There is a smear of blood streaked from the center of the man-made arena to the area where the knights and Lords participating in the melee are waiting. A maester is kneeling over the green Knight who'd only just moments ago been fighting a man sworn to House Tyrell.
It's not good.
Already the blood coloring the sand is congealing, turning a strange rust color as it mixes with the sand and dries.
Ostara looses sight of the poor boy when two more knights step out to draw the crowd's attention away from the dying knight in the grass that's choking on his blood. If Ostara were able to get to him before he died without anyone spotting her she'd be able to save him. Hermione Granger might have been an Unspeakable but she'd been a practiced healer too.
Perhaps not classically trained but a severed carotid artery would have been easy for her to fix.
Unfortunately, Ostara is stuck in the stands between her stern eyed father and a pale Noble Lady who looks like she might be sick any moment. Without much thought Ostara leans over to speak with her father.
"Father," Ostara whispers just loudly enough to be heard over the gasps and clang of metal, "will they not postpone the tourney? Seek the knight medical aid?"
"No pet, they will not." Is her father's terse reply.
Ostara has a thing or two to say about that but she knows this is neither the time nor the place and so she settles back on the bench, tries not to stare at the blood or the boy or the way the maester's hands tremble with his age.
He is safe in my arms, sweet eyed savior.
She does not turn to look at the being hovering over her shoulder. But then, she doesn't need to. Because Phil is already kneeling in the dirt, reaching out with a spindly finger to brush across the dead knight's wound. Ostara watches as something very similar to a ghost but with, perhaps, a bit less substance rises from the dead knight's body.
Without much thought Ostara allows her gaze to drift over the people who have come to settle around the maester.
Arthur Dayne is there, so are a few other Kingsguard Knights that Ostara doesn't quite recognize. None of them seem to be aware of Phil or the dead knight's soul. None of them seem to care. Ostara isn't entirely sure why she's so surprised.
Death is a fact of life in this world.
There is no elongated life span, no advanced medical technologies that can bring people back from the brink of death. In this world something as simple as the flu could kill you without a maester's remedies and even then it's a gamble. It shouldn't come as a shock that the maester had been unable to fix the cut artery.
A freak accident, but an accident that cost a boy his life.
Ostara glances as the knight who'd cut the boy. He doesn't seem all that remorseful. He doesn't seem to care.
Fact of life, Ostara thinks as she turns her attention back to the melee.
Ser Barristan Selmy is fighting against a knight from the Riverlands. He's a wonderful fighter in Ostara's opinion, tactical and reasonable, there is no flashy spin of his sword nor cutting words. Ostara respects that, appreciates it even. She thinks, in a sort of distant way, that she could enjoy the melee if all of the soldiers participating fought the same way ser Selmy does.
Like it's an actual fight.
Like one misstep could get someone killed.
When Ser Selmy finally beats the opposing knight Ostara claps, a small smile tugging at her mouth.
"You enjoyed the fight then?" Her father asks when he sees Ostara clapping.
"Hardly," is the dry response, "but I can appreciate a knight who fights with practicality."
Her father laughs, a gentle little chortle that makes Ostara smile widely.
Practicality, it's something Ostara preaches quite often. Especially to Daevyn. What's the point of swinging a jeweled sword around when you run the risk of loosing a sapphire in the dirt? It had made Daevyn laugh but the next day he'd given her a dagger with a simple pommel to train with and she thought that maybe he'd at least taken her seriously.
She wonders if Rhaegar would take her seriously as well.
It would all depend on the situation she thinks.
When her friend finally steps out of the shaded area where the knights wait and into the arena, sunlight glinting off of ebony armor, Ostara claps alongside every other Lord and Lady, though not as enthusiastically and certainly not as loudly.
She watches as Rhaegar removes his sword from its sheath, watches as the Westerland knight charges, watches as Rhaegar ducks away from the other knight's blade and brings his own up to block sloppily executed swing from the other knight.
Daevyn Sand has been teaching her for some time now, Ostara knows the difference between a well executed move and a poor one. She also knows when someone isn't paying attention. The Westerland knight is older then Rhaegar, he's fought in wars, and it shows in every swing and jab of his sword. It makes him sloppy. Makes him predictable.
All too soon the westerland knight's sword is lying in the sand beside him, his body brought to its knees by a well delivered kick that has knocked the wind from him.
Ostara watches as Rhaegar pulls off his helm with one hand and offers the other to the knight on the ground.
People are cheering, clapping, roaring their approval of Rhaegar as he helps the other knight to his feet. Ostara claps alongside them.
