All along the Misty Wood surrounding the northern Stormlands and for leagues around the Wendwater rose great pillars of evergreen tree trunks covered in green moss, standing strong and unmovable from the ancient days of the Children of the Forest and their clash with Durran Godsgrief. Holdfasts had grown up about the forest. A few had flowered into castles where men still ruled as they had for thousands of years.

Conflicts between the First Men and the children arose as the First Men made their settlements in the forest. The children tolerated the buildings of First Men and villages along the forest's streams, but conflict broke out over the First Men's use of timber.

Durran Godsgrief of Storm's End claimed the forest for the First Men, leading to generations of warfare between House Durrandon and the children. The woods witch known as the Green Queen held the forest for almost a generation during the reign of King Durwald I Durrandon which was later brought back under the rule of Storm's End.

Here in the rainwood the trees ruled, it is said by the people of Stormlands, and Argella had only to take one look around her to see the truth of it. The castles oft seem as if they have grown from the earth instead of being built. And the knights and lords of the rainwood have roots as deep as the trees that shelter them, and have oft proved themselves steadfast in battle, strong and stubborn and immovable.

They had come across dozens of holdfasts and villages on their way north. The banners flapping from

the all of the towns' stout wooden walls still displayed the crowned

stag of House Baratheon, which showed no opposition for their huge host as they passed through the villages and towns. Ella pitied them. Should the rebellion her soon-to-be husband started be put down, it would go ill for them just for the single reason of siding with her family. Maester Cresson had taught her enough to know that, "The dragon does not know how to forgive or forget." That was another lesson that the old maester had taken pains to teach her as she wouldn't learn her lessons with earnest. Riding alone in the middle of the forest, Argella found that she missed the old man. The constant presence of Maester Cressen in her life made the old maester as the grandfather she lacked. He might have told her more about the Misty Wood if he were with her here.

The army had no trouble moving forward each day, though the autumn gales and rains were delaying their progress somewhat a little. The going was much slower here than it had been near Storm's End.

Instead of proper roads, they rode down crookback slashes

that snaked this way and that, through clefts in huge moss covered rocks and down deep ravines choked with blackberry brambles. Sometimes the track petered out entirely, sinking

into bogs or vanishing amongst the ferns, leaving her father and his army to find another way amongst the silent trees. The rain still fell, soft and steady. The sound of moisture

dripping off the leaves was all around them, and every mile or so the music of another little waterfall would call to them.

Near Storm's End they had often travelled after dark, when the moonlight turned the nearby blue sea to silver, but the rainwood was too full of bogs, ravines, and sinkholes, and black as pitch beneath the trees,

where the moon was just a memory.

Argella would have favored the journey north by ships, just as they had made for Riverrun last year for Gendry's marriage to Alyssa Arryn. The thought of her goodsister brought a smile to her face. Gendry bid farewell to his young wife twice. Once in the Sept before the Warrior, in sight of gods and men. The second time beneath the portcullis, where Lady Alyssa sent him forth with a long embrace and a longer kiss. It gave her enough reason to mock him, her lovesick brother.

The journey north by ship would've been quicker... and deadlier. She knew that Shipbreaker Bay can be perilous even on a fair summer's day. And during this time of the year with all the storms and waves it would be twice as deadly. The safer way to the Riverlands is by overland.

Ella has always dreamed of riding for battle with an army. Despite the wish being fulfilled she found it extremely boring. There was nothing interesting for her to do there. Her father was always busy, holding his war council with her brothers and her uncles. As always, Ella was not allowed. Her mother had made sure of that. Even Joffrey was allowed. That thought irked her beyond any reason. Everyone knew she was better than him at everything, older and better. Argella could batter him around the yard even without receiving the necessary skills and training from Ser Gawen Wylde, the master-at-arms of Storm's End, like Joffrey did. Still he was allowed to sit in the war council and she wasn't. She was more than wise to go and spend time with her mother. Somehow she was sure that Lady Cersei would be fuming about her husband for bringing her out here. Uncle Renly would sometime join her during supper, whenever he could step away from her father's eyes.

Often times Argella would slip away from the party, alone on her horse, to explore the massive forest around her. It was easy to get away from the large host around her without anyone noticing and somehow her instincts had always brought her back before someone raised the alarm that she's gone missing.

