God-Child-Soldier

V

When the boat docked back onto Dragonstone, the desolation gnawing at Alder's heart had morphed into bitter rage. She had never wanted to hit someone so badly in her seventeen years of life.

Ser Maddock bade the knights to return to the training ground and wait for him. Alder, nearly vibrating with fury, wanted to dash after them, but Maddock had taken a firm grip on the collar of her tunic as if she were a kitten prone to going missing. He marched her almost regimentally down the path the knights had taken, their path diverting up a set of stone stairs wrapping around a tower to where a balcony lay overseeing the training ground.

The white-haired man from night before stood surveying the training field, a field which looked so much like Castle Black's that it nearly made her scream. As she peered down, one knight laughed and removed his helm after firmly knocking down his opponent. The dark brown of his wavy hair made her see her brother Leafe, gloating over beating their eldest brother, Gage. Her swords rattled in their sheaths and she inhaled deeply. When she exhaled, the knight was just another knight.

"Prince Daemon," Ser Maddock addressed the prince, bowing deeply. Alder followed, and when Daemon turned to look at them, the only change in his face was the rise of his brow.

"Ser Maddock," he replied, and Alder finally saw the sword at his waist. It made no sense, she had not felt it before she saw it. The sword was silent. A chill crept up her back at the lack of being it carried, an almost tangible nothingness.

"I believe I have served the princess and the realm faithfully," Ser Maddock said gruffly, hand still clenched in Alder's collar like she was going to run away. Daemon did not corroborate or reject the knight's statement, so Ser Maddock continued. "I am an old man. It is time I took a squire."

Daemon simply looked at Alder, not a hint of recognition in his eyes, "She is a girl, and can never be knighted, Maddock. What is the point?"

"I did not gain my white hair from my birthright, your Grace. I have five years left in my knighthood, at the most. Better to pass on my knowledge than die with it."

"To her? There are a hundred noble boys within spitting distance young enough to learn and easy enough to knight when the time comes. She is nameless, of no title and no importance, and it is more likely than not that she will die that way."

Ser Maddock looked at Alder, who considered herself quite ready to take a swing at a prince of the realm. A small smile cracked his solemn face, so brief she would likely think she imagined it later.

"Then perhaps she can prove herself."

Finally. A fight. Something she knew.

Daemon inclined his head slightly, a derisively amused smirk on his pallid face, and Alder stripped off the cloak around her shoulders. Ser Maddock bowed promptly and steered her towards the stairs, leading her down to the training yard.

"I hope you can fight as well as you flee," he said quietly to her as they descended. "Prince Daemon is not a man easily impressed."

"These blades are not for show, ser," Alder replied, hands already itching to draw steel.

Ser Maddock beckoned over the kind knight from the boat, "Ser Bryndol, lend me your sword."

Ser Bryndol took a curious look at Alder as he approached, who did her very best and admittedly futile attempt at a pleasant expression on her face. Her swords rattled again, and she had to pat the one on her waist to calm it. Ser Maddock clapped the copper-headed knight on the shoulder.

"I want you to spar with the girl."

Ser Bryndol, to his credit, didn't do anything so heinous as laugh or splutter, like some of the other knights within earshot did. He did, however, take on a rather fishlike expression of confusion. "You wish for me to do what? I can't fight a girl! It's uncouth."