Elena Caron

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The castle of Nightsong. That was where she lay. In a chamber in a tall tower, but not the tallest. High enough to look out of her tower window and look upon Wyl and Blackhaven, sometimes on a clear day even Summerhall. Nightsong was part of the Dornish Marches, in the south west of the Stormlands, north of the Prince's pass and the Red Mountains.

Elena had always liked living at Nightsong. She was daughter to Lord Bryce of house Caron, sister to only two, her older brother and heir to Nightsong, Wren, and her younger brother Petyr. Her mother was Lady Myra of house Peasebury.

She had been sleeping soundly, when there was a knock at her chamber door. She woke with a start.

"Lady Caron." said the knight on the other side of her bedroom door.

"Come in." Elena croaked, sleep still hung over her like a grey cloud... she was so tired.

The door opened. A man in white steel armour and a steel helm entered slowly, he removed his helm, revealing a thick mess of blonde curls and a curved nose, much like a beak. He looked middle aged, and could probably pick Elena up in one hand and squash her like a bug. His facial expression was hard to read, but Elena's impression was... sympathy...

"Your father requires you in the great hall, my lady."  he spoke in a deep, smooth voice, but Elena could tell he was nervous.

She looked at him, frowning, "why...?"

The knight stuttered, "it's, something - he just said - he said it was urgent, my lady."

Elena could see a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, his breathing was shaky.

"Is everything okay?" she spoke in a rush.

The knight didn't reply, instead he moved out of the doorway, beckoning for her to leave her chambers.

"Shouldn't I at least get dressed?"

The knight looked grave.

"I'm afraid this is too urgent, my lady. There isn't much time."

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