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.

33. Chapter 33

CHAPTER 33 - DEAD STONE

He could see everything from here, sitting on the grass under the wild pear tree on the hill. The great castle on its height, the village with all its comings and goings, the fields, gold with corn and honey where the farmers worked, the road that snaked by, leading visitors past the settlement to the gates, the ocean, blue and clear and sparkling under the light; the sun and the moon and the stars and the sky. All of it, in a time of peace and promise. Everyone was home as they were meant to be after the war had strangely never come. The young lord and their men never left. They were never called. There was no war. There was no Night King. No army of White Walkers or Wights... There was never any threat to them, at all. And there was a blessed peace throughout the world. He waved at a group bearing the Taugere standards passing them on horseback, and the young couple surrounded by Sentinels happily waved back. The young man whom was the head of their house's wedding to lady Bella of house Trentin followed shortly after, as had been promised. And the future held new hope with the recent announcement of the young lady carrying an heir.

"Falgon..." he looked down at his queen, dressed in sparkling sky blue velvet with silver details, safely against his chest where she smiled at him, and he brought his hand up to gently caress her cheek, having to admit that quite a bit has changed. He had assumed that she might stay in the wing for a while, but she continued to form an active part of the hold's life after all. Her son had decided to make it known to their members, that the Battle Master had become his mother's consort, with the mind that as he was secure in his position as ruler of the burning mountain, she no longer needed to fear for hers, and whom she chose to love should not be regarded with consequence. And the news was not met with a great degree of distaste as one might think, considering that to them, he was perceived to be a commoner. Some, were truly happy. They accepted, that she had chosen him for his heart, and not a title.

"They're moving." She guided his hand to the curve of her abdomen to feel the gentle nudges, and he laughed. The maester was wrong. She did conceive again, easily. And for the swell of her stomach, the maester had predicted twins. Sons or daughters, or perhaps both... Arius and Dinah they would be called, and he could already see them. Black haired and golden eyed... and beautiful, like their mother. Then her hand touched his cheek, bringing his eyes back to hers, and he lowered his mouth to hers in a sweet, lingering kiss. He held her in his arms, closing his eyes and rocking gently as if to soothe a child, then slowly the world swayed with them, silent and spectacular in its wonder; his existence so long unfulfilled... and now finally complete. All was complete. There was nothing he wanted, nothing he needed, nothing he sought. This was the one, absolute perfection. The breeze whistled through the leaves, silencing the sounds of the world into little more than a soft stirring hum that slowly faded away into nothingness. His eyes opened, met with the dull light of a candle against the stones, and the shadows cast by the golden glow of the hearth. Suddenly he sat up with a start, disoriented for a moment as he forced several deep breaths into himself. He was in the stronghold, still in her bed with the silks over them. It was still dark, but the far off first calls of birds signalled that it was close to morning. This can't be... It can't... His hand went to his throat. He couldn't tell if he was hungry, but he was thirsty. Very thirsty. Then he took a chalice of spring water from the table next to the bed and drained it, before feeling his wife rising next to him, looking at him in confusion and then finally glanced at her.

"What... What happened?" he asked softly, almost cautiously. But she only smiled.

"Nothing. Nothing happened." she assured, bringing her hand up to touch his cheek, warm and soothing and wonderful, and his closed over her fingers. But, he felt strange. Wary and dazed.

"You were sleeping." she told, and a sting of dismay washed over him.

"That's impossible..." he breathed as he looked away, her fingers slipping away from his skin as he stared at the flames of the hearth.

"I don't sleep." he hadn't slept in hundreds of years, had no need for it, had no use for it. His hand closed over his eyes, driving away the unnatural feeling while trying to find a reason for this sudden, alarming change. It was easy to conform to when it was something that just didn't happen, but when it suddenly did, and so deeply... He felt her hands around his left arm, her cheek resting against the muscles underneath the woven leather band.

"Oh, my Falgon." her right hand tenderly glided down the length of his arm to his hand, then back and over his shoulder to his chest.

"You're changing." his eyes came back to her, still feeling discomposed. Initial alterations were concerning, but he'd conformed and endured them for this long. Sudden changes, were redoubtable at best.

"Why?" Sleep. Thirst. What would he be met with next? But she only smiled, her head still resting against his arm as her cool fingers traced the form of the brand.

"Would I be able to say?" then her hand closed over the scar as she looked up at him with a soft joy in her eyes that made his uneasiness melt away.

"But, maybe so we can share this life together. So we may grow old together. So we may see our last days, together." his right hand closed over hers, and he glanced down as he took in her words.

"Then..." Was it really such a daunting thought? No. If he remained, what would he do when she was gone? Watch over their family for the rest of eternity? He'd had enough of this world. He would happily leave it, if he could simply stay with her.

"Then, that doesn't seem so bad." he breathed, and then leaned down to kiss her as her hand wound around his neck. She pulled back, bringing him with her to lay down on the bed and his right arm closed round her body, holding her close as they kissed. Then her fingers rested on his cheeks as he drew away, and she smiled.

"But I hope, that this never changes." she said softly, and he returned her gesture, bringing himself slightly closer.

"It won't." he promised, then she laughed and pulled him closer to place the gentlest of kisses to each of his bright red eyes.

Bella woke to a clear cold morning, blue skies reaching to the horizon while a blanket of white covered the stones and the grounds. She flexed between the sheets, feeling warm and happy. In less than a week their house had experienced the peaks of both dismay and joy, and it seemed now that for a while this will last. There remained one last peril that they had to face, and endure. But they would do it together. Then she started raising herself to stand, for a moment allowing her feet to rest on the warm wood flooring, smiling at the first of the world's sunlight starting to filter through her high window and spilling over her little carved knight on her dresser. Gathering all her senses to herself she made her way to the window, looking out over the world where more and more soldiers had started gathering around their village, brown and grey tents sprouting up like so many mushrooms after a storm. It's going to be soon... Too soon... she sighed, and then turned as a knock to the door caught her attention, and she allowed entry to her companions who had come to help her dress for the day. Beatrice pulled a warm fur lined dress of copper velvet from her wardrobe, a gold and garnet girdle, good black boots and a close fitting pearl necklace; and after dressing Samantha brushed and braided her hair while they discussed their morning. With all set they left the east wing of the castle to meet with more members in the Hall of Fire, where light and warmth was abundant, and many faces could be seen wandering up and down on their rounds to and from the wings and their many assignments. Assuming that her mother had already gone up to the lord's wing to attend their lady, and the lords had proceeded outside to continue their daily training, she and her companions started on preparations for the southern hall; having the tables and floors cleaned and set with feast ware, and choosing light rich smelling flowers from the garden, of which the white carnations with pink edges were a favourite for sweet Stephanie. She had gained a little bit of confidence over the past few months, but always kept her gentle nature. While waiting for the serving girls to finish their duties on the feast hall, they spent much of the morning in the garden where the ladies of the hold joined them, with the Battle Master in Claira's shadow. Nothing had changed. In these halls he was all the same as he always was, and continued to address her as he always did. He was close enough to protect her if needed, but not enough to display any intimacy. He showed no more emotion in her presence, than his always easy smile, and pleasing laugh. He was no more than her shield, and no less than her shadow. But in there... In there it was different. In there, they were free. Moments later they were called inside to join their lords at the high table while others shared the long tables down the length of the table to break their fast on warm honeyed oatmeal with goat milk, fresh fruit, flamed sausages with cheese pastries, and tea. This was followed by prayer under the weirwood fountain, the daily court matters and other affairs while the ladies saw to the management of the hold before retreating to Claira's common room where they shared gossip, songs and stories, and many memorable moments over knitting and needlework while Falgon again played the gentle melodies on the lute for them. With noon, Petyr stepped into the common room with a formal bow.

"My apologies for disturbing you, my ladies." he pardoned, and then straightened with a smile; his grey-green eyes bright in a calm, lengthened face. His black hair was cut short, but somehow always seemed to be tousled.

"No apology needed, ser Petyr." Milla laughed. Not quite as tall as Rychon, not quite as fast as Berin, not quite as sprightly as Gavin, not as refined as Jaysen or Michalis, nor as defined as Renko. But an adept swordsman, and a pleasant member of their order, who'd been her daughter's sentinel for a good while now.

"Lord Rychon has extended an invitation to my ladies for a ride this afternoon." he shared, and the youngsters immediately accepted while Claira leaned slightly back in silence before Bella's eyes met hers.

"Lady Claira, would you join us?" she urged, but she softly laughed.

"Not today, sweetling. Go and enjoy it with your friends." she declined, and gave the work in her hands a short glance.

"I'll stay in today, the fields aren't going anywhere." she said, and then Bella's attention went to- Milla.

"Mother?" she nodded.

"Someone has to keep our lady company. I'll join you the next time." she assured, and then the youngsters politely excused themselves to join the lords in the bailey while the ladies remained, continuing on their knitting and Milla examined her friend for a moment longer before smiling.

"You look well, Claira." she praised, bringing the light blue eyes up to meet hers with a soft smile of her own.

"Thank you. I feel well." she agreed, casting her protector a quick discreet glance which he noticed, and shared the thoughts. Then their attention went back to the works in their hands, and the gentle medley continued.

