I know, I know, I shouldn't start something new.
But I had this idea and I really really felt I needed to write it.
While the plotline is quite different, the style and quick pacing is certainly influenced by "I Could Not Stop For Death" by writing_as_tracey on AO3.
It's a great crossover story, be sure to check it out!
So, to not mess my posting schedule up too much, this one here became a one-shot.
If enough people are interested in it and the muse strikes me, I might extend it though.
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters.
Valar Morghulis
Faramir knows he will likely die somewhere in Ithilien someday, the times are just too dangerous to think otherwise. It is certainly not ideal, certainly not what he planned his life to be like - it has nothing to do with the dreams he once had. But fighting there, with his men, it's what he has to do. It's a duty, but moreover, it's a responsibility.
Then the day comes, and he is dying, and yet, maybe he isn't?
There is fire, all around him, screaming and burning, and suddenly he is just - gone.
Through a void, hurled away. No, not hurled. Led. Is this the way to the Halls of Mandos? But men don't go there, do they?
It occurs to him he maybe should be scared, or at least mildly concerned, but he is not. Someone is holding his hand, gently. Then the lights go on, stars, all around him. They illuminate a path through the darkness, as if someone wants to show him the way. He cannot see himself, or anyone else. He only knows how to move forward, along the swirling lights.
Someone else is now walking besides him and he reckons he can feel tears dropping on his hand, a soft caress. Just when he wants to ask what the matter is, the presence changes again. Another hand is leading him now, strong and sure, like his father did when he was young and life was easier. Faramir has the feeling someone suddenly pushes the presence next to him aside and almost skips along at his side. His heart becomes lighter as he his pulled along through the darkness to a tuneless song, until the sweetest embrace covers him. He thinks he can smell grass, and pines, covered by the crisp smell of snow. Faramir drifts away, warm and comforted.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
Faramir Stark is born as the third son of Rickard and Lyarra Stark, hardly two years after his older brother Eddard and three years after Brandon, the heir. Just one year later, he gets a little sister, Lyanna, and then a little bit later another brother, Benjen.
All the Starks have the same looks, dark hair and grey eyes, though Brandon is by far the most handsome one. Faramir will turn out quite nicely, too, his mother claims, but he isn't bothered about that yet.
They say Starks are either sulking or have the blood of the wolf, and while Brandon, Lyanna, and Ben are rowdy, Ned and Faramir are quiet. Or at least they appear so, if you don't know them well. Everyone at Winterfell knows they get into trouble with their siblings, and especially Ned can be a force when he gets provoked. He is like a storm, and when the storm breaks, it is hard to weather.
Faramir doesn't like violence, doesn't like fighting, not like Brandon does, or even Ned sometimes. He is the odd one, the odd one with the odd name that his mother read in an old book and decided to use. Her 'Ray of sunshine', she calls him. The family and most Northerners shorten his name, they only call him Faramir to point out that he is a bit odd. The boy loves to study and to listen to stories, to learn about the world. All tell his father quite early in that he should be sent to the Citadel to become a maester, especially since Rickard has three other sons. Barely more than a toddler, Benjen seems more promising and wolfly than Faramir.
But Lord Stark is too ambitious, he is already planning matches for his sons, and all of them have to be available for that. It certainly doesn't help that Faramir is a good fighter once they get him to pick up a practice sword - it almost feels as if he had done it before.
In fact, he is sure he has done it before, even though he is only six years old or so. There are stories in his mind and they are so vivid he can't have made them up. In these stories, the Old Gods he prays to have names. They aren't nameless, flickering beings, but almost like people, all with their own personalities and tasks, but that is something he can never tell. Nobody would believe it anyway, they would just say he mixes it up with the Seven.
Why Seven, though? It's wrong, it should be Twelve!
So when nobody is listening, he whispers their names under the heart tree, just for him and them. He isn't sure who is his favourite - it always switches. He sometimes thinks that because he is a boy he should like Tulkas or Orome the most, but he is sure he felt Este's hand first, and that makes her extra-special to him.
He feels he has met both Brandon and Ned before, in another land, in a white city, very different from Winterfell or Moletown. No, that is not quite right - he feels as if he has had a life with his brothers already, somehow.
