An Inconvenient Flame [Sandor Clegane]

Prolouge

A prologue or prologe (from Greek πρόλογος prólogos, from πρό pró, "before" and λόγος lógos, "word") is an opening to a story that establishes the context and gives background details, often some earlier story that ties into the main one, and other miscellaneous information.

A lady. Not really a term that had ever applied to me. I was the oldest born child to the Stark family, the protectors of the north. But because I was the only girl for a long time, I had been allowed to fight with the boys.

The wooden sword in my hands were no longer too heavy for me to wield. Robb had laughed when I almost dropped it the first time. Jon had been extremely helpful instead and with his help I was now able to wield it somewhat successfully.

When Robb laughed again at my weak hit, the straw man barely moving, I swung the next hit at him. I hit him with the flat side of the weapon on the back of his thigh. He yelped and shot upright before weaving out of the way. This time it was Jon and I who laughed, but not for long before Robb grabbed his own wooden sword and retaliated.

I blocked the first few swings, my arms trembling from the overwhelming strength, but it wouldn't make me back down and I tried to stand my ground. It went fairly well until I noticed who was watching us. Father and Elric, standing stoic at his side. My surprise must've been obvious because Robb used the distraction to disarm me.

The wooden sword slid across the ground, uprooting the newly fallen snow from last night. I frowned and glared at Robb who now held the tip of the wooden sword against my chest. "You lose." He grinned but I wouldn't accept that fate, nor surrender to him this easily.

I was luckily still in my winter clothes, I hadn't worn a dress today. The only smart decision I had made that day. When Robb turned to look at father as well, I bent down, gathered a handful of snow and hurled it at Robb. The soft snow smeared across his right cheek when I went for the wooden sword again.

With it back in my hands I retaliated this time. Robb hadn't been entirely prepared and slipped. He landed on his rump when I managed to disarm him this time. My smug smile annoyed him greatly but it was Jon's laugh and Elric's chuckle that made me even more proud. "You loose." I repeated. Robb frowned when I kept the sword raised for a few seconds more to prove my point before lowering it and offering him my hand. But Robb slapped my hand away as he found his own feet and stormed away.

I continued to smile, even when father didn't. His somewhat displeased expression extended to me. It surprised me and my smile faded from my lips. I was not much older than 10, and hated that particular look on fathers face. The wooden sword in my hands slipped from my fingers before I had even turned away. My eyes burning with tears. I still disappointed him somehow. So I ran away, so not to face him.

I sprinted through the yard, down the familiar paths in the Godswood, towards the Weirwood tree. The peaceful atmosphere here only disturbed by my loud sobbing and the crunching of snow beneath my feet. Because this was the first real winter snow, the trees had not yet lost their leaves completely. The red, brown and yellow colors of the previous season were highly contrasted against the white of winter.

I fell onto my knees next to the Weirwood tree. It had not been my intention to disappoint father. I had for many years been allowed to use those swords but ever since Sansa had become older and begun looking up to me, I was no longer allowed near the fighting area. I was to become a proper lady instead.

I scooped up another large handful of snow and hurled it at a nearby tree, not courageous enough to throw it at the Weirwood tree. In the silence, besides my sobbing, the soft crunching of snow beneath boots soon reached my ears. I lifted my head and shifted up into my knees, ready to bolt if needed. "Milady—" But that voice were not fathers.

I relaxed again and dried a few tears away. "Go away Elric". I tried not to yell at him but he wouldn't listen. "Please!" I screamed at him when he knelt next to me, a hand already on my shoulder. His kind smile was always contagious and I tried hard not to return it as I wiped my tears away with quick swipes of the back of my hands.

"Milady—that was excellent swordsmanship." He said nonetheless to make me look at him. I laughed despite the tears still falling and finally lifted my gaze to him. His smile widened as he lifted a hand to my cheek before tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. His comfort was what I needed. It had always been and again I sought it.

When I wrapped my arms around his chest, embracing him, he didn't hesitate to return the gesture. Elric was fathers right hand. He'd been around for as long as I could remember. His black hair was short right now but I knew he had many tight curls when it got longer. His green eyes could pierce right though you and I was never able to lie to him. He could always see right through my deception.

"Now—I know you have your lessons with Septa Mordane and I have my duties with your father." Elric made me release him. "Once I'm done and you've completed your responsibilities, I'll help you train. But you must do your out most best—it is not easy to be a proper lady." He arched a brow at me, looking rather serious. He made it to be a challenge, something he knew I enjoyed.

I laughed again and he dried more tears away from my cheeks. "Now, dry those tears away and I'll see you when I come back." Elric promised. He found his feet and helped me find my own before guiding me back through the Godswood. The only thing that kept me going was Elric's promise, but unfortunately that was the last time I saw him for many, many years.