Disclaimer: I own nothing but my original characters and works; all other characters and worlds belong to their respective owners. I'm just playing with them.
Betad by Priapus, Beans, Mike God of Lore, Marethyu, Old man of the mountain
The Unbound
Chapter 07: First Meeting
– Margaery Tyrell –
She knew some people might complain about 'impropriety' over her going on a late-night walk with Orys alone, despite how soon they were going to be married, but she was just pleased to get a chance to speak with him alone as they headed to the gardens of the Red Keep.
They were nice, admittedly, though they paled in comparison to Highgarden. This one in particular was a small but undeniably well-maintained and diverse garden reserved for the Royal family. Myrcella had mentioned it, but she had to admit she was mildly impressed as Orys led her to a small bench under the starlight.
"Honestly, I don't know where to begin," Orys finally admitted with a boyish chuckle, making her giggle slightly. "I've heard so much about you, and I won't deny that the talk of your beauty was underselling it, if anything, but I don't know where to begin with this. Most betrothed meet long before their wedding, not merely days."
As he spoke, he sat down on the bench, and she took her place next to him with an understanding smile.
"I feel the same. I know you were raised at Casterly Rock, that you're a wonderful hunter and that you are as handsome as I've heard, but beyond that? I'm as lost as you are," Margaery admitted with a delicate shrug, a small smile touching her lips. "It's why I've been interrogating Myrcella all night, not that she doesn't enjoy a chance to boast of her big brother."
Orys chuckled at that. She knew he'd worked out why she'd approached Myrcella, so it was better to admit it rather than just pretend she was only trying to be Myrcella's friend. That wasn't to say she didn't enjoy Myrcella's company, but even Myrcella had worked out that her main intention was to find out more about Orys.
"She seems fond of you," Orys replied, gazing back toward the feast for a moment with a chuckle. Somehow, she knew that Myrcella was currently trying to convince Arya and Sansa to let her sneak away to spy on them. "I'm glad. I missed most of her life, being away at Casterly Rock, but I get the feeling she's more lonely than she'd admit."
Margaery smiled softly at that, taking a chance as she placed her hand on his. He paused, looking down at it before he turned his hand over and interlaced their fingers.
"What are you expecting out of this, Margaery?" Orys finally asked, being more blunt than she expected, as she tilted her head slightly. "Neither of us had much of a choice in this marriage, but what are you hoping for from it?"
Margaery went quiet for a moment, a comfortable silence falling as she looked up at the night sky. Orys didn't rush her for an answer, just relaxing and enjoying the moment. She appreciated the moment to think about her answer.
"My father has always hoped to make me Queen," Margaery finally said, making him turn to her curiously. "Not just for the good of my House, but for my own good. I may not have had the final say, but he wouldn't have arranged this if I wasn't willing. All my life, I've known that my family wanted to put a crown on my head."
Orys didn't respond, simply listening as he could tell she wasn't done even as she took a moment to gather her thoughts. A Tyrell on the throne, or at least married into the royal family, had been their dream for longer than she'd been alive.
"But I've seen so many betrothed couples who can barely stand each other's company," Margaery continued, a frown crossing her face for just a moment. "I don't want that for me. For us. We might not have chosen each other, but I don't want a husband who only spends time with me when he has to, avoiding me for the rest of our lives."
"Any man would find it hard to ignore you, Margaery," Orys complimented, making her smile as she turned to him. She was fairly certain he didn't share his uncle's tastes, given the looks they'd shared through the night, and she certainly didn't mind his praise as he brushed a loose lock of hair behind her ear.
"I'm glad you think so, Orys. Believe me, it's mutual," Margaery admitted, squeezing his hand for a moment. "But while mutual attraction helps, it's not everything. I'm sure you won't mind sharing a bed with me, but I don't want to be a bedwarmer, or the pretty little flower hanging off your arm. If I'm to be Queen, I want it to be more than just a title."
A part of her said this was the wrong way to approach this. Many men didn't like their women to be outspoken, preferring quiet, obedient girls. Maybe it was too soon to say something like this, but Orys didn't seem displeased. His mother was the type of Queen she was discussing, Robert's equal, ruling beside him.
"It's funny. I said something similar to my mother not long before we met. That I didn't want a wife that I'd only spend time with when I was forced to for events and appearances," Orys admitted with a warm chuckle. "I don't want my partner to be someone I merely tolerate, and who tolerates me in turn."
She smiled brighter at that, hearing the genuine tone. He wasn't merely echoing her words to flatter her.
"I didn't pick you, true, but then that was always going to be the reality for me. I'm the Crown Prince, I don't get to marry out of love alone," Orys continued, taking a moment to consider his words as she had. "But that doesn't mean I don't want more than just a political match. I want someone to support me, to cover where I am weak and be there for me through the good and the bad. I want a wife I can truly say I love."
"And do you think you can love me?" Margaery asked, her tone playful as he chuckled again.
"I don't know, but I'm looking forward to finding out. Myrcella seems to like you, so you're off to a good start," Orys teased, nudging her with his shoulder. "Tell me, what is Highgarden like? How do our gardens compare to your legendary home?"