That somehow, he already had his hero, his protector, his mirror image. And there is so much pain in this vague memory that he doesn't understand and that he tries to push it away as far away as possible. Still, despite their difference in age Ned is his closest confidant, they are the quiet and the gentle wolf, both able to stand silence well.
There is no pain with Lyanna and Ben, as if they are freshly fallen snow, unstained, and Faramir treasures them with all of his heart.
Then, Brandon is sent away to Barrowtown, and far too quickly, Ned leaves for the Eyrie, to find a new brother in the young stag heir. Faramir is six years old and lonely, and he turns towards Lyanna, because Benjen is still too young, and nobody else understands him. She doesn't either, not really, but loves him just the same. They share dreams and hopes and fancies, they fight like they wolves they are. He is still only the third-born for his father and not as sprightly as Benjen, but he is mother's favourite.
But Lyarra gets paler and paler until she is no more, and it is an echo of another pain he has felt before - only that this doesn't help against the pain.
- 0 - 0 - 0 -
When he turns twelve years old, in the middle of the courtyard of Winterfell, surrounded by his family and his father's bannermen, Lord Rickard Stark announces the decision that will shape his future.
"Faramir," his father begins, his voice resonating with authority, "you are to be fostered at Casterly Rock, under the tutelage of House Lannister."
The words hang heavy in the air, cold like Northern winds, iliciting murmurs of surprise and concern from those who have gathered. It is quite a late age to start fostering, but it probably has soemthing to do with shifts in politics. Faramir has been informed about the scheme, of course, but still he feels a mix of apprehension and determination swirling within him. He knows about the importance of this fostering, not only for himself but for the future of House Stark. His father has stressed it often enough. Nevertheless, the idea of leaving the North makes his belly clench.
It is true, Brandon and Ned are away most of the time, but what about Lyanna and Ben? Who will teach his sister now, when he is gone? Certainly not their father!
Dread fills him.
And fostered at the Lannisters, of all families! Brandon could stay in the North, and the Eyrie doesn't sound so bad either. Ned is happy there, at least he always says so. Well, Winterfell is often pretty miserable with mother gone, Faramir conceds, so that might not be so difficult. But from what he has heard, Tywin Lannister isn't any better than Rickard Stark - changed by the death of a wife, distant, hard. He is to be out of the frying pan and into the fire, it seems.
But alas, even with only twelve years of age Faramir knows he has to put up a brave face and comfort his sister, to make his family proud. If his brothers can do it, he can do it, too! This quickly becomes his favourite sentence, something he tells himself over and over as the time draws near for him to depart from Winterfell and embark on his journey to Casterly Rock. Everyone can feel emotions are running high within the walls of the ancestral keep, even though Lord Stark keeps mentioning that everyone is fussing too much.
Certainly too much for the spare of the spare, Faramir thinks grimmly.
On the eve of his departure, he sneaks out into the Godswood, after all, he doesn't think he will see a proper heart tree for quite some time. He hopes the Old Gods can hear him anyway, down South where he is going. This time, he prays to Elbereth, for guidance on the way, and to Tulkas, to give him strength. He doubts Este will be able to help him in a cage of lions.
Suddenly, the shadows seem to move, and Lyanna peels out of the dark. She approaches her brother with a mixture of pride and sadness in her eyes, an odd combination for such a little girl.
"Ray," she calls out and sits down on the damp ground next to him, disregarding her clothing, "I was searching for you. I don't want you to go!"
Faramir turns to face his sister, his expression a mirror of her own conflicted emotions. He reaches out to grasp her hand, their fingers interlaced.
"I know, Lya," he replies, his voice almost breaking, "I don't like it either. But it is a smart idea, and it is not forever. And I know I will be able to learn so so much!"
Lyanna nodds, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
"Promise me, Faramir," she implors, her voice barely above a whisper, "promise me that you will never forget that you are my brother and that you are from here, from the North!"
She sounds far too old, and still far too young. Faramir squeezes his sister's hand reassuringly.
"I promise, Lyanna," he vows, his voice filled with conviction. "I am a Stark, and I will always be a Stark. And if you need me, I will always come and save you!"
He promises it with all the heart-felt pride of a child, and yet, he isn't joking. This is Lyanna, after all, and this is a promise under a heart tree.
