Leia Baratheon stood at the window. She was watching the harsh coastline of Storm's End, turning over in her mind how good it would be to sail away across the endless sea and leave every last responsibility behind. The cries of gulls, the murmur of fishermen, the low noise of soldiers — all of it drifted in through the open window, carried on the salt smell of the sea.
Her uncle came into the room. Leia turned at the sound of him, and saw the letter in his hand.
"It has come, niece." She had never seen him this happy. He was usually cold and grave, but this letter had put him in high spirits.
"The Arryns have replied," he continued. "They are ready for the betrothal."
"A... already?" A sudden pressure seized Leia's chest.
"Yes. Already." The smile faded a little from her uncle's face. "Are you not pleased?"
"Of course. It is only... rather sudden." Leia lowered her head.
Her uncle stepped closer and drew her into an embrace.
"It must happen. The whole realm rests on this marriage."
"And if I do not want it?" Leia asked, after swallowing hard. Her uncle released her. He looked down at her, took her chin in his hand, lifted it, and continued:
"Then you abandon a realm." He turned on his heel and left the room.
Leia hated the weight of it — hated that she had to carry something she had never asked for. Since the Thief King had stripped Leia's father, Richard Baratheon, of his throne and abolished the law of elected rule, the southern houses had been whispering for years that she was the rightful ruler. Some had shouted it. Others had been killed for saying it.
That was fifteen years ago. Leia had been an infant. Since then the Six Kingdoms had been at war with themselves — those who supported Rhazkaris, and those who did not. She had been the only one they managed to get out of King's Landing that night. Ser Jasper Waynwood, who had been commander of the city watch at the time, had carried her out of the Red Keep.
Leia had asked Ser Jasper to tell her the story dozens of times. He did not like to speak of that evening, but he would do anything for Leia. He had sworn his life to the protection of the royal family — of which the Thief King was emphatically not a member.
The evening had begun like any other. He was giving orders to the men of the city watch, and standing guard himself before the door of Princess Leia's chamber. The air was quiet and still. The nurses were putting Leia to sleep when he heard something wrong. Laeryn Velaryon came looking for him, with a terrible urgency. Laeryn was the King's counsellor, who handled diplomatic affairs inside and outside the realm, and had built up a considerable network of connections in doing so. According to Ser Jasper, Laeryn was the man he trusted most in King's Landing. He held that King's Landing was a pit of vipers, and that every man in it was more treacherous than the last. The news Laeryn brought was that a coup was being organised against the King, and that the Red Keep was already full of men paid by the usurper. Ser Jasper had no time to get Leia's father out, but he got Leia. Disguised, in flight, they left by sea — the city whose princess she had so recently been.
Laeryn Velaryon was still the King's counsellor, still managing the diplomatic affairs of the realm — but he was also passing intelligence to the Baratheons and the Arryns through his network. According to Ser Jasper, he was a master of deception and the realm's most faithful servant. What that meant, taken together, Leia had never quite been certain.
She had never seen him, never spoken to him — and yet she already admired Laeryn Velaryon. Her life was partly owed to him, after all, even if she had not yet had the chance to say so.
He must be brilliant, to deceive the Thief King the way he has, she thought.
Her uncle had told her that the Thief King had taken the heads of every man he had ever bought, because he trusted no man whose loyalty could be purchased. Leia despised the Thief King — and yet she had to admit he was a brilliant mind. She had never understood why anyone would do what he had done.
Leia's eyes grew heavier. The world around her became dim and slow. She sank gradually into the bed, as if something other than herself were moving her limbs. A stag appeared before her. It regarded her with great antlers and a proud gaze, tilting its head slightly to the right, then to the left. It was taller than she was. Its antlers grazed the ceiling. A golden crown rested at its throat. Its eyes burned like the Dornish sun — yet she lost herself in them the way she would in a northern night. The air went cool around her. She heard ravens calling somewhere close, but could not see a single one.
"This is only a dream," Leia whispered. "I am dreaming."
The stag only looked at her, then turned and began to walk. Leia rose and followed — out of the bedchamber, along the highest floor of Storm's End. The stag continued down the stairs, passing the guards in conversation as though they were not there.
"Wait!" she called.
The stag paid no attention. They passed her uncle, too. Leia could hear him talking to Maester Cressen about what to write in the letter to the Arryns. A cramp seized her stomach as they descended toward the base of the tower. The great round tower rang with the storm raging outside.
