my strength and my loyalty to you. I swear it by the gods, old and new, and by every man that bears witness." he vowed. Traditionally, he would be expected to swear his loyalty directly to the lady of Mount Ardor as well, but as Rychon had not taken a wife yet, he would serve the family however he was told to. Then the lord's voice resounded through the hall.

"And I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth, and meat and mead at my table. I pledge to ask no service of you that may bring you dishonour. I swear it by the old gods and the new." he agreed, and Berterin looked up at him with a smile.

"I am yours, my lord. Now and always." he said, seeing his friend smile back at him, his blue eyes fierce in the firelight.

"Arise. Let it then be known throughout my halls, and my domain – you have been named Berterin. I further name you Berterin of the Fire Hall, and Sentinel of Flame. It is the highest position in my power to grant." he announced as Berterin came to his feet, returning the sword to his side.

"You honour me, my lord. To the best of my abilities, I will not fail you." he said, and watched as Claira came forward followed by Stephanie. From the pillow in her hands, the lady took a gold pin fashioned to the likeness of a flame and secured it to his cloak, above his heart.

"Welcome to our order, Berterin." she said softly as she smiled, and he felt the rise of elation tingling its way through his limbs.

"Thank you, aunt Claira." he whispered back, and as she stepped away from him the hall exploded in applause and cheers. With the ceremony done, they made their way to the southern hall to await their feast; a grand spread of honey glazed suckling pig with apple sauce and numerous vegetable pots, pies and tartlets with cream and rich wines and sweet meads. There was music and dancing and wondrous tales, and it lasted until well into the night. With all thoroughly jaded, they returned to their apartments, and Claira relished herself to a bath while Rychon took a place in front of the lord's hearth again. It was an odd habit, standing here watching the flames. But it seemed to ease his mind, and he could think clearly. This was a good day, but there was still much to be done, and he wondered if the king and queen had reached Winterfell yet. They hadn't heard anything, so he supposed that was good. It's been just over a month since the negotiations in King's Landing, and the southern forces had yet to appear. But he couldn't worry about them now, he had his own people to consider, their own strengths to build. He'd wanted to go out for training, but there just was not the time to, and in truth he couldn't get to sparring as much as he'd wished to either, having to meet all the obligations and added assignments. Their provisions and resources were being stored in Ramshorn and Hornsney, divided into three caches for use now that winter was here. One third of the harvested grain is to be distributed immediately; the second third is to be processed and stored for direct use; and the last third is to be stored and used only should there be dire need for it. The peasants who had cattle and horses would be tended to first; after which they would provide for those with pigs, goats, sheep and fowl, and then for those in the settlements and the castles. Further amendments to their country were made to include everyone who could hold any sort of weapon in training, and according to the reports there was promise. Not everyone would march north, of course. Or so he hoped... And in contrast with those same orders, he couldn't imagine any of his ladies having to enter battle. Bella was well capable of defending herself when she needed to although he detested the thought of her hands being stained with blood. And his mother it was fair to say couldn't, even if she wanted to. He recalled that she tried once, but the memory was a distant and vague image when he was sitting on the grass in the lord's garden watching them. He remembered his father telling her that her form was good, but she just wasn't physically strong enough, and the practice ceased after that. But since he could remember, Falgon had been her sword, so there was no need for her hands to wield one so long as he stood next to her. He was the most powerful, most skilled of their warriors. And when it was time to leave for battle, he would remain behind as before to protect them. As for the others, he couldn't be sure of much. Beatrice was bold no one would argue, but she was no fighter. And Samantha could whip a few words, that much was true. But Stephanie, she was a far too tender soul. They would need strong guards. As to that, he might not be able to leave as many arms behind as he'd hoped, but the Battle Master along with two more sentinels and perhaps thirty guards would be enough to hold the castle; and twenty soldiers to keep peace in the village. All the rest they would need, most like. The patrols on their roads were lessened, needing the men; and the vassal lords ensured that they would do all they can to meet demands, but it was a far stretch. You can't make soldiers out of everyone. Who would tend the lands? And there were the blind, the lame, the sickly and the children to care for... What, thirty five thousand people at most? Bows, spears, swords, pikes, maces, clubs... Even forks and axes. In spite of the forces of the realm, that's not near enough... Not against a hundred thousand, at least. And there will be more. Then he felt hands on him, cool and soothing.

"Are you al right?" his mother's voice sounded next to him, and he looked down at her.

"Yes, I'm fine." he assured placing his hand on hers, and her head rested against his shoulder.

"Oh, my Rychon. You've been so busy lately, I'm afraid you're not taking care of yourself." she breathed.

"With everything that's happening, we need to be prepared." he shrugged, and then turned towards her.

"Which reminds me, I'm heading out to Hillfield early tomorrow morning to assess the measures there while Berin meets with the head of the fisher's village and Berterin is heading to Ashton. We should be back by nightfall." he told, and she slowly nodded. Those were the three closest settlements to Mount Ardor apart from Garde's Post, all within half a day's ride. But she seemed somehow wanting.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and she shook her head.

"No. Today was a wonderful celebration... I had hoped that we may have another reason for a celebration, soon..." she said softly, and then looked up at him.

"You still haven't courted someone." she hinted, and he looked away.

"I will. Just... not now." he sighed, feeling her fingers gently tightening around his arm.

"You and Bella, you've come a long way together. Perhaps..." she tried, but his eyes did not return to hers.

"She has already chosen." he told, and for a moment she was silent before looking away. Bella had spent her time with Devan, and he'd been quite adamant on keeping her at his side. Much as the idea was drawing, he could not tear her away from someone if he could make her happy. If she wanted to be with him, he would give her that freedom.

"Then... maybe, Beatrice? Or Samantha?" she softly suggested, and he had to snigger.

"They're both fine women, but I don't want either of them feeling that I favoured the other." he declined, and she sighed.

"Ameera has been sending many letters for you. She is quite smitten with you." she suggested another name, recalling the time the little girl sat on her knee with the Horn Festival many years ago. Lord Garrett Foch's eldest daughter had indeed become a beautiful and charming maiden, and had confessed her flowering love for the lord more than once. She would be a good wife, and a good mother. Again he sighed.

"Perhaps... but, like I said. Not now." he again declined, and then looked back at her as she stared at him. She was wondering why he would delay his marriage, then he smiled.

"If I start a life with someone, I want to be able to spend it with them. Not to just get married and head off to gods only know where, not knowing if I'll return..." he explained, and then she looked down.

"I... I understand..." she whispered, and then he held her.

"I will come back. And if we celebrate something that wonderful, I want it to be in a time of peace and fortune. Not with an axe of battle hanging over our heads." he tried to soften it, and felt her arms around his waist.

"I know." then she looked up at him, with a soft smile.

"So, after the war?" she asked, and he returned her smile.

"After the war." he agreed, and then kissed her brow.

"Come, I'll see you to your chamber and then I should get some sleep as well. I have an early start tomorrow." he suggested, and they retreated into the tower to surrender to their beds for the night.

Bella woke to golden sunlight spilling through her window, and a knock to her door. She blinked a few times to clear her sight, her limbs still heavy from slumber, and then the knock sounded again. She sat up, rubbing her face.

"Enter..." the door slowly edged open, and her friend peeked inside.

"Morning, Bell." Stephanie greeted, and then slipped inside with Beatrice and Samantha following. Samantha smiled as she closed the door.

"Best get up, you've slept in quite a bit." she advised, and Bella lowered her feet to the floor.

"Oh, I'm sorry. We did have a bit of a late night. Is... is Devan outside?" she apologised, and Beatrice nodded.

"Yes, he's waiting for you." she confirmed, and Bella sighed. He'll be angry at me... Samantha made her way to the wardrobe, taking the opportunity to choose Bella's attire for the day as she fuddled through the fabrics.

"Your brother looked so handsome yesterday, and now he's a sentinel." she quipped happily, and Beatrice giggled along as she gathered up her lady's undergarments, a girdle of gold and pearls and soft shoes.

"The youngest sentinel to ever serve, I've heard." she added excitedly, and Bella smiled.

"Lord Rychon personally asked for him to be accepted into the Order. It's a great honour." she agreed, and Samantha returned with a plain wide sleeved gown of fine basil green velvet with tiny gold flowers detailing the neckline and seams, spreading it out on the bed. Then she looked at Stephanie who had taken a seat on a small chair next to the dresser with the hairbrush in her hands.

"You're a lucky girl, Stephanie." she praised her, and the youngster blushed red as the morning. But she smiled, at least.

"Yes, I... I think so, too..." she agreed softly as Beatrice added her items to the bed, softly hooting.

"I do believe that our sweet Stephanie is in love." she gently teased followed by soft laughter, and to their delight the once timid girl giggled with them.

"He... He's been very kind to me..." she told and Bella stood from the bed to prepare herself for the day.

"Why wouldn't she be? Berterin would be a good match for her." she mentioned as she started undoing the back laces to her dress, and Beatrice came to help while Samantha brought her hands together.

"Oh, lovely! A wedding!" she exclaimed, and Stephanie sat back, rather startled for the sudden suggestion.

"I... I'm not sure..." she muttered, and again Beatrice looked at her as Bella let her dress drop to the floor, taking up the white underskirt to pull it on.

"Why not? Come now, I saw you looking at each other yesterday." she again lightly teased as she held the corset ready, bringing another flush of red to their friend's cheeks.

"Pearl silk will be a wonderful colour for you." Samantha continued as she waited for Beatrice to finish helping secure the back laces, and then lifted the green dress for Bella to slip into the fabric.

"Slow down, you two! Even the lord hasn't taken a wife yet, and there might not be any weddings until after..." she started, but the thought was suddenly real. And it was terrifying.

"After?" Beatrice asked as she stepped closer, taking hold of the seam to help bring it over Bella's shoulders.

"After the war..." she finished, then Beatrice sighed next to her.

"There might not even be a war. All this talk of dragons and dead men... Do you believe it?" she asked as Bella brought the fabric over her skin, then released her hair and fixed the rather wide neckline over her shoulders, thinking it might be wise to add a shawl.

"I don't know. Both my father and brother says they've seen it, they wouldn't lie... Besides, the lords won't go to such great lengths for preparations if it were nothing." she decided, feeling Samantha bring the girdle around her waist to hug her hips.

"Well, the best we can do is to wait and see what the future holds." she breathed as she smoothed down the soft velvet. Then Bella sat down on the edge of the bed to slip on her shoes, and Stephanie approached to start on her hair.

"I can't say that I care about the future, as long as my family is safe." she said as she straightened, and felt her friend's hands taking hold of the long strands and gently pulling the bristles through her thick hair.

"As long as they're here, nothing could ever happen to them." Beatrice told, and she nodded hearing another knock at the door, and she allowed entry to two chambermaids to start chores on her room. Once her hair was smoothly brushed, Stephanie and Samantha wove two braids from her brow and secured them at the back with a jewelled pin, and then hung a fine gold chain with an apatite gem around her neck. She pulled a woollen shawl from her dresser and draped it over her shoulders, and finally satisfied that all was in order they left the chamber to find Devan in the passage, seemingly miffed. But he forced a smile as he looked up to greet them.

"Good morning, my lady." Bella smiled back, but wondered why it felt uneasy.

"Morning." he raised his hand towards the entrance of the wing.

"Shall we start your day?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Yes, of course." she agreed and they headed down the passage, following behind Bella's companions.

"I don't like to be kept waiting." he suddenly muttered softly, but the others were talking along happily so it was unlikely they would hear him.

"I know. I'm sorry." she replied, and he scoffed.

"I don't know why you take so long to get dressed." he teased, and she looked up at him.

"You want me looking like one of Jeody's scullions?" she asked, and he almost laughed.

"Perhaps if you did, 'lord ass' would keep his eyes off you." he continued, sending a lash of warmth through her stomach.

"Don't call him that." his eyes hardened, and she looked away from him.

"He is your liege lord. You should respect him." she told, and he laughed at that.

"He's nothing to me, but a pompous boy. He had the right birth, I'll give him that." he said and she stopped. Why do you hate him so much?

"You don't know him. He's been trying really hard-" he turned and came back to her,

"To do what? He just walks the halls barking at everyone all day, and when he gets sick of that he flees to the forest to... What? Kill some squirrels?" but he was still smiling. He would try to degrade Rychon every chance he had; but as to that his success was sorely miserable. She smiled back. You don't know anything...

"He is preparing our country for a war. That takes more than just barking." his arm slipped around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

"I can do more than bark. I can howl and snarl, too." he teased as he leaned down to kiss her, as fervently as ever. For a moment she surrendered to him, giving herself to his hunger. She wondered how it would feel to give in completely, just once. She'd been resisting him so long... then a voice called to her, and she remembered where they were and she pushed him gently away.

"The others are waiting for us..." she whispered, but again he pulled her closer against him.

"Let them wait." he kissed her again, his touch stretching through her like writhing tentacles. Just once... then the voice broke her thoughts again, and she pushed him away.

"I'd like to, but they might come back looking for us." then she slipped away, wondering if she should be relieved or disappointed, knowing he would surely be the latter. Rounding the corner the others were waiting for them, Stephanie seeming tense. But she smiled as she reached them, taking her arm.

"I'm sorry." she quickly said, and they continued on their way with the guardsman following behind. Her sweet friend was always worrying about her, and was ever uneasy about leaving her alone with any of the men. She herself continued to be wary of the soldiers, but trusted her brother. As the southern hall was still being prepared, they spent their morning in the garden among the sweet smells of flowers and the gentle rush of the fountain waters while discussing their activities for the day before being called to the tables to break their fast. Entering the feast hall, Devan took her hand as she started for the high table with her friends where the ladies were already seated, and the Battle Master stood next to the hearth watching the hall. This had become his customary place since Rychon's succession.