"Stephanie has certainly blossomed lately. She's not as shy as she was a year ago." Claira continued, and Milla nodded in agreement.

"She has. I've even heard her singing in her room, occasionally." she hinted with a small laugh.

"Really? Bella's confidence has finally adhered to her." Claira laughed, seeing her friend blush.

"I'm not so sure it's as much Bella, as it is Berterin." she said, followed by a moment of silence.

"Oh. That's good then, isn't it?" Milla blushed slightly once more, staring at her hands.

"He has fallen in love with her, quite deeply." she sighed.

"Love is strange, and unexpected, and sometimes confusing. But good, all the same." Claira breathed.

"A wedding is a far better prospect than a war, though." Milla hinted, and Claira nodded as she continued on a white wool shawl in her hands.

"Yes. We may have quite a few, once the fighting has passed." she said as Milla's eyes went to the window.

"I do hope they don't wait very much longer." she shared, dreaming of that day when her daughter would walk down the aisle in a beautiful gown to meet her lord.

"Soon after, I'm sure." Claira told, and a thought came to mind.

"Bella's name day is in a fortnight as well. That's something exciting." she said, seeing Milla smile.

"I can't believe it's been seventeen years. It seems only yesterday that she was still such a small, fragile little thing..." she thought back, recalling the tiny bundle that was lay in her arms, soft and sweet and wonderful.

"And today she's a woman grown, with a will as strong as her mother's." Claira said in a small tease, and Milla laughed.

"Rather her father's. She's always been more like him." she corrected.

"As is Rychon. He has done very well." she added as she looked back, and Claira nodded.

"He still has much to learn, but already he is a great man. A great lord. So many look up to him, and I have every faith in him." she agreed. Men would follow him to all of the hells and back again, and he would have his family to guide and support him on any road he chose to walk.

"What word from Vaellion?" she asked, and Milla sat back against the chair.

"That everything fares well. Preparations have been made, and he will lead the Bristlemane soldiers up to meet with the rest of the mass at Smallember himself when the time comes." she reported.

"Any mention of someone special in his life?" Claira asked, followed by a short laugh.

"Not in his reports. But, I imagine he would keep such details to himself." she said.

"Have you heard anything from Rod recently?" Claira continued, and Milla's thoughts went to the letter received a few weeks past.

"Yes, he said that they are doing well, and the baby is getting big, now. My mother is still struggling with my father's loss, but she's better now. Not as bad as it was before, though. And you? Anything from Rhegard?" she told, but saw Claira shaking her head.

"Nothing for a while now, but the last report said that things are well and the force is still growing. With any fortune, they'll join their mass to those of Winterfell, soon." she said, wondering what they were doing, still concealed by the thick mist.

"Good." Milla breathed, sitting motionless for a moment. The White Hold had once been her home, as well.

"Do you think of home, sometimes? When we were young and playing in the garden, getting our dresses dirty and wet. We'd get into trouble for that, but we loved doing those things when we were together. Everything seemed so simple then..." she brought up the memories of an easier life, long ago when they were running around the great weirwood tree in the god's grove and splashing in the pond. The Grey Tom would scold them for soiling their clothing, but he never lashed out at them. If anything, most of the times he would seem rather amused with their antics.

"When I first came here, I used to think of that all the time. But, then you joined me here. And this has been my home for so long, that the thoughts of Pale Haven are fleeting, now. I do miss it sometimes, and those memories are some of the most precious. But, nothing is simple any more. Hasn't been for a long while." Claira sighed, silently debating with herself on which memories outweighed the others. The light and happy ones, or the dark mournful ones. But then, the better memories surpassed them all.

"Yes. Now, our men go off to war to fight in someone's battle, and all we do is hope they come home to us." Milla added, and Claira looked up at her, still motionless in her chair, staring at the ground.

"At another time I would have agreed, but now... It's not just someone's battle. This war concerns everyone." Every living person was affected by this, everyone from the North to Dorne, it would fall over all of them.

"It is different. Very different. And it's all to keep us alive." Milla agreed with her. While the falcons slept, the owls hunted. But night, remained night. But then she looked up, into her friend's reassuring smile.

"Well, the night never lasts forever. This one will pass as well, and meet our people with a victorious dawn." she said, her words so bright with confidence that Milla smiled with her.

"We have strong men. All of them are great warriors. I heard that the King in the North is also training women and children to fight. I wonder what Rychon would do if we insist on joining them in the fight." she hinted with a small teasing laugh, and Claira sniggered.

"Rychon has also issued orders for everyone ages ten and up to be included in training. But he'll never allow us to go to war. He'll shut us in the lord's wing, if he has to." she said, and Milla nodded in agreement to that.

"He'll tie us to a bed if he gets his way." she laughed while Claira shrugged, adding another few stitches to her shawl.

"Or a chair. Or a post. Whichever is easier." she added, noting that there were quite a few items he could use to retain them if the need arose.

"Yes." Milla sighed, and then cast a glance at the window where white clouds drifted past in the noon sky.

"Do you want to join me in the garden? We can pick out the flowers for the feast hall." she suggested, bringing Claira's attention back to her.

"Sure, why not? We have the time." she said, and lay her work down on the armrest of her chair.

"Plenty. We can always get our dresses dirty, again?" Milla teased as she stood, and they started for the door.

"If only we had more dirt than flowers." Claira laughed, and they made their way down the long and great halls to the cool, clear air of the grand gardens, and Falgon paused at the great doorways.

"I'll await you here, your grace." he suggested, and she looked up at him.

"Are you sure?" he smiled softly with a small nod.

"I can see you easily enough. And I'll be right there if you need me." he assured as he scanned the vast space, and she blushed.

"Very well." she walked forward again to join Milla on the garden path where she waited.

"What is he doing?" she asked, slightly curious.

"Giving me a moment alone with you, I suppose?" Claira shrugged, and Milla glanced back at him.

"Oh. How considerate of him." she said, severely happy for that. Then they continued down the garden path towards the back.

"So, how are you feeling these days?" Milla asked as they walked.

"I'm fine. Why?" she replied easily, an odd question given her demeanour for some days now. But Milla flushed lightly.

"I'm just asking. Are you happy? You are my sister, after all. I must know if the new man in your life is being good to you." she hinted, and Claira nodded holding back her laughter.

"He's wonderful, of course. I couldn't have asked for anyone better, now. I'm truly happy." she assured, her mind slowly wandering over the last few marvellous days.

"That is so good to hear, and you look happy. I haven't seen you like this in a long time." Milla told, wrapping a hand affectionately around Claira's arm as they walked, noting her friend blush.

"I haven't felt like this in a long time. No man has ever made me feel the way he does..." Claira said softly, feeling the heat to her glowing cheeks, the fluttering of her stomach, and secretly hoping her friend would not find her vain. Her lord was not unskilled, never unloving in any way. Her king was just... different.

"I'm really glad for you." Milla insisted as they took a seat on the stone bench next to the fountain, enjoying the soft winter sunshine amidst the sweet smells.

"Thank you. Sometimes, I find myself wishing that the nights last a little bit longer, though." Claira breathed as she rested against the back, overlooking the blue of the Sunset horizon.

"Why the nights only?" Milla asked curiously, and Claira glanced away, trying to hide yet another vivid blush. He would make love to me incessantly, if I wanted it...

"He's a Stoneholder, Milla. He... has a lot of endurance..." she alluded softly, followed by a long moment of silence, where she could feel her friend staring at her. Ladies were not meant to discuss their marriage beds with others, but Milla was her best friend. She wouldn't hate her for sharing an intimate word with her? Maybe she would. It was something unthinkable, and forbidden besides. But then she heard her laughing, and looked up into a blushing smile of her own.

"But, that's a good thing. At least you know he's a true man, and not some stupid boy." she said, making Claira ease as she looked at the sky above them, recalling each moment.

"Oh, he's a man like there hasn't been in three hundred years." she breathed, for whom could ever be like him? Was there any other man, who had ever come close to him?

"One who knows just what to do, and how to do it. I want that..." Milla sighed, looking away at the seas for a long silent moment that felt almost lonely before suddenly bringing her attention back.

"Not that I'm complaining, but if you're married to a Sentinel, not to mention the Head of the Order, it's difficult to get the right amount of attention. Not like the sword, he wields that better than me, but..." she suddenly shook her head, seemingly trying to shove the thoughts from her mind before looking back at Claira.

"Don't tell, I might end up sleeping in the stables tonight." she tried to joke about it, but there was a sadness in her clear green eyes, and Claira gently took her hands.

"I won't tell. I could ask him to give Berin some advice, if you want?" she suggested, wishing for some way to brighten their lives as well, but Milla forced a laughed.

"Won't that be something?" then she looked away again, taking a deep breath.

"I don't know what's with him lately, we always used to have this wonderful kinship between us. But it's like he's different now. Even in bed we don't have as much love as fights and arguments the last while..." she revealed, and Claira glanced down at the soft hands in hers, feeling a pang of guilt.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize that things were so strained. I suppose that I was so happy, that-" she started, shunning herself for being so indulged in her own fortune that the world passed her by. That, and the life and well-being of her closest friend. But then Milla smiled at her, gently pressing down on her fingers.