- o - o - o - o -
A couple of weeks later at Casterly Rock, Faramir is greeted with both curiosity and suspicion by the Lannisters. Sure, they are giving a feast in his honour, and yet he feels the weight of their scrutiny. They are all seizing him up, judging him, but he doesn't know against what. Probably against the heir of Casterly Rock, Jaime Lannister, if he isn't mistaken. At least he has heard the name being murmured quite a bit in the corridors.
Of course Faramir knows of Jaime - he is well-informed and witty, something his father might have considered when picking his new foster home. Him and the young lion are the same age and he is a squire at Crakehall, after the king didn't allow him to squire for the prince. At least that is what Lord Stark has said. It seems odd to Faramir, after all, isn't Lord Tywin the Hand of the King?
Jaime has a twin sister, Cersei, who is just as golden and well-known as him. The first time he sees her at the courtyard she reminds him of a doll, the kind you look at but do not touch. Pretty but almost fragile and pretty cold. Her long hair is cascading down in soft blond curls and she holds herself very upright, and she glares at him with her piercing green eyes. Yes, he knows right away what she thinks about him.
Their next interaction confirms his fear: As she sits at the feast between the other people, she seems intend to ignore him.
He doesn't quite know what he had done to anger her, but well, maybe that is what girls are like, he supposes. Lyanna was sometimes quite weird as well. So, instead he starts to talk with Tyrion, Lord Tywin's second son, who is unfortunately quite a bit younger than himself.
People seem to treat him oddly, which likely has to do with the fact that he is what they call a dwarf, but that doesn't seem right to Faramir.
Firstly, because Tyrion seems like a normal, curious boy.
Secondly, because he is fairly sure he knows what dwarves look like, and it's different.
Thirdly, because he ahs a dimm memory about little people and big quests and a disregard for height, though he can't really say what it was all about.
"Do you like dragons?" Tyrion suddenly asks him.
Faramir looks at him in confusion. He has not expected such a question and thinks for a moment.
"I believe they are epic."
Apparently, he has said the right thing, because Tyrion starts to smile. It is quite a nice look on him, he ponders.
"Good! Because we couldn't be friends if you didn't like dragons!"
Faramir smiles back, even though he hears Cersei scoff loudly.
- 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 -
As the days turn into weeks, and the weeks into months, Faramir adapts to life at Casterly Rock. He finds himself immersed in the opulence of his new surroundings, almost smothered by the wealth and power of House Lannister. Where the Starks are never spending more than necessary, the Lannisters are flaunting their money so much it almost makes him uncomfortable.
Nobody shortens his name here.
He feels he doesn't fit in, in his Northern dress, and Cersei makes sure he knows each time they cross paths. She keeps mocking his Northern accent or rolls her eyes whenever he argues a point. Faramir can't shake the constant feeling of unease that settles over him in Cersei's presence - she makes him have his guard up all the time.
Moreover, she is openly rude towards Tyrion. Faramir can very well understand her frustration, he misses his mother as well, but blaming another child for such a loss appears pretty stupid to him. After all, he is part of the family, and doesn't family have to stick together?
And yet, all in all, life isn't bad.
Tywin Lannister is never seen at the Rock at all, too busy at King's Landing, so every part of his training was taken on by maesters, the master of arms, or Ser Kevan. The knight doesn't seem striking at a first glance, but he isn't a bad person to squire for. He doesn't rage excessively, and while he isn't a genius, he certainly isn't stupid either. They said Tywin Lannister shits gold, but his brother knows how to deal wth money as well - it hasn't taken Faramir long to figure out that the second Lannister-brother is rather wealthy because he does a good job with his own money.
Originally, they had want Faramir to move to Lannisport and truly, he would have gladly obliged and fled the big keep, when he gets to know Tyrion better. From the beginning, the boy latches onto him like Ben onto his favourite toy. It is obvious he was missing a friend - after all, his own brother has gone away and his sister is rather unpleasant. They bond over stories, history, books, and the fact that Cersei distains both of them. It's actually rather funny if you aren't alone with it.
He is taught seperatedly from her, even though they are almost the same age - he isn't quite sure whether it is because he isn't family, or just since Casterly is a lot more strict about these things than Winterfell.