Rhaegar smiles, a soft twist of the lips that Ostara finds mildly endearing, and bows his head to the masses which only makes them cheer louder. But while everyone else is focused on Rhaegar, Ostara is looking at Aerys.
The King is not pleased.
He sits on his makeshift throne, a petulant frown marring his features, and claps slowly. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that the King is jealous of the praise and attention Rhaegar gets from both nobles and common folk alike.
This, Ostara thinks as she turns her attention away, could be a problem.
For it is fairly possible Aerys will fall to the Targaryen madness and then what? His jealousy of Rhaegar will only grow and with another son tucked safely in King's Landing what won't be seen as a threat for years to come who's to say the king won't do something drastic?
Ostara presses her lips into a firm line and forces the thought to the back of her mind.
She can deal with it later, deal with Aerys and his possibly impending madness later, but for the moment she'll watch the melee and try not to think about the possibility of Rhaegar turning out just as mad as his father.
~X~
"I'm going to take Rubeus for a walk." Ostara tells her parents later that day.
They've only just returned from the melee. Ostara isn't sure who won, some knight from the Reach, but it had been a relatively interesting match between the champion and the knight who'd lost. Even Stannis had mentioned it as their small family had made its way back to the tents.
"Very well, be safe." Her father says, eyes hard.
Ostara nods obediently before darting to her own tent to fetch the waiting familiar from where he is resting on her cot.
When she enters through the flap separating her tent from her parents' Rubeus raises his head, eyes knowing, and slowly climbs off the bed. Ostara moves closer so she can drag her fingers through his fur before moving to the small table where her jewelry box rests. She pulls of the heavy gold she'd chosen to wear that morning and drops the pieces in the velvet lined inside of the jewelry box.
Near the entrance of the tent Rubeus yowls at her.
"You're a child." Ostara mutters as she shuts the lid of her jewelry case.
Rubeus paces back and forth in front of the entrance before shooting outside when Ostara pulls open the flap. She follows behind, careful to keep an eye on her familiar but not attempting to stop him as he bounces around on the path in front of her.
Squires and servants give them both wide berth, not wanting the large Shadowcat to accidentally knock them to the ground or to somehow anger the young Lady following behind. Ostara smiles at a few of them but doesn't linger long enough to strike up a conversation of any sort. Instead she follows Rubeus until they reach the last of the tents at which point she calls him back to her side.
He rubs his head against her thighs and hips, circling her body over and over again until Ostara's forced to shove him away. With a rumble from the familiar Ostara leads him through the short bit of forest they end up having to wander through before they reach the white sands of the beach.
A glance around shows that there isn't anyone around except her. Everyone who would come this way are either preparing for the feast or heading to the taverns in Lannisport instead. Ostara still erects a few barriers though, little things that will keep anyone intending to harm her away and notify her if anyone comes within one hundred feet of her little stretch of beach.
When all of the barriers are erected and Ostara feels safe enough to let down her guard, she wonders over toward where the ocean is turning the sand a pale off-sort-of-grey and sits down in the sand to watch as Rubeus trots over to the water's edge.
He bats at the receding waves with a giant paw, face twisting in shock when the water slips away from him. His eyes are wide when he turns to look at her, as if seeking some sort of confirmation, but his attention is soon grabbed by something in the water which causes him to pounce into the shallows of the ocean.
Ostara watches for several minutes before pulling off her shoes and the leather covering her waist. It's been so long since she's had an opportunity to swim. The ocean bordering Storm's End is turbulent at best, dangerous no matter what. Only fools would dare to swim in those waters. Even ships wait until there is a semblance of calm before attempting to navigate them.
But the waters here are calm and warm and Ostara wades further away from shore with a sense of security she would never have at home.
All the same, she casts a spell on herself to keep her from drifting off to sea and keeps her wand on her just in case. Because it's better to be prepared for the worse then to be prepared for nothing at all.
Closer to shore Rubeus bounces through the water, pounces on his reflection, and tries to catch whatever manages to obtain his focus. Ostara watches him for several moments before moving to float on her back. Above her the sky is blue with the beginning tinges of pink and orange mixed here and there, occasionally a bird with colorful feathers with fly over her head, but for the most part it is silent.
Calm.
Ostara closes her eyes, fingers skimming through the water, sunlight warming her skin.
She thinks that if things were different and she'd been born a common girl instead of a high born lady then there would be nothing keeping her on land. She'd get herself a ship, a familiar, and she'd just travel. Sail from this place to that place and see what the world had to offer without having to worry about duties or family. Mostly her family. Stannis would never abandon his duties as a son of Storm's End and Ostara would never just leave him.
Plunk.
Something moves through the water beneath her causing Ostara to jerk up out of her position.
