Before, the Game of Thrones, the seven kingdoms saw the rise of Westeros as a united country, all seven kingdoms forged into one great kingdom under the greatest dynasty. The story revolves around Aegon and his two sister-queens; their ascent and th...
Argella's father had been fighting the rebels in the other side of the sea again. Thirty moons past and not a raven from him. Maestar Hectar had said the storm that raged over the narrow sea was to be held responsible for no birds or ships could cross the turbulent water at this time.
While he fought fought the Volantenes for gold and riches, Harren the Black had sent another band of rogue bandits to the outskirt of Stormlands raiding villages lining Blueburn. With only about two thousand garrison most of whom were stationed on smaller castles that bordered House Hoare's territory, rest have departed with Storm King.
Warne Connington, the Lord of Griffin's Roost was vested with governance while father reaped the scraps of war. Connington had done his duty by sending troops after the reapers who had already escaped with loot.
Kiara, one of her chambermaid had lost her father in the loot and cried day and night by door side. Argella was of mind to send emissary to caution Harren of his barbarous acts but at this moment she had other pressing matters to attend.
Visenya Targaryen, sister-wife of Aegon, Lord of Dragonstone had requested refuge after her train had been attacked by bunch of outlaws west of Ashford. From the messenger, she knew three of her guards were dead and one of her companion mortally wounded. Argella had responded by sending their swiftest horses and most capable hands to welcome her in.
The honk of the trumpet announced their arrival and Argella climbed down the stairs that spiraled down around the main fort of Storm's End. The strong gale that blew outside had no effect on the large stone walls that surrounded the fortress. Wind howled through the tunnels and stone passages like ghosts crying for their beloved.
Outside the curtain wall, her guests waited to be welcomed. Visenya Targaryen was tall, taut and graceful with purple eyes that stood out against her pale, satiny skin and her silver hair that was braided to her waist. She was ravishing, Argella thought. She had heard rumors of her beauty and she could now confirm them as true. Her perfectly defined eyebrows that crunched in distrust to the bow like upper lip and her chiseled cheek bones, she was incarnation of strength and beauty.
Drawing closer however, Argella noticed a thin cut on her right cheek, undoubtedly slit by sword. Blood was sliding in thread like line down her skin. She was clutching her left arm with a rag that had turned bloody. Her robs were soiled and drenched with blood.
"Fetch the maester." Argella commanded one of her guards.
To Visenya, she bowed and said, "Welcome to Storm'd End, my lady." Visenya returned courtesy by nodding and accepting her hand. Her palms were rougher and calloused than a woman's was generally, consequence of bearing arms.
"My companions need tending." She said in raspy, controlled voice. Argella could see she was was trying to retain her calm. She assured they will be taken care of.
"I have arranged a chamber for you and I pray you will be comfortable. I have had maids draw warm bath for you. If you would, change into fresh robes. Send for me if you need anything. We wait upon you."
Argella herself walked her to her chamber. It was spacious inside. This used to be her mother's chamber. She couldn't recall Maygen Durrandon, Argella was only a babe when she had died. She had heard the septa say she was a sweet lady of even temper, not quite the Storm Queen. Argella had only her blue eyes, none of the golden hair her mother did. All that remained was the faint trace of her touch on the wooden cabinet and harp.
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Visenya did not come to lunch at one. Argella waited a while before deciding to make inquiry herself. It was not appropriate to keep the host waiting. The Valyrians were self-important people, they did not care for others anyway.
Visenya was with her party in the sick quarter where maesters and helpers who were attending the wounded. Their strained cries echoed through the stone passages. The Lady of Dragonstone sat by bed of a young lad, not much older than Argella herself. He had Valyrian features she noted. Hair as fair as snow
She was petting his forehead while the maester was nursing the gash on his belly. The wound stank of thick blood and acrid paste.
Visenya made no remark of her presence. She continued whispering soothingly, "Everything will be well."
"I am going to die." The patient wheezed and blood spurted out of his mouth. "I am dying."
"Hush now!" She said and looked over to the maester who had the same grave face when Nora died. Poor boy, Argella thought. Green summer boy, too young to die in sick bed.
Argella waited behind her patiently. When the boy had been patched and subdued with milk of poppy, Visenya rose from her seat and followed her to dining hall.
"My prayers are with him and all others, my lady." Argella said. "They'll recover, I am sure of it."
"Don't be sure of anything, you'll only be disappointed." She remarked, a bit harshly. Argella sympathized and did not utter any word of protest.
After lunch, they sat by fire side of her chamber.
"Harren has been raiding the hills and the riverlands. Only two moon ago, our villages on the bank of Blueburn were looted and houses put to torch. As my father, the King, is away, his aggression has increased two-fold."
"Yes. Harren Hoare has been barbarous enough." Visenya agreed. She was tightening the patch on her arm . Blood bloomed on the cloth like a flower with four petals. "But the attackers were not of their land, I assure you. They were of your own."
Argella was speechless at this accusation. Visenya continued, "They flew color of red and white, but I do not think they were sworn to any house. They were upon us like pack of wolves before we knew anything. Clearly they know the terrain."
Argella tried to recall which house flew those colors. There were few many possibilities. The south-west side of the Stormlands were hard to maintain.
"My captain of guards took the first sword to his heart, followed by two more. And Corlys, poor, stupid Corlys. He can't even throw a spear and he stepped in front of attack. Boys. Always foolish and hasty with no mind of their own. Eager to please and out do others than having any care for risk. Now look at him." She finished sadly.
Argella had heard the whispers. That Visenya took other men to her bed while her husband was away. But she didn't expect her lover to be so young. Argella didn't know what to make of it. She understood her husband shared her with another woman, but that does not justify her illicit affairs.
"Any word from you father?" Visenya queried.
"None." Argella muttered. "I pray to the Seven Gods everyday to bring him home. I am only two and ten. I cannot defend such huge land."
She would have asked for her assistance but Visenya seemed unfazed by the unrest in their land. Why would she defend a land that was not her own?
"Will you be staying long?" She had asked her.
"Only few days so we can restock our supplies and we shall take our leave."