Storms were a constant at Storm's End — days of them, unrelenting, pitiless. The castle had been built to survive them, and Brandon Stark the Builder had had a hand in its making. Leia had always admired Brandon greatly. She had read a great deal about him. He had lived more than eight thousand years ago. He was the founder of House Stark and the designer of the seven-hundred-foot Wall. She had dreamed since childhood of seeing the Wall with her own eyes. They said you could see the endless Winter from the top of it — the vast wilderness that raged north of the Wall, forests and plains and ranges without end. Some claimed that birds did not fly so high, though Leia found that hard to believe. If she could be a bird, she would fly until she reached the gods. She would speak to them of her father — perhaps even with her father, though she could not remember him.
When they reached the ground floor and passed through into the throne room, the great main door opened. A blinding light poured in. The stag moved toward it, and Leia followed. As she drew closer, the light grew stronger. She raised a hand to shield her eyes. Outside, the storm had stopped. The crash of great raindrops had faded, the lightning and thunder gone silent. It was as though Storm's End itself had finally, after long years, been allowed to breathe. Leia's chest, for the first time in years, was not trying to suffocate her. For the first time in years she did not feel as though the whole Six Kingdoms rested on her alone. Her sad lips finally found their way to a smile.
Voices reached her as she drew near the light. Words. First one, then more, then more still — until she could no longer hear her own thoughts. She pressed her hands over her ears and cried out:
"Enough! Stop!"
The voices stopped all at once. So did the storm. Leia found herself at the top of a tree, the stag nowhere to be seen. She looked around. She could see nothing but the sunset, wrapped around the tree she sat in. Birds were singing nearby.
Then she looked down. She was very frightened. She went still, then softened and began to wonder at the view. Beneath her lay the whole of Westeros. The birdsong shifted suddenly into the cry of ravens. She could see the vast North, as large as all Six Kingdoms put together. She could see the South spread below her, as if it were a map — but it was not just a map. She felt the icy northern wind on her cheek, the burning Dornish sun. Just as she had in the stag's eyes. She could see King's Landing, could feel the intrigue seeping from its walls. The Red Keep's seven round towers, soaring and iron-crowned, the grim gatehouse of pale red stone — and not the glorious Baratheon stag on the banners. Further south she could see the deserts of Dorne and the oasis of Sunspear. She could see Highgarden reaching toward her, still far away. She did not know quite what she was seeing. A map? Or memories that had not yet come to pass? She watched the tall, wise tower of Oldtown — the flame at its highest point had been burning for centuries. The gold mines of Casterly Rock and the Lannister lion. The swarms of ravens nesting among the ruins of Harrenhal's towers. The fearsome fleet of the Iron Islands. The stern gaze of Winterfell, watching over all the North. The Wall, which held back the horror on its other side. Beyond the Wall, for a moment, she caught a figure — a pale, thin man with grey, tangled hair. She could see the Eyrie, where her future husband, her king, stood watching the mountain ridges of the Vale — who could say what he was thinking. Perhaps what lay ahead of him. How good it would be to vanish from all the world's troubles.
Leia sat on the branch for what felt like hours. The stag returned. It was different now. It shone — with a glory that perhaps was the realm itself. Hard to say.
"How beautiful..." Leia whispered, reaching toward it.
"Thank you," it said.
Leia snatched her hand back, startled, then went on:
"You... speak." The stag gave a small nod.
"Is this real?" she asked, still lost in wonder at the view.
"I don't know. Do you think it's real?" the stag replied, answering with a question.
Leia was quiet for a moment, then answered:
"I am dreaming, and yet it feels so real."
"Does dreaming make it less so?"
"Perhaps... I ought to rule over this."
The stag looked down at Westeros.
"Yes. Or no. That is for you to decide."
Leia's eyes brightened.
"But how? My fate is written."
The stag smiled — just barely, in the way a stag can smile.
"Your fate is written, young queen, but perhaps you are searching for it in the wrong direction. You need not rule if you do not wish to — but there will be a cost."
Beneath them, a sudden rumble broke out. Shouting, cursing, suffering. Leia looked down again. Smoke was rising from below. Cities, castles, villages burned. A pile of the dead rose higher than the towers of Harrenhal, higher and higher — until it nearly reached Leia's feet, then vanished, and everything was as it had been moments before. Leia was terrified. Cold ran through her from head to heel.
"This... this is what will happen if I do not rule?" she asked, trembling.
"Perhaps. Or perhaps not. Or perhaps it happens even if you do..." the stag answered, in an unhurried voice.
All at once the stag changed into a man. At first she saw him only dimly, but then more and more clearly. It was her uncle. Steffon Baratheon.
"Good morning, Princess," he smiled at the blinking Leia.
"It has come, niece." Leia frowned, not understanding what was happening. She sat up.
"The Arryns have replied. They are ready for the betrothal." Leia sat on the bed in silence, lost in thought.
"Niece?" Steffon pressed, taking her by the shoulder.
The girl sat still on the bed, deep in thought. The tightness in her chest was still there — but it was no longer entirely unfamiliar.