Loki: Storm of Swords

Chapter 57 - Ragna On the Run

A small and silent figure crept through the brush bordering a small village in the Midlands of Westeros. The hood was pulled around, concealing the flaming red hair underneath. The stars seemed to make her emerald eyes sparkle, and her skin was pale in the moonlight. But if anybody had glanced in her direction again, she would have been gone, like a shadow. Ragna skirted the house, looking for a place where she could shut herself up for the night. She knew that Rhaenar would go to Sandor, Sif, and Obara the moment he knew she was missing. Even without his magic, he still had a sense of her because they were twins. It was inconvenient to say the least and she hated it. The nice part was that he still had not succeeded in mastering the difficult tracking spell, and Ragna was grateful for that. But, once the news reached her parents, all Loki had to do was reach out to her, find her soul force, and bring her back. Her mission would be moot. I hate magic wielders, she thought to herself dourly. That was when somebody opened a door to a stable. The boy came walking out, swaying from side to side. Ah, ha! Drunk as Bronn on every night of the week! Ragna contemplated as she waited for him to get out of the way. Once he had stumbled off to relieve himself, she darted into the stable and slunk behind the bales of hay. The talk that was going around the small fire was all between men. Ragna saw they ranged in ages from very young, to almost old. Not all of them were stable hands either. Some were soldiers, or at least, mercenaries.

"There's a war coming, probably already started," one of the men said.

"Really?! Another war? They only just ended the last one six year ago," one of the younger lads exclaimed.

"Aye, you little bastard. There's another war a'coming, and strange winds are blowing," a mercenary rejoined. Ragna saw a rope hanging down from the ceiling and she started to clamber up it. Silently, she scurried into the rafters overhead and looked down at the little party. She took stock of the weapons and armor the soldiers had: chainmail, simple helms at their feet, and regular broadswords. A few knives were on their belts or in their boots, but Ragna had no concerns. She had two of Sandor's daggers that she had nicked off him. But she waited to see. Ragna was curious about these lowly types; see if they were worth their salt.

"Did you hear about Ser Lancel Lannister and his forces? They're closing in on Kings Landing, and their numbers are growing. Plenty of people who don't want a Targaryen queen, or a devil for a Hand," one of the men stated. Ragna tilted her head to the side.

Well! This is interesting, she thought.

"Are you one of them?" one of the stable hands asked. The mercenary shrugged as he took a long sip from his mug. "Aren't them thoughts treason?"

"Anything that doesn't meet the ideas of the Hand are treason. Everyone knows he's the one who really rules this land and everyone in it," the man answered. Ragna drew one of the knives. This man was speaking ill against her father, and she would not let that go unpunished.

"Why doesn't somebody just replace them both? This Lancel Lannister can't hope to defeat combined forces once the banners are called. But what about that shadow man we've been hearing about? He's mysterious," a young boy put in. Ragna carefully crawled about and looked down again. She was right over their heads, her one knife still in hand. She would wait to see if killing them was worth her time.

Oh, no! I'll only maim them, she thought as she drew the second knife and slid it carefully between her teeth.

"That shadow man's a funny one, and no mistake. Rumor has it he works with that cult for the Lord of Light, or some such nonsense," an older man commented.

"I don't like any religious groups. Suspicious of the lot of them, I am," a stable boy piped up. "Why should we worship beings we've never seen or touched? The Seven? The Old Gods and the New Gods? What's the difference? They're all fake!"

"You sound like a little rebel, lad. Careful with that tongue, or the Hand will cut it out," one of the guards said. Ragna grinned right before she dumped a bucket of dirt that had been hanging on a nail onto their fire. The blaze was tempered, but not put out entirely. The men coughed at the sudden smoke and when they looked up, it appeared that nothing was different. Until one of the guards cried out in pain and saw that he was now missing the pinkie on his left hand. They all looked around.

"What was that?!"

"Where did it go?!"

"Where did it come from?!"

"Hell!" Ragna whispered vehemently as she came in and slashed another older man across the face. Her second dagger was pointed at one of the stable boys as he attempted to reach for a pitchfork. "Drop it, infant, or I'll slice off your ear," Ragna warned. The men assembled all stared at her with awe, fear, and amusement in equal parts. They saw a child holding them at bay with her knives, but her determined and fierce some expression seemed to strike some fear into them.

"Who are you, little girl?" one of the guards asked. His friend who had lost his finger, was glaring at Ragna and clutching his bleeding hand.

"I'm the daughter of the man you were so traitorously speaking of a mere moment ago," Ragna said, her daggers still pointed at them. The men looked at her with new curiosity now. She had shiny red hair, a trademark color of the Tullys, which Lady Frostborn was the spitting image of her own mother. Her eyes were glistening emeralds, and only the Lord Hand had eyes the color of jewels.

"So... you're the famous Lady Ragna of House Frostborn. You and your brother vanished from Kings Landing, and yet, here you are, at least," one of the older men said. He was the one with the new gash across his brow, courtesy of Ragna.

"Yes, I am standing here, and I couldn't help but overhear your treasonous words," Ragna answered. "And you're turning these young boys against the crown. Tut, tut. My father hates it when older people try to lead the young astray. A real problem of his. It makes him very angry."

"Your father is controlling and clutching like the serpent he is," one of the boys hissed.

"Now... is that you talking? Or is that the poisoned words of others dripping from your lips?" Ragna challenged. The boy opened his mouth to counter, but he had nothing. Ragna grinned at her small victory before she turned, swinging the knives so that there was space created between herself and all the men. "Now, you men are all going to walk a new path from now on. You're going to cease talking like this, if you value your necks. You will not speak to young men and turn their thoughts away from the law. And,you will remember me. It will take many years until I grow up, but when I am grown, all the Seven Kingdoms will know my name." Before the men could say anything else, Ragna kicked the fire hard, sending sparks all about and scattering the wood. There were only two lanterns hanging overhead, but their light was dim and in the darkness, Ragna slipped away.