The wood was full of caves as well, which made for excellent adventures. The first cave she explored gave nothing but shelter, a place to get out of the wet. She had luck with some other days, finding a beautiful blue mushroom in a cave one day and a majestic white stag the size of an ox the other. The stag had come out of his place despite the rain to graze. Argella had almost killed the beautiful beast that day as she nocked the arrow, drew her bowstring and waited for the right time to loose. The rain was in her face and her bowstring wet which made it hard to hit the target for any skilled archer, but Ella knew she was better. She might have loosened the arrow and brought the beautiful animal down. She has been to hunting with her father and brothers many a times before. But as she looked at the stag, grazing gently, going on with his work she lowered her bow. When she put the bow down and slowly reached the stag, he let her pet him as if he was a lamb. Ella fed him berries and leaves from her own hands and when she had finally left him in his place and returned to hers she had been happier than ever.

By midmorning a light rain began to fall, as they were making their way north through a land of vast green fields and little villages. As yet, they had seen no signs of fighting, but Ella knew that they might encounter anyone along the rutted road anytime. Her father had sent a scouting party under the command of her uncle Renly to make sure that they are not ambushed on the road north.

Further north, the fields gave way to rolling hills and thick groves of old forest, the road dwindled to a track, and villages became less common.

Dusk found them on the northern fringes of the rainwood, a wetgreen world where brooks and rivers ran through dark forests and the ground was made of mud and rotting leaves. Huge willows grew along the watercourses, larger than any that Argella had ever seen, their great trunks as gnarled and twisted as an old man's face and festooned with beards of silvery moss.

Trees pressed close on every side, shutting out the sun; hemlock and red cedars, white oaks, soldier pines

that stood as tall and straight as towers, colossal sentinels, bigleaf maples, redwoods, wormtrees, even here and there a wild weirwood. Underneath their tangled branches ferns and flowers grew in profusion; sword ferns, lady ferns, bellflowers

and piper's lace, evening stars and poison kisses, liverwort, lungwort, hornwort. Mushrooms sprouted down amongst the tree roots, and from their trunks as well, pale spotted hands that caught the rain. Other trees were furred with moss, green or grey or red-tailed, and once a vivid purple. Lichens covered every rock and stone. Toadstools festered besides rotting logs.

The very air seemed green and grey. One look around her and Argella could see that the forest was aptly named. Despite travelling through the rainwood for days, Misty Wood was still a huge mystery around her with much and more still waiting to be explored.

That night they made camp in a flatland ringed by sentinels. Argella accompanied Ser Gilbert Farring to the tent of her brothers to share the night meal with them. Her brothers shared a tent much to the annoyance of Joffrey. It made very little sense to her, Gendry is the older brother, by rights he should have been the one to get annoyed to share his tent with his little brother but she knew Gendry to be well behaved than Joffrey.

The cooks had already made a fire going in their tent and a brace of hares was hissing over the flames. Gendry was at his desk, bare-chested beneath his white cotton shirt. He was polishing his helm as always, cleaning the black steel to the highest sheen, his rain-soaked hair falling across his brow. She watched him for a moment. He had her uncle Renly's eyes and hair, but not his build. Lord Renly was more lithe than brawny while her brother inherited the muscled frame of their father Lord Robert, and his strength which was fabled.

Joffrey was swinging his sword wildly in the other corner. He wore gilded mail and enameled crimson plate, with matching golden lions on their heads. The pale candlelight flashed off the golds and reds every time Joff moved. Bright, shining, and empty, Ella thought. He looked so stupid standing there in the middle of the forest and swinging his sword.

When her little brother saw her he pointed his sword at her. "What are you doing here, sister," he took a couple of wild swings at her, "This tent is not for ladies. Surely you have your own." When he took another swing at her, Gendry threw his gloves right at his face from the far end of the pavilion.

"Lower your sword," he said. "How many times should I have to say that is no toy."

Joff looked enraged, as if he was going to start another one of his childish fits.

"Stop pointing your sword at me, Joff," Ella said to him, "else I'll pull it out of your hands and throw it away."