"Aren't you sitting with me?" he asked, and she hesitated for a moment.

"I want to discuss something with my mother. I'll sit with you again tonight." she promised, and he nodded. She quickly kissed his cheek and then left him to take her place. They were served sweet berry rolls with fresh fruits, honey and tea when she noticed several empty spaces.

"Where's father, and the others?" Bella asked, and Claira glanced at her.

"They left early this morning for the villages to assess preparations. They should be back tonight." she told, and she nodded. She hadn't known that they left. Then she looked at her mother.

"Have we heard anything from Vaellion?" she asked, and she smiled.

"He writes often, and is doing very well. The report we received from him also states that the hold's condition is improving, and that the defences are stronger than they were before." she replied happily, but with a sadness in her eyes.

"I just miss him." she breathed, and Bella's hand closed over hers.

"We all do. But we'll see him again soon, and we'll all be together." she soothed, wondering if he was taller now as well. With their father's deep green eyes and their mother's light hair he was a handsome youth; perhaps he had met someone special there. After the hall was cleared she and Stephanie joined her mother and aunt in prayer under the weirwood fountain as they always did, and she found it liberating not having to go to the sept for prayers like Samantha and Beatrice; who once quipped that it was something strange to them to pray to a tree while most of the other houses were followers of the Seven like her father. But her mother and lady Claira were northerners, and kept the old faith which was largely passed to the heir although he still honoured the new gods. But despite the differences, these two religions were in harmony here. The remainder of the day passed more the same way as it always did as Claira tended to their court matters in the lord's absence, but it was quiet so they spent much of it in the common room and in the garden, sitting on the bench with her guard next to her while her companions admired the lush colours until noon when Devan suddenly made a suggestion.

"Let's go to the village." she stared at him for a moment.

"Are you sure?" this was a little out of character for him, he'd preferred to keep her inside, away from greedy eyes.

"Yes. I'm sick of these walls." he said, and then grinned as he looked her way.

"Besides, you haven't been outside in weeks." he added, and she smiled. The chance to escape was as alluring as it was suddenly odd.

"I... I don't know..." she hesitated as she looked away.

"Come on, it will be entertaining." he urged, and then looked at her companions.

"Wouldn't you say?" he directed at them purposefully, knowing they would likely take up the chance to get out; and Beatrice smiled.

"That would be a nice distraction." she agreed, and Devan stood.

"Good. I'll arrange your escorts, my ladies." he said with a quick bow, and then left for the castle while they remained, and Bella couldn't understand why she felt so reluctant. It was just a visit to the village, what could happen? Perhaps her time inside had lulled her mind. Samantha touched her hand.

"We'll be fine, Bella." she eased, and Bella sighed.

"Oh, al right. Best go inform the ladies that we'll be out for a bit." she decided, and they left back into the hold, finding them in the common room as usual, her mother with a book in her hands and Claira working on a fur garment with Falgon against the wall as she stepped inside.

"Mother." the light green eyes came up to meet hers.

"We're heading out to the village for a while." she announced, and Milla sat back.

"Is that safe?" she asked softly, and Bella smiled.

"Yes, Devan and several other guards will accompany us. We won't be gone long." she eased, and then she nodded.

"Al right, but stay together and be careful." she cautioned, and Bella turned to leave.

"We will." she returned down the passage, and then Stephanie stopped.

"What's wrong?" Samantha asked as she turned, and Stephanie looked down timidly.

"If... If you don't mind... I think I'll stay." she thought better of it, and Bella came back.

"A visit to the village might do you some good, as well." she tried to urge, but her friend smiled softly.

"I... I'd rather not go anywhere without Berterin. I'll stay." she insisted, and then looked up.

"I have some embroidery to finish, besides." she said, and then Bella hugged her.

"Al right, we'll see you a little bit later." she agreed, and then they parted ways as Stephanie returned to the common room and they made their way down to the Hall of Fire. She wondered for a moment if she should take the time to fetch her dagger from her room, but then they weren't planning to stay out long, and so the notion was discarded. They descended the steps to where Devan and three other guards awaited them at the door. He looked up with a smile as they approached, and then glanced up at the stairways.

"Where's your other friend?" he asked, sounding curious.

"She decided to stay." Bella answered, and he laughed.

"Have some better things to do, does she?" he teased, but Beatrice glared at him.

"Don't be base, Devan. She's a sweet thing." she scolded him, and he nodded.

"Yes, so it's been said." he agreed, and then proceeded to introduce his accomplices. Styg, Baygar and Hunter, all young and cheerful members with clear eyes and shades of brown in their hair, sharing eager greetings with the ladies.

"Shall we head out?" Devan then proposed as he held his arm for Bella, and her fingers slid around his elbow. They departed the burning mountain with Samantha on Hunter's arm, and Styg at Beatrice's side while Baygar followed behind attentively. The village was busy with peasants moving crates and barrels from the stock house to the stores and others selling their wares; and then they stopped in front of one of the buildings with an old and faded name hanging over the door.

"I thought we might go to the sept, or one of the merchants?" Bella asked as she looked up at Devan, who still smiled.

"Tempting as that is, they don't offer the hospitality that is served here." he said, and then moved forward again, stepping through the door into the tavern. The elderly barkeep looked up with a smile, ready to greet the new visitors.

"Welcome, milords and ladies! Choose any table you like, is it drink you want or food? I got some ducks roastin'." he called out.

"Your finest ale, my friend." Devan replied, and then looked down at Bella. This was her first time at the Greasy Hawks. A noted place of entertainment where the soldiers and commoners came, and a brothel in all but reputation.

"This isn't so bad, is it?" he asked as she looked around. It was past noon, and already alive with people as servers roamed the space looking for horns to fill. Dozens of different conversations filled the air, and a bard was singing in the corner with a drum, entertaining the patrons along with Berry and Joldewin who greeted them happily. Several girls in light flowing garments stood at the stairway, sniggering as they watched the newcomers.

"It's fine, I suppose..." she breathed, noble ladies weren't supposed to visit places like these, but perhaps she'll ease when they've settled in a bit. He led them to a table at the far back near the hearth where they took their places, and a server brought a tray with seven horns filled with a nut-brown liquid, and the guards took to them eagerly. Bella stared at the horn in her hands, a thin sheen of foam was resting on the surface. She'd never had ale before, either. Then Devan lifted his horn.

"To our future! May it be bright, under the phoenix." he toasted, but Bella could hear the sourness in his voice. It wasn't truly meant as praise... But the others joined him, adding their hopes and dreams to it. She brought the horn to her mouth, the ale was thick and had an earthy taste with a bitterness afterwards, but was not altogether unpleasant. Samantha seemed to share her thoughts on that, while Beatrice seemed to enjoy the new drink. They shared stories and histories and fables and all manner of gossip and rumours while the day dragged on and even engaged in a friendly game of knuckle-bones among themselves. Once in a while shadows would pass the stained windows; her dear companions fully involved with the blithesome young guards who escorted them, and more and more people came to ease themselves here, and the atmosphere was surprisingly pleasant. A short while later, the bard appeared at their table, with a wide smile of his own.

"A sweet song, for the fairest maidens in the kingdoms!" he declared, but Devan stared at him.

"Leave my ladies be, Lem. Go find yourself a milkmaid to serenade." he told him off, but he remained a moment.

"Come now, one song. I guarantee that it will meet your approval." he tried again, but Devan retained his solid stare.

"I said, go. They've no time for your wailing." he told, and the bard's shoulders slumped for that moment. But then as he turned, he looked back at the ladies.

"If you change your mind, I'll be right over there." he told, pointing to the other side of the inn.

"Thank you, Lem." Samantha said and he beamed, overjoyed that they'd remembered his name.

"Any time, oh fairest of beauties!" he skipped away, before Devan had the opportunity to slap him, but it made their group laugh, and that was a welcome moment. Then he drained his horn and reached for hers.

"Can I get you some more?" he asked, and she looked at the horn. She couldn't finish the ale, it was too pungent.

"Perhaps some rose wine?" she suggested. Aside from the fruit press, this was the only other drink they were allowed to have at feasts because it was light, and sweet. But he laughed.

"They won't have that here. I'll ask for mead, that's sweeter." he said, and then took the horn before heading off to the barkeep. She watched as he handed the horns to him, and they exchanged words. He reached into his pocket, and brought his hand up, sliding something over the counter. The inn keeper stared at it for a moment before taking it up in his hand, but she couldn't make out what it was. Again Devan said something to him, then he shrugged, nodded and turned away. A short while later he returned with the horns and gave them back to Devan whom then returned, handing one to her. She took it in her hands and examined the liquid inside. It was a clear honey yellow, with no foam. She brought the horn to her mouth to sample it, and it was indeed sweet and delightful; but still had a strange beechen taste, but at least it was better than the ale.

"Better?" Devan asked as he resumed his place, and she smiled.

"Much. Thank you." She drank again, enjoying the rich sweetness.

"Anything for my lady." he laughed. They continued on their activities, even reciting poems and songs, and the game continued. But, not too long later Bella started feeling extremely weary, and her cheeks were warm. She brought a hand to her face to drive away the heat, but her limbs were rather unresponsive.

"Are you al right?" Samantha asked, looking at her anxiously. But she smiled. She didn't need them worrying about her as well.

"I'm fine. I'm just... really tired." she sighed, confused for her sudden exhaustion. They'd had a late night, but she'd been fine just a moment ago. Was it the mead?

"Maybe we should head home." Beatrice proposed, but Devan smiled.

"You seem to be enjoying yourselves, Bella can lie down on one of the beds upstairs for a while." he countered, and then stood to help her up.

"I don't think that would be appropriate." Samantha protested.

"Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be perfectly well in no time. I'll stay with her." he insisted, and then pulled her to her feet.

"Devan, are you sure this is acceptable?" she asked, leaning slightly against him, noting her legs also resisting much motion. What's wrong with me? I didn't have that much to drink, did I? None of her companions seemed to be anywhere near drunk.

"It will be fine. Besides, your father will kill me if I take you home like this." he continued, and then started leading her towards the stairway before looking back.

"We'll be back soon, go ahead and enjoy yourselves." he told, and then took her up the narrow steps to the first floor of the inn, down to the last room where he entered with her. The space was small, with a single straw bed and a small cabinet in the corner and a chair next to the door. A small window faced east, and copper sunlight reflected off the rooftops of the other buildings.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what's wrong with me..." she muttered, but he laughed.

"I don't mind." he lay her down on the bed, it was amazingly soft for a straw mattress, and she eased into it as she closed her eyes. Just a little bit... I'll just rest a little bit, and then we'll go home... she heard him walking over the wood flooring, assuming that he might take a seat somewhere close by, but then heard the creaking of the door and a soft thud as it closed.

"We won't suffer any interruptions here." he assured. What..? But then, it would be tasteless if someone walked by and saw her lying here like some drunk wench. Maybe we should go home, after all... Suddenly she felt pressure next to her on the bed, and a moment later his mouth against hers in a desirous kiss. She returned it, grateful that he was watching over her; but then a hand rested on her thigh while the other pressed down over her breast, and she turned away to break the touch of their lips.

"What are you doing?" he drew slightly back, the hand on her leg moving slowly down.

"Keeping you company, like I promised." he shrugged, and then moved forward to kiss her again. Her hands came to his shoulders as his moved slowly up, the fingers slipping under the neckline of her dress while the other started pulling her dress up to her thighs, and her heart started to race.

"Devan..." he smiled.

"You're mine, Bella. It is time I claimed you." he whispered, and a sudden heat erupted through her bowels.

"I will never be yours. Never!" she refused, and he glared at her, clearly frustrated that she denied his desire yet again. She'd been refusing him for close to a year.

"You will." his hands tightened on her, but she broke.

"I have already given myself to lord Rychon." she confessed, and his expression changed from frustration, to shock, to rage. Where she found the strength she couldn't tell, but she forced herself up and pushed past him towards the door, flinging it open and rushing down the passage as he called after her. Her body was burning, and she struggled to keep her balance, but she willed herself to keep her feet. I have to leave, I have to get home... She half stumbled down the narrow little stairs, praying she would not fall. But mercifully she reached the bottom, and whirled around aiming for the door. She could hear the sudden terrified voices of her friends, but forced herself forward. I have to get home... I have to get away from here... he was still calling after her, his voice hard and heated. There was yelling, and a sudden crash behind her, making her heart nearly jump from her chest. But she fled the tavern into the copper light of late noon, trying to run but couldn't manage anything better than a fast walk as she felt her muscles burning, melting away from each step. I have to get home... Please, Mother Above help me get home... Even her eyes burnt, and she felt trails down her cheeks. Please, help me get home... she struggled over the pathway, her legs spitefully unwilling to cooperate with her despairing efforts, the furious voice continuing to rise behind her. She felt like crying.

"Leave me alone, Devan!" she called back, and blissfully reached the stones of the bridge. Her body ached from the exertion, the disintegrating muscles screaming in protest, but she pushed herself on. She had to reach the Hall. She passed under the gatehouse, and the great door came into view. I'm home... I'm home... But to her dismay, a hand grabbed onto her arm and yanked her back harshly. She turned to meet his face, stained and enraged.

"How could you do this? How could you?!" he yelled, and suddenly a burn spread through the side of her face. But she tried to ignore it as she pulled back against his powerful grip.

"Let me go!" again he jerked her closer, and now she could taste blood through the stinging.

"You disgraceful slut! You were mine!" he raised his hand again, and fear drowned her. He was much stronger, and with her senses dulled she would not be able to either stop or evade the blow. His grip lessened as he prepared to strike her down, and she waited for the pain; but suddenly he dropped to the ground, gasping desperately for the air that left his lungs from the impact.