"You're supposed to be happy, Claira. Don't apologise for it." she quickly silenced her, and the guilt left her, replacing it with severe gratitude for her. That she was never envious of her, and they wanted peace and fortune for one another above anything else.

"Well, with everything that's happened, he might have a lot on his mind." she tried to ease her, there was still much to face and the tension could not be dissolved so easily, even with happy events. But, perhaps when all was over, things will return to how they once were.

"I know. But that shouldn't be a reason for him to snap at me all the time. He's not like that with others." she mumbled. It was a cruel and unfair thing, that strains often made him flare at those who were closest, because that was easier. Because that was where he felt secure, and in control.

"He has a lot to deal with. But I'm sure things will improve." Claira continued to encourage her, and she could find it to smile.

"I hope so. I love him dearly, he's made me stronger and we faced a lot of hardships together to get where we are." she recalled each of the many memories, distant and recent, good and bad, easy and hard. Then again felt the cold fingers move over hers.

"And he loves you. You wouldn't have gotten this far if it wasn't for that." she reminded. Love may be a tender emotion, but it is a strong one albeit sometimes unstable.

"I suppose so. Maybe I should do something for him." Milla said, thinking of ways to please her husband who'd been so tense recently with all that's been happening, he barely had any time to think of anything besides seeing that their force was in order.

"Surprise him in bed tonight, with nothing but a silk ribbon tied around your waist." Claira suddenly suggested playfully, and her eyes shot back to her. She drew a deep breath, wondering how to react, and although the suggestion was peculiar, not entirely alarming; and she blushed.

"That could work. Maybe I'll do that." she mentally rummaged through her wardrobe, recalling a wide seafoam green satin sash she had stowed somewhere.

"Be creative, it's just the two of you. He might like it." Claira encouraged, and she could laugh as several whimsical thoughts found their way into her mind.

"Oh, he will. I know just how to make him feel special." she assured, and Claira leaned slightly forward.

"Good. Don't hold anything back, you deserve it. Both of you." she told, and their eyes met.

"We do. It's been long enough." Milla agreed, fully intending to seize any moment she had. They continued to share the peace of the garden while Falgon still stood at the great doors, his sight cast over the vast garden where he could see the glint of midnight hair in the sun far at the back next to the fountain, granting her this little bit of time alone. Sometimes, people needed that. Then footsteps caught his attention, and Berin appeared from the hall at his other side, scanning the green of Mount Ardor's grand oasis.

"Falgon, have you seen my wife?" he asked, and the dark eyes again went up over the lush outside to the figures still sharing the bench.

"In the garden, with her grace." he replied, and heard the sentinel at his side sigh heavily.

"Oh, I'll... talk to her later, then." he decided before turning to walk away, but the words sounded heavy and burdened.

"Are you doing al right?" Falgon asked, and he paused. His shoulders sagged as he took a breath and let it go slowly. Then he looked back, forcing a smile.

"Yeah, I've just been busy. I can't seem to get to everything." he assured, but that may not be the only thing that was vexing him.

"All orders are well, perhaps you might take some time to yourself." Falgon proposed, and he sniggered as he came slowly back to his side.

"I'd like to... Current circumstances are just frustrating. Perhaps it's the wait that's working on me." he tried to brush it off, and Falgon nodded.

"And it's taking a toll on you, and your family." he marked, watching as Berin stared at the far back of the garden for a long moment from the top of the few steps leading down to the little garden path.

"Especially Milla. Regrettably, we've been arguing quite a bit lately." he confessed softly. But then looked up, again with a smile.

"But you shouldn't worry about us, we'll settle it somehow. Enjoy this time with your wife." he encouraged, and Falgon glanced away.

"I do. But were it not for your family, I might not have had one." he mentioned before looking back.

"Try not to be too harsh. Like the sword in a warrior's hand, a woman is a reflection of the man. And I would rather face the third hell, than the wrath of a woman wronged." he breathed, and heard Berin laughing softly.

"I've never seen you argue with anyone." he teased, and Falgon shrugged.

"We've had disagreements. But no, no arguments in a long time." he agreed.

"Lucky you..." Berin muttered, still with that small tease in his tone.

"The woman I once loved and I used to argue as well. If I was annoyed with anything, she would be annoyed with me, and it caused a number of conflicts. Until I found better ways of resolving our disputes." he hinted, and Berin stared at him for a long moment in, seeming confused.

"Better ways?" then the tall warrior grinned.

"It may be a pleasing discovery, Berin. That your mouth is good for more than just words." he told. More often than not, a kiss was a better way to silence someone than a risen voice with rough words, or the occasional clout some would fall to. But still, Berin stared at him, trying to make sense of it. He'd kissed Milla thousands of times.

"You'll identify with it if you think on it. You're a smart man." Falgon eased, and he finally shrugged.

"Al right. If you say so." he sighed, and then started to turn again.

"I need a sparring partner, since I've missed this morning. Come along." he told, and Falgon followed after another glance over the garden. They might ask Gavin to keep an eye on their ladies.

In the woodland to the east of the great castle on its hill, the small group of riders made their way along the trail back to the keep, with the lord and his lady leading, holding hands with their horses close together on the path. He had shown less caution of displaying his affection for her in front of others since their betrothal, and she was happy to return it. Just behind them, Berterin and Stephanie followed with Beatrice and Samantha on their tails, and the sentinels keeping pace. Discussions were light, happy and peaceful in the serenity of the quiet woodland, and their laughter could be heard echoing through the trees. They continued to trudge along the trail, oblivious of the small figures stepping out of the shadows on the path behind them, watching as they moved away and the heedless voices started to die away.

"Just look at them..." one sighed, his white eyes fixed on the group in the distance.

"A fine company, yes." the other agreed, yet resenting the tear in his still human heart. A human heart that once responded to a name, a name that was Addam, now long lost to the ages along with four others, or at the very least three. Whether you want to believe it or not, some things are more than simply forced events... They are living, breathing people... Just as we once were...

"We can't let him complete this. They have done nothing to deserve this path. We must find another way." his companion insisted, and he brought his attention to him. He was slightly weedier than himself with sharp features, once a long time ago, named Aiden.

"There is no other way. Not now. Had the Wall remained, there might have been. We told him then, we told the Builder that the Wall must needs stand ten thousand years at least, but we had no foresight for the monsters that came from the east. Were it not for them, the path may have been different from the very beginning." he reminded, and watched his brother look down. He too, had refused to discard his humanity entirely, for the sake of something yet to be fully understood. Unlike their tallest brother, whom lacked any kind of empathy save for an odd moment or two for their pleading, they could still feel. Could still be touched by life. Could still share... still understand.

"They're content. Perhaps if-" he again started, met by a stare solid as the earth.

"Perhaps if there were more time, there might have been a chance. But you know as well as I, that nothing will stop them. The shield is the only way, and it will only form with them. Content or no, there's nothing more we can do, but to be gentle." he silenced him, much as he wanted to, and irritated by the way they were forced into this and their inability to change any more on this bleak road, and then turned to walk away with the other following.

"Would there have been any chance?" Aiden asked.

"Yes... But because of this, they will never see this world..." Addam breathed dismally, crossing the pathway and ambling their way further up north as the group pressed on west back home, sharing stories, gossip and jests. Rychon glanced at Bella at his side, smiling happily with her hand still in his, reflecting on how beautiful she was, and how beautiful their future together will be. She was a strong and wilful woman, and would be a good wife to him, and a wonderful mother to any children they might share. That life was one he wanted, and once the war was done, he could finally start it with her.

"How have you been feeling?" he asked, and she looked at him.

"I'm fine, why?" he grinned.

"No changes?" then she blushed as she brought her eyes back to the path with a shy smile.

"No, no changes. Not yet." she breathed, and he laughed. For a moment his memories went back, to the night in their hall where he stood facing a great warrior, once a king. And the pure joy in his striking eyes when he named him 'father'; he'd never seen a man that stricken. Secretly he laughed, how many men could say they had more than one father? He had two, and before too long he would have three. A gasp drew their attention, and they looked back to where Samantha was pointing to the late noon sky excitedly, and when they glanced up something of bright white glided over the treetops, casting shadows as it passed and leaving a cloudy trail behind it.

"What is that?" Berterin marvelled at it, but despite it's beauty, it did not feel reassuring. An omen...

"I have no idea." Rychon continued to stare at it, until it vanished from their sight.

"A star?" Beatrice tried.

"In broad daylight?" Petyr asked, and Bella smirked.

"Stars fall all the time, ser. We just don't always see them this clearly." she marked, and then she looked back at Rychon again, his gaze lost to the horizon, his posture suddenly alert and uneasy.

"Rychon?" she gently called for his attention, and then their eyes met, vivid and burning. He'd seen hundreds of stars before, but none like these. Most accepted that seeing a falling star was a sign of good luck, but it wasn't the sight that was unnerving, but the feeling it gave off; and he couldn't tell why.