For a moment she thinks it's a shark, for a moment she considers whipping out her wand and hauling ass back to shore, but Ostara's a smart, logical girl and after a moment of careful deliberation she decides that it isn't a shark. Whatever is in the water with her is too big to be a shark.
Get back to shore, Ostara thinks as she begins moving back to where Rubeus is digging in the sand. He seems so far away, so small, and Ostara begins to wonder if her spell is working or if she'd been pulled into open waters.
Either way, she begins swimming back as calmly and as smoothly as she can.
Because whatever's in the water with her is likely hungry and frantic movements mean food for most predators.
It doesn't matter though, Ostara only makes it a few feet before every hair the back of her neck stands on end. There is, and Ostara is very aware of this, something in the water behind her. Something that hasn't attacked yet. Something she can defend herself against. Without thinking Ostara turns to face whatever has decided to see if she'd be good entertainment.
She... Isn't expecting to come face to face with intelligent black eyes that regard her more curiously then anything.
"Hello." Ostara greets, voice weak even to her own ears.
The creature rises further out of the water so that she can see more of it's head, which allows Ostara to identify her newfound companion. It's a sea dragon. One of the very creatures Ostara thought to be extinct... She'd laugh at her own foolishness if the situation were different.
But the sea dragon, with it's angular body and bio luminescent scales glinting in the water beneath them, doesn't move to attack. It doesn't do much of anything really. Just kind of sits there in the water waiting for Ostara to do something. She doesn't, of course, even if her arms and legs are getting tired from keeping her head above water.
They just... Stare at each other.
Ostara isn't sure where the bravery comes from but she finds herself reaching out to let her hand hover in the empty space between them.
She can make herself a new hand, but she thinks it won't come to that.
With slow movements the sea dragon presses it's snout against Ostara's palm and for a moment there is nothing but magic and the crackle of static and gentle warmth.
Like calls to like, I suppose, she remembers Kingsley saying when she'd run into a wizard that the minister had meant to introduce her to, or power to power.
Ridiculous though the statement might have been at the time Ostara thinks there's something honest about it. Especially now when this creature, older then she is and far more deadly, is taking comfort in the magic saturating her body. It's starving, unable to take nutrients from the magic of others of its kind because, well, there probably aren't many left.
Stories, after all, hold some truth to them and most people believe that Sea Dragons have been extinct for hundreds of years.
"Rhaegar, wait!"
Ostara whips around as the voice reaches her ears, behind her there is a loud splash and when she looks back the sea dragon is gone. Nothing to verify it ever having been there at all save for the magic lingering in the air and Ostara's memory.
With a sigh she turns and makes her way back to shore just as Rhaegar Targaryen and Arthur Dayne appear on the beach.
Rubeus growls at them, hackles rising, and Ostara watches as both men stiffen at the sight of bared fangs and wild eyes. She rolls her eyes as she steps out of the water.
"Enough." The command is firm, leaving no room for disobedience, and Rubeus turns away from the two men in order to move to his master's side.
Arthur relaxes, a dazzling smile stretching across his face, and when he sees her he cries, "Lady Ostara! We did not see you!"
"Well," Ostara replies as she begins twisting the excess water out of her hair, then her clothes, "I was further out so I would suspect not."
"Dangerous, don't you think, to be swimming away from shore?" His tone is jovial but his eyes are worried.
Ostara snorts, "No more dangerous then playing with swords, Lord Dayne."
"And yet I have been trained to play with swords."
"I've noticed." Ostara flings wet hair over her shoulder, crosses her arms, and smiles. "Congratulations are in order I suspect, to you both, for your respective triumphs at the melee."
"You were there." It is not a question but it is the first thing Rhaegar has said to her since the feast the night before.
"Yes, I was."
"Did you enjoy it?"
"It was tolerable."
"I see."
From the corner of her eye Ostara sees Arthur's shoulders sag as he releases a silent breath.
He is disappointed. But at who? And for what reason? Surely he hadn't been hoping that Rhaegar would engage in a flirtatious conversation with her while in his presence, not when she is still considered so young. Perhaps he'd hoped that any interactions between her and Rhaegar would be a bit less formal. More personal. It would make more sense for him to be disappointed then.
"Do you enjoy swimming, Lady Ostara?" Arthur inquires after a moment.
"Yes, unfortunately it's hardly safe to go swimming near Storm's End."
"I would think not."
Silence stretches between the three of them, growing more and more awkward the longer they stand there. Eventually Ostara realizes that neither men are going to say much else and so she taps the palm of her hand against the outside of her thigh, causing Rubeus' head to jerk in her direction and quickly after rise up from where he'd stretched out in the sun-warmed sand.
