Year: 95 AC

It was said that when Diana Royce was born, the Gods, Old and New embued their wisdom into her. Even as a young child, she possessed a poise and confidence not seen in even the wisest and fairest of maidens. This was a blessing to some, but to Old Yolbert Royce, it was concerning.

No matter how much he loved his granddaughters, they were just that: daughters. Two little girls, the older set to inherit the Lordship of Runestone if his son Yolden's wife Hera didn't provide him with a male heir.

The girls were as different as night and day. Rhea, the eldest sister and Yolden's heir, was all confidence and blunt words, while Diana was content to shine from the shadows, allowing her sister to draw most of the attention. The girls were close, both with a love for riding and hunting, but while Rhea revelled in the chase and kill, Diana found peace in the woods, surrounded by nature and bathing the horses and hounds that followed the party in praise and attention.

When the game proved too fast or competent for capture, Rhea was known to pout for days, raging in the comforts of her rooms while Diana fought to soothe her with kind words and gestures. The younger daughter simply saw the hunt as a chance to spend time uninterrupted with her family; the hunt was merely the icing on the top.

That wasn't to say Diana wasn't as, if not more, skilled in bowmanship or horsemanship than her sister. On the contrary, she practiced every day and excelled. She never hesitated to take the shot while hunting and always ensured the kill was clean, even if it meant using a hunting knife and getting her hands soiled with blood.

But where the sisters differed was in their other studies. Rhea railed against her Septa, refusing to sit down for long periods to study the history of Westeros and all of the political manoeuvres taken by her family in the centuries since House Royce was founded. For a girl who was always on the move, being stationary for so long was torture.

As for Diana, she would be content to hide away in a dark and secluded corner with her books for all her days if allowed. Especially if that corner was comfortable with food, cushions, and her favourite hound to sit at her feet while she entertained herself with myths and legends of old, immersing herself in history.

Which itself proved to be a problem when the girl arrived for breakfast with dark circles under her eyes from staying up all night reading and not resting. Yolbert Royce never thought he would see the day when a father was forced to punish his child by taking away her books.

Diana pouted, of course, but unlike her sister, she didn't rail and scream for all to hear; instead, she chose to sit in sullen silence, which distressed her mother to no end. Hera Royce Nee Redfort dotted on her daughters and took great pride in their accomplishments and was dismayed at their failures.

In fact, both parents were uncharacteristically close with their children, considering they were of noble birth. Hera Royce fed both girls at her breast, refusing a wetnurse, and Yolden refused his advisors when they pushed him to try and father more children after it was revealed by the maester that Hera would have difficulties falling pregnant and carrying to term in the future after Diana's birth proved difficult.

When asked by his lords why Yolden refused to impregnate his wife, his son simply replied he would not risk his wife's life when he had two healthy heirs already. Then he scooped up the then two-year-old Diana and carried her away, uncaring when the jam from a tart the girl was eating stained his doublet.

It was when the girls turned eight and ten years old that things began to change, Rhea was expected to inherit Runestone one day, and as such, her studies differed from Diana's, who would one day marry a lord of her Father's choosing and leave to live and run his keep, birthing his children.

And with this separation came change.

Rhea began socializing with other young lordlings and ladies of The Vale and creating allies and friendships with them. While Diana shied away from the loud and frequently pompous little lordlings and the tittering of the other young ladies. Diana hated gossip and arrogance that couldn't be backed up, and with little lordlings with everything to prove and nothing to show for it, that was all they had.

As for the little ladies who came to work as handmaidens or playmates for the two sisters while their parents worked on alliances and trade deals, Diana struggled to find common ground. She didn't look down on the girls for having different interests than her, but it did make friendships challenging to cultivate when they had nothing in common.

Thankfully, she found friends and confidants in her handmaiden Yelena Stone, a bastard daughter of one of her father's lord friends and her sworn sword Sir Viktor Egen, the third son of Harford Egen. Both were unusual for a high-born lady to choose for close friends, but it was so. The three were thick as thieves, with Viktor only being five years older than the two girls and all three very loyal to each other.

Yelena Stone was a tall girl for her age, standing several inches taller than Diana, with a full figure and flaming red hair and freckles. Her huge smile was made noticeable by her prominent front teeth, with a gap in between.