Finally he lowered the sword. His mouth twisted oddly; if that was a smile, it was the queerest she had ever seen. "Mother says that I would soon lead my own army. I shall make you proud by fighting on your part as well since you can't do it yourself, sister. We ought to have left you off at Storm's End with the other women, now that I think on it. A war camp is not fit for a woman like you."

"I am more concerned about your well being, Joff," Argella chuckled. "Even a woman like me could still knock you down on your back."

She stepped forward and grabbed the sword by the pommel while sliding her leg between his clumsy ones and pulled him to her, knocking him face down before her while disarming the sword smoothly from his hands.

Gendry laughed, keeping his helm down on his table and came to her side.

"As well as on your face," Gendry finished. Argella leaned against her older brother, supporting herself against him with her elbow on his muscled arm.

"Are you going to complain to mother, Joff?" Ella asked.

Gendry looked at their younger brother on the ground. "I think he is going to cry again, Ella."

"As always," she said, laughing. "Its the only thing Joff can do better than anyone."

Joffrey looked up at them from the ground, lips quivering. He did look as if he was going to cry soon. Ella threw the sword to the ground beside him before he shames himself by crying.

"Mock me while you can." Joffrey took his sword and stood up. The sword was a beautiful blue steel, castle forged. The pommel was a golden lion's head with rubies for its eyes. Three fullers were deeply incised in the blade. Lion's Tooth was what her baby brother had named his sword. A stupid name for a sword. The sword itself was a fine weapon, the result of Donal Noye's brilliant craftsmanship, but Argella knew it was wasted on Joffrey. He was hopeless with a sword.

He'd owned a dozen swords including Lion's Tooth, but Argella knew none of them were put to the right use. All of them had been left by him to rust.

"Mother says you'll soon go to the north to live in the frozen wasteland your husband calls as his home." He pushed his blade into the scabbard. "Go on, mock me. You might never get the chance again."

"Oh, who will make fun of you if I am gone, Joff," she said with a flourish. "Don't worry, baby brother. I'll always find a way myself to mock you."

"Will there be a battle soon?" Ella asked Gendry.

"Maybe," he said. "There's been word from King's Landing about dragons and armies. No doubt there will be someone coming down for us. Father thinks that as well."

"They say there's been fighting in the Riverlands," she said pushing her hair away from her face. "Is it true?."

That made Gendry frown. "Tyrell forces has made it to the Riverlands before us. Don't worry," he smiled at her, "nothing bad has happened to your betrothed."

"Stop it," Argella said, smiling despite her sharp tone.

"My lord," Ser Gawen poked his head inside the tent. "Your lord father asked for your presence."

"I'll be there at once," Gendry said and rushed to the flaps of the tent. He stopped at the entrance and looked back at her. "Throw me that fresh jerkin on my bed, Ella."

"Here," she took his jerkin from the bed and threw it at him.

Gendry caught the jerkin. "Make sure that you both finish supper before you sleep," he with a smile and left her alone with Joffrey.

After they ate, Argella turned a stick and some dry moss into a torch, and opted to go off exploring in the nearby caves before going to sleep.

"You should come with me, Joff," Argella told her brother. "I don't think you're having anything else to do here. There are plenty of things to explore here."

"I'm not going anywhere with you," Joff said in a boyish shout.

"Gods you're such a bore, Joff," Ella said. "How are you going to lead armies into battles if you are not even brave enough to take a night's walk in our own forest."

That must have hurt his pride. "I'm not afraid," he screeched. "I'll show it to you." He walked fastly outside the tent to prove his point.

Argella strapped her bow and arrows to her back and rushed after him, to stop him from doing something stupid and getting caught.

They slipped away from the camp without getting caught quite easily. They walked through the green, wet heart of the rainwood, slow going at

the best of times. It took Argella and her brother the better part of the night before the find a perfect place for adventure. They travelled to the music of steady, lashing rains beating at the treetops up above, though underneath the green great canopy of leaves and branches she and her brother stayed surprisingly dry.

Joffrey followed her closely, drawing his sword to every rustle of leaves and the hooting of owls, always voicing that they should start back. Still he followed her when Argella pressed forward. He was too afraid to make it back on his own, she knew.

She finally stopped by the mouth of the cave, getting out of the falling rain. "Stay close to me," Ella told him. "These caves go very deep, it is easy to get lost."