"That hand needed some adjustment." relief washed over her, leaving her dizzy as she watched the lord of the hold looking down at the guardsman where he fell. He glanced up, and discreetly winked. The urge to cry was overwhelmed by the desire to laugh, but nothing would respond as she started to sway and more guards joined them. Then he looked at the sentinel at his side.

"Renko, escort lady Bella inside." he ordered, and the sentinel nodded.

"At once, my lord." he moved forward, gently taking her arms and guiding her away as Rychon remained, his eyes going back to the guard, still struggling to bring air into his chest. Then he reached down and hauled him roughly up from the ground.

"A common former sell sword has better manners than you! Perhaps I'll have him teach you." he brought him closer, his eyes blazing.

"If you ever raise your finger to one of my ladies again, you will lose your arm. If you speak with Bella again, I'll rip out your tongue. If you so much as look at her, I'll tear your eyes from your skull!" he promised, and then threw him back pitilessly. He landed hard on the ground again, dragging over the dust for some feet, whining in pain.

"Take him to the vaults. I'll decide what to do with him after I've heard the situation." Rychon ordered, and two guards stepped forward to drag him away. Even then, he continued to dissent, yelling profanities at everyone; but they pulled him away towards the dungeons under the castle. More voices from behind drew his attention, and he looked back to see a group approaching quickly, lady Beatrice leading the way and Samantha carried in Hunter's arms. More warmth spread down his back as he approached.

"What happened?" he asked, and the soldier looked up.

"We were at the inn, my lord." he reported, but then Beatrice silenced him.

"Devan knocked her into a table." she told distinctly upset, and Rychon took a step closer to Samantha.

"Sam?" she glanced his way timidly.

"My side hurts..." she said softly, and then he looked at the soldier holding her.

"Take her to the maester." he told, and the soldier nodded before proceeding on his way quickly to deliver her to the tower. Rychon sighed, and then followed into the hold where he found Bella sitting on the stones in the middle of the Hall and Renko kneeling beside her; and with a chill in his stomach he hurried over and knelt next to her.

"What's wrong?" he examined her, but could not see any injuries save for a small cut to her lip.

"I... I don't know. I can't get up... my legs..." she whimpered, and he slipped his left arm around her back while his right moved under her legs.

"Hold on to me." he whispered, and her arms coiled around his neck as he lifted her from the floor, then started up into the castle towards the maester's tower.

"I'm sorry, Rychon... I'm so sorry..." she sobbed into his shoulder as he walked, and his arms gently tightened. He had no idea what she was apologising for.

"It's al right, as long as you're not hurt." he soothed. Moments later he rounded a curve, finding the ladies on their way down the incline obviously distressed, Stephanie seemingly most of all.

"What happened?" Milla cried, examining her daughter in the arms of the lord, still clinging to his shoulders.

"I don't know, yet. I'm taking her to the maesters, I'll inform you as soon as I find out." he said, and they stepped aside so he could pass, Stephanie following behind. The journey to Hillfield seemed shorter than usual, and with preparations going well he could return earlier than planned; and he only just got back when he heard the yelling, but thanked the gods that he did. If he'd been a moment later, then... He cringed slightly, not wanting to think of it. He passed the guards at the arch leading into the tower, ascended the winding steps to the maester's chambers, and entered the wide solar where Samantha was already seated on the small chair with Beatrice beside her and maester Gerdwyle examining her while maester Adlyn searched a cabinet.

"Maester Adlyn." the elderly man turned with a blue vial in one hand, and a small ceramic pot in the other, a new wave of surprise flashing behind his deep brown eyes.

"Tend to Bella as well, please." he motioned towards the open chair.

"Immediately, my lord." he stepped forward and set her down on the chair, her arms slipping from his shoulders and the maester approached as he stepped back and Stephanie took a place at her side, kneeling next to her. He waited in silence as the maesters continued their examinations, debating among themselves which medicines would be best to give. But with that finally decided and distributed, maester Adlyn approached Rychon, gently guiding him away to the doors to speak with him, and they started down the steps. He sighed heavily.

"Samantha is bruised, but she'll be fine. And the cut to Bella's mouth is not serious; however it grieves me to say she has been benumbed." he reported, and Rychon stopped.

"Benumbed?" he stared at him, completely horrified. But the maester nodded slowly.

"With canis root it would seem, my lord. The effects are not fatal, and the Adenanthera I gave should help it wear off soon. It is used in most paralysis poisons." he explained.

"Where would he have gotten that from?" Rychon breathed, still dazed.

"The herbalist in Garde's Post sells a wide variety of alchemical items. I receive many of my own wares from them. It's not hard to come by." he told, and then the lord looked away from him, the heat returning to his shoulders.

"Paralysis..." if Devan had been in front of him in that moment, he would have torn his chest apart to shit on his heart. It was good for nothing better. Then he looked back at the maester.

"Thank you, maester." he continued down the steps, the despair of failure in his shadow. Why did I leave? If I'd been here, none of this would have happened... As long as the lord of the hold was here, everyone was safe. That was the sentiment shared by all who lived here, under his care. And he left them vulnerable. He reached the end of the stairway, where the guards were still waiting, joined by the ladies and the Battle Master.

"Have ladies Bella and Samantha delivered to their chambers to rest, Beatrice and Stephanie will stay with them." he ordered, and the guards Hunter and Styg quickly made their way up the steps. Claira and Milla stared at him.

"What happened?" Claira asked him, and he breathed out.

"Samantha is battered, and Bella is more weak than injured. But they'll both be fine." he told, and watched the fear wash away in relief.

"May I see her?" Milla asked, and Rychon smiled.

"She's your daughter, aunt Milla. You don't need my permission." and with that, she vanished up the stairs while he stood, staring at the stones.

"Rychon?" then he looked up at his mother, still watching him.

"I shouldn't have left... If I had stayed, nothing would have happened to them..." he breathed miserably.

"This wasn't your fault." she told him, and for that moment he hated himself.

"How can I defend a country if I can't defend those who are important to me?" And Bella, if anything ever happens to her I couldn't live with myself... then he felt her fingers to his cheeks, driving away the warmth.

"You are doing the very best that you can, and that must be enough." she said, and again he looked down.

"What if it's not? What if I'm not good enough? Not strong enough?" the coils of doubt started winding around his chest, ready to choke him, but then his mother pushed it away from him as her fingers tightened.

"Then you will draw the strength you need from your family as you make yourself better!" then he met her eyes, soft in their frigid blue.

"You can not slip into distrust of yourself, ever! If you allow that, it is the end of all of us." why those words gave him strength he couldn't say, but it did. Then he smiled, resting his hands on hers as he nodded.

"I won't." he promised, then the sounds of voices and footsteps drew his attention and he looked back to see the company coming down the stairs, Milla at Styg's side as he carried Bella followed by Stephanie and then Hunter with Samantha in his arms and Beatrice at his side. He watched as they continued down the passage towards the east wing, and then looked back at his mother.

"Go with them. I'll see you later." he urged, and she then left behind them.

"You are doing well, sire. Even if you don't want to believe it." the Battle Master's voice met him, and he looked up at his smiling face.

"I appreciate your confidence in me, ser. But I still have a lot to learn." he sighed.

"And learn you will. But powerful as you are, there is no need to carry all burdens alone. You have both wise and strong allies at your side." Falgon told, and he smiled.

"Thank you. And if I find myself failing, of course I will ask." he said, and another set of footsteps came rushing up the incline as Berterin appeared, coming his way.

"We just got back. What did he say?" he asked as he joined them, aware of the recent incident.

"Sam is hurt, but will be fine. And your sister was poisoned, with a paralysing substance. The maester gave her a counter relief, so she should be up again soon." he told, and shock darkened the deep green eyes.

"You can't mean..." he started, and Rychon turned to face him.

"What reason would Devan have had to do that?" he asked, and Berterin looked away. Of course, that was it...

"So she wouldn't fight back..." he realized. She had always refused him. Always. And now he wasn't planning to have any more of that.

"I have tolerated him for her sake, but he's gone too far. Summon the Order. And have Devan brought to the block." Rychon told, and Berterin looked back at him. There was no hesitation in his voice, and he nodded.

"Yes, my lord." he headed away, and Rychon stood a moment longer, hardening himself. Then he glanced up at the Battle Master, still at his side, still watching him. Even now he couldn't quite distinguish the colour of his eyes.

"All you need, is to ask." he again offered, softly like a breeze through autumn meadows, but Rychon smiled at him. His teacher, his friend... the father he came to when he had no one else.

"I know, but that won't be necessary. It won't be the first time..." then he sighed. He'd taken lives before, but this he had to confess was different.

"Likewise, The man whom passes the sentence, must swing the sword." he told, and Falgon nodded. This was the way of the first men, as it always had been. But he hadn't thought that his first act with the magnificent Quill would be this. Then they headed down the incline where he entered the lord's wing while the Battle Master continued down, and he approached the hearth where the great sword rested on the shelf. Then he took it down, and pulled a hand's length of the blade from the sheath, examining the shimmering steel, so sharp you could shave a sleeping mouse without waking her. Then he stared at the blue eyes looking back, burning in their wroth. It really didn't matter what the situation was, the instant he threatened her he condemned himself to death. He returned the blade to its place and then left the wing, down the long halls and through the Hall of Fire, eyes following him as he passed. They knew what would happen. All of them... He left the castle, and to his left most of the order was assembled on the deck between the arch leading to the inner bailey of the barracks and the great door to the hold where a stone block stood, and waiting for him. Berin and his son stood together, and with Falgon behind her shoulder Claira stood with them. He slowly approached her, the great sword held in his right hand. He didn't want to subject her to this.

"You don't need to be here." he said softly, and she looked up at him.

"I know." but she stayed. Moments later Jaysen and Michalis emerged from the shadows, escorting the prisoner between them wearing only his breeches and a torn tunic. His eyes were bloodshot and his mouth appeared to be swollen, the red of blood still visible on his lips. They brought him to the block where he was made to kneel, and Rychon surrendered the sword to Berin before approaching him. He glared down at the guardsman, the sight of him newly enraging the fire seething through him. Were it not for decorum, he would have used his hands.

"A threat on any lady of the burning mountain, whether directly or not, is instant death. This is well known, and is an absolute law. I will not have it broken by anyone." he directed at him, the fire blazing through him.

"And you acted not against one, but two." he remained silent, and then Rychon looked to his left where Berin stood silent with the sword in his hands, ready for the lord. He reached over, taking hold of the grip and then pulled the blade from the sheath before holding it in front of him, the tip resting on the stones.

"Devan Locke, here in the sight of gods and men, for your crimes, I Rychon of house Taugere, liege lord of Mount Ardor and warden of the Corridor, sentence you to die." he judged him, and then drew a breath as his hands tightened around the grip.

"If you have any final words, speak them now." he allowed, granting him that courtesy. Devan looked up at him, his eyes hard and his expression bland. As his mouth opened, Rychon noticed why his mouth was swollen and there was bloodstains to his lips. Eidolon had removed his upper two canines. A common method he applied to some of his "patrons"... One for each lady he'd disrespected, it might seem.

"I have lost everything to you... So, go ahead and end it. You'll do me a favour..." he muttered, the words slurring. Rychon grimaced slightly, the fires in him burning white and vengeful. There was no remorse, no regret, nothing. He would have raped her without conscience, would have beat her without thoughts for his actions. He looked up at Michalis and nodded, then the sentinel pushed the prisoner forward with a boot to his back so his chest rested on the block. Rychon brought the blade up and swung down hard, the fine steel cutting through flesh and bone in a single smooth stroke, and the head fell away. He breathed in deep, and then brought the sword back, cleaning the blade with a rag. He'd just taken the life of a man whom could not defend himself, but he felt nothing aside from the shuddering in his muscles. If this was justice, he hoped he would have no need to pass it again. It was lurid, to feel nothing... But, maybe that was how it was meant to be. Then he brought his attention back to the sentinels behind the shuddering body.

"Have his head mounted on the gates, so my promise will be remembered. His body will feed the waves." he decreed, and so it was done as Renko claimed the head from the ground and Jaysen and Michalis lifted the body. Then he felt fingers on his arm, and looked down at his mother.

"Is this really necessary?" she asked softly, and he turned towards her.

"I cannot rule these lands with kindness and compassion alone." he told, and she nodded.

"As you bid..." she did not wish to discuss it further. Then he glanced at Berin, holding his hand for the sheath.

"Thank you, for attending me. You are all free to leave." he dismissed them, and he nodded before they all dispersed. Rychon returned his eyes to his mother.

"I'm heading up, I've lost my appetite." he sighed, and vanished into the hold while she stared after him.

Rychon woke to a white morning, cascades of cold colours echoing off the world. He still felt tired, but couldn't allow himself to mope around. I should get up... He stood from the bed, and made his way to the window, looking out. Apparently, it had been snowing for most of the night, and the white flakes lay thick on the stones of the window, and the cool breeze eased his burning skin. This might be a slow day, but it could be a welcome one. Then he returned to the dresser, taking dark woollen breeches, a long sleeved white flannel tunic, a plain red leather jerkin and fine boots before making his way down to the bath chamber, giving himself over to the heat of the waters, breathing life back into his senses. He'd spent most of the evening cleaning his sword, an activity that was so oddly calming that he simply continued doing it, running the soft cloth up and down the length of the blade, over and over and over... It could have been past midnight when he finally returned the sword to its place on the hearth shelf and went to bed himself. His mother sat with him for a while, commenting that his father had also spent several nights so embroiled in that same activity that he hardly noticed anything else around him. Softly he agreed that it was something ensnaring, but promised to rest soon, and she left for her bed a short time later while he remained, simply watching the glitter of the flames off the steel each time his hand passed over the blade. After cleansing himself he stepped from the bath, dried himself and dressed for the day, deciding that he would see to his mother before leaving. He'd wondered if she slept any better now that he was back home, the dark circles under her eyes had become less obvious but were still present. He headed up the stairs to the first room and carefully opened the door to scan the inside of the chamber. It was dark and silent, her still form unmoving on the bed under thick ocean blue silks with her heavy quilt folded next to her and more silver pillows arranged around her. He quietly stepped in and went to her side, pushing away the cobalt drapery that hung from the canopy of the bed and glanced down at her, noting that she was still asleep, her breaths easy and even. He smiled, deciding not to disturb her so she may wake on her own. She who held these lands for so long, and did it all alone... Then he looked up at the window, the midnight blue shroud half covering the window, limiting the light that was allowed in; but would not open it now to the cold winds. Then he made his way to the little hearth, the remnants of fire still smouldering between the ashes and took several logs from the pannier to add them to the fireplace before gently blowing on the cinders, allowing their heat to seep into the wood and slowly take light. The wood cracked as new flames hungrily consumed the logs, and as soon as the fire was burning merrily he added another few logs to keep it sustained enough to warm the chamber, for half a heartbeat contemplating if he might ask the maester for a splash of fire salts for her, now that the air was colder. Unfortunately she didn't have his own heat, and no one to keep her warm through these long and lonely nights. He stood and glanced back, her figure still unmoved, then left closing the door behind him. He departed the lord's wing, finding their Battle Master already at his post and waiting on his queen.