"It will be dark soon, we should get home." he urged, and they resumed the trail back to the castle while much of the time was spent debating on what the object was that passed them. But passing out of the woodland and onto the dusklit path that would lead them to the keep, Stephanie's brown palfrey started growing restless with quicker steps and force on the reins, and she had difficulty keeping her calm, increasing her own unease. Berterin brought his courser closer to hers.

"Are you al right?" he asked as she pulled back on the reins, making the older mare snort irritably.

"I don't know what's wrong with her. She's never done this before." she said, still straining on the reins as Daisy continued to pull forward.

"Do you want to ride with me?" he offered, and she nodded. He moved closer still, reaching for the reins, but as he took hold of the left side rein to bring the palfrey to a halt, she suddenly jerked free and set off on the road back to the keep with Stephanie still on her back, screaming for her to stop and the group pursuing. Berterin pushed his courser closer.

"Pull back, Stephanie! Pull back!" he called out to her, watching as she desperately tried to stay mounted.

"I'm trying! She's not listening!" she cried as the horse continued to race down the path. With his heels digging, he reached for the reins once more but the mare shied away. A moment later, Rychon came up on the other side, with instruction for Berterin to move in closer to inhibit the mare's range of movement.

"Hold on!" he reached out from the other side, and only just touched the reins when the horse threw her head back, and her gait widened, passing between them and leaving them trailing behind, her terrified rider still screaming on her back until she finally entered into the bailey, heading straight to the stables where she finally stopped for a stable hand who seized the reins, and the others followed shortly after. Berterin swiftly dismounted and rushed to her side, to find his poor lady in ragged breaths, her hands mangled into the brown mane so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. He lay a hand gently on her and called for her attention.

"Stephanie, you can let go now." he said, but her she remained as she was.

"You can let go." he eased again, and slowly her fingers came away from the mane as he helped her down, her arms going around his neck as he held her small, shivering body against him to soothe her, and the rowdy horse was led away.

"Is she al right?" the lord's voice met them, and Berterin glanced up.

"I think so." then he looked back at her, and laughed.

"You were going so fast, I couldn't even catch up to you." he told, and her eyes came up to his.

"I did?" he smiled happily.

"Yes. You did well." he praised, and her ragged breaths became a strained laugh.

"To Stephanie! The victor of our dusk horse race!" Ragon called out cheerfully, accompanied by generous praise from the other Sentinels, trying to alleviate the girl's shock and raise her spirit, blessedly bringing to a laughing blush. And while the youngest of the Sentinels further comforted his lady with a soft kiss, Rychon and the Sentinels helped the remaining ladies from their horses, and the stable master came from the structure, seeming abashed.

"I'm so sorry, my lord. Is your lady hurt?" he asked as he approached Berterin and Stephanie.

"She seems to be fine. No injuries." Berterin assured as he looked up at the older man.

"Why did she do that?" he asked, and ser Tursten glanced away as he smiled nervously.

"Daisy is a tender creature, but she likes to be on time for her supper, I'm afraid. Your company was out a little bit longer than usual." he mentioned, but then quickly looked up at them again.

"If it please my lord, I may assign a different palfrey for lady Stephanie? Sweetfoot is not as old, but won't go running off with someone on her back." he offered, indicating a small blue roan filly with a white star on her forehead watching them from one of the stalls.

"Very well, that might be better for now." Berterin agreed, and then the small group started making their way inside the hold to assemble for their evening banquet, where music and stories and adventures were shared over glazed goose, vegetable pots, spiced potatoes, custard tarts and sweet mead. After the hall was cleared, the lord and his lady shared time together in the warmth of the Hollow while his mother and her protector retired to the lord's wing, joking about the day's events.

"I never knew Stephanie could ride like that." Bella laughed, and Rychon shared the humour.

"Oh, she'll give any knight a challenge." he agreed.

"Of course she will." she nodded.

"Berterin said she was a natural rider, he's just helping her out. In time, some of the youngsters could take a lesson or two from her, as well." he continued, and then her hand closed over his, the fingers taking hold of hers gently.

"They are well suited to each other, I am happy for them." he breathed, and then glanced down.

"Does her family know that she's here? She never talks about them." he asked softly, and she sighed dismally. Nothing has ever been heard, no father demanding the return of his daughter, no mother pleading for her to come home, no family member ever asking about her whereabouts.

"I don't know if they even care. They might believe her dead, for all that we're aware of." she said, and he softly squeezed her fingers.

"Well, she's become fond of you, and your brother. She's been with your family for years. It is a kindness that she has found happiness here." he said, and she smiled.

"Many, many people have found happiness here Rychon, because of your family. Mount Ardor isn't called the burning mountain on a whim, it's because it's a beacon of light and hope to others." she said, and he laughed once more as he glanced away.

"Seat of the Ardent Kings for millennia, and the Phoenix always rises. How far we've come..." he reflected, and then met her eyes again, smiling warmly at him.

"And you will go far, still." she assured, then he pulled her forward to exchange her seat for his knees as his left arm coiled around her waist.

"And I will do it, with you at my side." he said as his right hand softly caressed her cheek, and hers slid around his neck.

"And a slew of children following behind." she teased, and he returned her smile.

"A throng." he corrected, drawing her forward into a kiss and drowning in sweet surrender. Moments later, she drew back from him, smothering the heat that rose through his core.

"I should... get back to my chambers..." she breathed, and he chuckled.

"Must you really?" he mumbled as his arms tightened, and she softly giggled.

"My father would skewer you with your own sword if you violate me again." she teased, and he brought her slightly closer.

"It's not a violation if you want it." she whispered, and he laughed.

"I do want it. I really, really do. My Rychon, once we're married you will have me every night. But, let's try not to offend my father." he stared at her for a moment in silence, and then nodded.

"You're right, of course." he agreed softly. Although it became difficult, they were trying very hard to preserve their honour, despite what had already happened. If one swayed, the other would guide them back, and it was a comforting thing. Then she leaned forward and kissed him again before standing, and he escorted her back down to her room in the east wing of the castle.

"Rychon, what do you suppose that thing was? What we saw in the woods?" she asked, and he glanced down.

"I really don't know, Bella. But it didn't feel... right." he confessed, and felt her fingers tighten around his arm.

"Stars are signs of fortune." she told, but somehow that didn't entirely change what he'd felt in that moment, watching the flare pass over them.

"It's meant to be, yes. And yet, I can't seem to rid myself of this awful feeling of unpleasantness." although he had tried. Then he felt the pressure of her cheek against his arm.

"I think the looming battle is wearing on you. Try to be hopeful." she encouraged, and he smiled.

"Al right, I'll try harder." he promised as they walked the long torch lit halls that was still and silent.

"Don't you think we could let it be known, that your mother has remarried?" she asked softly, and he glanced down.

"Most people might not react kindly to that. She's refused noblemen for years, they might feel slighted hearing that the lady of the hold has taken her Battle Master as husband, whom to everyone's better knowledge is a man of low birth." he mentioned, and she scoffed slightly.

"But he's not. And why should they, anyway? It's not their choice. Why should they get any say in who she loves?" she started, and he paused taking her face in his hands.

"And it's not ours, either. There will be questions, while he does not want others to know who he is, where he came from or what happened to them. We have to respect that." he gently told, and she looked down with a nod, but felt heat in her cheeks for the injustice this was to them. Then they continued to the door of her chamber where he bid her a peaceful night with a deep lingering kiss, waited as she stepped inside and closed the door before returning the long way up to the lord's wing to surrender himself to his bed, having no alternative but to reflect on her words, and trying to believe that she was right. Stars were signs of fortune, and with one having come so close to them it had to be something sure. And perhaps in time, with no threat to his family's position they could reveal the lady's marriage. No one needed to know the extent of his origin, only that he had regal blood after all. But, they would address that after all was peaceful again. He silently passed the sealed door of of the lowest chamber where the Stone king and his queen sat close together on the thick bear pelt, her back pressed against his stomach and chest with her right hand resting on his thigh next to hers while his held her low abdomen, and the fingers of her left around his wrist where his curled around her throat, gently supporting her head as she gasped for air to calm the shuddering muscles. He leaned slightly down, touching his lips to the tip of her right ear.

"Have you had enough?" he whispered, but then felt her lean back as her hand came to his cheek, warm shivering fingers resting on his skin as she laughed.

"I... will never... get enough of this..." she breathed, and then looked at him to take in the brilliant glow of his red eyes.

"Of you..." she pulled him down into a kiss, and slowly his left hand slid down over her chest to cup her full breast.

"I might ruin you." he cautioned softly as he drew back from her, and again she laughed in a small tease.

"Oh, you could try. You won't succeed." she assured, and he grinned.

"You're sure about that?" he teased, and she pulled him closer again.

"Absolutely." his arms tightened, pressing her securely against him as his mouth softly teased the skin of her neck, down over the scars.

"Then, I will give you everything." he moved suddenly forward, turning her to face him as he lay her down on the pelt and covered her body with his, submerging in passion as the night deepened, and waned.

The world was a crystal white where snow gently settled on the ancient stones as the men gathered, with eyes white as the flakes that fell from the clouds, all clad in earthen shades and thick wooden staves held in their left hands; they met in the centre of the great stone circle, and waited.

