Cinders in the Dark

Reckoning

{Listen, I'm about to play VERY fast and lose with both how magic operates in asoiaf and significant cannon aspects. We're all gonna have to suspend our disbelief and believe in the heart of the cards. }

Lucinda had found her way back upstairs to her room much easier than she would've thought possible. She had even found her abandoned torch lying on the ground still flickering. As weird as things were, this did not concern her. She'd just picked it up and continued on her way back. Then she went up to her room and promptly fell asleep, exhausted.
She dreamed of being young again, just a small girl climbing trees and wading in creeks. Carefree and unencumbered. She dreamed of the sun on her face and the sound of her peers laughing. Most of all she dreamed of being held and the soft sounds of shared sleep. They twisted together in a golden ray of hope, something she had forgotten the feeling of.
When she woke, it was with purpose and a plan. The evening was late but no one had come up for her, so she had to assume the lord had not arrived. She set to work getting dressed, wearing another gray dress that nearly blended in with the depressing castle stones. It would've blended in completely if it weren't for the embroidered front fabric which displayed her house colors and sigil. The tiny bats had garnets sewn in as eyes and they would shimmer in the torchlight whenever she moved. She'd hand stitched several dresses over the years. It was good to have hobbies in a place where reality twisted, it was something concrete to hold on to.
She spun around to face her cluttered desk, suddenly remembering the sword she had grabbed and looking for it. It lay untouched where she'd thrown it before collapsing into sleep. She walked over to it slowly, admiring the way the oil slick pattern shifted in the firelight, the shadows dancing along the blade. It didn't make sense, any of it. The charred rib bone, the crown, nor the sword should exist because a burning pile of bones cannot give you physical objects. And yet all three lay there staring back at her accusatory. She didn't own a sword sheath, why would she? But she had plenty of belts to spare. So she tied a few together and slid the sword in between, then strapped it to her side.
Lucinda had never swung a sword before and didn't really intend to now. It was merely for show. And when a burning omen gives you a gift, you carry it. She tucked the rib in her dress top against her skin, but she did not wear the bramble crown. It was still coated in her blood and she didn't relish wearing it again ever. So she just left it on her desk. The sun was nearly gone at this point, just the faintest bits of light were visible in the sunset.

Then she headed up the stairs two at a time to visit the witch again.

"S'not going to work." She said right off first thing.

Lucinda huffed at her, irritated. "No lord is immune to Hemlock and I know you possess some."

"Well that's true enough. But that pretty blade of yours is just going to suck it up. How'd you like the Sept of Burnished Night?"

That was a nonsensical order of words to Lucinda. "Sept of what?" How could the night be burnished? It wasn't a sword. She shook her head, irrelevant.

"The room you got the sword in, of course. Didn't you see all of the polished stones?"

She'd been a bit busy going insane to admire the color or quality of the stone in the massively creepy room.

"Look, I don't care about the Sept. If I can't poison the blade then what can I do?"

The witch looked at her innocently. "Wait and see what happens? Easy enough."

"Agh! Help me out here. I can't just go in empty handed."

But the witch had only clapped her hands and extinguished the light, leaving her alone again. Lucinda stood angrily in the doorway, the clear night sky peeking in through the windows. Then she sighed and started the long walk down to the main hall. All of the torches were out again and this time she knew she wasn't leaving any windows open. It made the stairs dark and hard to navigate. She had to hug the wall because she couldn't tell where the stairs ended. She breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the bottom.
She stepped into the great hall and had that relief stolen. All of the air was sucked out of her at the sight of hundreds of candles positioned around the room. They were on the floor, stacked on tables, high up on shelves. Everywhere she looked was the dim glow of a million tiny flames. She turned around and around, taking it all in. Why had they done this? And where was everyone? Surely she hadn't missed supper, had she? She started to walk towards the kitchens to see what was going on in there but before she could reach the other side of the main hall, people began bringing in the dishes.
The entire house staff must have been helping to prepare the feast because it was an endless stream of people that came and went. Setting dishes down and then quickly exiting to go grab the rest. Lucinda decided she might wait somewhere else after all. She turned to leave but was stopped by a flood of Blackwood men coming in through the doorway. She hadn't seen how many men had come originally with the imposter lord. It had only been the copy and a handful of men when they stood in front of her father that first time. Now she saw it was a quarter of a battalion at least.
Unable to fight through the incoming crowd she took her seat up on the dais, and waited for her father to arrive. The hall was eerily silent for the amount of men inhabiting it and it made her skin crawl. The only thing keeping her from bolting was the familiar sight of Orwyll standing by the door. Curiously, the copy of Lord Blackwood never showed up and she wondered if somewhere in the halls was a dead body. There couldn't be two of him, so he would rid himself of the copy. It was a glum thought. At last her father arrived with her stepmother and her two baby brothers. That was concerning to her. Why would they bring the babes out? But she didn't have long to ponder this before their guest of honor burst in.
The Lord strode in wearing a rich ruby cloak that billowed behind him. His hand rested on his sword pommel when he came to rest in front of the dias. Her father stood, raised his glass and called for a toast.

