A/N: Hello readers! I'm back with another chapter. I hope you enjoy it!

128 AC.

A Woman Grown

It had been six long years since any word came from Rainhall. After such a tragedy befell the House of Stryfe, no one had sat in its hall as a guest. The only ones to be welcomed within its walls were its smallfolk, who would come with grievances. It was from them that many rumors and stories emerged and spread. Some say that the walls were still black from the fire, others say that the lord of Rainhall had become insane with grief, or that his only daughter had been burned so severely in the fire that she was disfigured and covered from head to toe with burns and had no nose nor hair.

The realm was surprised when hundreds of ravens were seen flying from Rainhall to deliver a summons to all the houses. Such a raven arrived at Storm's End, the seat of House Baratheon, who was the liege lord of all the houses in the Stormlands, including House Stryfe.

Lord Borros Baratheon, the brother-in-law of Idrys, called for the maester to read the letter as he broke his fast with his family. His four daughters sat to his left with his lady wife, Elenda. Floris, Cassandra, Maris, and Ellyn all had the Baratheon features of black hair and blue eyes. To his left sat his son and heir, Royce Baratheon. He was the image of him as a younger man. Strong and tall, with black hair and blue eyes that many a maiden would swoon over. He was not as belligerent as his father but had the same temper as most Baratheons did. He was a man grown of ten and eight and Borros could not be prouder of his heir.

The maester arrived and Borros handed the letter to him. The maester unfurled it and silently read the letter to Borros' annoyance, "What does the damned thing say?!"

The maester looked up sharply and began to read, "Rainhall invites all houses to partake in a tournament to celebrate the nameday of Lord Idrys Stryfe's daughter. The tournament shall take place over three days times. Rainhall shall commence with a great feast on the eve of the fifth day of the sixth moon. All who wish to take part shall join House Stryfe on this day."

Royce looked at his father with some astonishment, " Has uncle spoken to you of this, father?"

Borros had indeed not received word from his brother-in-law regarding this tournament. He had not spoken to Idrys in nearly six years, not after what happened and his lack of action regarding it. He did not blame his good brother. He had sent Royce five years ago to train. Idrys fought him but as his liege lord, Borros commanded him.

Royce had returned a year ago and was somewhat forlorn but would not speak of what troubled him to his father nor his sisters or mother. He kept the matter in his heart, and it remained there.

"No," said Borros, sending the maester away, "he has not."

"Are we to go, father?" asked Floris, a look of excitement in her eye.

"I think not. There is no love between our houses –" Borros explained but looked at his son sharply when he interrupted.

"Only because you do nothing!" Royce said harshly.

"Watch your tongue, boy," Borros warned.

Royce hit the table with his fist, "I speak true, and you know this, father. It is time to set aside the wrongs of the past and make amends. They are our kin."

Borros fell back into his chair and looked at his son and saw the fire in his eyes. He wanted something at Rainhall. He looked at his wife and daughters, "Leave us."

One by one his daughters kissed his cheek and followed their mother, leaving him and his son alone in the great hall.

"Why such passion, my son? You left Rainhall a year ago so melancholy," Borros said, watching his son's expression.

Royce would not yield the truth of his desire, merely saying, "I do not wish bad blood between our houses. When I am lord of Storm's End, I only want peace. House Stryfe is responsible for the majority of our soldiers. It would be foolish to break ties with such power."

Borros scoffed, "We are the great house of these lands. Our soldiers will follow our commands, regardless."

Royce shook his head, "Lord Stryfe has the love of his men, I have seen it. It would be wise, father, to have good relations with a house that has such loyalty and love from the people."

Relenting, Borros said, "Idrys would not wish me in his hall."

"Yet he invites all houses," Royce countered, raising a dark brow and gave a pointed look at his father.

Narrowing his eyes, Borros asked, "What is it you really want, boy?"