"Long has it been that we've woven the webs of destiny. But this, I'm afraid cannot be bound forever." One of the little men breathed heavily, the gentleness of the wind in his voice. Then he looked over the others.

"How many times has it been that the unknown, that has the greatest influence?" Another said, stern and unmoving as the earth. Slowly into their midst came a taller man, taking his place in the centre of the stones; clad entirely in black.

"We can only show them the way. They must choose to walk the path themselves." Another agreed, calm and collected like the peace of the earth's waters.

"Destiny has its whims. Its threads are woven into every fabric of life, and death. But time does not wait, not even for fate." The tallest man said.

"We've done our parts, Opposer." The last of them directed, small and withered like the others, but the ferocity of fire in his words.

"It has come this far. In all their joys and woes, finality has been more than fate, in all of its cruelty and humour." The tall man in black said, and then looked up smiling, his own eyes a shade of grey like morning fog. Addam's hand tightened on the wood in his hand, the bitterness of sympathy that he should have discarded long ago still clinging stubbornly to his senses.

"If you could, even only once... Find it in you to be gentle. Lest we be the cruellest of fate's hands." He implored, and the Opposer in black looked at him for a long silent moment. Did he even understand what that meant? To be gentle. It was different for him, he who's element was only the darkness of death; and he regularly scorned him, and his two kinsmen for their affections towards their elements. The last stood quietly to one side seemingly indifferent, as he'd not had an element with a beating heart in near to a thousand years. Perhaps if he had, he might be the same. They took no joy in this, no pride. But they could experience a sense of happiness when their elements glowed with joy... That may have been the reason, that their humanity was not completely forsaken. But then the Opposer smirked, and looked up at the white sky above them.

"Fear not. I know exactly whom to send. A breath may be caught softly, but tell me, brother: Has stone ever been broken with a gentle hand?" He said.

Morning light filtered through the shutters as Claira stood dressed in her blue robe, her fingers tying the laces of the brown doublet. Then Falgon's hands took hers, and brought her hands up to rest his lips against her fingertips, and as he raised up his left hand cupped her face, his fingers woven into her hair. He smiled unafraid and leaned forward, then kissed her deeply, lingering for a moment as she returned his caress, her hands softly gliding over his cheeks and into his hair.

"Is this a dream? Have I fallen so far?" he breathed as he pulled back, and rested his lips against her brow. She smiled, leaning forward and touching her face to his throat.

"If it is, give me the peace to sleep. Should dreams be the only amity there is for us, will it last?" her hand wrapped around his wrist, and he couldn't resist pulling her closer to him.

"I don't want it to end. I will see the end of this world before I let go of this dream… My dream. The only dream I have left…" he whispered, and breathed her sweet scent into his lungs while her cold hands slid over his skin and around his neck leaving warm trails; and his went around her waist, pressing her securely against him.

"Our dream…" she softly said against him.

"I love you, Claira. I love you, so much..." he breathed into her hair, and she put her lips to his neck.

"And I love you, my Falgon." He kissed her a final time before releasing her.

"I will await you, as is my norm." He assured, and then fit his cloak to his shoulders and left. She lingered there, listening to his steps down the stairs and across the hall where he reclaimed Summit, and then he departed the wing to await her outside. She smiled. Her protector, her friend, her king of stone, who was never offended or pretentious despite everything that had happened. He was just him… And the red to his eyes were not as vivid now as it was before, perhaps he had started learning to control that as well. In time... Well, in time he might be able to do more than simply follow her around the halls of the castle, if her son would allow it, and if he would not be affronted by it. She made her way to the window and opened the shutters to allow fresh sunlight to lighten the room, and breathe in the new air. A short while later, two handmaidens entered to help her prepare for the day, and she chose a flowing gown of deep green with silver detailing, a pearl and jade stone girdle, and flat grey slippers. Then patiently waited as the maidens helped her dress, and carefully brushed out her hair before securing it with her jewelled pin.

"Thank you, you may attend to your other duties." She said, and they left after scooping up old bedding and empty decanters and used goblets. She lingered at the foot of the bed for a while with her hands resting against her stomach, wondering if the extract would work at all. But then discarded the thoughts, accepting that what may be will, and made her way down the stairway and through the archway into the hall where sweet scents from the flowers drifted into the wing from the private garden, and another door opened to a balcony overlooking the countryside far to the east, and early sunlight would normally spill into the lord's hall. She stopped suddenly, registering that she was not alone. She turned and faced a long shadow that darkened the doorway, and gasped as her heart suddenly attempted to burst from her chest. There he stood, just as he once was in all his splendour, in the colours of their house, and the same summer blue eyes regarding her.

"Raeghun…" he smiled at her, so tenderly.

"Hello, my love." he greeted, and she took a step back, refusing the vision in front of her.

"No, no this can't be..." the words were little more than whimpers, just the breath that left her chest as he approached, setting the shining breastplate adorned with the phoenix down on one of the chairs, not a scratch or even a dent on its surface.

"I've missed you." He said softly, and her hands covered her mouth to stop a cry. Why? Why this? Why now? Her body ached with sorrow, and shock... and anger.

"You left me... You left me!" she yelled at him, and he nodded slowly, seeming so sad.

"I know... I know I did. I swear, I didn't want to. I had every intention of coming back to you. I fought so hard to... I just... I couldn't." he breathed softly as he came carefully forward, and she took another step back.

"I'm remarried, Raeghun! I... I didn't know what happened to you! I didn't know if you would ever come back to me! Did you expect me to spend my life alone? To die alone?!" she demanded, but he forced another small smile.

"No... I never expected that." he sighed, and tears escaped her eyes. He didn't seem offended by that, or even surprised at hearing that from her. Like he knew...

"I'm happy! I'm finally happy, again! And now... Now you come back..." she cried dismally.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." she dissolved as his arms went around her, and hers closed around his neck, crying for all of it.

"That's all I've ever wanted... All I've ever wanted for you. To be happy. But..." He slowly drew back from her, looking down with eyes as bright as they'd ever been, and a soft sad smile.

"I've come for you." He whispered, and her eyes closed while the sting of tears burned through her sight. He leaned forward and placed his lips to hers, his touch soft and sure and cold. So cold... and she felt him seeping into her, flowing into her core and there was no avoiding it, no evading it, no escape from it...

Falgon stood at the great door, awaiting the lady at his post like he'd done for many years before, pleased for the warmth in his veins as he reflected on each of the nights they've shared for near to a week now; the best he'd ever had. And his beautiful, beloved wife... His attention went down the passage to where Milla came up the walkway with Berin and Rychon following some steps behind, speaking of events, seemingly with quite some enthusiasm.

"Good morning, king Falgon." She smiled at him, very happily and a new brightness in her clear green eyes that had been dormant the day before.

"Oh, please don't 'king' me, lady Milla. That time has long passed, and won't return to me." He corrected, and she laughed softly.

"Clearly, you've forgotten the very first conversation we had." She reminded, and it made him smile. That was so long ago, but he did remember it. She would call him what he was, and nothing less, but graciously not in the presence of others.

"And you never forget anything, my lady." He relented, and she glanced down to the lords behind her.

"Lord Rychon has issued us all an invitation to go out riding after our morning banquet. It is a lovely morning." She informed, and Falgon nodded. They haven't been out as a family in a while.

"I am sure her grace would enjoy that." He agreed, and Milla passed a glance at the door.

"Yes, she would. It has only been recently that she has truly been able to enjoy anything, again." She said softly, and then turned towards him again.

"I will be sure to tell her." He assured, and Milla glanced back at the others still a few feet back from her in the hallway.

"Don't take too long." She urged, and then returned the way she came down the walkway back to her husband, who beamed in the moment he wrapped an arm around her waist. Falgon secretly laughed, it seems he had made sense of what he'd told him the day before. What a wonderful day, indeed... Then he paused a moment, then looked towards the door, listening intently as something from inside caught his attention. Crying? He stepped forward and opened the door to see Claira standing motionless in front of the hearth, and sudden dread filled him.

"Your grace?" suddenly then his attention went to a figure, clad entirely in black with a thick wood staff held in his left hand, darkening the doorway of the balcony. Drawing his sword he entered to face the threat that this was.

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" he demanded, but the man simply smiled gently at him.

"Your storm comes, struggler." Falgon rushed forward, but then he was gone, as suddenly as he had appeared. He breathed deeply as unease rushed through him, then he looked at Claira; and every sense flamed. She stood with her hands in front of her chest as she slowly looked up at him. Her skin was a pale he'd never seen before, and for the first time he recognized the feeling coursing through his body as fear. A fear he hadn't felt in centuries. In a crazed distress he called for the guards, or anyone close enough to hear before moving towards her, but as his hands touched her she collapsed, all strength stripped from her muscles.

"Claira?" he called to her as he cradled her in his arms, her skin becoming as cold and white as snow. In a daze he looked up as others entered the wing.

"Find the maesters! Find them now! Let no one leave the castle!" he commanded, and then felt a cold hand against his cheek before looking down at her again. Even her eyes had lost all colour, clear and white as the clouds.