"Good morning, ser." he greeted, and the dark eyes met his with a gentle bow.

"Good morning, sire. I trust you had a pleasant evening." he returned, and Rychon chuckled.

"Apart from spending half the night polishing Quill, it was fair." he joked, and the tall warrior smiled.

"It is good that you insist on taking the time to care for your sword. This also states much about yourself." he told, and the young lord wondered for a moment. He'd spent hours cleaning the blade.

"An old wisdom tells that, the sword is a mirror in the hand of the man who wields her. It reflects the warrior who holds it." he added, and Rychon smiled. That was a pleasant thought.

"I will remember that." he breathed, and then cast a quick glance at the door.

"My mother won't be down for a little while longer still, if you have other tasks you may return later." he suggested, but Falgon remained.

"Nothing requires my immediate attention, sire. I will await her grace as is my norm, if it please you." he insisted, and Rychon nodded. Of course you will...

"As you wish. Until later, then." he agreed and started down the incline, meeting a couple of handmaidens and a chambermaid on their way up, and they greeted him blithely. He allowed that they start their chores on the wing, but bid that they leave the lady to her rest before proceeding down. He made his way through the east wing, hoping to find Berterin for sparring; he hadn't gotten any practice in weeks but since he predicted it to be an uneventful day due to the snow, would try to do that today. But he found his friend's chamber vacant, awaiting the chambermaids to start their duties for the day. Then he returned the way he came, meeting with Gavin and Mandeline with their children coming up the eastern stairway, and they greeted him happily. Since the demise of his grandfather, Galeran had become more focused on joining the guards of the castle when he was old enough, and Maynlid was already serving as one of Jeody's serfs in the kitchen, where she found much delight.

"Have you seen Berterin, by any chance?" he asked, and Gavin looked back.

"He was heading to the stables earlier, my lord." he informed, and Rychon thanked them before making his own way down and outside into the snow covered grounds to the stables where he indeed did find Berterin, inspecting his courser and Stephanie's palfrey.

"Planning an early ride in the snow, are you?" Rychon teased as he entered, and Berterin looked back returning his smile.

"Not just yet, but I want to make sure everything is in order for this afternoon." he said, and then ran a hand down his horse's nose.

"Stephanie's been improving with your help." Rychon noted, and Berterin laughed.

"Very much so, but she has a natural talent for riding, unlike some others I might mention. I just guide her along the way." he agreed, and then stepped away from the stall.

"I assume you came looking for me with a task?" he asked, and Rychon suddenly remembered.

"Oh, yes. Since it's still early, I want to get some sparring done. I haven't gotten to that in weeks." he told, and Berterin nodded.

"Certainly. Lead the way, then." he agreed immediately, and they headed back to the inner bailey of the barracks where they took their places near the wall, and Rychon removed his jerkin and shirt. Berterin stared at him for a moment.

"Are you sure you want to do that? It's quite cold." he mentioned, but his friend smiled as he prepared himself.

"Don't want you tearing one of my good tunics." he replied playfully, but in truth he really didn't feel much of the cold. Then he watched as the young sentinel did the same, discarding his own shirts on a nearby haystack, and retook his place, raising his hands. He might have a bit more trouble against the breeze.

"You could have kept your shirt on." Rychon told, but he smiled back.

"And have you ruin my clothes? Not a chance." he teased, and they laughed.

"Al right, then. Try not to go easy on me, I have a lot of catching up to do." he urged, and Berterin nodded.

"I won't." he assured, and they stood for a moment, watching each other. When Rychon did not move, Berterin knew he would have to start as Rychon had learnt not to initiate. Then he shot forward, aiming a fist for his friend's face, the blue eyes watching him intently. He's fast... Rychon ducked down missing the hit and brought his own arm around aiming for his ribs, the flames of his hand racing for his skin. He turned, avoiding the blow easily, then turned sharply, aiming his elbow for the lord's side; but a hand blocked the impact while the other came for his stomach. He pulled back sharply, and the fist missed him. Again he aimed for the chest with his free hand, and he ducked away avoiding it; but with the momentum he forced his hand through and connected with the lord's stomach. I've got him... Suddenly, powerful fingers curled around his wrist and hauled him forward as Rychon moved down, bringing his shoulder into Berterin's ribs and lifted him from the ground, the skin burning warm against his. He felt the momentum, the flames moving back as the lord prepared to throw him down, but he used the motion to bring his legs around, and landed on his feet. He stood, bringing his elbow up and back, aimed for the shoulder, but again a hand blocked the strike. He's too strong... I have to get him on his back. Rychon turned, aiming a knee for Berterin's thigh, but he turned and slipped his arm under his leg and pulled hard while moving back still, throwing him down. Then in an instant he swung around, and met the ground with his knees before standing and coming forward again, and he prepared himself. A fist came for his stomach, and he turned, the flames racing by him but then an instant later an arm coiled around his neck and pulled. But he twisted, and slipped from the grasp, stepping back as he breathed hard.

"You're good." the lord complimented, and he smiled back through the breaths.

"I'm trying." he replied modestly watching as Rychon prepared himself again.

"Then come on, I'm waiting." he teased, and Berterin laughed.

"As you wish." he agreed, and then shot forward again. He threw a fist, but the blow was blocked, and an elbow dug into his ribs as he stepped back, avoiding injury. Then he stepped to his left, and darted forward aiming for Rychon's stomach, and the blow connected. But another arm wrapped around his side and pulled, swinging him forward and over his hip, throwing him down. Dust and snow floated around him, but he rolled and stood; throwing himself forward. The contest lasted for nigh on an hour as they tested their strengths and abilities against one another, each attempting to best the other. Blows were thrown, blocked, avoided and landed. Bodies were heaved, rolled, battered and recovered; but on they continued until exhaustion was the reason for an end to their training; and they stood breathing hard as a sudden rise of applause surrounded them from a circle around them. Rychon straightened, not having realized that so many guards had gathered to watch them.

"Well done, my lord!" one of the older guards called out.

"Good on you, lord Berterin!" another added, and he had to stifle a light laugh.

"Well, thank you all for your attendance. Now, back to your businesses." Rychon told, and they slowly started to head off, and they returned to the hay bales to reclaim their clothing.

"You're better than I thought." Rychon breathed, and Berterin smiled.

"I had to try hard. If it wasn't for my gift, I might have fared worse." he mentioned, and then Rychon stared at him for a moment. That was why he could avoid him so easily.

"That's cheating!" he complained, shoving his friend in a playful motion and he laughed.

"I have to use what the gods gave me. It's an obligation." he insisted, and Rychon nodded.

"It compliments your abilities well. Your enemies will have a tough time against you." he praised as Berterin pulled his shirt over his shoulders.

"Thank you. As will yours; if you land a serious hit on someone you'll shatter bones." he replied as Rychon donned his own shirt.

"Head inside, and stay warm otherwise you'll get sick again." Rychon told, and the young sentinel nodded.

"As you say. Where are you heading?" he asked, and Rychon looked up at the white sky.

"I should check on our ladies, and then I'll meet whatever comes up after that." he decided, and they made their way inside again where they washed up from a basin in the barracks and parted ways from where Rychon headed up to the east wing, finding Beatrice, Samantha and Stephanie on their way out.

"Good morning." he greeted them, and they returned his greeting mirthfully.

"I didn't think you'd be up, yet." he mentioned as he looked at Samantha.

"I'm still sore, but I'll be al right." she said, and he nodded.

"Very well. Just don't try to do too much, you took quite a hit." he said, and she blushed red as a ruby.

"Thank you, my lord. I won't." she said, and he looked up.

"Is Bella up?" he asked, and Beatrice also glanced back.

"She's awake, but said she'd get up a little bit later and dress herself. I think she isn't keen on company this morning." she sighed.

"I should visit her in any case, hear if she needs anything." he decided, and then looked back at them.

"Until later, my ladies." again they flushed,

"And to you, my lord." Beatrice agreed, and he continued down the passage while they proceeded to the garden. A short while later he stood in front of her door, suddenly wondering if he should enter. But then brought his hand up and softly knocked, and her voice granted him entry. He carefully edged the door open and glanced inside where she was still in bed, her legs covered by warm lilac silks, and the shutters open for cool light to filter in while her hearth burnt warmly.

"May I come in?" he asked politely, and she smiled at him.

"I told you to, didn't I?" she replied playfully, and he chuckled as he stepped inside, leaving the door open as he entered and made his way to her side where he took a seat next to her.

"How are you feeling?" he asked as he examined her.

"More tired than anything else, and my legs don't feel like they're melting any more, they're just kind of tingly." she explained, and he nodded. That might still be effects from the poison. Then he brought his hand up, his index finger only lightly brushing her cheek.

"And your mouth?" she pulled back shyly, her fingers covering the tiny lesion as a soft rose blush settled on her cheeks.

"It doesn't hurt, it's just uncomfortable. But the balm maester Adlyn gave me helps for any swelling." she assured, and he felt relieved that there seemed to be no serious or long lasting negative effects.

"If you don't mind, perhaps you should stay in bed today. Make sure you're al right before trying to exert yourself. I don't want you hurting yourself around the halls." She stared at him for half a heartbeat, seeming surprised for his suggestion.

"Rychon, I can't..." she started, but he smiled.

"Of course you can. I'll have you served here." he insisted, and she laughed.

"That's very kind of you, my lord." she said, and then felt his hand on hers, the powerful fingers warm and tender around hers.

"You're my best friend, Bella. I'd do anything for you." he said softly, and it felt like her heart sprouted wings.

"Thank you." she looked down at her legs, the strange sensation still running through her under the sheets. The previous day had stayed with her throughout the night, and the terrifying images continued to disrupt her sleep. His hands on her, her desperate effort to get home while her legs broke away, and his frightening face when he grabbed her.

"I'm so sorry..." she suddenly muttered, and he stared at her before breathing out.

"You don't have to apologise, you didn't do anything." he said, and then she looked up, meeting his wondrous eyes.

"It feels like I have to apologise for something, or to someone." she insisted, and felt his hand softly tightening around hers.

"You did nothing wrong, Bella." he told her, and a warmth crept into her face.

"Yes, I did. I agreed to go out where I could have just stayed here, where I'm safe." she softly said, hating the moment she stepped into the tavern with him. If she'd just turned around and come home, nothing would have happened. If she'd just stayed to begin with...

"You are now. And no one will ever dare to hurt you again, I'll make sure of it." the lord promised, but the warmth increased and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I was so afraid, Rychon... What if... What if he tried to..." she covered her face to hide herself, but then felt him move closer and his arms fold around her as he held her against him, his warmth comforting.

"But he didn't, because you found the strength to escape. And I couldn't imagine what would have happened if he did." he breathed into her hair, but she could feel the trembling in his muscles so her arms slipped around his neck, holding him tightly against her.

"Because of you, I'm safe." she whispered, and for a while they remained like this, just holding each other until the trembling stopped, and the heat to her face died away, then he drew back.

"I should leave you, try to get as much rest as you need. I might come by again later this afternoon." he told, and her arms slipped away from him.

"Oh, al right." she agreed, and he smiled at her a last time before bringing her hands to his mouth and gently kissing the fingertips. Then he stood and left, meeting Berin at the doorway as he was departing, and they stared at one another for a moment.

"Good morning, lord Berin." Rychon greeted, and the sentinel managed a light smile.

"Good morning, my lord." he returned, then Rychon glanced back before continuing on his way as Berin stared after him.

"Morning, Dadda." she called for his attention, and then he turned, regarding her with a true smile.

"Morning, my love. How are you feeling today?" he asked as he came to her side, and sat down on the same space that Rychon had moments ago.

"Much better than yesterday, but Rychon told me to stay in bed." she said, and he slowly nodded, glancing away from her. Perhaps he wanted to make that suggestion himself, or didn't enjoy the thought of another man giving his daughter orders. But then he looked back, still smiling.

"Glad to hear. Then, do so. You had a rough day, yesterday. And I will be right outside if you need me." she laughed softly, he'd taken lengths to ensure that no one came near her.

"You shouldn't disrupt your routines because of me. I'm sure you have lots to do." she declined, but his hand rested gently on hers.

"No, I don't have much to do. Besides, no one will mind if I stayed with you." he insisted, and she breathed in. He was clearly adamant, but she might like to try to get another hour of two of sleep that the disturbing dreams stole from her.

"You... you really don't need to..." she tried again, and felt his fingers gently squeeze down on hers.

"But I want to protect my daughter, and there was something I wanted to tell you. Or, need to..." he told, but she smiled at him.