Royce pushed his chair back and stood, "I shall go to Rainhall and take part in this act of good will from our kin. I will prove myself and win this tourney."

Royce moved to leave but his father's words stopped him, "What is it that you must prove yourself for?"

Tyland Lannister held the letter behind his back as he entered the small council chamber. He climbed the stairs to see he was the last to arrive. Queen Alicent sat at the head of the table, sitting in the king's stead. The Hand, Otto Hightower sat on her right. Grand Maester Orwyle, the Master of Coin; Lord Lyman Beesbury, Master of Coin; Lord Jasper Wylde, and the Lord Commander, Harrold Westerling were already present.

"Forgive my tardiness," the Master of Ships said as he sat in his seat.

With Tyland's arrival, the council was ready to begin. All the members placed their stones within their plates, and they began. Monies were discussed, as were other matters before it came to the Master of Ships. He had nothing new to share regarding maritme matters but placed the letter he had received earlier that morning on the table.

"Many houses have received an invitation from House Stryfe in the Stormlands. Apparently there is to be a tournament to celebrate Lord Stryfe's daughter's nameday."

Alicent looked up sharply, "House Stryfe?"

Tyland nodded, "Yes, my queen. It is the first correspondence we have heard of from them in six years."

"Such misfortune," commented Grand Maester Orwyle, shaking his head remorsefully.

"May I see it?" the Hand asked, stretching out his hand.

A page took the letter from Tyland and walked the piece of parchment to Otto. The Hand read the letter and looked at his daughter, the queen, "Surely this is a means for Lord Stryfe to find a husband for his daughter."

Lord Wylde waved a dismissive hand, "Why is this a concern of the Small Council?"

Otto looked at Jasper Wylde with an unreadable face, "Because Lord Stryfe commands one of the strongest armies in the Seven Kingdoms. After the Reach, the Stormlands provide the realm with most of our soldiers. Their numbers are smaller yes, but they are far superior in the art of war."

Still not grasping the situation, Wylde continued, "Surely some tournament is of no consequence of ours. This is not a concern of the council and a waste of our time."

"Do you know what happened six years ago, my lord?" inquired Alicent.

Lord Wylde looked to the queen, "I know of the fire that devastated House Stryfe, yes."

"If was not just a fire," said Lord Beesbury.

Otto looked from the Master of Coin to the Master of Laws, "Whoever marries Lord Stryfe's daughter will gain the power of his army. It is in the interest of the realm that we are aware of who attends and who would gain Lord Stryfe's favor."

Alicent placed her hands in her lap, , "The king will want to attend, regardless of his health."

Otto shook his head, "That would not be wise."

"I agree, however the bond he has with Lord Stryfe is unrelenting," Alicent stressed, "and now that Rainhall has opened its doors, he will wish to be the first to enter."

Otto rose from his seat and removed the marble sphere from its place, "The king has requested to dine with his family tonight. We shall try to dissuade him then."

Aemond entered the dining chamber. The summons was not as common as they once were before their father's health deteriorated. It was not like his father to call on them unless something had happened, especially in recent moons.

But he had been adamant for a dinner tonight.

As he stepped further into the chamber he could see Helaena leaning over the table to speak with their grandsire. Aegon stood nearby, cradling a goblet in his hand as he watched servants carry trays of food to the long table. When he caught sight of Aemond, he turned and raised his cup in greeting, "Brother."

Stepping towards Aegon, Aemond folded his hands behind his back and gave a simple, "Hm" as he looked around the room, "Where is mother?"

Aegon licked his lip of the sweet wine, "I have not seen her since this morning when she broke fast with the children."

The doors opened and Aemond watched as his mother entered, supporting his father on her arm. He walked with a cane now and with a labored gait. His once golden silver hair had faded to mere whisps under his crown that seemed too heavy for him bear. He breathed heavily as a mere step seemed to wind him.