Just as he thinks he has figured his life out so far, life throws him another curveball. Jaime Lannister returns to Casterly Rock for a visit, and throws everyone and everything in a frenzy. If he is honest, Faramir's expectations are rather high: Tyrion always speaks highly of his older brother, reports about his superb abilities have made the rounds, and even Cersei seems happy to see him again. That is maybe the most disturbing thing at all, because Cersei is never ever happy. No, Faramir has discovered over the last months that she is perpetually frowning. Certainly, Cersei Lannister doesn't know how to be happy.
Or, apparently she needs Jaime for it.
The first thing Faramir finds out about Jaime is that nobody told him how much of a jackass he is. He is mouthy, likes to hear himself talk, and is a born fighter. After Faramir sees him sparr once, he decides he very much does not want to face up against him. Brandon and Ned were good, but this boy, he is , Jaime meets Faramir and decides the intruder needs to be taught a lesson. And of course he wipes the floor with him. Faramir doesn't really have it in himself to be ashamed, even though some of the other boys arelughing. After all, it was exactly how he had expected it to go, and he knows the boys will side with him as soona s Jaime is gone.
That is quite two-faced, but in almost a year at Casterly, Faramir has quickly learned that two-facedness is a thing here. He himself is pretty bad at it, but at least he knows now how to deal with it. He just shrugs and gets up. Get up. Always get up.
"So?"
"You're good."
"I am, am I not? And may I add, we are the same age, if I am not mistaken, aren't we, little wolf?"
Faramir frowns for the first time.
"I am no little wolf, just as you aren't the little lion."
"Are you sure little wolf?"
The boy frowns even more and Jaime laughs.
"Tell you what - Beat me and I'll stop calling you that," he tells Faramir.
Of course, he loses again, to both Jaime's and Cersei's delight.
But the next morning while he is having breakfast, the golden boy suddenly stands next to him.
"Come!"
"Where?"
"Training."
"Why?"
"Because you need it."
With a sigh, he follows Jaime. Over the next week, they forge a weird, unexpected bond, finding common ground despite their differences in birth and upbringing. Both are eager to please, and while Jaime tries to play it down, he secretly believes in every and any knightly ideal.
Tyrion is another bridge, and the older Lannsiter obviously appreciates the Stark's care for his little sibling. Together, they form an unlikely trio. Through their friendship, Faramir discovers that beneath the veneer of gold and power, these two are boys with dreams and aspirations not so different from his own. But Faramir is perceptive, and the Northern boy also sees very quicky that all the brightness and shine come with some other issues - Jaime is rash, and while he is certainly not stupid, he couldn't hold a candle to his little brother. Potentially even to his sister, though Faramir still doesn't know Cersei well enough to say anything about her.
Jaime is devoted to her, weirdly so, and he lets her boss him around quite a bit - as if he were her personal knight. They sneak around, in gardens and around corners, absolutely unaware that Faramir tends to hang around in Casterly's sorry excuse of a Godswood whenever he has to think. There is something strange about that behaviour, he must know, after all he has a sister who is also close in age and nope, no thank you! He'd rather fight with Lyanna than embrace her so much.
Gods, he misses his own siblings so much, even though they exchange frequent letters. He reads between the lines - Brandon has become quite a flirt, and somehow he understands what that means far better than any thirteen-year-old should. Ned is still quiet and shy, but reports the same about Robert Baratheon. He is immensly fond of that man, but feels uncomfortable with the way he is around women. Faramir reports about his life at Casterly, and nobody believes that Jaime Lannister is actually not so bad once you get to know him.
Faramir finds that he is actually quite sorry once Jaime leaves for Crakehall again, especially because Cersei suddenly becomes much bitchier.
Her nameday passes and Tywin Lannister sends gifts, dresses and jewelery, but doesn't bother to come and visit her. Jaime does though, and there is a feast with lemon cakes and other really nice food - that is certainly an upside of Casterly.
In the evening, Jaime and him steal a bottle of arbor red and get drunk in a secluded place on top of the cliffs - they are quite a bit in their cups when suddenly somebody huffs behind them. It's Cersei, of course, she is almost a ghostly figure in her long dress, a shadow against the moon, but then she flopps down next to Jaime and holds out her hand towards the bottle. He passes it on and they silently share the rest - it is the first time she doesn't scoff at Faramir.
The next morning, when all of them feel extremely horrible and just mumble something about bugs and food and stomach, they share a look. It's almost companionate.