Sir Viktor stood almost seven feet, easily towering over the two girls he spent day in and day out protecting. But the large, muscled man proved to be a gentle giant with his brown curls and large dimples under a scruffy beard he cultivated with pride ever since he was able to grow facial hair. His laugh, seldom heard except by the girls, was a vast booming thing, deep and encompassing the space they held.

And with this change came… difficulties.

While Rhea thrived under all the attention she received as Heir to Runestone, she chaffed at how her sister refused to revel in the glory with her. It irritated her to no end that her sister preferred the company of a bastard girl and a third son to that of the many lords and ladies who came to visit Runestone. As for Diana… she struggled to understand how her sister had changed so quickly in such a short time.

By the time the girls were fourteen and fifteen, if they spoke more than the required pleasantries at dinner, if they came to dinner at all, it was a shock. Rhea often went out on rides with her friends while Diana was in the kennels with the new hounds or in the library, reading with Yelena.

This all came to a head one warm evening when Diana found the courage to ask Rhea to join her and her companions hawking. To check how the latest cast of hawks had been trained. Without her sister's knowledge, Rhea invited her friend to join. Of course, out of all of them, she had to choose Jon Belmore, the brutish and often crass son of Lord Belmore.

** Line Break**

Diana had tried to act graciously when she arrived at the castle's gate to find Jon Belmore bragging about the expensive war horse his father bought him for his sixteenth birthday. But she struggled to keep her composure as she watched Belmore fight to control the stallion as they trotted into the woods surrounding Runestone.

The horse was beautiful and massive, easily standing over 16 hands tall, with a jet-black coat that shined in the early morning sunlight and a long, luscious mane and tail.

"So, Lady Diana," the boy-man called, looking impish as Diana resisted the urge to ride ahead. Instead, she reached down, patted her grey mare, Silvia, soothingly, and stared ahead.

Taking a deep breath, feeling Rhea's pleading stare from her mount to Diana's left, Diana looked to the Belmore heir and plastered on an amiable smile, "Yes, Lord Jon?"

The young man smiled smugly under her attention, pleased he'd gotten a smile from the ordinarily enigmatic Royce sister, "I was so pleased when Rhea told me you asked for an escort on this little trail ride of yours. And please, call me Jon; we're all friends here."

Diana had to stifle a growl as she swung a cold glare in Rhea's direction, the older girl was looking ahead steadfastly, but Diana could see the hint of pink reddening her cheeks and ears.

What the fuck was Rhea's problem? Had they really strayed so far that her own sister couldn't spend time with her for a couple of hours alone?

Her blood boiling, Diana turned her ire towards the jackass smirking at her, her blood flowing too quickly for her to catch herself, "It isn't a 'trail ride,' Lord Jon, it's a hawking expedition, to see how my latest cast of hawks fair in the wilderness."

As if to reiterate her point, one of the hawks screeched from its perch inside a basket on the back of Sir Vikor's draft horse. Diana's sworn sword had come along, as always.

She couldn't hide the slight sharpness in her tone, and going by the narrowing of the idiot's murky green eyes in front of her, he'd also noticed. Sitting up straight, Belmore scowled as he stared her down, that is, until his hot-blooded stallion bucked slightly once more, raring to go and irritable under his inexperienced rider's handling.

Instead of sitting back and calmly taking control of the steed, Belmore jumped slightly before cursing under his breath and yanking back on the bit, causing the stallion's head to rear back in pain and prance to the side, looking for relief.

"Fucking curr," Belmore spat, doubling down and reaching into his saddle bag to pull out a riding crop.

Seeing what he was about to do, Diana's blood ran cold, and out of the corner of her eye, she could see Rhea staring on in horror, "Don't!"

But it was too late. With a sharp thwap, the lordling brought the crop down onto the stallion's rear, sending the horse flying into a dead gallop, kicking up mud behind him.

Diana and Rhea were in pursuit within seconds, but even their well breed mares had trouble keeping up with the enraged and terrified stallion. Digging her heels in, Diana stood up in her saddle and leaned forward, giving Sylvia the freedom to swing her head and pick up speed without Diana hindering her movements.

Belmore, of course, the fool, was barely hanging on, screaming bloody murder while he struggled and failed to reign in the stallion. Up ahead, there was a fallen tree blocking the trail they had been taking; usually, Diana and Rhea used it for jumping but never at this speed and never with a wild horse.

