Chapter Text

The night was certainly dark, yet its terrors were unknown to the eyes of men. The heavy rains denied any use of torch or flame, making the lightings upon the clouds above the only source of light for three travelers to guide themselves from. They were rushing down the Kingsroad to find shelter, their quick footsteps making a song with the roaring thunders of the skies. Though, it was not the type of song Daena used to enjoy.

She’d rather listen to songs of harps and other strings, played by handsome singers with graceful voices. Songs about chivalry, gallant knights and fair maidens. Songs of dreams and love. This song they were making didn’t resemble anything such that. This was a war song.

After long hours of ceaseless running, they had finally reached the Inn at the Crossroads. Thanks to the leather coat her cousin Bennard had lend her to cover herself from the rain, Daena’s long chestnut hair wasn’t as damp as the rest. Bennard was the oldest of the three, with about four and twenty years of age. He was the paternal figure she and her older brother Lymond used to follow. The gods had been kind to his features, giving him dashing blue eyes, a sharp jaw and silk black hair, though he acquired his strong muscles with no divine intervention but over hard work throughout his time. Lymond was everything Bennard was not. Skinny, with greasy hair, weak legs and far too short for his age. He didn’t resemble Daena much, making it hard to identify them as siblings. She was a charming young maid of five and ten, with rosy cheeks and round breasts. If it only weren’t for her crooked nose she’d mirror the image of a goddess.

Placing their wet coats on the hangers at the entrance of the inn, the three of them tried their best to clean their clothes and boots up from any drop of rain. Daena noticed the hem of her peasant dress had been ruined with mud from the road and cursed to herself.

“Bennard, is it you?” said a female voice emerging from the nearly empty dining hall. A middle aged woman then appeared in front of them. She was either too fat or her bones were too wide, Daena did not mind, for she was thoroughly captured by her twisted yellow teeth. The woman embraced her cousin into a suffocating hug and then pecked his cheek as if he were only a child. “What business brings you around, my boy?”

“Seven blessings, Masha. I was taking my little cousins on an adventure to find Rhaegar’s rubies along the Trident, but the heavy rains stopped us from travelling any further.”

“We are not little anymore” Lymond muttered crossing his arms and looking off to the distance. Masha, who Daena understood to be the one who runs the inn, ignored his comment keeping her eyes on Bennard.

“It has been quite the storm, hasn’t it?” she said guiding them to sit on a table for four by the window. Daena sat next to her cousin facing her brother. Masha poured some ale to Bennard and herself, and milk for the remaining two. Lymond made sure to show signs of annoyance at not being offered ale. The innkeeper sat with them as she were one more member of the family and continued talking. “Truly, I had never seen the skies raging in such way ever since Queen Daenerys was born”

Bennard grinned at her, sipping from his ale, “Rooting for the Targaryen now, ain’t ya?”

“I’d give my support to anyone but the one who currently sits the Iron Throne. Stannis, Daenerys or even the ghost of the Young Wolf! The situation of the Seven Kingdoms has never been as weak as now. Each day there are less travelers and merchants crossing the roads of Westeros making my Inn near as empty, as never seen before!”

“Seems that not even Lord Tywin’s terror is strong enough to hold the kingdoms together” Lymond commented.

“Lord Tywin?” Masha asked with her brows knit together and shock in her voice “For all the Gods, where have the three of you been? The Old Lion is dead. Killed by his own son while shittin’ gold on his privy. The news might have reached the ears of the Free Cities while I have you baffled here!”

“His own son?” Daena echoed in surprise “The Kingslayer?”

“No. The Kinslayer , rather. The murder was deed of the Imp, right after being sentenced to death for the accusation of having King Joffrey poisoned”.

“King Joffrey is dead?” Bennard asked “That must mean now-”

“A child rules us all, yes” Masha said in a low voice, finishing the last of ale from her cup. “The Boy King. Tommen Baratheon. Or so they say his second name is. The great Lord of the Seven Kingdoms who plays with his toys on that damned chair of swords while half the Kingdom starves to the bone”

“But if both Lords Tywin and Tyrion are dead… Is House Lannister no more?” Daena asked with genuine worry. The stories about the Lords of the Rock had always been her favorite. Their golden hair and dashing looks and infinite wealth made every fiber of her body burn with lust and envy.

“Oh, the half-man is very much alive, my dear” Masha said staring into her eyes “Somewhere, across the Narrow Sea, where only the Seven may see him. But he holds no opportunity on restoring the line of lions. He is now cursed, for he has slaughtered one of his kin. But don’t you trouble yourself, little one. The Lannisters are far from gone. There’s still Lord Kevan and Queen Cersei, though from what I gather, one has no heirs and the other is locked up in a cell under the Great Sept of Baelor”

“But what is the Imp’s curse?” Lymond asked, now more intrigued in the story on stake.

“You may never know one’s curse for certain,” Bennard replied “but it is rumored that kinslayers are doomed to a life of darkness and tormenting thoughts. Demons are said to appear in their minds making them turn into monsters”.

“Yes indeed, but any curse can be broken.” Daena spoke up “It is known. I’ve heard and read many stories about the curses of a kinslayer. Only the warmth of a loved one is capable of making the monster human again”.

“Since when d’ya know how to read?” Lymond said and rolled his eyes “Oh wait, I remember. Since ever you began pretending you are some highborn lady”.

“Anyhow,” Bennard said giving a warning look at Lymond and turned back to Daena “who would ever love the dwarf if not for his coin?”

“Why, his Lady Wife of course! She’s the only hope he has. They were united under the Faith of the Seven, the bond is strong”.

Masha chuckled making Daena shiver at the sight of her eccentric teeth. “Sansa Stark? She is lost to the eyes of men. Either the girl died or is living in hiding as someone else, if she has any wits. The crown has a price on her head too. One way or the other, the Last Wolf is nowhere near her little husband, from what I’ve heard”.

“That doesn’t mean she won’t ever return to him. Whether they like it or not, they are part of each other now. She will save him from his fate, I know she will” Daena replied, her voice almost a cry.

Bennard smiled at her sadly. “You are reading far too many songs and poems, dear cousin. Life is neither of them. Besides, you should not busy yourself thinking about the marriage and welfare of others but yours”.

Later, Masha brought the three travelers a proper meal to dine and left them for the night. The conversation had taken away Daena’s appetite. Playing with her food, she gazed upon the droplets of rain which fell like tears down on the window next to her. Her mind lost in thoughts about an Imp and his maid red as autumn, with sunset in her hair. She refused to believe such fatal ending would seal their fates. No. Even her songs had taught her love can grow from eroded lands. And not all my stories can be lies, she thought. Her heart determined, clinging on a vague hope for two strangers, whose paths she shall never cross.