That companionship is lost soon, especially when Jaime leaves and the twins have an epic fight shrotly beforehand. The Northern boy doesn't know why and how, but he doesn't ask. After a time and much strain, Faramir figures out that she becomes especially surly when he tells Tyrion about his sword-training and she overhears, and that's when things click into place: She is bored, she is annoyed, she wants to participate, but isn't allowed to.
So, one day, he walks up to her and blocks her path.
"Do you want to train with me?"
She wants to walk past, but he doesn't let her.
"Answer me Cersei!"
"Train what?" she snaps, but there is curiosity in her voice.
"Sword fighting. Dagger throwing. I don't know. What you want."
"It's not a thing for a girl!"
"In the North, there are women who fight!"
"This is not the North!"
He sighs.
"Just an offer. Believe me, I am more than happy not to get into trouble because of a blond, clumsy -"
He has her at "clumsy", she is proud, after all.
"Alright. But you don't tell! And you don't tell Tyrion either!"
Faramir ponders.
"Alright. I believe we should study at the library together."
It is ridiculously easy, convincing their tutors it is a good idea to have them both sit idly in the library next to each other - after all, the maester and her septa are a bit lazy, and they like an afternoon off. Everyone knows Cersei and Faramir detest each other, so they certainly won't even talk, right? Indeed, they hardly talk at all, while he teaches her balance excercises and footwork. She is surprisingly good, talent seems to run in the family and dancing has made her nimble, but the dresses are a hassle.
In his mind, he calls her "Rûthiel", furious girl, but what language that is supposed to be, he doesn't know. It sounds like "ruthless" though, so it fits.
And yet, she seems happier. She is still annoying and haughty, and civil might be exaggerated, but she is not (always) explicitly mean. She doesn't want him to tell Jaime about their practice though, which he finds odd, but figures that maybe it has to do with their big argument at their birthday. Jaime teaches Faramir and Faramir teaches Cersei and in the end, everyone improves. It's a weird, precious balance, that gets rudely interrupted when Tywin Lannister sends for his daughter. She is supposed to come to King's Landing, to be presented at court. Jaime rages and Cersei smiles, but by now he knows her well enough to see she is a bit unsure about the whole thing.
"You'll love it," he tells her as she gets in the wheelhouse.
She looks back at him, and for the first time her eyes are not a hard but a cloudy green.
"I sure hope so. Be well, clever wolf."
It is as much of a 'thank you' and compliment she will give, but he takes it regardless.
There is much more focus on Tyrion on him now, it is exhausting, but he has to admit he probably learns more than he could have ever learnt in Winterfell. Kevan Lannister, though initially reserved in his demeanor towards the Stark ward, soon recognizes the potential within Faramir, so he finally takes him to Lannisport where he starts to learn about economy and investment. He finds himself more and more torn between two worlds—the honor and duty of the North, and the ambition and intrigue of the Westerlands. Strangely enough, Faramir finds that while his heart bleeds, he excels at the second.
He is almost fourteen when he is invited to the squire melee and truthfully, he really doesn't want to go. But Jaime does, and Kevan won't have his own squire miss out. This time Faramir prays to Tulkas, and what can he say, Jaime and himself pulverize the others.
When they face off against each other, he sees the glint in Jaime's eyes, that rush, and for the first time he understands, at least for a bit. He still can't beat him but he gets very very close, truthfully, for once it annoys him a little.
"Seems like the little wolf got teeth now," Jaime mocks him, but then he holds out his hand.
For a moment, he considers battign it away, but then he sees the flicker, and understands. This, these taunts and the outstreched hand, is Jaime's weird idea of friendship. So he takes it and lets himself being pulled up.
"So, better take care lest I bite you, little lion," he whispers back.
- o - 0 - o - 0 - o -
His father sends him a letter - Brandon is supposed to marry Catelyn Tully. It means nothing to him, he has never met her, but he supposes they are of the same age. It's funny, just a fortnight later Jaime himself writes to him that he is supposed to go to Riverrun to meet Lysa, Catelyn's sister. As usual, the few letter Jaime writes are horrible, full of mistakes, but Faramir treasures them even more so because of the effort it takes his friend.
It makes him think - are there plans for him yet? He hasn't heard from Ned, so probably not. If anything, he will likely marry a girl from the North, he ponders. Third sons don't make big alliances, the maesters have told him. There is a Crakehall-girl he likes, quite a bit, and it's new, and pure, and sweet. Sometimes he thinks that maybe this could be something, but then, he knows that probably it won't.
