"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...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
To say that Kings Landing was different than Emberhall would have been a gross understatement.
There was the smell, of course, the stench of poverty rising above the city and overpowering the scent of perfume that the nobles of Westeros so enjoyed. It was nothing like Orianne had ever experienced. There were poor folks in all corners of Westeros, of course, the North especially, but the people were not allowed to rot and decay while the lords and ladies watched on from their gilded palaces.
It was even more of a shock as she was led deeper into the Red Keep, a firsthand witness to the historic wealth hoarded in one family.
It was a lesson in luxury and excess.
Marble statues and gold sconces decorated each hall, and tapestries of dragons and their riders shimmered. Nothing was small in the capital; everything had to be made greater and larger than before. But her surprise only grew when Elia led her to the room that would be hers.
Orianne's chambers at Emberhall were fine, perfectly fitting for the daughter of a middling Northern Lord, but compared to her rooms in the Red Keep, they might as well have been a shed.
The room was the same orange-red stone that made up the rest of the keep, but it was airy and open. Windows faced the water, ushering in a salty breeze, a pleasant reprieve from the stench of the city. Between the two main windows sat a glass-paned door opening onto a large balcony.
Orianne imagined she could see straight across the sea on a clear day, a prospect she had never experienced. Fog and gloom were common in the North. Even in the mountains of Emberhall, which often sat above the cloud cover, there was little to see but the valley below.
The room itself was decorated in bright colors. Oranges and fuchsia silks were draped on the bed, and gauzy linens dyed to match hung canopied above the headboard, embroidered with wildflowers. Orianne couldn't help but run her fingers over the finely upholstered settee and reading chair, each with soft cushions in matching colors.
She had never seen such luxury in her life, much less been able to call it hers.
Orianne's mother had brought color to Emberhall, shades of amber and maroon, which the isolated keep had never seen, but this was a level that Orianne had only ever dreamed of. Perhaps that was why her mother secretly longed for her home, the colors.
It took some time to settle, though Elia and Ashara were welcome companions along the way.
Orianne accepted their generous offer of helping her unpack, allowing them to begin the arduous task of transferring her belongings to the new living space.
The three talked the entire time, Orianne quickly picking up on the unique personalities of her new companions.
Elia was the definition of stately.
Graceful and queenly, Orianne could see the crown that would one day sit upon Elia's head as if she was born with it. Though she spoke less than Ashara, every word gripped Orianne, begging her to hang on with bated breath. Elia had the same deep accent her mother had, rich and perfect for stories and songs. When Elia first spoke, Orianne had to fight the urge to cry. It was as if she was hearing her mother talk once again.
