"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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It was near impossible to breathe in the Great Hall, stuck between dragon skulls and lords and ladies all exhaling with heavy, hot breaths, the air thick with smoke that smelled of ash and incense and something just below the surface.
Orianne's lungs were filled with the horrid stench, and she wondered darkly if the smell of burning wood and herbs was only there to hide something darker, something sinister that would offend even the most staunch defenders of the King.
Was the last time they gathered together, packed tight like cattle awaiting slaughter, to watch some poor innocent person face a trial by fire? A proceeding they had no hope of surviving, no chance of defense, for their fates had long since been decided by a man whose descent into madness remained unchecked. Did the innocent look out at the faces of the court and wonder why they simply stood by and watched, even as the man that stood before them grew madder and madder each passing day, even as he began to see flickers of paranoia with every turn?
A sickness roiled in her stomach at the thought of it, at the sounds she imagined a person might make while the green flames licked at their flesh and the stench of a body burning alive, all while a mad king laughed and smiled at the agony created by his own machinations.
She felt her heart stutter and her body sway, free from her control for a terrible moment, sending her careening into Ashara's shoulder.
What she would give to never see such a sight, to maintain some form of innocence while the world seemed intent on stripping her of it.
Her friend turned to her, violet eyes half worried and half uncontainable in their excitement. Ashara squeezed Orianne's hand, her smile only faltering for a second as if to ask without words if she was alright. Orianne could sense her resolve weakening, but just beyond Ashara's shoulder, she could see the reason why they had ventured from the peace of the Maidenvault at all.
Even in the dim, smokey light of the fading day, Arthur Dayne shined brightly. The sun pierced through the reek and anointed him with its golden rays as if the Old Gods and The Seven decided that the world would shine upon him. His armor glowed, and Orianne could imagine that the man truly was made of starlight for the way he rose above them all. She could see him in the sky, floating by the moon and the dusky clouds, shimmering brighter than any star in the heavens.
Orianne's eyes tracked his approach, watery eyes clearing as her mind turned from the thought of such horrors to the man that had captured her heart so thoroughly.
He stood tall and strong, even as he faced the King alone, not a tremble in his stature nor a crack in the armor he had so carefully crafted. The knight bowed in reverence to the man who sat upon the throne, a man undeserving of such respect, but still he offered it.
"You've returned," Aerys voice sounded like the scraping of a heavy load atop gravel, scratchy and unpleasant, "and yet I see no head laid beneath my feet, no knight smiling even in death. Where is this traitorous brotherhood who flouts my justice and insults the crown?"