"You cannot mean to go in there all alone," Joff replied, his voice shaking.

"No," Ella said. "I'm going in there with you.

The cave proved much deeper than she had suspected. Beyond the stony mouth where they had entered, a series of twisty passageways led down and down, with black holes snaking off to either side. Further in, the walls opened up again, and the adventurers found themselves in a vast limestone cavern, larger than the great hall of a castle. Their footsteps disturbed a nest of bats, who flapped about them noisily, and distant echoes of their wings shouted back. A slow circuit of the hall revealed three further passages, one so small that it would have required them to proceed on hands and knees.

"So which one do we try first," Argella asked.

Joffrey eyed the first path, then at her face, then at the second and back at her face. May the Gods have mercy on anyone who would follow Joff in battle. He takes too much time to make a simple decision.

"That one," he said at last.

"So we take the other one," Ella said and made for the other path Joff had left out. He followed her with a scoff.

The passageway Argella had chosen for them turned steep and wet within a hundred feet. The footing grew uncertain.

Once she slipped, and had to catch herself to keep from sliding. More than once she considered turning back, but she could see Joff already afraid beyond any reason and it would do no good for him to see her unsure and backing away from the path, so she pressed on. And all at once she found herself in another cavern, five times as big as the last one, surrounded by a forest of stone columns. Joffrey moved close to her side. Argella raised her torch. "Look how the stone's been shaped," she

said. "Those columns, and the wall there. See them?"

"Faces," said Joff, afraid.

Faces they were. So many sad eyes, staring.

"This place belonged to the children of the forest." Argella brushed her fingers against the sad eyes of a face. "A thousand years ago." She turned her head. "Listen."

"What?" Joff asked looking this way and that around them.

"Shh," Ella shushed him. "There are voices. Listen."

There were voices. She could only barely hear them.

"We should go back," her brother urged.

She should go back, she knew, but her sense of adventure got the better of her. She might actually find out the Children of the Forest who are thought to have gone extinct for thousands of years.

Ella followed the voice carefully. They made their way up a slippery slope to another hall. Their passageway led them pass a still black pool, where they discovered blind white fish swimming perfectly as if they were not blind.

Her torch started to burn red and smoky in her hands. If that torch should go out they would be alone in the dark, as good as blind. That was not the worst though. The worst of it all came in the shape of her younger brother. Ella knew its only a matter of time before Joff starts to cry. She should find out the face behind the voice soon. It seemed to come from above, now a bit more clear. That reassured her a bit. They ought to be near the surface. Clearly voices could travel only a certain distance under the ground.

Soon, when they had made their way up the stone cut steps, Ella could make it out that it was the common tongue. Do the children speak the common tongue?

Argella could now see the light of a torch, a smoking star that bid her follow. Twice it seemed to disappear, but she kept on straight, and both times she found herself at the top of steep, narrow stairs, the torch glimmering just above her. She hurried after it, up and up.

"So many?" The voices were fainter as the light dwindled ahead of her. "I never knew . . . Ser Jaime and Ser Lewyn . . . the kingsguard . . . not so easy . . . "

"No. But he did . . . Dragonslayer . . . "

" . . . .it true he killed a dragon . . . "

"No doubt. The songs say so."

A flickering light brushed the wall ever so faintly, and she saw that she stood at the top of a great black well, a shaft twenty feet across plunging deep into the earth. Huge stones had been set into the curving walls as steps, circling down and down, dark as the steps to hell that Septon Ebrose used to tell them of.

Argella peered over the edge and felt the cold black breath on her face. About a dozen feet away from her, she saw a freshly made fire. Two men sat around it, their backs to her. She could hear their voices, echoing against the walls of the cave.

" . . . against Ser Garlan ," one said. "The battle will come soon. A day, two days, a fortnight . . . "

"Do you think Ser Garlan could get better of the Born King?" the second man asked.

"The gods alone know," the first man said. "We ought to think more about us rather than Ser Garlan. We will soon come upon foes , I warn you. We will soon come against the Baratheon army, whether we will it or no. The princess has seen that from atop her black dragon."

"Too soon, too soon," the second man complained.