Aemond approached the long table and stood, waiting for his mother to help sit his father. As he finally lowered into the chair, King Viserys let out a heavy breath and looked at those in attendance.

The king watched as his children sat at the table and gave his wife a look of gratitude, "It gladdens my heart to see my family together, though it would be far happier if Rhaenyra and my grandchildren could also be here."

Aemond clinched his teeth at the mention of the bastards. He took another sip of his wine as his father continued to speak, "I am sure you are all wondering why I asked for this dinner."

With a weak hand, the king reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of parchment. Alicent looked at it with some concern before turning an inquisitive eye to her father, who also looked intrigued. The king held up the parchment for all to see, "I received a raven from Rainhall yesterday."

Viserys unraveled it and said, "It says that my dear old friend, Lord Idrys, is to hold a tournament for his daughter's nameday, the Lady Riannon."

Aemond's eye shot up at the mention of her name, but he did not let his face betray his interest. He had not heard her name in six years, not since the news of the tragedy came to King's Landing.

His grandsire leaned forward, lacing his fingers together atop the table, "Yes, it seems that Rainhall has sent a similar message to many of the houses."

Aemond did not miss the shared look between his grandsire and mother and narrowed his eye slightly as he watched the interaction. His grandsire looked back at his father and said, "One can assume that Lord Stryfe seeks a husband for his daughter."

King Viserys placed the parchment on the table, "I will be in attendance."

Aegon's brow raised slightly, surprised that his father would leave the comfort of his chamber or solar, where he now held court.

Alicent reached over and placed a comforting hand on her husband's arm, "My king, it is not wise with your condition."

Viserys pulled his arm from her and raised his voice, "I will not be swayed!"

A cough escaped his lips, and he leaned forward on the table, covering his mouth with his hand. Alicent placed a hand on his back as he hacked, and his body ached from the pain.

Breathing heavily, Viserys looked at his wife, "I must make amends."

Alicent blinked in confusion, "What could you possibly need to make amends for, husband?"

She ran her hand up and down with comfort along his arm as she pleaded, "I fear you would not make the journey, my love."

Viserys looked defeated as he shook his head weakly, "Our house must be in attendance, we must stand with House Stryfe."

Otto peered over at Aemond and Aegon and an idea struck him. Turning to the king, he offered, "Perhaps, House Targaryen can."

Otto's gaze locked on to his grandsons, his gaze sharp and resolute, "One of you will go."

Aegon let out a snort, "I think not, grandsire. Send Aemond, he is the warrior."

He slid down into his chair and swiveled his head to look at his brother with a glazed expression, the wine finally affecting his senses.

"A bit of advice, little brother," Aegon began, lifting his cup to his lips, "keep your opponent on your left."

The eldest son of the king slapped the table at his distasteful joke and let out a cackle. Aemond did not outwardly react, used to his brother's offensive comments, but his knuckles turned white as he dug his fingers into the fabric of his trousers, his silent rage festering beneath his solemn expression.

The king leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling as he regained his breath. He looked over at his children, watching them with sorrowful eyes, "It is my fault for what they endured."

"You cannot blame yourself for the acts of a mad-" Otto began, only to stop as Aemond rose swiftly from his chair, the sound of the legs scrapping against the floor caused everyone to look at him.

Aemond stared at his father, saying nothing. Aegon looked at him with curiosity at his sudden movement. Helaena's eyes filled with worry from where she sat on the other side of her husband.

"I will go," Aemond suddenly said, to the shock of his mother, who let her mouth drop at the sudden declaration.

"Truly?" she asked, her eyes held relief.

Rising, Alicent gave her second born a grateful smile, " You do our house proud."

Aegon groaned and rolled his eyes, "It's a fucking tourney."

His words causing his mother's gaze to snap in his direction, "You fool."

The elder prince's face fell and he looked down at his mother's words. She shook her head at her first born and held out her hand towards Aemond, " This is not about just a tourney. This will show that we honor and respect House Stryfe, a house that has been fractured."