"He is…" his arms held her tighter, attempting to keep the cold at bay.

"Waiting…" Rychon, Berin and Milla entered as he continued to call to her.

"For…" her breaths became short and shallow, and she was circled by her loved ones.

"Me…" she gasped once, as she strained for air.

"Rychon… My Falgon…" she reached for them, and then to someone far beyond them where the sky stretched.

"My Raeghun…" He called out to her, again and again and again, pleading, begging for her to stay as her body eased, and finally the hands dropped, hanging limp by her sides while her white eyes stared unseeing, and then everything stopped, just like her chest. The world dissolved into nothing, and everything was gone. Someone screamed, Milla's hands covered her mouth, guards rushed up and down the hallways as Rychon shouted commands, and Berin went to the balcony to investigate. But he; he sat on the floor with her in his arms, the pale skin, the white eyes still staring up at him, and just the cold. There was nothing else...

Rychon stood on the third level, his right arm around Bella's waist while she stood crying at his side with her arms around him, his left hand resting on the balustrade, the stone as solid and unmoving under his fingers as he was. As he needed to be, for them. For if he could not be, then who would? While his house wept around him, he stood collected, watching over the Hall of Fire as the Sentinels Berin, Gavin, Jaysen, Michalis, Renko and Ragon carried a body into the hall and up the stairs while the Battle Master followed, still keeping watch in silence; returning from the Sept in Garde's Post where the final rights were performed, and then further up to the third level to be laid on the bier, surrounded by sweet smelling flowers and candles where she would remain for seven days to be seen one last time by those who cared, by those who loved her. Many came and left the great hall, some more than once, and others more still, while the candles were replaced many, many times. But only one stayed, still and silent as stone. Though, because of circumstance the leal lords who could not attend sent gifts and condolences. For days the definite sounds of wails and cries and the tear of clothing were only subtly drowned as time went on, but the darkness and grief remained within the walls of Mount Ardor. Milla stood exchanging old burnt out candles for new ones, and lit them with a still burning flame, then wiped a tear from her cheek, the reality that her best friend was gone stabbing into her chest once again like a heated dagger, and she cursed all for their selfish cruelty. Hearts were left broken, the girls especially inconsolable as their tears had not yet dried, though they had taken up more responsibilities to aid in the castle's maintenance in this sorrowful time. She had cried all this time, every day and every night while her husband's arms tried so very hard to comfort her. The maesters had examined the lady, but determined that what happened was not an assassination. There were no injuries, no evidence of poisoning, and she was completely healthy. Their only explainable conclusion, even for someone so young, was that her heart simply stopped. Falgon had insisted that there was an intruder, and although they believed him, there was no proof, or any other witness. No one to demand justice of... Turning back, she laid a sweet purple rose on the altar, the petals resting on the marbled hair; and then spared a glance for the shadow next to the bier, before slowly approaching him.

"Falgon?" he didn't speak, he didn't move, he didn't even seem to be breathing; he just stood there... Still and silent as stone. Some who had come had mistaken him for a sculpture, but for his vivid eyes. She took another cautious step forward.

"Falgon?" then his eyes moved, and he looked at her. The brilliant red still hadn't left, but he had little care left. There was nothing in his stare; no compassion, no emotion, no life. She hesitated for just an instant as she listened, to a far-off rumbling that foretold of a coming storm.

"You need to rest. You need to eat." She tried to advise him, but he remained. He just stared at her with no words, or any indications. He didn't so much as blink… did he even know she was there? Then he thoughtlessly looked back at the body amidst the flowers, his dark hair falling down his shoulder as he turned away from her. Against her better judgement to just leave him be, she slowly took another step forward, and lay a hand on his arm. The coldness stretched even here, and the skin felt suddenly brittle under her fingers.

"Falgon, please…" she tried again.

"How could you possibly understand, what I need?" his voice was deep and soft, but sullen and robbed of any warmth. A tear crossed her cheek, and she turned. He was right, of course. How could she understand? She walked away, leaving them in silence as she made her way down and passed lord Rychon with Bella at his side on her way down the east staircase, where she stopped to greet them. Bella's eyes were still red from tears as she held his hand, but he was yet stern and placid.

"These are dark days, cruelty jests that they must be ours." He sighed dismally, and Milla wiped another tear from her cheek. The young liege had taken the loss hard for the first day, screaming and cursing, more enraged than grief-stricken until it receded; but for a young man that had barely entered his ten and sixth year, he was much stronger than she expected, and she hadn't seen him crying like so many of the others. Then he took her hand gently.

"Go and rest, both of you. You've done a lot." He insisted, and she turned back to where the bier was, and his eyes followed her gaze.

"I will speak with him." He assured, then she nodded before she and Bella left him, going back to the east wing to continue their grief. Rychon ascended the steps and approached where the light of the candles cast long lonely shadows into the corners, its light emitting a strange glow on the white skin. He placed a hand on hers, folded together over her stomach and sighed.

"She loved blue. It always suited her the best…" he recalled, his fingertips gently stroking the soft sapphire blue silk and velvet dress, his eyes taking in the long black hair, still marbled with white, the Heart of Hope still glinting against white skin. Then he looked up at the Sentinel who only stood staring. It was the same dress she wore, on the day they met...

"Falgon, you've stood vigil here for three days now." There was no movement. Then Rychon turned and approached him.

"For the second time, the woman I loved died in my arms… while I did nothing!" he said, and Rychon glanced across the hall. He had lost his gentle demeanour, it was replaced with a cold hatred. A bitter resentment... A man once so powerful, so proud, so pure. Whom was now broken beyond any form of solance.

"There was nothing you could do. This was not an attack from an enemy; this didn't happen because you failed in your duty. Maester Adlyn said-." Rychon tried to ease him.

"I know what the maester said!" Falgon said sharply, and Rychon felt his skin heat up as his eyes returned to him.

"We've all lost someone we loved. A friend, a mother, a wife." Falgon's dark eyes met him suddenly.

"I'm not getting into an argument with you! I'm not going to debate on who lost more. You're young, you haven't seen twenty years and already it is a lifetime to you. I've hoped for, prayed for and sought out death, but it would not take me despite all my insane longing. Tell me, Rychon. Could you imagine three hundred years, with nothing to your existence?" Then he looked down at her again, the pain of sorrow in his eyes.

"She was everything to me. Everything. She was the one thing… the one thing keeping me in this world… I thought... that maybe this time, I could do things right. But I couldn't... Everything ended for me, the moment she stopped breathing." But then the anger returned as his eyes came back, a challenge in the brilliant scarlet stare.

"So, take up your sword, drive it through my heart! Cut me to pieces and feed me to the dogs, have my head for your wall, and burn me on a pyre soaked with oil, I don't care! Release me from this wretchedness and let me retake my place at her side, or some place I could watch from afar… Or try to, if you can. My skin has not opened to a wound in three hundred years!" the flush of anger Rychon felt a moment ago dissolved, replaced with a deep, almost agonizing sorrow. He was right, that was something he would never understand. His had been the worst of all of it.

"No, I don't know what it's like. I have no idea what it takes to go through each day for hundreds of years, wondering what it is you're supposed to be doing with yourself. But, you've had her longer than I did." he told softly, and then watched as the anger faded away into regret.

"I shouldn't have left. I never shouldn't have left her side…" the sentinel breathed. Rychon studied him, his dark greying hair, his greying skin, his dark eyes with the red shining through like the fury of hell through cracks in the earth. It was still the same man, that suddenly looked so different, the changes concealed by the shadows and candle light, and Rychon heart stopped for a moment as he breathed.

"You're dying…" he realized with a shock, as the now more than ever lifeless eyes regarded him.

"I've lost my life many years ago. And now my reason for existing is gone…" his stare went back to the body on the altar.

"I may be dead, sire. But I'm still human. I still feel… I still grieve…" he whispered. Rychon took a step forward, but then stopped. There was nothing he could do, even if he tried. There was nothing left. Then his attention went to an anxious maester Gerdwyle, coming carefully up to his side.

"Dark clouds approach, my lord. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before." he whispered nervously, and Rychon cast a final glance at the Sentinel before leaving up into the hold to view this strange occurrence, to the crown of the sun tower from where the young maester indicated the mass hanging on the horizon. Thick, heavy clouds of a sickening dark, indigo blue; and an occasional flash of sharp crimson breaking through the centre that sent its terrifying rumble echoing through the country. He stood watching for a while, but the clouds were not approaching. Neither were they receding. They simply loomed there, like some terrible hungry monster... There is one storm that may lay claim to you... The storm before the long night alone will claim me back to the earth... His hands clenched into fists. This can't be... Were they meant to die, for this? Then he looked down, at the many soldiers that had started to gather around their walls. A shield is needed... Then he turned and made his way back down to the great hall, every thought flashing throughout his already ravaged mind, desperately trying to keep his tattered senses, until he stood with the Stone king once again, his red eyes on the form lying on the bier, his hand resting on hers. But he stood motionless, wondering what to do. What to say. What to think. What to feel, even with his wrecked heart...