"Do you think we have a say in the matter?" the man who seemed to be leader replied. "We are just supposed to follow orders else Lord Tarly will have our heads.

The other chuckled. "No less."

Flames licked at the cold air. Argella could make out their green cloaks and the red huntsman sigil on them. Huntsman for House Tarly, she remembered her lessons.

Argella stepped back away from the mouth of the cavern, dropped to her knees, and pulled Joff down to her.

"There are men from the reach in our lands," Ella hushed to him.

"We should go tell father," Joff urged.

"No," she declared. "They might come across our smallfolk and kill them. They could have spied on us and would give away our position to their lords."

"What are you going to do?"

"We," she corrected him. "Surely you've been waiting for this moment of glory." She smiled.

When Joff had nothing to say, Ella started to think about a plan to destroy the camp.

They had set up their camp beside the west end of the cave. Their supply stash was about thirty yards away. There were about a dozen of men in the camp as far as she could see, maybe more. Two of the men were posted to watch over the supplies.

"Can you make it to the supply stash without getting noticed?" she asked.

"Why should I go?" asked Joff. "You go there if you want."

"Joff, listen," she said. "If you could provide some sort of distraction, I could take them out one by one."

"You do the distraction, I will kill them easily," said Joffrey .

"Are you sure you can do it?" Ella asked.

Joffrey took his crossbow off the sling and pointed it at her face. "I can do it better than you."

Argella hoped he wouldn't mess it up. She was glad that he agreed to do something.

Her close proximity to the enemy camp sharpened her senses. The closer I get to them, the more guarded I am, she thought. No one would bother to check for an enemy right next to them. She moved slowly for the huge rock in the shadowed corner near the supply stash, pausing frequently to listen for unnatural sounds, an arrow already fitted into the string of her bow. She didn't see any other men other than the ones she had marked, but she did notice some of the things she hasn't noticed before. Patches of the sweet berries. A bush with the green leaves that would heal stings. Clusters of trees surrounded the vicinity of the cave, making the cave itself a stronghold. And here and there, the black-and-white flash of a mockingjay wing in the branches high over the cave.

She reached the rock and paused a moment, to gather her courage. She knew how to reach the best spying place and how to stay there waiting, calm and patient. Remember, Ella told herself. You're the hunter now, not them. She got a firmer grasp on my bow and went on. She got behind the rock and saw that she could see the entirety of the camp without being seen. It's right at the edge of the cave, and the shadowed nook is so dark, away from the light that she could easily observe the enemy camp without being spotted. Between her and the men lay the dark emptiness which shadowed her under its cloak.

There were four men inside the cave. The two men by the fire, and the other two guarding the supplies. Argella made her first target, a scrawny, ashen-skinned man who must be about her uncle Renly's age. He made almost no impression on her, only he was at the wrong place the wrong time. She knew almost nothing about him. Even now, as he sat there fiddling with some kind of wooden box, he's easily ignored in the presence of his large and noisy companions. But he must be of some value or they wouldn't have bothered to send him here.

All four men seemed to be at ease without the thought of a stranger in their camp. The others were sprinkled around the perimeter of the cave, guarding the camp from all sides.

The supply stash sits in a perfect position, guarding her from the sight of the men. Most of the supplies held in sacks, and wooden crates, were piled neatly in a pyramid a good distance from the fire.

The whole setup perplexed her completely. The distance between the men, the close guards and the fire. Looking at them Argella knew one thing for sure, destroying the camp was not going to be as simple as it looked.

She signalled to Joff and got him ready. When he nodded, Ella picked up a stone and threw it so it bounced off the hard rock near him with a clang.

That got the attention of the men inside the cave. "What's that?" someone asked.

"Go check it out," the man near the flames said.

Her target stood up and walked over to Joffrey. He moved close to Joff, close enough for an easy shot. The bolt her brother loosed left his crossbow with a loud thrum . . . And missed. He is incompetent with a bow as he is with a sword.

"Intruders," the soldier cried at once.

The cry from the soldier showed his companions this was not mere jest. All of them reached for their weapons. The man who raised the alarm was standing above Joff, spear in hand. Her brother was pale and frozen in fear. Looking at him there facing death, Argella thought of nothing other than saving her baby brother, cautions be damned. She vaulted over the rock, bow in hand.