"I know you do. But I'm perfectly safe here." she continued and he sighed, perhaps thinking better of it.

"I suppose I'm just worried, that's all." he apologised as he looked at the window, searching the world outside. He'd mentioned he needed to tell her something, maybe he was looking for the words?

"Is something wrong?" she asked, returning the pressure on his hand, and his eyes met hers.

"My girl, I... I really don't know how to tell you this..." he started slowly, and a cold finger jabbed into her heart.

"What? What is it?" already she could sense that the news would not be anything good.

"Yesterday, after you came back... And lord Rychon had Devan taken to the vaults to decide what he will charge him with, and what punishment he deserved..." he told, and she pulled back slightly.

"The punishment will be banishment, won't it?" I did care about him... But on account of the situation, he would not be allowed to stay at Mount Ardor. Or even in the Corridor for that matter. But Berin breathed out heavily before sitting back.

"He acted against two of our ladies, that... the punishment for that, is death." he explained, and the finger of frost transformed into an icy hand, gripping her heart and all she could do was stare at him.

"He's... he's dead..?" he nodded, and then brought both his hands up to hold hers. He'd done something terrible, she won't deny it. But, did he truly deserve to die..?

"I won't lie to you. Yes, lord Rychon decided that it will be best, and to ensure that no man would ever dare do that again, he took his head for his crime." she looked down, but crushed as she felt no tears would come any more. Did he deserve to die..? Did you do it yourself..? She knew why, but just couldn't believe it.

"How could he do that..." was it that easy, to take a life? But Berin suddenly shrugged.

"He's the lord, he can do whatever he wants." he dismissed, and her eyes came up to him.

"I never thought, he would..." war was different, but this? It was hard to grasp that he would take a life, so effortlessly. She glanced out the window, and the white sky that seemed so far.

"He... He could have given him a trial, at least..." she breathed again, and Berin nodded.

"He could have. It might have been preferable." he agreed as he shared her view of the sky.

"But the truth is, the moment he raised his hand to you, he lost his life. That's just the way it is, how it has been for gods only know how long." he told, and she stared at the sheets. That was the only reason he needed.

"Is that why you're angry at him?" Is that why you looked at him, the way you did..? she recalled the moment he passed him at the door. There was barely any kindness towards him, only just respect.

"He did it to protect his loved ones, the women he cares about. And no, that's not why I'm mad at him." he confessed with the smallest pull of a grin, I'm glad the little cunt is dead... and she stared at him, her green eyes confused that he'd continued to be adverse to him.

"Then why? You can hardly stand the sight of him." she asked, and for a long moment he sat silent.

"Because of what he did... he betrayed me..." he whispered, and she scoffed lightly.

"Yes, what he did then... And not a single thing that he has continued to do after, is any important?" she challenged him, and he had to laugh softly. He'd done so much more good, but that violation clung to his heart and memory like a tick to a wild dog.

"It is, and I'm grateful for everything he's done. It's just, difficult to forget." Hell, if it wasn't for that, I would worship him. I'd spend my days kissing his boots for what he did... her fingers strained into his again, and he looked up to meet her eyes.

"That shouldn't be important any more, anyway. It's done..." she breathed, and he lowered his head. If it were only that easy...

"I know. But, I really find it hard to let go of that thought." he insisted, that black spot on his soul so annoyingly adherent that he'd started to shun even himself for it. Then her other hand closed over his, and he looked up. She was smiling.

"Try. What is going to change if you keep hating him for that? Will it bring anything back to how it was?" she asked, and he sat watching her. Nothing would change it, no matter how much he wished it could. No matter how much he wished he could go back himself and change it...

"No, I suppose not." he agreed, and then smiled with a small nod.

"I will try, just because you asked me to. I will do it for you, my sweet." he promised, but it would not be something easy. However hard he'd tried before, he would have to try harder.

"Thank you. Perhaps, the future might be better now... If it wasn't for the war." she said, and he moved forward to embrace her.

"Let's hope everything will work out." Then he pulled back, gently running a finger down her cheek.

"But I'll leave you for now, if you'll be al right? I'm just outside if you need me." he again tried, as he smiled.

"I love you, my girl." she laughed, his beautiful daughter.

"I'll be fine, Dadda. I'm not going anywhere. Enjoy your day." she said, and he stood.

"And you, sweetling." he softly kissed her brow, and then left her chamber closing the door behind him. She sat a while, feeling the tug of emotions running through her. Devan was gone, and she was now free from him, although she continued to believe that his fate was a harsh one. But what would their future hold? Nothing would give her that answer, but time. Her finger ran over her lip, feeling the broken skin. She hadn't thought it was that severe until maester Adlyn pointed it out to her, and luckily there was no bruising, save for her left arm where his fingers dug into her skin cruelly. A part was happy she would no longer suffer him, but yet another left her unsettled that she had been the cause of someone's death, albeit by actions he himself had done... Aware that their morning meal may be served soon, she took up a book off the table next to her bed, a collection of beautiful sad and tragic poems in A Trade of Sorrows, that she'd borrowed from maester Adlyn some weeks ago. But one, was neither sad nor tragic, and was a favourite.

"Oh, how high even the mountains rise for your sweet face, my beloved. How deep the oceans dwell in darkness, forlorn for your tender touch... The winds search each corner of the world, spreading your gentle song, so the souls of my brothers may find harmony in your soft embrace. How loving the warmth of your gracious heart that has taken me, so peacefully into your waiting arms..."

It was a kinder thought, that there was compassion even in death. A while later, a knock at the door drew her attention and she allowed entry to a young serving girl, carrying a tray with boiled eggs, crisped bacon, a cheese pastry, grapes, a warm buttered loaf with apricot confiture and a tall goblet with apple press. On the side of the tray, lay a red flower, picked from the garden. The girl smiled kindly as she set the tray down on the table and arranged the plates and goblet on the surface, then scanned the chamber for anything she might return to the kitchen.

"Are you warm enough, milday?" she asked as she claimed the empty pitcher and four chalices off the dresser, and Bella nodded.

"Yes, I'll add more logs myself later." she said, and with that the girl nodded and left her to her morning. She sampled the food, the sweet and salt of it, but found that hunger had left her. And so, she lay down on her bed to try and rest; which continued to be plagued by images she hoped would leave her be. There was once, that she found that the plates she'd left on the table had grown feet and silently crept out of her room, but in all likelihood she'd simply missed the serving girl who'd come to reclaim them for the scullions. A good portion of the day was spent simply looking out the window at the clouds drifting by, or the tiny flakes that fell so lightly from the sky. With noon her companions came for a visit, bringing books and embroidery and knitting, a flute, and their many tales and gossips, staying with her until she again felt sleepy and then left her to get some rest. Rychon did not return however, and they'd exchanged notions that his company was out inspecting Garde's Post, the nearby woods where the loggers were gathering more wood, or the quarry at the stonemason's request. Maybe they were out hunting, or hawking, or just riding around the fields. But given that he'd barely had half a day to himself, she granted him that although she really did want to see him again. She drifted away into soundless sleep for now, and this time it seems she'd slept longer however, waking in deep night when the halls were silent. She stood, pulling her lime green satin robe over her shoulders and headed to the hearth which had died down to small blue flames, and added another piece of firewood to the heat for more warmth and light. The strange sensation still clung to her legs, but to her relief was not as bad as before. And the desire for food that had evaded her during the day had suddenly returned, to which she decided to head to the kitchens, and see if anyone was still there, adding that the walk might cast off the sensations entirely. She slipped from her room and made her way down the long passage to the Hall of Fire, noting that the southern hall was dark and only a few guards was seen passing through the hall to the guard's hall where light still spilled out onto the stones. Falgon's probably there, reading... she wondered if she should go to greet him, but then spied the soft light coming from the small kitchen door and went to that instead, finding their cook alone in the vast kitchen busy wiping down the counter with a rag.

"Good evening, cook Jeody." the big man looked up, and smiled at her.

"Lady Bella, good to see you're up. But so late?" he returned as she carefully came down the little steps into his quarters, and she laughed softly.

"Yes. It seems that this evening is not kind to me, so I came here to get something. Didn't think you'd still be here, though." she mentioned, making her way to the great table where he worked, and he looked down at the cloth in his hand.

"I was just finishing up. What can I get you?" he asked, and she looked around. A kettle stood on the warm ashes of the oven, and a few candles were all that brought light to this great place.

"Anything that you have. I just wanted something to drink, and I am feeling a little bit hungry." she mentioned, and he smiled.

"I got some warm goats milk, if you'd fancy that? Always make myself some in the nights, it helps knock me out." he suggested, and indeed that did sound appetizing.

"Wonderful. That will do, thank you." she agreed, and he turned away to claim two pewter cups from the shelf.

"Sure. There's also still some stew, and apple pie left from supper." he added, but she didn't feel like having anything sweet.

"I'll have a bit of the stew, that sounds good. I will never say no to your stews, you make the best I know of." she praised him, and he continued to scoop a large ladle of the food into a wood bowl.

"Will you have some with me?" she asked, watching as he came back with the bowl in one hand, a spoon already waiting inside the mixture; and the two cups in his other hand.

"I shouldn't eat after sunset, I spend enough time in the kitchen tasting everything. But I'll sit with you." he said, and then turned again to collect the kettle from the oven, and with it brought a basket with small bread rolls closer from the wall counter.

"Very well, thank you." He arranged it on the table in front of her where she'd taken a seat on the chair, and then poured the warm milk into the cups before adding a drop of honey and crushed nuts to each of them before presenting one to her.

"My pleasure." he sat down at her side as she examined the bowl in front of her, rich and delightful, the smell as inviting as ever.

"It looks delicious. What kind of stew is it?" she asked, and he laughed.

"Veal, with potatoes and mushrooms, seasoned with fresh herbs." he told, and she took up the spoon.

"My favourite." he nodded, still with a wide smile.

"It is always good for a master to hear his work is appreciated." he said as she brought a spoonful to her mouth, relishing the wonderful taste.

"Of course, and you really are the best." Maybe it's because I'm so used to it. He brought his own cup to his mouth.

"Thank you, my lady." he thanked her as she took a bread roll from the basket and broke it apart in her hands.

"You're welcome, Jeody." she soused a piece of it in the stew, and brought it to her mouth as they sat together in silence as she consumed the milk, several bites of the bread and a few spoons of the delectable broth, and he drank slowly. But still the thoughts would not fade, that had been the subject of many instances of tears during the day; and the darkness all but faded away behind the candle light.

"Is something troubling you, child?" he suddenly asked, and she looked up realizing that her hands had been motionless for quite some time, the bowl of stew only half finished. But she forced a smile.

"I don't want you to worry about me, I'll be fine." she told, and he shrugged as he brought the cup closer once more.

"I'm the kitchen master, worrying is a normal part of every day. One or two more won't make no difference to me." he sighed, but she remained silent for a moment.

"I don't want to trouble you with this..." she breathed.

"Trying to smother it won't work, neither." he told, taking another taste of his milk.

"I guess... it's for the best. It wasn't like I was to marry him..." she muttered, staring at the stew, her hunger from a little while ago vanished like a candle blown out in the wind.

"Who?" then she looked up at him.

"Devan... And I know it's wrong to be upset that he's gone, but I did care about him..." she said, and for a moment he seemed to be confused. Did he know?

"Oh? Oooh, yes! That. I heard." the memory shot up, and he stirred the straw around in his cup.

"I'm just upset, because lord Rychon didn't give him a chance." she told, and he sat forward, his arms resting on the table as he regarded her.

"Would you have? And what would the outcome have been?" then he shrugged again, and took another taste from the cup before setting it down on the table.

"Probably the same. He passed a judgement that has stood here for thousands of years. But still, in comparison, it's nothing to what some others have done." he told, and she sat wondering.

"What do you mean?" she asked, bringing the spoon to her mouth for a last taste.

"As men, we do all in our power to protect our family. These are the words that were given to the heads of this house. And some great and terrible things have been done over the ages, that much is true. But all, were to protect the future of their family." he told.

"If I may ask, what things?" she asked softly, and he sighed.

"One of the last, and equally terrible, happened barely two decades ago. When the lord Taugere eradicated one of his own bannermen. His entire family, and all who served them." he explained, and all she could do was stare at him for a moment, a feeling of dread spreading through her.

"What? Why? Who was it?" two decades? That wasn't very long ago...

"This was a terrible thing. A tragic thing. But it was done, because they threatened the lord's wife not once, but twice." she couldn't fathom it. Twice..?

"Blackmantle Hall has stood forsaken since that time, it was the seat of house Coder. It's a long story, but in the end after their failed attempt on Mount Ardor, lord Raeghun received a demand. Or rather, a second threat. The lord Coder's son wanted a burning, to rid these lands of the North Hag. Lord Raeghun answered his terms, with his own demands." she stared at him, completely dazed in that moment. Uncle Raeghun killed for aunt Claira... Then she looked down, and she could understand. If she was endangered, he would never hesitate to extinguish that threat to its very roots. He loved her, she was his reason for life. That reason, could never be jeopardised, not for an instant. And Rychon would be the same.

"That is terrible... But I suppose my father was right for what he said this morning, that he will protect his loved ones, and the women he cares for. So, he truly is like his father..." He did it for me... He did something horrible, and it was for me... I... I didn't even thank him... she heard Jeody sigh lightly.

"Lord Raeghun was a kind and merciful man, all would agree. But when his family was endangered, he would bring a fury to his foes, burning like the sun itself. And young Rychon, like his father, would not shy away from doing what is necessary to defend his own." he said, and she smiled softly.

"I think it's better then, because I keep on thinking back to, what if lord Rychon did not come when he did, or at all? He would have... Would he have beaten me, or raped me... or even killed me..." she had to confess that, although she didn't want to. It was a terrible truth, alike.