Instead of stopping or slowing down to avoid the obstacle as Diana had hoped, the stallion raised himself up and, in one long, overextended and clumsy jump, sailed over the tree without Belmore.

With an undignified squeal, the lordling flew through the air and hit the ground with a dull thud. He struggled to pull himself into a seated position, coughing on the dust his horse left in its wake. He looked murderous as he cradled his arm to his heaving chest and stared after the beast.

The girls had quickly come to a stop when they saw him fall, and while Diana stared after the horse, contemplating where it went and if she would be able to track it down before someone stole it or, worse, a predator got it, Rhea stared down at her friend with concern.

"Are you alright?" Rhea asked, stopping her chestnut mare near the Belmore and frowning down at him in concern.

"No!" Belmore snarled, staggering to his feet, looking haggard and very much the low-down craven he was. "Why on Earth would I be 'all right?!'"

The last part was almost a howl as he glared murderous daggers at them and began pacing the trail.

Rolling her eyes, Diana looked behind her to see Sir Viktor struggling to catch up with his massive draft horse and cargo in tow. "Regardless," she huffed, done watching Belmore prance around like an idiot, "We need to track down that horse."

"Yes," The Fool growled, "And kill the beast."

This had Diana wheeling back around at the lordling, fire in her eyes, "If you touch one hair on that poor creature's head, it won't be the one dead in the dirt."

"Diana!"

"You little -!"

"My Lady!"

Diana ignored all the cries that followed her as she began trotting ahead, going around the tree and down the trail. Fuck Belmore, and fuck this hunt. It had been a waste of her time.

**Line Break**

It took some time; Diana had to climb off of Sylvia several times in her efforts to find the stallion. Checking tracks and other signs of life as she went along. Then, after almost an hour of searching, she heard the familiar sound of nickering nearby and deep, laboured breathing.

Already feeling tears pooling in her eyes, she rounded the bend and let out a small whimper. She'd found the horse, but she wouldn't be saving it.

The magnificent stallion had been brought low, breathing pain-laboured breaths into the mud as it struggled and failed to stand due to the obviously broken front leg. If Diana had to guess, the stallion had taken the corner too quickly in its panic and slipped in the still morning dew-covered grass and mud, shattering its leg in the fall.

She remembered something her father once told her the first time she'd found out he'd killed one of his lame horses. It was one of the few times she'd ever raged like Rhea, slamming her fists into his chest and screeching like a banshee in her grief.

Instead of being angry at her disrespect, Yolden Royce had simply pulled her into his arms in a bear hug until she'd tired herself out enough to listen. Then he said something she'd never forget, "In battle, I got used to seeing men die, but I never got used to seeing horses die. They die badly because they don't understand that they will never get better. That's why sometimes, we must choose for them, so they don't die fighting and suffering."

Sullenly, Diana had nodded, forcing herself to understand. But, at that moment, staring at the horse fighting to survive despite everything saying it couldn't, she wished she didn't. Then, taking a deep breath, she trudged back to Sylvia, and with shaking hands, she pulled her bow off her saddle.

The fourteen-year-old took deep, shaking breaths as she raised the bow, notching the arrow and taking aim. She felt a tear trickle down her cheek as she stared down at the magnificent beast, brought down by the stupidity of its rider.

"I'm sorry," she breathed out and steeling herself, she raised the bow and let the arrow loose.

The horse squealed before the forest fell deathly silent as its head thumped to the ground, and with a final kick of its leg, it fell still. The arrow stuck out from its spot lodged in the animal's eye; its bronze fletching mocking Diana as it glistened with blood and the warm morning sun.

"My Lady… Ana," the low, sympathetic voice had Diana jumping slightly but not turning to look at the speaker. She knew who it was, who it always was.

Sir Viktor's boots thumped as he dismounted his horse and trudged in his simple leather armour to join her in staring wistfully at the dead animal in front of them. For several long moments, Diana stared blankly before she steeled herself again and marched forward. Then, taking the arrow by the shaft, she gave it a firm pull and tore it from the horse's head.

She looked down in horror and disgust at the mess of eye matter and blood that accompanied the arrow, staining her trousers as it sprayed about. She tried to hold it back, but with a muffled exclamation, she threw the arrow to the ground and fell to her knees, vomiting up her stomach contents.