The man who would've killed her brother died before he could drive the spear into Joff. Her arrow drove deeply into the center of his neck. He fell to his knees and halved the brief remainder of his life by yanking out the arrow and drowning in his own blood. Ella reloaded, shifting her aim from side to side. She shot again and again as the men came for them.

She skewered a big man right through the heart. Then severed the windpipe of an aiming archer. Without pausing, she shoulder-rolled forward, came up on one knee, and send an arrow into one of the legs of a man rushing towards Joff, just above his knee and brought him down quickly with an arrow through his eye in rapid succession.

It was excellent shooting. Her heart started to pound, whether it was because of pride or panic she could not say. Without thinking, she pulled another arrow from her quiver searching for another target.

. . . and someone crashed into her, shrieking.

He fell on her like an avalanche of wet wool and steel, lifting her off her feet and slamming her down into the ground. The impact with the hard-packed earth of the plain knocked the wind out of her. All the air was driven out of her, and her head snapped down against some half-buried stone with a crack. "No," was all that she had time to say before he fell on top of her, his weight driving her deeper into the ground. One of his hands groped for her throat, choking her. Her bow was gone, torn from her grasp. She had only her hands to fight him off, but when she slammed a fist into his face it was like punching a ball of wet white dough. He hissed at her.

She hit him again, again, again, smashing the heel of her hand into his eye, but he did not seem to feel her blows. She clawed at his wrists, but his grip just grew tighter, though blood ran from the gouges where she scratched him. He was crushing her, smothering her. She pushed at his shoulders to get him off her, but he was heavy as a horse, impossible to move. When she tried to knee him in the groin, all she did was drive her knee into his belly.

My arrow. Argella clutched at the thought, desperate. She worked her hand down between them, fingers squirming until she had a good grip. With him on top of her, she could not raise the arrowhead to stab, so she drew it hard across his belly. Something warm and wet gushed between her fingers. The man hissed again, louder than before, and stilled above her. She shoved the corpse off her and stood up. The pain blinded her for an instant.

Joffrey was still hiding behind a rock. Surprisingly none of them came against them.

Outside, it appeared as if some fighting was going on. She recognized a few of her father's riders who were bowmen, skilled at shooting from a running horse. Riding swiftly into range they shot arrows at the Tarly guards, and several of them fell; then the riders wheeled away out of the range of the answering bows of their enemies, who shot wildly, not daring to halt.

She could see that the reachmen had somehow tripled their numbers. The song of swords rang faintly, and steel glinted a little in the light of the fires. Arrows came whistling out of the gloom: it was aimed with skill, or guided by fate, and it pierced through a man beside her. There was a quick beat of hoofs, and as one of the stragglers leaped up and ran, he was ridden down and a spear passed through him. He gave a hideous shivering cry and lay still.

Outside the circle of watch-fires, the Tyrell men stood their ground from the direction of the forest and the mountains. They were attacking the Baratheon riders. There was the sound of galloping horses. The Riders were drawing in their ring close round the knoll, risking the enemy arrows, so as to prevent any sortie, while a company rode off to deal with the others.

The sounds had died away a few moments later. Evidently the scouts had been killed or driven off. The Baratheon riders had returned to their silent ominous vigil. It would not last very much longer. Already the night was old. In the East, which had remained unclouded, the sky was beginning to grow pale.

"Joff," Ella called picking up her bow, "come. It will be easy for us if we follow these riders to get back to our camp." Joffrey got up and stamped his feet, his armor clanking.

When they came out into the open, a horseman came riding swiftly to them. The rider's armor was a deep green, the green of leaves in the rainwood, so dark it drank the light of the torches. Gold highlights gleamed from inlay and fastenings like distant fires in that wood, winking every time he moved. His helm was green as well, with two majestic antlers of gold rising from the brows.

He halted before them and took the helmet off. Underneath his helm, his long black hair was tied up into knot with a golden velvet ribbon. Despite the sweat upon his face, her uncle was handsome and splendid as always.

"What is my wild neice doing in the middle of an enemy camp?" Renly Baratheon asked with a smile.

"Its a long story," Ella told him.

"You're hurt." He touched the bruise which had reddened her cheekbone. His glove was covered in blood and he left a smear of blood where he touched.