"I know what I must do." Falgon suddenly said as he looked up, the red of his eyes resting on the open doors revealing the ashen distance far beyond. No... No, you can't... Please... But the words remained in the echoes of his mind. You can't leave us, too... Then he turned back, facing him fully as their eyes met.

"This is not easy, sire. If it were easy..." he breathed, and Rychon glanced down, forced to accept where this road led, where it was always meant to in the end despite all their hopes and fears.

"My mother won't rest in the Ardent Tombs, will she?" he asked softly as he looked up again, seeing the man in front of him shaking his head. There was no way to undo it, no way to avoid it, no way to stop it, no way to deny it. There was only, to accept it. He stepped forward, laying a hand on Falgon's shoulder.

"Go. Do what you must." he told, calmly despite the agonizing screams in his head. The stone king bowed his head to him and then left in silence, making his way up the long halls to the lord's wing where he entered, crossing the hall and taking the steps up to the lowest room. He stood a moment, registering each of the details he'd shared with her in such a happy time, the flames still mourning gold and white in the hearth, now left undisturbed and forgotten. Gingerly he stepped forward, taking up the quilt from the foot of the bed before departing, that place he would never come back to. But he paused in front of the hearth of the lord's hall, looking up at the phoenix gliding over the wall, so high above all. And then he examined the sword, the glorious hilt and the shine of the powerful steel drawn a hand's length from the sheath of strong black leather. The family arm, that was the symbol of their pride an honour for thousands of years, just like another. His hand moved up, taking hold of Summit's grip and releasing it from his back, and carefully lay it down on the shelf beneath Quill, taking in the sharp blade for the last time. You have served me well, old friend... But now my time is done. Yet, continue to serve you will, to this great house and their blood... our family... He removed the chest belt, and hung it over a chair. Then he left the lord's wing, never to return. Down through the halls with sullen faces watching, back to the body on the altar with lost lives around her where he spread the quilt on the stones, and gently took her from the flowers and light of the candles, setting her softly down on the fabric and wrapped her lovingly in its warmth, a warmth she would never feel again. He picked her up, cradling the cold form in his arms, and walked away in silence as others protested, their disputes put to an end by those who could only understand. He stepped into the copper light of late noon with his family around him, slowly making his way to the stables while others watched, and his horse was brought out. He lay her down on old Galeo's withers as the great steed stood quietly waiting. Finally, Falgon turned back to bid farewell to the lords and ladies with him, embracing each of them and feeling their cries and tears, the only family he'd known for the last two decades, the most blessed years he'd ever seen. Then he stood facing Rychon, extending his hand.

"I bid you farewell, ruler of the burning mountain. And may you have every fortune, in all to come." he said, and Rychon took his hand as he just stared at him. A heartbeat later he pulled him forward, and embraced him, battling the pent up emotions as he felt the hands on his back.

"You have been a blessing to my house and family, Falgon. And an honour, to have you at our side." they held one another for a time, silent as broken hearts. Then the warrior pulled back, and mounted his steed before gently taking the body up against him, then looked down at the young liege again.

"May your walls remain forever unbroken, son of the Ardent Kings." Rychon watched him, noting the gentle smile on his face, the one they knew.

"May you find peace, Stone king." he returned as he softly pet Galeo's neck.

"All of these years, you've always referred to us 'sire'. Why?" he suddenly asked, and again looked up at the kind face, the red eyes staring back.

"Because I will not address you as some ordinary lord, when you are a king." he said, and then urged his horse forward, passing under the gatehouse and over the bridge, through the camp site as the soldiers gathered, watching as he passed them in silence, leaving all behind as he slowly made his way to somewhere where he would vanish over the dark horizon while everyone simply watched, and the world seemed dead and soundless as the figure grew smaller and smaller and smaller and smaller still... A sudden frigid sting made Rychon turn towards the stable.

"Bring out my horse!" he couldn't just look on as he left them with her, couldn't stand and watch them vanish from their sight, disappear from their lives like a candle blown out in the wind. Berterin came up to his side, mirroring his alarm.

"What are you doing?" he asked, and Rychon forced a confident smile.

"You didn't really believe I would just let him head off alone, did you?" he asked, and then proceeded to the stables with Berterin following behind.

"Then I'm coming with you." he insisted, but Rychon looked back at him.

"No, I need you here." he tried to refuse as he turned back to the stables, then a powerful hand grabbed hold of his shoulder and brought him back.

"How many times is it going to take to get you to realize that you're not changing my mind?" he questioned him sharply, while in that moment he could only stare back until a mass materialized next to them, and they both looked at Berin next to them.

"Go. I can hold things together for a little while." he told them, and they nodded before making for the stables where they mounted their steeds, and set out after the shadow on the horizon heading north. They passed open fields, farms, settlements, and far off walls of cities. Light and darkness came and went over them, with times that the lone rider vanished for a time before they spied him again in the distance.

"Where do you think he's going?" Berterin asked as he looked at the form ahead, little more than a dark movement in the distance.

"To meet his final fate." Rychon breathed, urging his destrier forward, still following far behind, but trying to keep out of sight as the Battle Master pressed forth, following the flashes of red far away while he tried to keep the thoughts from his mind. Thinking had become as painful as it was meaningless, the only thing he had left were the memories and the body in his arms, the shadows around him where Galeo languidly grazed while recovering his stamina after a long day's ride and clearly grateful for the relief from the weight on his ageing back. He sat on a log next to the woodland in the night with no light but the stars not shrouded by the clouds that slowly closed over them, aware that he wasn't alone. They were there somewhere in the quiet of the blackness, watching, following. But it didn't matter. He felt empty and forsaken, nothing had any meaning any more, not even time. He looked down at the body in his arms, and held her closer, aching in pain, sorrow and love. He knew death, this was as close to it while still breathing. Strength had started to leave him, and he could feel it. But he would push on as far as he could, and then... what? Would he die? Would he vanish, into nothing? Just end? He couldn't say. But he needed to face it. Having her with him, even like this, did ease it. A little bit. The night faded under remnants of missed memories, and the purple light of dawn slowly appeared over the horizon when he replaced the quilt on the horse's back and tried to mount, but found that he couldn't. He sighed, and then took a step back.

"May I beg your help one last time, old friend?" he breathed, then took hold of the reins beneath Galeo's jaw while pulling softly down, and with his free hand gave a series of pats to the warhorse's leg, and he knelt giving the man enough height to mount. He took the body up against him again, and with a gentle pull on the reins the old steed stood, and once again ambled forward towards the clouds. On and on under the shade of the tempest that waited to welcome him, and it started to rain as great cold tears fell from the sky. Forward and forward to where the storm gathered, the clouds swirling above them, and finally he brought the big destrier to a halt and slipped from his back, leaning slightly on the rump to steady himself. He took a deep breath, then removed the bridle and let it drop to the ground before claiming the quilt from his withers, and then softly ran a hand down his neck.

"Thank you. Go now and live your last days, in whichever way you see fit..." he told, and for a moment the horse stared at him with his bright eyes, as if waiting for something. Falgon smiled.

"I release you from my service." then Galeo snorted, and slowly walked away, leaving him behind where he held her in his arms and the rain fell unforgiving and cold. He held her closer, and then started to walk forward, struggling with unresponsive limbs while his clothing hung loosely from his form. Onward he battled, step by step, forcing himself to respond until he finally stumbled to his knees weakly, long smoke grey hair falling over his face. He tried to breathe, but even that was hard. He looked at his hands... Lean, withered, stone grey hands that couldn't wield a sword if the whole of the world depended on it. Yet, he made it back to his feet and struggled forth, into the eye of the storm that called to him. Just a few more steps, and he finally fell to his knees again, unable to continue, unable to move, unable to fight any longer. He carefully removed the quilt and looked at her, still as beautiful as she'd always been as the downpour masked the warm tears that flowed for the first time in three hundred years. He placed his cheek against hers, the skin cold even through a beard now covering his face, a sorrow so hurtful that death is the only mercy. Everything has brought me to you... My last days were of peace, with you... I knew true happiness again, because of you... He knew war and peace. Knew honour and betrayal. Knew truth, and deceit. Knew love and loss... He'd lived five lives. A prince, a king, a wanderer, a mercenary and a sentinel; the first and last the best of all.

"I love you, Claira..." then turned his face to the sky, and he screamed. Loud and beautiful and terrible and torturous and broken it echoed and rippled throughout the very land itself; so solid they would swear it could be heard from The Wall to the Sea of Dorne and across. In horror the youngsters watched as a bright light blazed the heavens, three terrible shards of silver light merged into a single red gold whip, cast down and struck the earth tearing and eating at the world; loud and thunderous and frightening. Then it simply disappeared in a cavernous sullen silence, and there was nothing but the hum of the rain. Rychon desperately put his heels to his horse with Berterin following close behind, and through the falling drops they raced across the field; but then as they mounted the hill he halted his destrier, and breathed deep and unsure. There in the field of dry grass towered a great standing stone… He dismounted, leaving his horse behind and carefully approached it, lost and unsure until he stood some feet away, examining the titan. Then again, he slowly made his way to the stone towering so high above him. Thoughts came and went, but he did not recognize them, any of them, at all as his hand came up, and ran softly over the rough surface, warm to his touch. And as the sky was split with a shard of silver light, its reflection flashed off the grey that sparkled before him like there were tiny diamonds set in its surface, or the stone was covered in a layer of frost; and for just a moment he swore there were faces staring back at him... The Atronach... Breathless and shocked beyond thought and action, he dropped to his knees on the grass, feeling the rain on his face and the aching race of his heart, but then felt hard strands against his hand. Strands that were not grass. His fingers clenched and he brought it up as he looked down, finding in his hand the Heart of Hope, and the woven leather band.

