✧･ﾟ:*When the sword is drawn from the stone, hope blooms within the rebellion.
But fates and destinies are fickle things and with the legend of the sword being fulfilled, another prophecy becomes set into motion.
Renly has been a part of the rebel...
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Renly rarely dreamed of her parent's death. She did not know whether it was her own subconscious protecting her from the horrible images or the prophecy taking pity on her.
Clearly, it had not been the latter.
Renly stood frozen in the middle of the streets as she watched her mother fight her way through the crowd to get to her husband's body.
Renly's father hung limply by the neck swaying slightly in the wind.
She could hear her mother's wailing.
Her screaming and fighting.
She saw the moment her mother lost herself to the grief and could do nothing to stop the woman as she raced forward drawing a knife at the Blackleg that had kicked the chair from underneath her husband.
She could do nothing but watch as her mother was disarmed.
She could do nothing but watch as the Blackleg slit her mother's throat with her own knife.
Blood, blood everywhere.
On her hands, on her clothes in her goddamn throat.
She wanted to throw up, she wanted to scream, but she had no time to do either before a hand grabbed her own and pulled her through the crowd into the masses of people.
Renly once again shot up. Her chest was heaving but this time it wasn't for breath, it was to get the blood out of her throat so that she would stop choking on it, it was to scream.
She put her hand over her mouth tightly crying into it to keep from waking anybody up.
Tears ran freely down her face and she heaved for breath not taking her hand away from her mouth.
Her chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate, panic set deeply into her very bones.
There were footsteps walking down the corridor.
They echoed around the stone walls.
Renly didn't have the time or the energy to pretend to be asleep. She just kept her hand over her mouth keeping in her sobs, hoping that whoever was moving through the caves would pass her by.
She had not expected Arthur to come to a stop before her door opening, nor did she expect him to walk inside without hesitation.
He did not say anything as he walked cautiously towards her, nor did he utter a word when he sat down beside her and held her as she cried.