"If we are to gain the favor of House Stryfe as we once did, we gain their military might and their loyalty," Otto commented as he pressed his fingers to his forehead in aggravation at his grandson.

Aegon looked at his grandsire with some confusion, "But we are royalty, should we not already have their allegiance?"

Aemond gave his brother a harsh smirk, "Allegiance? Yes. Loyalty? That must be earned."

"To House Stryfe," he toasted, raising his cup towards his father.

Viserys managed to lift his drink and joined his son's salute to his most beloved friend's family.

Aegon shook his head in disbelief at his brother's actions and leaned forward across the table, "Why would you want to go?"

Giving his brother a look of mock surprise, Aemond said, "Is it not the honorable thing, brother? It is as our king says,"

Aemond looked at his father, "we must show solidarity with House Stryfe, to show our support, and," his violet eye pierced his father's visage, " right the wrongs our house bestowed upon them."

"Take care what you speak," Alicent all but whispered, who went rigid at the accusation, that House Targaryen had somehow been the cause of the misfortune that fell on House Stryfe.

Viserys held up his hand to stop his wife, who looked at him with surprise, "No. He is right."

With agony, the king managed to stand and face his son. Alicent placed a hand on her husband's arm in case he needed support. Viserys gave a look of remorse to Aemond, " I would do everything different, if I could."

Aemond sneered, "But you can't."

"I know you-" the king began, only to be overcome with a coughing fit.

He leaned over the table and Alicent rose, wrapping her arms around her husband. Once the coughing fit was through, Viserys patted Alicent's hand before sitting back down and looking at Aemond, "I thank you for doing this, my son. Please, let us eat."

After dinner, Aegon followed after Aemond when he slipped away. He hurried after him, with a run in his step before catching up to his brother.

Aemond merely looked at him before continuing his way to his chambers. They walked in silence until Aegon realized his brother wasn't going to say anything. He stopped and watched Aemond continue down the halls. Smirking, he called out, "You don't give a fuck about tourneys."

He watched as Aemond stopped sharply and turn around to face him, "What of it?"

Aegon approached his brother, "Does this have anything to do with a certain lord's wildling daughter?"

Leaning in, Aegon whispered, "I hear she's hideous now. Covered in burns."

Aemond growled softly in annoyance, "Rumors, I'm sure."

"How can you be so sure, brother? No one has been inside Rainhall in six years, other than the smallfolk," Aegon explained as he continued to follow his younger brother as he turned to resume his departure.

"She doesn't even have a nose," Aegon muttered.

Aemond sharply stopped and turned on his heel to face his brother, "What do you want?"

Aegon smirked knowingly, " Tell me why you want to go."

But Aemond said nothing, merely looking at his brother with annoyance. A sudden idea came to his mind and Aegon grinned wickedly, stepping in front of his brother as he moved to continue on his way, "Perhaps I shall go after all, see what all the fuss is about."

But Aemond would not give in to his brother's goading, "Do as you please."

"I shall!" Aegon said with confidence.

Aemond reached out and shoved his brother to move out of his way and Aegon chuckled, holding up his hands in surrender, watching as his brother disappeared around the corner of the hall.

Two Moons Later…

The steward of Rainhall listened to the strumming of the lute as he sat in the Second Seat, made of the strongest white oak from the Kingswood, a gift from Rogar Baratheon some generations ago. At the top of the seat, etched in its surface, was a series of storm clouds with a lightening bolt striking down in the center.

Gowen Storm had been the steward of Rainhall for five years. He was a tall man with a grizzled beard and gray hair. His eyes were like coal and held no warmth, revealing nothing to those around him. He had served House Stryfe all his life, having come to the castle as a boy with his mother who had been abandoned by her lover, some lord from the Crownlands.