Milla stood at the great doors, looking over the world outside that was black and undisturbed save for the gathering soldiers beyond the walls. It had been several days since the lord and her son left, with nothing but the clothing they wore and a hastily stuffed saddle bag; and some were growing impatient although Berin and the masters kept the order of the castle. The halls were noticeably quiet and cold, the dark and dismal fortune of those lost the past week clinging to the walls like a black mist. The girls were reserved as much as emotional still, and her Bella was particularly anxious along with that, spending a good deal of the days on the tower's crown watching the fields, waiting for them to come back. There was one noon that they shared the view of the world, their attention set on the angry clouds in the distance, and that one memory was the clearest when they stood watching as a light as bright as the sun erupted from the dark clouds, burning for several heartbeats before disappearing entirely, and all that was left was the storm, no different than any other they'd ever seen. Something was different then, something happened in that moment and she could feel it, driving the shard of ice deep into her heart. But they kept waiting, hoping to see them appear on the horizon, and when night fell she would wait here in silence with her; but tonight she'd already sent her daughter to her room after a cup of tea. She didn't know what to do, where to turn, how to manage now that all was broken and thrown into a chaotic whirl, and she felt lost in spite of trying to adhere to their routine. But it felt odd, almost wrong, to pray in the lord's garden alone, now... She wasn't alone, not with Bella and Stephanie, but without Claira it felt so empty. Another tear stung at her eyes, and she wiped them away while the heartache returned, having to admit that a great part of her life had vanished along with her. Some of the best memories, were all she would have left. Her face was gone, her laugh was gone. Her cold hands and her warm heart, were gone, leaving the world a good deal colder. Even were it mid summer, the winds would blow ice cold here... A hand to her back startled her, and she looked up at Berin beside her.

"You should go to bed, it's late." he suggested, but she just faced away again, looking out over the darkness. Strain, anguish and misery would not allow her any sleep no matter how she wished for it. He called to her again, and the shard driven into her heart moved for a moment.

"What is happening, Berin? Where did they go? What are they doing? When will they come back? Why did they leave?" she whimpered, and then felt his arms going slowly around her.

"I don't know. I can't give you any answers. But they'll be back, you can trust in that." he promised as he held her despite feeling his own spirit sacked. The thought had passed to go out looking for them after the second day, but something held him here.

"Anything could have happened to them." Milla said, and his arms gently tightened.

"Not those two. They'll be back." he tried again, and then fell silent as he stood listening. Far off in the distance he could hear something... Voices. Someone was shouting. He looked up at the gates, waiting. Is it them? Please, let it be them... As if answering a prayer, three horses came trotting through beneath the portcullis, the great grey destrier and the dark courser followed by the big brown warhorse on a lead, and air left his lungs in a relieved rush. Milla released him, and made her way down the stairs as the riders dismounted and released their steeds to the stables before coming their way, dirty but no more.

"Thank goodness! I feared the worst." Milla cried as they met, but Rychon simply stared at her.

"I apologise, my lady." he said, and then passed them without another word as they watched him make his way into the hold. Then she looked back at Berterin, standing with them.

"Is... Is he al right?" she asked, and he shrugged.

"That's the most he's said in the past two days." he breathed dismally, and then glanced down.

"He wouldn't eat, he wouldn't sleep, he's barely spoken..." he told, unsure of what to make of it.

"Berterin, what happened?" Milla asked softly, but he stood silent and motionless for a time. There were no words to explain it, to bring any sense to it. All that remained was the glittering stone, wrought in blue flames. He tried to find the words, but then sighed when he realized he couldn't.

"I don't know... I don't know what happened. We followed Falgon for a time, and then he disappeared close to the border..." he told, and then looked up.

"There was only a stone." he told, and his parents glanced at each other before looking back.

"A stone? What stone?" Berin asked, and once again he shrugged.

"A tall standing stone, just a couple of miles from Moat Cailin, I think." he tried to explain, but there was really nothing more he could say.

"Berin, could this be?" Milla asked, looking up at her husband whom still stared at their son. There was nothing more he could say...

"I suppose that we will face what comes, when it comes. But right now, Rychon needs our support." he decided, and then put an arm around Berterin's shoulders to guide him inside.

"Come, you must be exhausted." Berterin forced a smile.

"I'd like a bath first, though." he tried to joke, but the thoughts would not leave. He couldn't tell how long he struggled to bring his friend back to his feet from where he sat, just staring at the stone in the rain. But finally he did, and they started their way back. He hadn't breathed a word, smiled or cried, hadn't done anything that a sentient being would. It was like he was dead inside, the only evidence of life the true blaze of his blue eyes, but he could never tell what he was thinking. But thoughts were a jumble of dismal things as Rychon stood in front of the hearth of the empty lord's hall, looking up at the blades as the agony of reality cut through him. They were all gone, and he was left alone. But in some small way, the red eyes leering back was a forlorn comfort. It was a rare thing for a house to own a Valyrian steel weapon, there were only a handful that he knew of. And now his would have two – Quill, the Tailfeather of the Phoenix, and Summit, the Crown of the Mountain. Both great blades, whom served kings and their blood. Painfully he dragged himself up to his bedchamber and discarded his clothing before falling down on the mattress, tracing the lines of the carving against the canopy to keep his mind. Raven or no, they would leave tomorrow. It may provide enough of a distraction to ward the agonizing thoughts into a different direction, away from the torturous memories that plagued him. He could still hear them, the ghosts of their echoing voices resounding off the walls that surrounded him... But then the blush of morning roused him, and he decided to rise to the day rather than cursing it for coming too soon, and decided that he would have the maesters send out their ravens after his bath, have final preparations tended to and set out after breaking their fast. It would be a long journey, and although it was a miserable thought, the sooner they saw to it the sooner they would return home. So, he gathered up his clothing and made his way down to the bath chamber to cleanse, trying to manage and order the many things that ran through his mind. Then he stepped out, and made his way to the hearth where he examined the blades once more. Quill on its display on the shelf, and Summit resting on the stone beneath it. The fearsome great sword of the Stoneholders was a good seven inches longer than his own family arm, a great blade made for great men. He might not be able to carry it as easily as Falgon had, but he could still use it if he needed to. Then he thought of the items he'd left on the table next to the bed, and again he felt the tear in his heart rip just a little bit more as he cursed the world. The Heart of Hope, and the woven leather band. Then a sound at the door drew his attention, not a knock as much as it was a pounding, soft and discreet but frantic still.

"Enter." the door opened, and a distressed maester Gerdwyle slipped through.

"My lord! Lord Rychon!" he called, almost cried as he approached, bleeding the already fragile heart of the young lord.

"What is it?" he asked as he turned to face him, regarding the white eyes staring back at him.

"Come quickly. It... It's maester Adlyn..." he pleaded, and Rychon followed as they rushed back to the tower, dread and despair throbbing through his veins. They entered the solar, where he was sitting at his desk, slumped over a thick tome bound in black leather, his left hand still resting on one of the pages in quiet sleep.

"I found him this morning." Gerdwyle explained as Rychon approached, resting a hand on the shoulder that was now cold and hard.

"He... He was fine when I left him, last night. He was reading. I never thought-" the young maester tried to continue, but Rychon cast him a glance.

"It's al right, maester." The old man was more than just a maester, but a healer who could mend with less than potions and ointments, but a gentle hand. A teacher that educated them in more than the names of noble houses, the uses of medicines and the perils of poison or the value of a gold coin, but the worth of compassion. A friend who listened without judgement, and offered only kind advice. A comforter whom they could turn to, albeit for a painful stomach or a broken heart. He was more than a servant of their house, he was a part of their family.

"He's been a part of my house for near a century, he deserves better than some hole on a hillside... Have arrangements made to inter him to the tombs." Rychon instructed, and the maester bowed his head to him.

"Yes, my lord." he agreed, and as Rychon prepared to leave them, by the odd chance or perhaps a god's intention, he recognised a name on the page where the maester's hand was, and very gently moved the cold withered fingers. "Rhedan Taugereis the only son and heir of Baderon "Blackwing" Taugere. Married to Arlenaof house Foch; brother to Jessamine, married to Robert Arryn - heir of the Vale;Necasia married to GallienGardener - heir of the Reach, and Dowsabel, married to Aecaeus Rhinemar - King of the Stoneholds."Blood rushed away from him, he couldn't tell to where. You are not my blood... but I will protect you as if you were... He looked down, severely heedful of the brutal ache in his chest, and his heart was left ripped open. We were blood... We always have been... And you didn't know... Then he looked at the maester. And you gave your last moments to find it...