"It's nothing," she replied and pulled him down to the ground. "Uncle, I want to see father."

Her uncle chuckled. "No doubt Robert wants to see you as well."

"No you don't understand," she said. "Its urgent."

"Patience, young lady," he said. "Don't fly like a mockingjay." It was then her uncle eyed her brother beside her. "So you are here as well, huh, Joff? Why are you shaking anyway?"

"He is just afraid," she said. "That's all."

"I'm not afraid," Joffrey snapped.

"I could see that," her uncle said. He looked behind them and saw the felled bodies of men brought down by her arrows. "Sometimes I think the gods play mockery of our family, Joff. You should be protecting your sister, not the other way around." He smiled. "Now let me go and clean this blood off me. Get some rest, both of you. We'll be leaving soon."

"We'll need horses," Argella said as her uncle walked away.

"Don't worry," he told her. "You can have the horses of my men who weren't as lucky as you."

After they had laid their fallen comrades in a mound and had sung their praises, the Riders of Stormlands made a great fire and scattered the ashes of their enemies. So ended the scout of the reachmen, and no news of it came ever back either to their lords or to the dragon princess; but the smoke of the burning rose high to heaven and was seen by many watchful eyes.

As they made their way back to her father's camp, Ella found herself filled with the thoughts of the men she had killed. Numerous animals had lost their lives at her hands, but never a human. Until today. She could hear Gendry saying, "How different can it be, really?" Ella remembered him saying it when she had asked him about it.

She mused how true he had been. Amazingly similar in the execution. A bow pulled, an arrow shot. But entirely different in the aftermath. She killed a man whose name she doesn't even know. Somewhere his family is weeping for him. His friends call for my blood. Maybe he had a wife or a lover who really believed he would come back.

But then she thought of her brother's still body and she was able to banish the man from her mind. At least, for now.

The journey back takes longer than she expected, even on horseback. Ella supposed that the path through the caves is far shorter and more quicker than this original one.

When they get back, she quickly makes her way to her father's tent.

It was all of golden silk, the largest and grandest structure in the camp. Outside the entrance, Lord Robert's warhammer was displayed beside an immense iron shield blazoned with the crowned stag of House Baratheon. Both her uncles' pavilions flanked it. Uncle Stannis' tent was a dour grey while a great green silk made up Uncle Renly's. The candles within Renly's pavilion made the shimmering silken walls seem to glow, transforming the great tent into a magical castle alive with emerald light. Two of her father's guard stood sentry at the door to the lord's pavilion.

Within, her father was busy talking with Uncle Stannis when Renly Baratheon marched her in, an oil lamp glowing softly at his elbow. He looked up to listen to his brother's report.

"You realize I had half my men out searching for you two?" Robert Baratheon said when Renly was done. "Your mother is beside herself with fear. And your brother is away in the forest looking for you. Argella, you know you are never to go beyond the camp without my leave."

"I didn't go far away from the camp," she blurted. "Well, I didn't mean to. I was in a cave, only they turned into this tunnel. It was all dark, and I heard voices, so I had to follow. Father, there were reachmen in our lands. They were talking about fighting you! I heard them. They said they know they will come upon you soon. That the princess atop the dragon told them so."

"Dragon? Argella, what are you talking about? Who said this?" He looked to uncle Renly for an answer.

"We came across a group of Tyrell outriders," her uncle said. "But we know nothing of dragons or princesses."

"They knew," she told him. "They were talking about it." She tried to remember the rest. "The princess was scouting for them with the black dragon. She tells them the positions of our army and our strength."

"Black dragon," said Robert, unsmiling.

"Daenerys must have come from King's Landing," Uncle Stannis clenched his jaw.

"We will talk about it later, Argella," her father said. "Now go take your brother and let your mother know that you are back. And check with the maester for that bruise."

"But father . . . " She screwed up her face.

"I get it," her father said, "but later. It would seem you've had quite an adventure. You need rest."

"Yes," Argella admitted, "only—"

"Look at you, sweetling. Your cheek is bruised," her father said. "Go see the maester. We'll talk later."

With that she was marched out of the tent, the talk of dragons and dragonslayers fresh on her mind.