Ostara offers the two men a polite grin after she's grabbed her shoes and her belt.
"Well, I'd best be going." She moves to step past them, only stopping when Rhaegar reaches out to snag hold of her sleeve.
"Allow us to escort you, Lady Ostara." Rhaegar offers when Ostara whips around to smile kindly at him.
"If it please you, your highness."
Rhaegar nods once and offers his arm. Ostara merely raises an eyebrow, glancing between his finely embroidered doublet and her own soaked clothing. A blush, pale pink and barely noticeable, stains his cheeks but he still offers her his arm. And after a brief moment of pause Ostara takes it, tucking her hand in the crook of his elbow, careful to keep the cuff of her sleeve from touching anything.
The smile Rhaegar gives her is soft, maybe even a bit surprised, and Ostara finds that he looks much more handsome when he's smiling then when he's not.
She thinks she'd like to see many more of those smiles.
~X~
Gold silk, Ostara decides as she allows a young knight to guide her through the hall in a dance, is perhaps a bit too bold for her tastes.
The fabric seems to catch the light offered by the various candles and torches scattered around the hall to offer light to the dimming room. Catches it and holds it, reflecting it back at the crowd in shades of muted orange and pale red. It'd be pretty if there wasn't a potentially mad man staring at her from across the hall.
Every time her dance partner swings her around the room Aerys manages to catch her eye, every time she's turned away his gaze follows her, it's disconcerting.
Creepy.
It makes Ostara's skin crawl.
But what is she to do right now? Curse him? Right, that would go well for her.
Ostara tries not to grind her teeth or clench her jaw or glare at the knight dancing her around the hall. He's from the Stormlands after all and wouldn't deserve to be harassed even if he wasn't. Still, she wishes he'd keep her away from the ridiculously long table where Rhaegar and his father are sitting. But as there's nothing she can really do about it Ostara just has to deal with it.
The moment the song ends Ostara curtsies to her partner before rushing back to where she'd last seen Stannis.
Thankfully he's still there, scowl and all. Ostara smiles sweetly as she moves to nudge her brother's shoulder. He glowers at her.
"Stop it, this is supposed to be enjoyable." Ostara laughs.
"Enjoyable to whom?"
Ostara glances around the hall.
Lords and Ladies are dancing, knights are drinking, and servants are weaving between people to bring wine and food to guests. Some of the common women are being perused by Lords but as none of them seem terribly disinterested in the attention Ostara doesn't see the need to interfere with any possible couplings.
"Let's leave." Ostara suggests.
"What?"
"Mother and Father are otherwise preoccupied and no one would notice if we left."
Stannis gives her a look of blatant disbelief but nods anyway. Before they leave Ostara makes sure to catch her parents' gazes before she smiles and leads Stannis to a side door where servants have been entering and exiting the hall. She casts a notice-me-not over the two of them before they even reach it but not before their parents catch her intention to leave through the servants entrance. They slip through undetected by anyone in the hall, servants and noble alike, and quickly make their way through the side corridors until they eventually find a door that leads to the courtyard.
Once there, the two of them make their way to the labyrinth of tents.
They end up hiding out in Stannis' tent.
In the privacy of her brother's tent Ostara pulls her wand out, twirls it between her fingers, and finally flicks it at her empty hand.
Gentle light fills the space, a by product of the little blue flame that has appeared in the palm of her hand, hovering like a firefly. Ostara watches the flickering light for a long moment before turning her attention to Stannis. He looks fascinated.
"Will you tell him? The Prince, I mean." Stannis' voice is gentle.
"I'm sure I'll have to eventually."
"Are you afraid?"
"Of course I am."
The look Stannis gives her is oddly fierce.
"Don't be. If you tell him and he reacts poorly then you will always be safe at Storm's End... And if not there then perhaps the Summer Islands or Dorne, maybe even Asshai."
"Why Asshai?"
"Because if anyone can thrive in a place like that it would be you, Ostara." Stannis shakes his head. "You're tenacious."
"I think you meant stubborn, Stannis."
"Yes, that too."
Ostara stares at the flame in her palm, moving her hand this way and that so that the flame casts shadows upon the tent walls. Beyond the tent there is drunken laughter and men and women make their way back to the tents. Her parents are likely to have returned, her parents are also likely to be very, very annoyed with her. Ostara finds she can't really bring herself to care all that much.
But she still puts out the flame, still curls her fingers and clenches the flame between a tight fist, purple-grey smoke curling around her hand as she uses her own magic to extinguish the flames.
Darkness fills the tent which earns her an annoyed grunt from Stannis.
Ostara just smiles as she casts another notice-me-not and slips from Stannis' tent and back to her own.