"Most likely. If he dared it here, where he knew you were under the lord's protection, what kind of husband would he have been? What kind of father? You don't need a man like that, when you deserve better than he could ever have been." he assured her with a kind smile, and the guilt she'd felt started to melt away.

"You're right. If he did that now, who's to say he wouldn't have done it to me more when we were married, or have done the same to any children we might have had." she tried to imagine it, but found that she couldn't. That was no future she wanted. Her future was here, where it had always been. Where it should be.
"Precisely. Don't feel bad about that twat, he got no less than he deserved. The only person you need to be worrying about now is yourself, and what you're gonna do for your future." he told as he drained his cup, and placed it aside. She didn't know anything about her future, aside from that it was here.

"Yes. Thank you Jeody, if I knew you were this good at talking, I would have come sooner." she said as she giggled, and he smiled reaching over for another large basket down the table.

"I'm much better with food, but I can live with that." he joked as he handed her a blueberry sweet roll, and she took it in her hands, the texture still freshly soft.

"Go to bed. When you wake up tomorrow, everything will be as it should." he told, and she looked up at him.

"No, you have it all. The powers to create lavish feasts, and the wisdom of placing hearts at ease. I hope I'll get some rest now. Thank you." then she stood, pushing the chair back to where it was.

"Sleep well, Jeody. I'll see you in the morning." she greeted, and he nodded.

"Good night, my lady." he replied, but remained where he was.

"Good night." then she left the kitchen, making her way up the long halls with the sweet roll still held in her hands. I have to go to him... I have to talk to him... lights and shadows passed as she walked, shadows and torches guiding her along the way. He'd done so much, there was so much weight on him now, and above all of that he was still worried about his family. About his ladies. About her... Could she ever thank him for that? Could she help ease his burdens? Any one of them? He had the support and help of his mother and his masters, but could she help him in any other way? Could she comfort this powerful heart, that had taken these immense strains, so young? Suddenly she found herself in front of the door to the lord's wing, standing like she was lost as she stared at the dark wood. I... I have to talk to him... she brought her hand up and knocked, waiting for an answer but there was nothing. She knocked again, met with silence. Is he asleep? She carefully pushed the door open, to see a tall black shadow standing in front of the light of the lord's hearth, and she breathed out. She slipped inside and closed the door behind her before softly making her way towards him where he stood, just watching the flames. I have to talk to him... But, what do I say? She approached, regarding him.

"Rychon?" he looked back suddenly, the golden glow of the flames leaving his eyes. She blushed, thinking she might have startled him. But he smiled.

"Bella. I didn't hear you come in." he said, and she glanced down, noting that she still held the roll in her hands, contemplating if she might give that to him.

"I'm sorry. I did knock." she apologised as he turned to face her.

"It's al right. Can I help you, my lady?" he asked, and she looked up at him, the light of the fire still casting a golden reflection off his right eye.

"You already have." she breathed, and he nodded.

"Then I am pleased, that you seem to be unharmed." he told. She focused on the loaf in her hands for a moment, and then breathed in.

"I needed to thank you, for what you've done." she said, and he took a single step closer, she could already feel the heat coming off him.

"No, you don't need to. You are a lady of my hold, and I will ensure that you are always treated as such." he assured, and she smiled. That might be true, but it didn't change how she felt.

"Still. Thank you, lord Rychon. For protecting me." he was still smiling at her, his features gentle in the light. How can I tell you... How can I show you, how much this... How much you, mean to me..?

"You are most welcome, lady Bella." she stared at him for a moment longer, and the warmth enveloped her. The loaf dropped from her hands, rolling across the floor as she brought her hands up to touch his face, her fingers gentle on his smooth cheeks, the heat seeping into her palms. Then she raised herself on her toes as she softly pulled him forward, meeting his lips with hers as her hands moved back, sliding around his neck and into his hair, the tender touch so sweet against her. For half a heartbeat he did not react, and in that instant she wondered if he'd think her foolish. But then he returned her kiss, his fingers gentle on the curve of her hips as they slid over her. Then she lowered, breaking the touch as he stared at her with a questioning in his eyes. But never in her life had she been surer of what she wanted as she smiled. She wanted to support him. She wanted to help him, wherever he needed. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to hold him. She wanted to spend her life under his watch, however long that was. Then he lowered, his mouth closing over hers again in a kiss as deep as midnight's treasure, his tongue softly pushing its way past her lips and into her mouth to dance with hers once again while his right arm glided around her waist and the fingers of his left tenderly caressed her cheek before moving into her hair; drawing her forward against him and breathing her sweet scent into him. He still smelt the way he did then... The sensation flowed through her, rousing every nerve and sense like thousands of butterflies fluttering their way restlessly through each vein, and her arms tightened around him. She wished it could last forever, wished that he would never release her from this sweet snare. Then he pulled back, still watching her. But with a smile he turned away taking her hand, and led her away from the lord's hall up the many stairs through the darkness to the highest chamber and closed the door behind them, where they continued their delicate exchange in the safety of the lord's chamber. She released the cords of his tunic as he untied the silk sash around her waist and slid the fabric from her shoulders, letting it drop to the floor as she pulled the shirt from his body, her left hand passing tenderly over the new scars on his arm. Then he continued to gently slip the soft fabric of her gown from her skin, and it too fell away as she unlaced his breeches and slid it from his waist. With their garments discarded and forgotten he guided her to the bed, laying her gently down on gold feather brocade sunset silks, and took a position above her. They stared at one another, examining each feature in soft candle light and the warmth from the hearth, then he lowered and kissed her again tenderly, consuming her with his heat as his hand gently ran along the curve of her figure, rising her skin in tantalizing mounds as her arms coiled around his neck. She wanted to be with him to the end of eternity, she wanted him. His fingertips softly glided over her skin, then his mouth left hers going slowly down her cheek and neck, over her chest to relish the sweet berries of her breasts. She breathed in sharply, stifling the urge to cry out. This was bliss... Utter and complete joy, and she prayed to remain here evermore. She pulled him up, bringing his mouth to hers again, and his hand glided over her stomach and thigh, down her leg, curling around her leg and pulling her knee past his hip, bringing himself closer to her. She whimpered as her fingers strained into his back, feeling his strength against her; but again he soothed her with a soft kiss and a tender touch. There was no fear, no doubt, only them. She laughed as she kissed him again, and he eased sharing her happiness, then his kiss deepened, and his flames flowed through her as she accepted him. He moved slowly, delicately filling her with his essence as she held him, breathing sweet sighs into his neck. There was no pain, no distress, only them. Gradually his rhythm increased, closer each time and her soft sighs altered to faint cries of pleasure. Her fingers grazed down his back, pleading his closeness and he responded, exciting sharper gasps, higher whimpers, all smothered in their intensity. Her smell, her taste, her touch, all drowning him in wondrous abandonment. Again and again he brought himself closer and closer, the fire spreading over every inch; she lifted her head, pressing her mouth against his shoulder to drown a scream as her muscles strained and shuddered, but he continued until finally with her hand holding his low back he gave her his seed with no guilt or regret, stifling his own voice into the skin of her breast before easing, and focused on calming his breaths while listening to her racing heart. Moments later he looked up, and noticed a tear trailing down her face. Her hands came to his face as she stared at him, and in that instant she seemed like she might cry.

"I... I love you, Rychon..." she whispered. It didn't matter whether he wanted her or not, the truth cannot be changed. And he smiled at her, running his fingers down her cheek, wiping away the tear.

"I love you, Bella." her heart fluttered away on the breeze of his words, leaving her near to numb. Then he lowered, softly bringing his lips to her neck as his arms lovingly circled her.

"Could you ever forgive me, for being such a fool? For only realizing it now?" hers went around his neck and she held him, shivering as she desperately battled the urge to laugh and scream and cry. For a while longer they remained like this, sharing their heat and happiness and love. Then he moved away, taking a place next to her with his right arm still around her, and hers resting on his shoulder as together they drifted off to sweet and peaceful sleep. He woke again to the sensation of soft fingers moving across his chest, and his eyes opened to the canopy of the bed where the phoenix rose into the sun from the crown. The deep purple of dawn was only just starting to lighten the horizon far in the distance.

"Sleep well?" he heard his lady next to him where she was nestled against him, and he smiled.

"The best that I ever have." he softly kissed her brow, and she blushed resting her head against his shoulder, and her fingers continued to gently move over the muscles of his chest, around the amulet and down over his abdomen.

"How many girls did it take, to teach you how to... to do this?" she asked softly, and he lay back again.

"Only one. Her name was Talia, she was the blacksmith's daughter at Pale Haven." then he chuckled.

"She was very patient with me, and I learnt a lot from her. She showed me some things, and told me more..." he recalled.

"Was she your first?" Bella asked, was that a soft tone of jealousy she wanted to hide? And he smiled.

"No. My first was a beautiful maiden from a powerful house. She lives in a big castle, on one of the richest realms in the kingdoms. She's kind and wilful, and has the most enchanting deep green eyes and dark hair, the smell of magnolia blossoms, and the kind of smile that could melt your heart." he described, and she wondered who this magical maid was that had stolen his heart.

"And where is she now?" she asked, and his arm tightened around her.

"Next to me. Where she's supposed to be." she stared at him, lost in that moment. Then she smiled, he was describing her. She brought her hand up to his face, and kissed him again for a long moment. She could never have imagined being this happy, this complete. He gently moved forward, covering her body with his as they again succumbed to each other's kiss, and the endearing touch of their bare skin as his lips moved slowly down to her neck and she held him. If only...

"Rychon..." he looked up, giving her his attention and she smiled timidly.

"Won't you try, talking to my father?" she asked, and he returned her smile with confidence.

"I'll do more than that. But whether he'll agree to it is a different matter. After all, he hated me the first time he found out about us. What do you think he'd do after a second time?" he asked, but she laughed as her fingers ran over his cheeks.

"He doesn't hate you." she assured, and he sighed.

"I'll try..." he promised, then kissed her again before standing and pulling on his breeches before making his way to the dresser to claim fresh clothing, and she sat up on the bed.

"Should I leave?" she asked, and he laughed as he looked back at her, making his way back to the bed, and cupping her cheek with his free hand.

"You're my lady, Bella. You can do as you please." he told her calmly, and then kissed her one last time as she blushed. He didn't care much who knew that she spent her night with him. She was his... then he turned and vanished through the door.

Milla stood brushing her hair as Berin entered their chamber, already dressed in dark breeches. She'd still been asleep when he left to take his bath. She smiled at him, her reflection clear in the mirror against the wall.

"Good morning, my love. Did you sleep well?" he looked up, and returned her small gesture.

"Morning, my sweet. As well as I could have, I suppose. And you?" he sat down on the edge of the bed, starting to pull his boots over his feet.

"Good, thank you... How have you been feeling, lately?" she asked strangely cautious, but he simply shrugged.

"Much the same..." she sighed. Why can't he just get past that..?

"Oh, al right. Have you told Bella about Devan, yesterday?" she asked, continuing to pull the bristles through her thick hair.

"Yes, I did. I think she handled that pretty well, under the circumstances." he breathed, and she paused glancing back at him for a moment.

"That's good to hear." she replaced the hairbrush on the dresser, and made her way towards him smoothing down the front of a warm coral and copper satin dress as he secured the laces.

"What's the matter? It looks like something is troubling you?" she asked softly, but he did not look up to meet her eyes.

"I'm just worried about her, with all that's happened... Did you check up on her this morning?" he asked, and she shook her head. He's become increasingly obsessive, she had to confess.

"She'll be fine, Berin. Besides, she has you, and lord Rychon, and Falgon, and Petyr to protect her. But no, not yet. I will as soon as I leave here." she assured, and then he looked up.

"That might not be enough. I don't want her going out of the castle grounds, or wandering around unattended." he suddenly told, sending a whip of warmth down her back.

"She's not a child, any more. You can't lock her up and isolate her from going out." she reminded, but he glanced down at the floor again. She's my baby girl, and I couldn't protect her...

"I'll create my own maiden vault here if I have to, if it keeps her away from danger." he said as he took his tunic from the bed, and she stared at him. This wasn't the man she knew.

"It's not right. You're not a mad man, and this person in front of me is not the man I married! And not the father I wanted! She is human, she will get into trouble, she will get hurt, and she will have bruises along the way. That is what being human means! Isolating her won't help, it will only make things worse than what it already is. And she might grow to hate you for it!" she argued, and then his eyes met hers again solidly, hard and resistive.

"I don't care! I would rather have her hate me for a couple of years, than to just stand aside and watch the evils of the world tear her apart!" he said, and then shook out the tunic to release it.

"I am doing what any father would. What any one should..." he breathed.

"You have to think of her and what she wants, not just you! Fuck, I'm not going to listen to this any longer! And you think she will be the only one that hates you? Or that it will only be a couple of years? I won't let this happen to her, this is not how it should be! And no sane father will do that to his daughter!" she called, and he stared at her. Milla never cursed, unless she was livid. And even that was a rare thing in front of him. She was like to stab him if she had a knife...

"You think I'm still sane? I lost a part of that, the day he took her innocence!" he threw back, and she moved forward, taking a place right in front of him.

"It's not like he took it without her knowledge or consent. This has been going on for months! You are so angry with Rychon for what happened." she accused, and he pulled the shirt over his head.

"You want me to just forget it, is that it? Act like it never happened? Because of that we will never get a good match for her!" he continued to challenge, and she pressed a palm to her face in frustration. Would he ever let this go?

"Berin, I can't believe you are so blind! He took her because she wanted him to, and she took him because he wanted her to. They are as good a match for each other as any! But it did happen, and we can't change it." she told, and again he shrugged.

"So, what do you expect from me?" he asked, and she breathed in.

"Try and talk to him. Make peace with it, that's all you can do. What do you think he would do in the same situation?" she asked, and he scoffed.