Lord Emrys Stryfe, father of the current lord, had been kind to his mother and gave her occupation as a seamstress within the castle. He grew up on the grounds and had known Idrys all his life. Gowen had been content to work as the castle's blacksmith, but the gods would change his course on that night when he pulled Idrys from the fire.

When others had run, he had remained, running into the flames to save his lord. In his gratitude, Idrys made him steward.

Now, he sat listening to the young bard standing before him, preparing for the tournament that would be held in mere days. The boy, no man, could not be older than ten and eight. Gowen recognized him as he was a frequent guest of the lady of Rainhall. He had brown hair the fell just under his ears and wore a flopped cap. He had bright, exuberant green eyes that shined as he sang.

Waving his hand, Gowen grumbled, "Enough, enough."

The bard did as requested and gave him a confident smile as he gave a deep bow, shifting his lute behind him. Rising, the bard's smile fell at the indifferent expression on the steward's face. Rising, Gowen took hold of his cane and stepped down the three steps that separated the great seat from the rest of the hall.

Gowen had been injured in the fire himself. A heavy beam had fallen as he fled the castle with his lord in his grasp and had crushed his left leg. Luckily the castellan's son, Jeris, had found them and managed to pull him from under the entrapment. As a result, Gowen had to rely on a cane to get around as he walked with a limp.

Looking at the bard, Gowen sighed, "I suppose you will do."

"I thank you for your patronage, my lord," the bard replied as he rose to his full height.

Gowen laughed dryly, "M'not a lord, as you well know young Talysyn."

The bard, Talysyn, gave a sheepish grin, "Just trying to be polite."

Peering over the bard's shoulder, Gowen saw a pair of curious blue eyes peering into the hall. A small smile appeared on the steward's face at the sight of little Rhyon.

"Come in, my lord," Gowen called, causing a gasp to be heard from outside the hall.

Being caught, a young boy of seven years appeared in the entryway. He was thin and had a mop of golden red hair as his father did and had his mother's watery blue eyes. He wore a tunic of deep blue and gray trousers that were tucked into a pair of riding boots. He must have just come from riding with his aunt.

Rhyon walked silently to stand next to the steward and looked at the bard with familiarity, "Hello Talysyn."

The bard nodded in greeting to the boy, "My young lord."

Gowen placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, "The bard will entertain at the feast for your aunt."

Rhyon looked up at the steward with slight anger on his face, "She hates this."

Sighing, Gowen nodded and patted him gently, "Aye, I know. But this is the order of our lord and I must do my duty, as your aunt must do hers."

Talysyn held his hand to his heart and gave a slight bow to the young lord, "I will do what I can to give our lady some joy in her time of misery."

Rhyon gave the bard a smile, "Thank you. You are a good friend to her."

"I try," Talysyn boasted, tilting his head in acknowledgement.

"Speaking of your aunt," began Gowen, "your grandsire would like to speak with her. Is she in the stables?"

Rhyon shrugged his shoulders, "Perhaps."

With that, the little lord ran from the hall, leaving Gowen to grumble as he dismissed the bard and went in search of Riannon.

After having no success in finding Lady Riannon, Gowen approached the solar where Lord Idrys sat by the window, looking out at the forest that surrounded the keep. A familiar goblet rested in his hand as he nursed his head between his fingers with the other.

"My lord," Gowen called, causing Idrys to turn his head.

No longer were his eyes bright and cheerful. Instead, they were dark and held permanent sorrow. His hair was stark white now, caused by the tragedy all those years ago. His strong hands were covered in burn scars from the fire, an eternal reminder of what transpired.

"Gowen, where is my daughter?" Idrys demanded as he rose from his chair.

Folding his hands in front of him, Gowen shook his head, "I could not find her. Nor could Jeris."

The lord of Rainhall dropped his goblet with a heavy thump on the table and glared, "What use is he as a sworn shield if he cannot remain at her side?"

Seeing the state of his lord, Gowen limped closer and peered at him closely, "My lord, I cannot help but wonder if this is the correct course of action?"