Gentle hands rubbed her back and held back her hair as she coughed, struggling to expel the last of the vomit still stuck in her mouth and nose. Gasping, she sat back on her heels and accepted the flask Sir Viktor held out to her. Taking a gulp, she spat the liquid back out, gagging at the taste.

"Ale?" She sputtered, wiping her mouth on her sleeve.

Sir Viktor shrugged, eyes sad as he replied, "Twas all I had on me."

Holding out a hand, he pulled her to her feet, handing her the now clean arrow. Diana hesitated for a second before taking it. Then, with unsteady legs, she stumbled over to Sylvia and placed the arrow and bow back in their correct spots.

Sir Viktor had to help her into the saddle, but once she was on, Diana was steady, her breathing slowing to match Sylvia's calm, deep breaths under her thighs. Sitting up straight, she looked to Sir Viktor and, with a firm nod, began trotting back down the trail toward Runestone.

**Line Break**

The dining hall was silent as the family sat for their evening meal. The cold silence was only filled with the sound of cutlery scraping across bronze plates. Both girls were sullen as they avoided eye contact with their concerned parents.

Hera looked close to tears as she looked between her two girls. The castle had exploded into a frenzy when the Heir to Belmore came riding in on the back of her eldest daughter's horse, her youngest nowhere in sight. The young man had been enraged, spouting curses and insults as he wailed about his broken wrist.

Lady Royce had been a mess of tears as she'd interrogated her oldest, terrified Diana had been lost to the many horrors she imagined lived in the woods. Lord Royce had been mobilizing his men for a search party when Diana had come trotting through the gate, covered in blood, her eyes cold and blank.

Ever since then, it was as if a light had gone out within the keep, keeping her family in darkness and cold. Her daughters no longer ran through the halls giggling, their father chasing them with a smile, pretending to be a dragon. No, instead, they spent their time apart, Rhea following her father, learning to rule, and Diana splitting her time between the woods and the library, alone except for her two companions.

Instead of smiling at each other, the girls glared. Diana's eyes were cold and filled with betrayal, while Rhea's held disapproval and pride. Diana and Rhea had told the same story about how the Lord's son had fallen off his horse, and Diana had gone after it while Rhea took Jon back to Runestone. But the way they told it was completely different.

According to Rhea, Jon's fall was a simple accident, and Diana was an unfeeling harpy when she chose to go after the horse instead of aiding its rider. And according to Diana, Jon Belmore was an arrogant shit who got himself injured and his horse killed. There was no compromise and no middle ground to be found between the girls, they believed what they did, and no one could convince them otherwise.

It had been a month since the Belmores went home the following day, eyes filled with resentment for their heir's 'poor treatment,' and since then, the keep had been a cold war. The girls refused to spend any time together that wasn't mandated by their parents, and their mother and father couldn't punish them because they weren't technically doing anything wrong. In fact, they were being model daughters, going to all of their classes, being polite and taking the time to study at least an hour a day before any free time.

It was as if they were trying to out-perfect each other. Diana surrounded by her hounds and hawks, Rhea with her ladies and young lordlings.

Clearing his throat uncomfortably, Yolbert turned to Diana and asked, "How goes your studies, daughter? We haven't been spending as much time together recently; I miss it."

Diana gave a small smile and went to answer, but before she could, a slight snort from across the table had her scowling. Then, realizing she'd been caught, Rhea stared down at her plate as if she found it fascinating, avoiding the glare Diana shot her.

Clearing his throat, Yolden continued, obviously uncomfortable, "What do you say, Ana? You and I go riding tomorrow, just the two of us."

Diana tore her eyes away from her sullen older sister and smiled at her father, eyes sad, "I would love that father. Thank you."

Yolbert smiled at her and turned back to his food, ready to continue eating, when Rhea's voice cut through the room, cold and calculating, "But doesn't Diana have her needlework lessons tomorrow with Septa Hillow?"

"Yes," Yolden frowned, "she does, but I am the lord of this keep and if I say that I want to take my daughter riding, that it how it will be. Am I understood, Rhea?"

Under her father's accusing glare, Rhea's back straightened and with a huff, she was up and out of her chair, storming from the dining hall, her heavy footfalls marking her retreat.

She could never handle defeat well… whether at home or in the fields. Diana thought darkly. This will not end well.