"What situation could possibly be the same to him?" he asked, and she took a step forward.

"What would Rychon do, if he ever found out about Falgon and his mother, you fool?!" she demanded, and the memory stabbed into him like a spear.

"Al right! I'll talk to him..." he agreed, but suddenly his eyes left her and went to the doorway as he slowly sat back, his face paling and she could feel the blood draining away from her skin. With the air frozen in her chest and her senses melting she turned and saw him standing there, his blue eyes blazing from his own pallid expression. Oh, gods no... what have I done..? He stepped forward, almost thoughtlessly.

"Is that true?" he asked, his voice soft and reserved; the skin on her face and hands turning to ash.

"My lord-" she reached forward to take his arm, but he jerked away.

"How could you keep something like this from me?" he demanded, and tears escaped her eyes. But Berin stood, laying a soft hand on her back.

"It was not our place, to tell you." he tried calmly, but Rychon stood less than a moment longer before turning and rushing away, all previous thoughts discarded, and Milla tried to follow.

"Wait! Rychon, wait!" she cried behind him, but he ignored her as he made his way down the passage, his body aflame. Had he been anything more than human, he might have taken light himself right there. Of course... of course it was true. She couldn't hold these lands, not by herself. He waited until she was alone, and weak and vulnerable, and then he took her, seizing control. Did he force her? No, he was too smart for that. Did he seduce her? That seemed more likely. He'd always wanted her, that was why he was always with her, always in her company. He'd solidified her trust in him, and then he claimed her, and rule over this country. You vile, arrogant, faithless, deceitful, backstabbing motherf- He screamed, his voice echoing off the stones. That just made it so much worse... You bastard... You traitorous bastard! He came into the Hall of Fire, scanning the faces and then saw him, calmly making his way towards the grand staircase while a group of guards just entered, dressed as he always was, and his hair hanging in damp strands. Then he moved forward, descending the eastern stairway to take a place in front of the phoenix throne.

"Ser Falgon!" the Battle Master looked up, his eyes attentive.

"Sire?" he acknowledged him, awaiting his bidding; and the fires tore through the lord's bowels. He should have his head as well, hang him, burn him, throw him from the bridge.

"You are charged with treason." he declared as he came down the steps to face him evenly, and the expression changed for just half a heartbeat.

"Treason?" then his eyes went past him, to the figures standing behind on the second level stricken senseless. They'd told him. Not intentionally, perhaps... But he knew now, and it could not be helped. Then he looked back at Rychon who stood just a few feet from him, and the guards who'd heard the decree came closer, their weapons ready.

"Oh. If that is what it is, then so be it." he reached for his sword, and in an instant Rychon hardened himself. If this man decided to take up arms against them, it might need all the strength of the stronghold to subdue him, and still it will not be enough. If he fought, hundreds would die... But instead, he brought Summit forward calmly, allowing the tip to balance on the stones as his hand rested on the pommel, just waiting motionless. Carefully Rychon brought his hand up, his fingers slowly curling around the grip of the sword, and then Falgon lifted his hand away. He was surrendering without any struggle, and Rychon brought the sword away from him.

"Take him down to the cells." Rychon directed at the guards, but Falgon oddly smiled at him.

"I know where the vaults are. I will not resist." he assured, and then turned and made his way towards the arch leading into the depths of the castle, two of the guards following meekly behind. He glanced down at the sword in his hand, the frightening face leering back with its red eyes. How could you have done this..? Then he looked up at the remaining four guards.

"You two, with me." he ordered, and the closest members stepped forward as he turned and made his way back up into the castle, passing the couple who stood on the second level. Once more Milla reached for him, her eyes red and her cheeks glinting with tears. But he gave them no more than a thought and she stood watching him as he walked away, and then her hands covered her face.

"What is he going to do? What is he going to do? Oh, Berin... What have I done? What have I done?! If I'd only kept my silence... This is all my fault..." she cried dismally, and his arms went around her. If she'd held her tongue, he would never have known. But, for that same reason, if he'd let go of his stubborn bitterness, she would never have mentioned it again.

"Don't worry... It will be al right. We'll... We'll think of something." he tried to soothe her, but it was a forlorn comfort as he disappeared from them, taking the long halls up into the hold and to the lord's wing where he bid the guards to wait outside and entered. He found Claira, dressed in shimmering purple velvet and Bella with the same lime robe from the previous night in the hall, where the youngest quickly helped rectify the gold and pearl girdle around her waist. He sighed in secret, shunning the heavy bitterness in his mouth.

"Bella." she looked up at him suddenly, puzzled for his harsher voice.

"Will you leave us, please?" he asked, but to his pudency could not keep the words soft and calm. She glanced at Claira uncertainly for a moment, but the lady nodded calmly and she disappeared from the lord's hall. Rychon and his mother stared at each other, the ache in his heart deepening.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, sparing a quick glance for the sword in his hand, and he could still feel the flames tearing down his back.

"Falgon will no longer attend you." he told coldly, and she stared back, completely lost.

"I don't understand... Why? What happened?" she asked, feeling her limbs grow cold.

"He has betrayed my family. He has betrayed me, and my father. He is charged with treason." a flush of heat flowed over her face.

"You can't mean it... You can't mean it!" the daze faded away into horror. He would never, there had to be some mistake.

"He will be judged and sentenced as all traitors are with sunrise." the world was spinning as she watched him pass her, laying the great sword on the hearth shelf underneath Quill, the visions a dull hue in an ashen morning light. No, this can't be... It can't...

"How could you name Falgon a traitor?" she demanded as he returned, but he simply stared back, his face hard and his eyes blue and blazing.

"Because of what he did." he justified it, but her limbs felt like they were cracking with each word.

"He has done nothing, but help me keep our land safe. To keep our home safe." she defended him, but Rychon scoffed, a sour resentful smile.

"Yes, I'm sure he did..." he breathed dismally as he passed her, and she approached him.

"He is our Battle Master. He is my Sentinel! You will withdraw your ridiculous accusation, and release him immediately!" she ordered him, but he faced her, his expression remained bland, save for the burn in his eyes.

"I will not." he refused.

"What is wrong with you? All of these years, he has done nothing but protect me!" she reminded him. That's all he's ever done. Was all he ever cared about. He would never deceive them. Never.

"It must have been fucking easy, protecting you from your bed!" he accused, blood rushing away from her face in a cold flood. She felt like she was floating in a chaotic whirl through the clouds, stunned beyond any thought. No... he would never... never... he would never...

"What are you talking about?" she was falling, into a darkness of confusion and despair. He'd only kissed her once, and because he had no other choices. But Rychon smirked.

"You're a better liar. I've heard it from Milla, and Berin; and he did not deny it." Suddenly it slammed into her like a wall of fire. Oh, gods... gods preserve me... it was the dream... it was that dream... her hands clenched into fists.

"What if I wanted it, Rychon?" she demanded, and he shook his head.

"That does not change it." the flames whipped and lashed, seething in their scorn. Then he started to turn away from her.

"You are confined to the lord's wing, for now." he decreed, and her heart stopped. He would make her a prisoner in her own home, for a crime she committed with no knowledge of it.

"I am still you mother, Rychon!" she called out after him as she stepped forward, but he glanced back, cold and hard and unsympathetic to the tears in her eyes.

"The mother that sent me away for four years..." he breathed, and then vanished through the door leaving her behind in the cold, bitter heartache as she broke apart. She sank to the floor with her hands pressed over her face, drowning the anguished cries, and hating herself. How could she have done this? He has only ever been loyal and kind to her. And now... now she was the death of him. He had risked his life for her, so many times with no hesitation, and this was how she would take it from him... And all she had to offer in return were her tears. Time seemed to vanish for a stretch while she lay there weeping in silence. Chambermaids came and went, but none spoke a word and left her to her new misery; but some time later when the tears refused to come any longer, the door slowly opened and someone entered.

"Claira..." it was her dearest friend, carrying a tray from the kitchens with this morning's serving. She quickly set it down on a nearby table and knelt at her side, placing her arms around her and gently lifting her up.

"Come on, get up." she softly urged, and Claira weakly rose to her feet as Milla embraced her.

"I'm so sorry..." she breathed as she held her, and Claira's hands shuddered on her back.

"What have I done? What have I done, Milla? How could I ever have allowed this? Because of me, he'll be killed!" she cried painfully.

"No, it's not your fault... It's mine. If I just kept my mouth shut, none of this would have happened, today." Milla told softly, and the strength left her knees.

"I should have known... I should have known... No dream could be that real... I should have known..." she sobbed, and then her fingers strained into the fabric.

"Oh, gods have mercy, what have I done?!" she cried, fresh burning tears escaping her eyes, but Milla continued to her best to comfort her.

"Come, let's sit outside by the fountain, then we'll talk. Rychon might have the guards listening in if you have a guest." she urged, and gently guided her away to the lord's garden. In truth, the servants were ordered not to speak to her, but she couldn't care about that. Claira was her friend, she would talk to her if she chose to, and she'd insisted to bring food up herself. She took her hand gently in hers as they stepped through the tall doors.

"You didn't know... You thought it was Raeghun. How could you have known?" she told as they walked, feeling her fingers icy cold in hers.

"It's not your fault, Claira. You didn't know. You must not punish yourself like this, it's not fair." she said softly, and then Claira's eyes went to the grass and snow beneath them.

"I did know... All along, I did know... I just..." then she looked up, her eyes seeming so much brighter in the cool air.

"I wanted it to be him, so desperately that I... I saw it that way..." she whimpered, and they settled down on the basin of the fountain where the ancient face watched over them.

"How could I have done this? How could I be responsible for the death of a man, who has given so much to me... A man..." she sat forward, resting her flushed face in her palms.

"That has loved me..." Milla ran a hand over her back, feeling the muscles tremble as she tried to fight the tears.

"Then, you knew that if anyone found out, what the punishment would be. You didn't want anyone to find out, because you wanted to protect him." she said, and then looked away, battling a tear of her own.

"And, I told him. Not intentionally, it was a mistake..." she confessed, and then Claira sat back, taking a deep breath and wiping the stains from her cheeks.

"It doesn't matter now... Whatever the reasons or mistakes, it doesn't matter..." she breathed,

"I've killed him..." her heart was broken once more, and there was nothing that would mend it.

"He's not dead yet... Maybe, there is some other way. Hopefully, Rychon won't do that to him. There's something we can do." she tried, refusing to abandon all hope. But Claira shook her head.

"What could we do?" she asked dismally, but her arms circled her tormented friend.

"We'll think of something. I'll try and talk to Rychon." she offered, but again she sank away.

"He won't listen... He barely listened to me..." Claira looked at her, the frost blue of her eyes so much more vivid.

"The only other person he ever listened to, was Falgon himself, and there's no chance..." she said, but Milla wiped a strand of midnight locks from her shoulder.

"He's mad at you. He thinks that you knew and didn't tell him... And that you wanted it to happen. Maybe, if he talks to Falgon..." but no, he wouldn't. The chance that he would enter an amicable discussion with him was naught, right now. And she knew it.

"But he won't. He's just hearing what he wants to hear..." she confessed as Claira wiped another tear from her left cheek.

"He won't alter his decision, no matter what anyone says. He's stubborn, like his father... I feel so lost..." she surrendered to another onslaught of cries, and desperately Milla held her, trying to hold together her tattered being.

"I'm so sorry, Claira." she breathed, the agony sweeping over them like a frigid winter wind.

"Could you... Could you please tell him... Tell him for me... That I'm sorry." she whispered, and again her head lowered into her hands.

"I'm so sorry..." she whimpered as Milla's arms tightened around her.

"I will. And I will try to reason with Rychon, I promise." she said, and felt her slowly nod.

"Thank you. For everything." she breathed, and then forced herself up as she wiped at her face. Milla regarded her, taking in every detail. The last time she saw her this distraught, was when Raeghun was lost to them.

"Can I ask you something?" she asked softly.

"Of course..." Claira agreed, forcing a deep breath into her chest. For all the good it will do...

"Do you love him?" Milla suddenly asked, and she looked up at her, jarred at the question.

"Who?" Milla smiled at her, so soft and understanding.

"Falgon." she indicated, and she only stared. Do I love him...

"I..." she looked away. She did. But, it was something different though. Something untouched by want. Someone might as well know...

"I do. Is that wrong?" she asked softly, and then felt the gentle arms tightening around her.

"No, it's not... If Raeghun was still alive, he would have returned to you a long time ago. And, no one can blame you for falling in love with him. He's always been with you, he was there when you needed someone, when you were alone. The heart wants what it wants..." but some wishes, were far and bizarre...

Falgon sat in the darkness, a single lonely torch flickering on the far wall. Stripped of all but his boots, breeches and armband he rested with his bare back against the cold stones of the wall, one foot on the surface in front of him in what could be considered a comfortable position from the old bench in the far back corner of the cell, hidden by the shadows. And nothing but time to himself, and it was spent in memories, waning and rising through his long years. The smell down here was the worst, but it was nothing compared to other situations he'd endured in the past. A plate had been shoved under the bars earlier with a heel of bread and a cup of water, but it was left untouched. He sighed laying his head back against the stones, the sounds of other prisoners sounding in the far off silence now and again. Lethargy had thus far been the worst he'd suffered here, but he had no delusions that he would be spared more memorable events. Then he closed his eyes and wandered in the thoughts. She was a vague vision in the light of a torch, long ago in a cave; dark hair cut short because it was easier to manage that way, since she spent her days outside, sun kissed skin and brilliant green eyes. She had told him that she loved him, and he kissed her then. She meant the world to him, and if not for his stubborn pride he would have sacrificed it all for her. But it was never meant to be his, and he had to survive on his own for so long time was irrelevant. But then he saw her, his queen, the woman he would belong to, and he gained something to give himself to; he relished each day that he could look upon her. Simply seeing her smile, made every day, every year, every long season worth everything. And then... that night, when she asked him to stay with her, he'd discarded everything for her. He tried to force himself not to, but that memory surfaced and surfaced again, so clearly he could still feel all of it. Her sweet smell of white blossoms, her skin warm against his, and her soft lips, tender and soothing against his. In that moment, when they were together, nothing in the world mattered, only her. And even now, she was the only person in the entirety of this world, that mattered. He breathed in deep, and released it slowly. The stone does not cry out for the moon... This was a story well known among his people, a favoured fable among the low. Once, a mountain stone fell in love with the moon, but the moon was the wife of the sun. The stone knew that it would never be the sun's equal, and that the moon would never be his; but even that, did not change how things were. And so, the stone waited for each night, simply to gaze upon her glorious beauty, and that was how it spent eternity. Waiting for the night, just so he could see her. But he, he had broken that law. He had reached out, to touch the moon, and now he would never see her again... The sound of chains drew his attention, and he looked up to see a couple of guards cautiously approaching the gate, one of them fumbling with the keys. He struggled with the lock for a moment, and then the iron swung open, and they stepped inside.