"You question your lord?" Idrys demanded, his dark gaze piercing his steward.

Shaking his head, Gowen said, "No, my lord."

A knock came to the door and Gowen called out, "Enter!"

The door opened to reveal Jeris. No longer a scrawny boy, he was a man grown, tall and strong as an ox. His hair was cut short but retained the curls from his youth. His face was no longer round but chiseled with a strong jaw. Across his nose was a scar that reached from the top of one cheekbone to the next.

His voice was deep and rough as he stepped to the side, "My lady is here to see Lord Stryfe."

A petite figure entered the room, silent and graceful as her midnight gown flowed behind her. Her hair glowed in the light like fire, braided elegantly down her back where it stopped just at the curve of her waist. Her eyes were large and a stormy gray. Resentment filled them as they gazed at her father.

Gowen turned to his lord and gave bowed his head, "I shall leave you two alone, my lord."

"Close the door!" Idrys called. He looked at Jeris and demanded, "Remain outside."

Jeris looked at Riannon, who only turned her head slightly as she faced her father, nodding to her sworn shield. Doing as commanded, Jeris left the room and closed the door behind him but remained vigilant on the other side.

Riannon looked at her father calmly, folding her hands in front of her, "You sent for me."

Her tone was distant. Idrys felt regret as he looked at her. Those words were the first she had spoken to him in days, as she had refused to join him and Rhyon for morning and evening meals.

Idrys motioned for her to sit but she would not move, "I shall stand, father. I do not think we will be speaking for long."

Sighing, Idrys stepped closer and reached for her hands. He took them and held tightly, "I do regret this business, daughter."

Laughing coldly, she titled her head slightly, "Business? Is that what you call it? I suppose it is. After all you are putting me on display for the highest bidder, are you not?"

Her words stung and he let go of her hands. Facing away from her, Idrys approached his table where he picked up a piece of parchment and held it out to her. She took it from him and began to read, "My good brother, it gladdens my heart to receive your raven. House Baratheon shall be in attendance. My heir shall compete and bring honor to our house."

She dropped her hand to her side and looked at her father with indifference, "Is this why you have summoned me? To share that my cousin wishes to compete in your silly little tourney?"

Idrys approached her and held on to her arms gently, "I wish you could see this from my perspective."

She looked away and let out a seething breath. He tilted her face to look at him and said gently, "I do this for you, not against you."

Her eyes became watery but she refused to let her tears fall, "You promised me."

He looked down in shame before raising his head and steeling his resolve, "Would it be so bad? To be wed to Royce?"

Scoffing, Riannon withdrew herself from her father's grasp and looked at him incredibly, "You know what he did and yet you would welcome him back to our halls? He is a beast."

"He was drunk" her father said, excusing his nephew's behavior.

Her eyes widened, "So it is fine then?"

She tossed the letter to the floor and turned to leave, "I refuse to be sold, especially to him."

"I am not selling you!" cried Idrys as he followed after his daughter, catching her by the arm and forcing her to face him.

Her eyes searched her father's face, sniffling slightly, "It certainly appears that way."

A tear managed to escape and she cursed it as it rolled down her cheek. Idrys wiped it away with his thump, as he did when she was a child. He pulled her to him and wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered against her hair, "I will not be here forever, my little whirlwind."

She whimpered at the endearment and brought her arms up to encircle around him. He pulled back and looked down at her with sorrow, "Life is fleeting, child. We know this."

"But we endure," she said, looking up at him with determined eyes, "We endure the heartache, father. We endure the loss and the pain. But I will not endure this, I refuse."

Sighing, he closed his eyes before a small smile made its way to his lips and he shook his head with a soft chuckle, "So much like your mother."

"She would do the same. She would riot and be like a maelstrom," he continued, remembering his love.

Riannon looked at him with some disbelief, "Then why force me? Mother chose you, where is my choice?"