Just as he almost expects orders to return home, he receives orders to leave - but not North, but South. He is supposed to join Tywin Lannsiter and Cersei in King's Landing. Apparently, Ser Kevan thinks this would benefit the young wolf, and strangely enough, Lord Tywin has agreed.
- o - o - o -
Tywin Lannister is truly as formidable as everyone says, a man maybe in the middle of his thirties. Tall and slender with bushy blond sideburns, he seems so very different from Faramir's own father. And yet, both are leaders, and both are ambitious. Even if he hadn't heard the rumours before, the boy would have known that this is a man to respect, maybe even fear.
He doesn't seem too bothered by the new presence though, and again Faramir is very much reminded of his insignificance. Apparently, everything is the same everywhere.
When he sees Cersei again, he almost does a doubletake. Now, with a little bit more than fourteen years of age, she isn't a doll anymore. Instead, she is more like the stature of the maiden in the Sept - beautiful, hard, unbending, and still so cold.
They see each other rather often since they belong to the same household, but she doesn't want to train anymore. Instead, she seems busy mooning after Prince Rhaegar.
It is rather understandable, Faramir supposes, he is a prince, after all, and Lannisters are raised to desire power. Cersei isn't any different. But despite her beauty, the Prince doesn't really seem interested. It doesn't deter the young lioness, though.
Faramir is lonely, and bored, and wished to be anywhere else. Things only change when Lord Tywin accidently finds out that he plays cyvasse, and that is apparently a sign of mental development in his book.
They play, Faramir loses, Lord Tywin corrects him. So, they start playing every other night, and while he loses over and over again, he knows that he is learning.
He learns about strategy, about court life.
He learns about Tywin himself, about his ideas, about his way of thinking.
When the lord is convinced that he is not a total waste of time, he starts peppering in lessons about diplomacy, honing his skills in negotiation and persuasion. Faramir starts keeping out a watchful eye on the machinations of those around him, because he know he will be quizzed. It is horrible, King's Landing is a pit full of vipers. He longs for the North, for more honesty, for family. Aerys scares him and the Prince impresses him and nobody of his own family understands what he writes. But there are libraries at King's Landing, not like in Oldtown, but big enough, and he can watch the Kingsguard train and fight with the Lannister houshold knights, so at least the stay is useful. He loves meeting new people, and learning about different cultures. Soon, he speaks a rather proper High Valyrian, but also Bravoosi and Tyroshi, the latter even better than Lord Tywin. For that reason, he is brought along when trade is discussed and slowly makes a name for himself at court.
The 'gentle wolf' becomes the 'clever wolf', a compliment and subtle jab at his allegiance all at once. Northern wolf, like the Starks whose colours he wears, or Western lion, like Lann the Clever? Truthfully, some days he doesn't know anymore.
Then comes the blow - a betrothal is announced in early 279 AC, between Rhaegar and Elia of Dorne. Lord Tywin is furious, and Cersei is furious, but Faramir can see something else as she paces the solar: Despair. The girl doesn't know what to do, there is no other plan. Sure, she can marry someone else, but nobody is really suitable.
Brandon is betrothed.
Doran Martell is married, so is any Tyrell-heir.
Edmure Tully doesn't make sense if Jaime marries Lysa.
Robert Baratheon seems to have his eyes elsewhere, if Ned's letters are any indication - he isn't sure if she knows that though.
So, her only option for a great house would be Elbert Arryn, but the inheritance would be gone in case Jon Arryn were to marry and have children again.
But then, there's Ned. He swallows. Of all eligible men, Stannis and Ned are probably the best options. Somehow, he very much does not want Ned to marry her, more for his brother's sake than hers. No doubt, Ned would be a good husband to any lady, but Cersei is prickly, better enjoyed at an arm's length - or not at all.
Lord Tywin does nothing, for now, only rages quietly. But Cersei asks Faramir for training again. As it turns out, she has been practicing, and she has become swift with that dagger of hers. They start going at each other, for real, hand-to-hand, and sometimes he wonders whether she would hesitate to stab him if she ever got the chance. He better make sure he always best her, because that rage - it's dangerous. She is still a furious girl, rûthiel, and it is quite sad - because she could be fantastic if she weren't.
