Game of Thrones: StormBorn

There was a place she sometimes found herself in her dreams. A time long lost in her youth.

She could recall it as if it were yesterday, playing naked in the sea with her doll under the reader's watchful eye. She had been all of two at the time.

A riptide, unseen by all present had dragged her out to sea, and she had found herself clinging to a rock, despite the seafoam.

A warrior, some arms-man of the castle had dragged her back to the land after swimming after her. She had been screaming and crying the whole way. Oddly though, she had never remembered his face.

Other faces found their way there at times when she looked towards him. The Reader himself, sometimes her Father, before she had seen the wretch he was. Once or twice even her weak and homesick brother.

Now though, it was Arthur, always Arthur, though not as he was now in life, some conquering young King in glory.

No, it was always that chickenshit little boy she had sworn an oath she didn't think was real with.

It was never any surprise when she found herself there, waiting to be rescued.

This time though, the dream was different, the sky crackled with lightning, the wind harsh and bitter, the waves higher than ever before, threatening to cast her into the bitter black sea below.

It scared her a little bit as the thunder roared above, even as she sometimes found it comforting awake.

This was wrong, all wrong.

The world was dark and cold, as she clutched terrified to that rock, the wind picking up and aiding the waves in their quest to drown her below the choppy waters.

And then there was light, light and sound. For a moment, the lightning danced atop The water, descending from the heavens in a pillar of greenish-white that lit the whole world with its radiance.

And then it reached towards her, it's seeming hand outstretched, it's glowing form almost too bright to see.

She awoke to heavy breathing, and thick, warm, bearlike arms.

It was only a moment before she realized that the breathing was her own, as she dragged herself out of Jolk's embrace. Not that that woke the big oaf up.

She chuckled at what a fool he looked asleep as she stood up from the bed, feeling that comforting shallow rocking of a ship at port, but the humor did nothing to calm the ill-feeling in her gut. Nor did it suppress the greasy texture of the air.

No, as she tossed a robe over herself and stepped out onto the deck, she knew well that something was wrong. If anything, it was only further affirmed by the little Sparks that ran down her skin. They illuminated the deck in a pale blue light, and she was glad that most of the men were ashore for leave.

A boom of thunder in the sky saw her gaze turn skyward, a bolt of lightning leaping between clouds, though there was yet no rain to speak of. The sound shattered the illusion of serenity on the ship, and she found herself reaching for a sword that was still back in her quarters.

Her eyes turned towards the Red Keep.

Asha Greyjoy had not been an intensely superstitious person before she had sworn herself to Prince Arthur. She had paid tribute to the drowned God of course, and been rather frightened of her Uncle's displays, but that has been the end of it.

Now though?

She had been at storm-sky enough to know that the Island's famously angry weather often corresponded to the mood of its ruler. A rumor spoken in the streets, but one she had known Arthur well enough to see for herself.

This storm had been calm, placid, almost controlled as it had followed them into King's landing, she suspected as much due to her Brother and Lord as to any natural power.

If it was acting up, as was his blood that ran in her veins, then it was an ill omen indeed, for his mood at least.

Still, that wasn't a particularly helpful bit of knowledge in this case. While she might be able to help him calm down, she could hardly be seen going to have a midnight rendezvous with him days before his wedding. There were already more than enough rumors about Prince Arthur and his habit of putting warrior women about himself, and such behavior would all but confirm it in the eyes of many, especially those who saw him as the second coming of his Uncle the King.

'then again, I can just wait for Arianne to do it.' She felt her gaze drawn over towards the town proper. She knew well from the Princess' own bitching that he had not taken her to bed yet, apparently preferring to wait for their marriage. Frankly, she found it rather amusing, given how much she complained to everyone in earshot about it, except of course the Prince himself, who seemed entirely unaware.

'Serves him right for falling in love with a woman that lies with a straight face to save his feelings. Not that Arthur doesn't do the same.'

She turned up towards the city proper. If anyone was going to be able to go calm the Storm Prince down it would be his betrothed, if only because he would clam up to avoid showing her his worst side. The both of them seemed to be utterly determined on that front.

Asha sighed. She wasn't going to be able to get to sleep with this fucking ele-, with this fucking lightning playing on her skin. 'fuck Arthur and his stupid made-up words.'

Walking back into her quarters, she grabbed a bottle of Whiteharbor Mead. It wasn't as good as the stuff from home, but it was fine stuff nonetheless. Unceremoniously she popped the cork out and started knocking the sweet alcohol back, filling up her empty stomach with the empty liquid as she sat at her desk and listened to Jolk snore like the dumb ox he was.

Whatever the hells was going on, she hoped it didn't upset the wedding.