Nodding, Idrys took her hand once more, "Then you shall."

"What?" she asked.

"You shall choose your husband, daughter. This tournament is not the end of your freedom, but an opportunity for you to meet someone," her father explained.

"But you said," Riannon started but her father chuckled and held out his hands in defense, "You refuse to speak with me. I would have explained to you had you merely listened."

He gazed at her with affection, "Stubborn child."

"I am not a child," she argued, causing him to laugh.

Riannon looked at her father with regret, "I am sorry for how I have acted."

Idrys accepted her words and kissed her forehead, "There is nothing to forgive, daughter. I merely want you to have a life outside these walls."

"I love my life here," she defended, "I spend my days with with you and Rhyon. I have all I could want."

"But one day, I will be dead," his words stopped her and she looked at him with sorrow.

He continued, "And Rhyon will be lord of Rainhall with his own family. What of you? Will you remain here, with no one to love?"

"I worry for you, Riannon," he said with anguish.

"Do not, please," she begged, stepping towards him to reassure him but he would not be as he held out his hand towards the window, "You have not left Rainhall since your return fro-"

"I do not wish to speak of it," she cut him off and gave pleading eyes, "please."

"You must move past it," he commanded.

She remained silent and looked down at her hands. Idrys leaned down to force her to look at him, "I see you walk the halls and it saddens my heart. You are alone here, looking after your nephew as if he were your son. You disappear into the forest, elude Jeris despite my pleading to you to keep him with you. After what happened, I cannot lose you as well."

"I am fine," she softly said, placing her hands on his.

He sighed and with defeat, explained, "There are many houses who have accepted our invitation, and shall arrive in two days. I trust that you will be gracious."

A smile emerged on her face, one he did not trust as mischief twinkled in her eyes, "Of course, father."

As she turned to leave, she stopped and asked, "Who will be in attendance?"

Idrys went through the list in his head and murmured, "Most of the houses from the Stormlands; the Dondarrions and Baratheons, of course. I believe the Blackwoods will be attending from the Riverlands as well, some other minor houses."

"Hopefully the Brackens will not if the Blackwoods are coming," she jested.

Idrys nodded in agreement and continued, "The Lannisters will be coming as well, though I believe it to be only Tyland, the Master of Ships."

He was hesitant but he finally said, "and the Targaryens."

Her spine stilled and she faced him fully, "What?"

"I know you do not wish to see them," he said, "but I had to extend an invitation if we are to seek justice."

"You did not," she protested, crossing her arms across her chest, as if holding herself.

Idrys rested a hand on her should in comfort, "We have endured years of silence, justice has evaded us, but no longer."

His darkened eyes filled with the smoldering fire he had kept within himself all these years, "I will have that bastard's head for his transgressions against our family. I swear this to you."

She shook her head in bewilderment, "How?"

"I believe that the king will see reason," Idrys said, thinking of his old friend.

"But he did nothing before. What makes you think he would change his mind now?" she asked.

Idrys swallowed the lump in his throat and with a shaking voice said, "I must share something with you."

Riannon sat in the godswood as the sun fell.

She had said nothing to Jeris, who asked if she was alright as she swiftly left her father's solar. Currently, she sat on the stone bench laid before the tree. Her family did not adhere to the Old Gods as traditionally House Stryfe worshiped the Seven. However, Riannon found comfort in the godswood. Her eyes looked at the hole that lay under the face of the tree, the red sap streaming down, as if like tears. Memories flooded her mind as the sound of a babe's cry echoed in her mind.

Blinking, she looked away from the tree and rose to her feet.

Jeris called out to her, "My lady, should we not return? The hour grows late."

"I will pay my respects first, Jeris," she said calmly.

Nodding, Jeris remained in the entryway of the godswood as he watched Riannon disappear into the sept. Inside, Riannon first prayed to the Mother, lighting a candle.