"Prisoner. To your feet." one said, and Falgon stood. They knew him, but because of the circumstances, were not allowed to treat him that way. They approached him, watching him intently as if expecting him to attack them... But, he was tired of fighting.

"I'm so sorry about this, ser..." the guard in front of him whispered as he secured black manacles to his wrists, but he stared back at him indifferently, having little care for their condolences. Just get on with it... They led him into the passage and up the narrow corridor back to the jailer's alcove, several other captives jeering as they passed; but he didn't mind them. He could hear Eidolon complaining in the distance, something about an item he'd misplaced. Ordinarily he would be very organized and his implements well maintained, they were his pride after all. They entered his wide chamber, where he was standing next to the table examining his wares, but then looked up at them.

"Over there." he indicated a space between two posts with a crossbeam above them, and they gingerly proceeded to lead him towards it. He stood between the posts while they secured the chain to a rope strung over the beam and then pulled as high as it would go, lifting his hands above him before securing it to an iron ring on the side of the post. Any normal man would have been left hanging from the crossbar, but because he was taller, he stood with his elbows level to his eyes. He could reach up and touch the cap of the chamber if he cared to.

"Anything else?" one of the guards asked as he finished tying the rope.

"I'll call you if I want something." the jailer told, and they stood a moment longer looking at the tall figure, the pity shrouded in the low light, and then they left. Eidolon turned, regarding his newest patron with a smile.

"Well now, this is an awkward situation, indeed." he breathed, and then walked forward, circling the warrior as he examined him, his strange eyes going over each detail in something that might resemble wonder.

"So many scars... each with a story to tell." he seemed to be marvelling at each of them as he brought his hand up, running his bony fingers smoothly down Falgon's side. His touch was strangely tacky, like he'd soaked his hands in honey. It was an odd sensation, all but entirely repulsive. What, do you want to count them?

"You've been all over the world, haven't you?" he asked as he continued to circle him, the fingers gliding along as he went.

"I've been down here for twenty seven years, I can't even remember the light of day..." Eidolon sighed, his voice almost a low sorrowful hum. But then he paused as his finger traced the large scar on his back, the one next to his spine.

"Ooh, what happened here?" he asked excitedly, feeling the texture of the skin. A pigeon scratched me, what does it matter? The skinny man continued to circle him.

"I'd bet that one really hurt you, didn't it?" then he stood in front of him, taking in the design of the brand on his chest, his eyes glinting eagerly.

"And this? Were you someone's slave?" he asked, pointing at the blemish as he looked up expectantly; but the prisoner stood, still and silent as stone.

"What's wrong? I haven't taken your tongue." he directed, and then laughed.

"I wanted to take some of your teeth, but I seem to have mislaid my pliers." he confessed. Oh, so that's what you were quibbling about... the jailer had a queer obsession with teeth, perhaps because he himself had unnaturally elongated canines. Then he shrugged and moved away with a heavy sigh, recognizing that he would have no words from him.

"The body is a canvas. And by the right man, can be fashioned into an exquisite piece of art. And you my friend, have a beautiful body." he praised, going back to his table and scanning the items once more. Is that meant to appease me..?

"I'm sure you've heard some of the other men tell that I'm mad, but I assure you I have all of my senses." he told as he took something off the table, and then looked back with a smile.

"I am simply, a struggling misunderstood artist. Like the bard who can't play his flute quite right, or the sculptor who seems to chip his creation in the last instant." he told, and he could hear leather shuffling on the ground as he uncoiled his chosen tool. The black bull whip.

"But, I'll see what I can do with you." he promised as he took a position behind him, to his left side. For a heartbeat longer, he simply stood there, studying the great mass.

"It's been a long time that I've had a visitor of your standard. How kind of lord Rychon to give you to me." A hard lash fell across his back and over his right shoulder, leaving a dark stain. He strained as the sensation filled him, the chains that bound him to the beam ringing as his muscles moved. It didn't need to hurt, he knew it was painful. But when had he become this numb?

"Oh yes, I've heard many and more things of you. You're a tough one." Another lash struck him, the whip wrapping around his side into his stomach; the skin instantly darkening.

"Strange, it seems I'm out of practice. Once I could break skin with the first strike. But I'll try to get it right, soon enough." Another lash found him, tearing over his ribs. For now, he focused on breathing instead of the touch of the hard leather trying to eat its way into his skin, reflecting that he had been through worse before.

"I've forgotten the sweet sound of voices, things tend to die out a bit down here. You could understand that I don't get much entertainment in my profession. Won't you sing for me?" Another lash burnt through him, across the length of his shoulders and around his right arm. Then the jailer smiled as he stepped back, accepting a challenge that had not been issued.

"You're stubborn. I understand why the lady likes you. But I will give you half-death before his lordship graces you with a final sunrise." Falgon's mouth pulled up slightly as indeed, a stubborn thought passed through his mind. It's going to take more than that to break me, little man. But go on, do what you can… Another lash struck him, searing over his back and around to his chest, the tip biting into the brand; and more followed. Six… Eight… Eleven… At some point, he stopped counting as his mind receded into the past and the world faded away, while on the other side of the darkness Berin stood on the steps that led down to the vaults, trying to push past the guards blocking his way.

"Lord Rychon ordered that no one be allowed, save for him." One of the guards insisted.

"What the fuck are they doing to him?" Berin demanded, listening to the crack of the whip in the distance, but the guards held their ground.

"What is the norm for traitors, lord Berin?" one indicated dolefully, and Berin could feel his blood run cold through his veins.

"Lord Rychon did not order this!" he called, and the guard held the pike closer.

"He was your friend, I get it." He tried to ease him, and Berin grabbed his neckband, hauling him closer.

"He is a sentinel! Not some cross-border runaway criminal!" he yelled at them.

"He is a traitor." Then he looked back to see Rychon at the top of the stairs, coming down.

"Sentinel or no, the good does not wash out the bad." He said, and Berin stared at him. Had he forgotten, all the good he's done? All the many years that he had been devoted to nothing but this family, and their safety? What happened was misfortune, and he never used it to try and raise himself up from where he was.

"Nor does the bad erase all of the good, my lord." Berin reminded, and was met with an odd smile. One that was both sad, and content.

"I did not order the flagellation; and although a part of me insists that he deserves it, I will have it stopped." he assured, and then looked at the guards.

"Stand aside." they obeyed, and then he glanced back at Berin.

"Return to your duties." he told, and then stepped forward passing into the dungeons, and crossing through the great chamber to the back where he discovered the unnerving scene. Eidolon held the whip in his right hand, looking both frustrated and perplexed while Falgon stood tied between the beams, motionless. It bit down on his heart.

"Eidolon!" the jailer looked up at him, and then lay the whip down on the table.

"My lord, how gracious of you to visit my humble abode." he greeted, and Rychon regarded the tall man, still and silent as stone. I'm sorry... I didn't want this...

"I don't remember giving the order for torture." he said coldly, and the face changed.

"But my lord, I was merely-" Eidolon started, and the blue eyes silenced him, burning even in the darkness.
"Henceforth you will await my instructions, before mutilating any of my prisoners! They may be some of the lowest, but they remain under my protection even here!" he declared, and the eyes went away from him. Then he stepped forward, releasing the rope from the ring and lowering Falgon's arms carefully, not wanting to worsen any injuries he already had. As angry as he was at him, this was not necessary. He had once loved this man, and the thought of surrendering him to torment was a hard one, nonetheless.

"Have him cleaned and taken back to his cell. If this happens again without my consent, I'll be the one to whip you! Am I clear on that?" he told purposefully as he released the chains.

"Clear as the note of doom, my lord." Eidolon muttered, and Rychon looked up at Falgon. There was no hate, no questioning, no resentment, nothing... but in his eyes, that striking amber stare, there was something.

"See to it, now." Rychon ordered as he dropped the rope, and then turned and walked away. He couldn't apologise to him, however much he wanted to. There was no more room for doubt, or weakness. He was given this path to walk, and he would force himself forward no matter how hard it became. I am the lord of Mount Ardor... I must be strong... I cannot slip into distrust of myself... it was already late noon when he took the many stairs back to the Hall of Fire, where everyone he saw appeared to be listless, but he felt exhausted and didn't recognize the faces. There was still much to do, several accounts, appeals, reports and entreaties arrived during the day, and he'd best tend to that, it might distract his mind from all this tragic chaos. He'd taken the life of a man, made his own mother a captive in her home, and imprisoned another man he'd admired. This was a dreadful day, and the only joy he had in all of this, was Bella; and gods only knew she tried. But she was equally torn... She'd wanted to come down with him, but he refused. What would it have done to her, to see him like that? It damn near broke his heart, it would have left hers shattered. So instead, he sent her up with Beatrice and Samantha to try and enjoy their afternoon while Berterin took Stephanie for her riding lesson. He passed up the halls, making his way to the Hollow where maester Gerdwyle was waiting for him with the many letters. He greeted him, and then took his place at the head of the table, taking up several of the parchments, scanning through them.

"How is maester Adlyn?" he asked, and Gerdwyle looked up. He'd been ailing somewhat for a while now.

"Better than he was this morning, my lord. Fatigue and aching limbs are his worst problems right now, but he takes relief for that often. He does spend a lot of time on that little tome that lady Bella brought back, though." he reported, and Rychon nodded. It hadn't become quite an obsession, but with each new discovery he'd been adamant to find more.

"Watch over him as best you can." he told. One report stated that the battle force of Earndale had grown by one third, and another that a sheep herd was being sent to Bellburn. Preparations continue to go well... But they've still not been called north. It was reassuring to believe they would be ready, that when the ravens arrived to summon them to war they could rise to it with little or no deficiencies. If it just wasn't for this. The afternoon dragged by, but the silence was not long lasted when Berin made his appearance, still pale as a ghost but with a determination he felt himself almost indebted to grant, in spite of his weariness.

"Lord Rychon, I must speak with you." he announced as Rychon watched him.

"Must?" he repeated, and Berin stepped forward.

"Please." he added, and Rychon sighed as he glanced at Gerdwyle.

"You may leave us, I will finish these." he allowed, and the maester duly took his leave, closing the door behind him.

"What is it?" he finally asked in the silence of the chamber, and Berin walked forward taking a place at the other end of the table.

"Don't do this, please. He doesn't deserve to die." Berin suddenly pleaded, resting his hands on the table, his eyes set on him solidly.

"If I wanted your counsel, lord Trentin, I would have sent for you." he sighed. I don't have the strength for this... his decision was made. It could not be changed.

"I know you're angry. I know what it feels like. I have been blinded by that same anger, for a long time... But, please." Berin tried again. He knew it too well. Everything that he had wished he could do when that same anger struck him, the lord was taking action on. And it was terrifying. But Rychon stared back at him, his demeanour cold; but the blaze of rage had returned to his eyes.

"Falgon is a patient man, and he bided his time well... Which of the kingdoms would compare to the Goldfields? Which woman in the world, would ever come close to my mother?" he asked purposefully, and Berin glanced down. None... But, he didn't do it for power. He didn't want her for control... He loves her... And she loves him... Milla had come to him, and shared what she had discussed with Claira with him. Hoping that he might have better odds of discoursing the lord, he offered to come himself, promising that he would do his best to try and get through to him. One more option remained, and he would insist hard on it if he could.

"Give him a trial! At least." he pressed, and Rychon sat back with a sardonic laugh.

"What trial? Trial by combat? We both know what the outcome will be, but that practise has been outlawed." he indicated, followed by a short pause.

"Trial by faith?" Rychon suggested, and Berin had to strangle a flout. Was that meant to be a joke?

"Falgon cannot be judged by faith considering he is agnostic. You accused him of treason. For that the king or queen must be present." Berin reminded him, and he smiled.

"And you're hoping that Jon will pardon him since no acts were taken against him, and on account of their friendship?" he supposed, but then the smile faded.

"High treason is against the sovereigns, this treason was against my house." he threw back, and Berin sighed in the silence.

"Rychon... I am not asking you to be blind of his sin. I am simply asking, that you weigh his crime against his virtue. You will find that there is far more good in him, than evil. Yet, this is something you've known all of your life." he told him specifically, and for a long moment they stared at each other, perhaps attempting to outweigh one another. Finally Rychon glanced away, running a hand down his face. He seemed exceedingly drained, like his vitality had been ripped away from him.

"I will think on it. You will have my answer by morning." he sighed, and Berin's nerves all but leapt from his body.

"Thank you." he said, and then left the lord to finish whatever duties he still felt up to. He walked down the hall back towards the Hall of Fire, but steps down paused, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the floor as he felt that same hand pull the strength away from him. But, there was hope. Just a little bit of hope was all they needed. Fuck... I've gained us time, if nothing else...