"To uniting these two great houses in holy matrimony."

She hadn't even really registered her fathers words because she was too busy watching the hand movements the lord was making. A queer moving of his fingers in a downward motion before flicking them up. By the time she looked up to meet his eyes, it was too late to stop him. Orwyll was across the room by the door and could not have hoped to reach them in time. Her father was grabbed from behind and pulled backwards out of sight. It was worse for her stepmother who started to scream when they ripped the children from her.
That was what got Lucinda up and on her feet, sword pulled out, standing in front of her stepmother. Her arms were shaking so badly she was afraid she might drop it. Their own guards had finally arrived but were having to fight through the crowd in the hall before hoping to step foot inside. She watched in silent shock as Orwyll was cut down, blood coating the walls before soaking into them. Her attention was split between the chaos of fighting and defending her stepmother who was still screaming. She'd lost sight of the babes in the sea of men writhing around them.
Lord Blackwood stood in front of her, the candlelight reflected brightly in his eyes. He did not draw his own sword as he approached her. She was overwhelmed by the amount of things happening and her mind was trying to shut down. But she held fast and tried to swing at him when he got within range. It was a sad attempt and he'd simply batted the blade out of her hands. It hit the floor with an echoing clang. Her stepmother was still screaming behind her. The lord looked down at her.

"You're not wearing your crown."

She stared at him completely disoriented, saying nothing. That was when someone ended her stepmother's screaming, the sound of metal on flesh and then silence. Lucinda winced when she heard the sound of her body hitting the ground. She took one stuttering step backwards, her vision filling with black spots before she lost the fight to be conscious.
***
When Lucinda woke her head was pounding. She groaned, putting both hands on her head and rubbing. It took her a full minute before she would attempt to open her eyes and a minute more before she could force them to stay open. She sat up slowly, trying not to jostle her aching head. Her hand was wrapped up and she looked at it confused. The events of the night came back to her and she began to hyperventilate, glancing around the room frantically. She calmed down a bit seeing she was back in her own room alone.
She tried not to think of what happened at dinner. But it was impossible not to. The sight of blood on the stone floor and walls followed her eyes wherever she looked. The lord hadn't outright killed her or her father. She tried to think even less of the marriage proposal that had been sprung on her. She had no doubt that it was a sham. They had intended to take the castle after all. She would've been glad to be rid of it, they could have it free of charge. No need for murder, just have it. But if they were here and in such a force it was likely the crown knew about the trip.
Lucinda said a small curse to the witch in the tall tower. Nothing crazy, just that she would fall down the stairs… and off the side plunging to the ground. 'Wait and see. Easy enough.' What a joke of advice that had been. That's how she wished her fall to be, easy enough. She stood gingerly before walking over to the window. Outside the stars twinkled so brightly they seemed to mock her. A night like this shouldn't be beautiful, it should be dark and wretched. She stood there, wishing she could climb atop her horse and leave this horrible castle.

Her door squeaked open and she turned to see who would enter.

"Lady Whent." The Blackwood lord said, dipping his head towards her.

"Abomination." She snarled back. They were past the point of pleasantries in her eyes, if they'd ever been there to start with.

For the first time she saw the lord smile, a true grin broke out on his face at her words. He stepped closer to her, crowding her in by the window. He paused when he spotted the crown on her desk and picked it up. He twirled it in his hands, not making a sound when the thorns cut into his hands. Then he stepped even closer, forcing her to crane her neck to look up at him.

"My queen." He whispered, placing the crown delicately back on her head.

She looked up at him eyes wide, heart pounding. He offered her his arm to take and having no other choice she did. And together they began to descend the staircase towards the ground floor. The torches were glowing with the gleam of scarlet as they walked.