Mother, please protect my family in the coming days. I fear I do not know what to expect.

Next, she walked to the Warrior.

Warrior, grant me the courage for what I will do.

Finally, she stopped at the Stranger. Peering up at the statue, she studied its features. A half-human face, covered in a shroud, the Stranger was not prayed to much, but Riannon prayed to them the most. She lit a candle and bowed her head as she held out her hands in prayer.

Stranger, I seek you once again. I pray you bring death swiftly to those who wronged me and my family. I pray that you guide me through the unknown that I am about to walk. I pray you keep death away from those I love a bit longer.

Opening her eyes, she glanced once more at the Stranger before making her way out of the sept. She did not look at Jeris, who remained at his post. She made her way to the graves of House Stryfe. A modest and beautifully kept area. Her ancestors were laid to rest here for generations. She walked between the graves until she came to four. She lowered herself to the grass and stared at the graves as she did often.

At the sight of each grave, she whispered their names like a prayer.

Edred

Arrec

Rolan

Galahan

Her brothers were dead. Taken from her violently. Her father's words of justice echoed in her mind as she looked at her brothers' graves.

Is it worth it? she thought.

Is it worth further death? Would my brothers wish this?

After a few moments, she rose and made her way towards Jeris. She said nothing to her sworn shield as he escorted her back to her chambers. opened and closed her door, sliding down until she sat on the cold stone floor.

Her father's words echoing in her head.

We will take what is rightfully ours. No longer will we hide who we are.

Her eyes flickered as the revelation of her family stirred in her mind. This secret had been passed down for generations, since King Jaehaerys.

Her thoughts turned to her. Had she known? All the time Riannon had spent away, had she known as well? Was that why she insisted on all those lessons?

Rising from the floor, Riannon began to undress. She refused servants' help, refused to let anyone see her body. Not after what happened to her. As she unlaced her dress, she looked at her reflection in the tall mirror across the room. As she removed her chemise, her eyes fell to the marks on her back, reminders of that monster. The angry scars were ever present and the pain would echo in her mind whenever she thought of it.

With sudden invigoration, she swiftly approached the chest that lay at the bottom of the bed. She lifted the heavy lid and reached inside. She pulled out a pair of deep blue riding trousers and a long matching surcoat that she placed over the white tunic she put on first. Sitting on the bed, she laced up the brown riding boots she stored in the chest before rising. She grabbed her black cloak and placed it over her clothing, lifting the hood up to hide her face. With silent steps, she approached her door and pressed her ear against it to listen for Jeris but heard nothing.

Slowly, she opened the door and peered out to see that Jeris had retired to his own chamber for the night. With silent steps, she made her way down the halls and down the steps of the castle. There were nights she did this often. It would kill her father if he knew she left the safety of the keep at this hour, but this was a night she had to escape and seek comfort.

She did not take Valonqar, knowing it would be safter for him to remain in the stable on nights like this. She easily evaded the guards and escaped into the darkness of the forest. She walked for an hour before reaching her destination.

Deep within the forest, along the shore, lay a cave. It was a secret place that no one knew of. She often came here to clear her thoughts and to seek the comfort she longed for at this moment. She did not fear the darkness that filled the cave as she entered. She knew this place by heart.

As she entered, she began to hum gently. The sound echoed deep within the cave as she continued to walk. The air grew warm the further she ventured. She came to a stop where the moonlight met the darkness and began to sing.

The words were old and from across the sea but they steered magic in the air, the melody calling into the dark.

Lyki sīr

Lykirī jeva perzys

Ziry iksos ao

Ziry iksos issa

Jeva prūmia iksos ñuhon

Se ñuhon iksos aōhon

A flash of fire suddenly erupted before her, its glow warming her face. She smiled and stepped forward, her hand reaching out.

Her skin touched fire wrapped in dragon skin and she felt whole.

A/N: Any theories? Let me know in the comments!

-Elenei