"This was always going to happen. She's been dead since the beginning."
- Aeschylus
It is a child's dream to outwit fate, to somehow escape the great ending that awaits us all.
But Orianne Fernwood would burn the world if it meant a moment longer w...
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The day started unremarkably for Arthur.
He rose with the sun, as was his habit, stretching his tired muscles and donning the white cloak and armor of the Kingsguard. His chambers in the White Sword Tower, a small and organized space, glowed golden from the morning sun.
Arthur thanked all the Gods above that he was on duty with the royal family rather than the King. It was always a more pleasant day when he spent it watching over Elia and Ashara rather than being subjected to the mad whims of King Aerys.
But if anyone ever asked, Arthur would never dare complain. He didn't fear any punishment, but as a member of the Kingsguard, it was his duty to serve without objection or judgment.
Besides, Arthur was typically tasked with watching over Elia or the Prince, the two men having known each other for some years.
Arthur liked Rhaegar well enough to call him a friend. He was a quiet and solemn man, but he was not his father; in Arthur's eyes, that was the greatest of compliments.
Such thoughts kept the knight company as he readied for the day, falling into his comfortable routine. He had been a member of the Kingsguard for six years and had experienced much. Arthur was confident nothing could shake him.
But it seemed the Gods wished to spite him for his hubris that day.
The first few hours of his watch passed silently, most of the castle still fast asleep, including his sister and Elia. It was at midday, when Arthur followed the royal family and his sister to the throne room, that Arthur's day invariably changed.
The court was there in full force, crowded around the dragon skulls and torches, eyes desperate for a peek at whatever poor sop was facing King Aerys' wrath that day. Though Arthur was not one for gossip, that was all Ashara; he had to admit he was slightly curious.
Ashara had pulled him aside a week prior, informing him that Elia had invited a young woman from the North to join her at court. Arthur hadn't thought much of it. Perhaps it was odd that the Princess picked a northern lady, but it wasn't strange enough for Arthur to dwell on it. Of course, in Arthur's eyes, there were much more important things to worry about, not that he'd ever dare tell Ashara that.
But as Arthur watched the doors to the throne room open, a herald announcing the lady's arrival, the knight realized exactly why Ashara had been so excited.
Orianne Fernwood, The Lady of Emberhall, was not what Arthur expected.
Admittedly, he had met very few northerners, but Orianne by no means met those standards. She looked to be a closer fit for the Martells than any family of the North.
Arthur first noticed her appearance, midnight black hair wrapped in intricate braids around her head. Golden ribbons and beads weaved into the strands, shimmering against the darkness of her hair. Arthur could boast no knowledge of fashionable hairstyles, but it reminded him of something he often saw women wearing at Sunspear or Starfall.