"Would you be offended if I said they paled in comparison? This is a very nice garden, probably the nicest in the Crownlands, and I doubt you'd find any better North of here, but Highgarden is just… majestic," Margaery admitted with a look of pride. "I've heard some people say the Dornish Water Gardens are better than Highgarden, but I just can't believe that there's anywhere in the world as beautiful."
"I won't take offence, I'll simply have to ask that one day, you show me so I can see for myself" Orys suggested, making her beam. "For now, I'll simply have to take your word for it, after all… I've already seen the beauty that grows in the Reach."
As he spoke, he brushed his finger against her cheek, and she decided to take another chance. Leaning up, she captured his lips in a brief kiss, an impish smile on her face as he blinked in shock. It was somewhat improper, despite their future marriage, but she was fairly certain she had a good read on him. His shock faded to amusement, and something deeper in his gaze, as they talked of their pasts, hers in the Reach and his in Casterly Rock.
They didn't kiss again, but a mutual attraction lingered between them, their bodies just a little closer than needed as she felt his warmth keeping her comfortable in the cold of the night. She didn't bring up Queen Cersei or the Queen's clear issue with her, or the rivalry between the Lannister and Tyrell Houses, instead, just focusing on learning more about her future husband as he did the same with her.
– Myrcella Baratheon –
"No."
"I'm a Princess, you can't say no to me," Myrcella tried, getting a bored and highly unimpressed look from Arya, who just stared her down.
"You sound like Joffrey," Arya replied bluntly, making her wince as Sansa looked over to where Joffrey was scowling. It looked like he was just scowling in general instead of being angry because he heard them. "And I can't, but Orys can, and he said to keep you here."
Sansa giggled as Myrcella pouted slightly, disappointed in her friend's unwillingness to spy on Orys. Tommen was nice, but he was so shy and tried to keep his head down, usually because Joffrey would take offence to him getting attention. Joffrey was… Joffrey, and she'd long since realised she didn't like or want to spend time with him. Orys was someone she'd only really heard of, gone when she was too young to really remember him, but as he returned, she quickly found that he was her favourite brother.
But then he'd fallen sick, like she'd heard rumours of him doing when he was a baby. Watching him go so pale, sweating and barely able to stay awake had made her truly panic for the first time. She hated it, even if it was nice to have him resting his head in her lap for the trip.
And then he was better again; more than that, he was stronger than ever. He'd been distant and hesitant when he'd first returned to King's Landing. Like he didn't really know how to talk to his own family, but after he got better, he was so much more confident. He didn't hesitate to tease her, but not cruelly like Joffrey, and was happy to spend time with her.
Sansa seemed jealous of Margaery, but then Joffrey wasn't taking her on late-night walks. Arya merely seemed amused, shutting down her next argument (it would be funny) with no hesitation. People hadn't missed that Orys seemed to favour Arya, which had caused a lot of other noble daughters to try to get into Arya's good graces (much to Arya's confusion and discomfort).
She'd only heard of what happened with Arya's friend from the two, but they both made Orys sound so gallant, like a true Prince from her storybooks. She was glad that he was going to be King, not Joffrey.
But right now, her favourite brother was spending time alone with his beautiful future wife, probably kissing, and she wasn't there to tease them. She had a duty to perform, but Arya was an immovable object, steadfast in the duty Orys had given her.
Pouting slightly, she worked on her next attempt to convince Arya as the night progressed.
– Orys Baratheon –
Waking up, I stretch slightly. It's later than I normally wake up at, but I did have a fairly late night so I'm not that surprised. I suspect mother ordered the servants to let me sleep in as they're normally here by now.
Getting out of bed, I wander over to the window and look out at the city with a small smile. Margaery is impressive. Intelligent, ambitious and undeniably beautiful. Whether she's trustworthy is still to be seen, but she has all the makings of a powerful queen.
The main question is whether her loyalty to her family will become a problem. It's good to be loyal to your house, but I'll have to watch out for her using her new position to benefit the Tyrells to the detriment of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. To her credit, she didn't bring up Loras last night, beyond mentioning him when she was telling me about her family.
That doesn't mean she doesn't plan to, but she's smart enough not to rush things at any rate.
I get dressed and enjoy the chance to dress myself instead of being hounded by servants who think I can't put on my trousers without putting them on backwards and then hanging myself with the belt.
A knock on the door distracts me as I finish putting on my top, calling for them to enter as my mother strolls in with someone trailing behind. Instantly, I pause as I spot her curly black hair and fierce blue eyes. She's dressed like a maid, but I've not seen her around before.
"I see you're finally awake," Cersei lightly scolds as I chuckle.
"I suspect I woke up earlier than father, at least," I retort, getting a wry look from her.
"You'd be wrong there. Your little joke seems to have awoken something in him. He was running off to the training grounds to play with his warhammer right after daybreak. I pity Lord Stark, having to be dragged along on Robert's nostalgia trip," Cersei says with a fond sigh.
"I pity whoever is training with Father more. He's still got some of his old strength, and he's still the King," I say with a shrug. They can't exactly fight back properly while the old man swings his warhammer around like a wildman from the North.
Cersei just laughs at that, stepping aside to let the new girl step forward. She's beautiful, and her outfit is just a little too tight, but it's her face that makes me pause… because she looks like an older Myrcella. Same blue eyes, same facial structure, and that hair… Cersei nods, seeing my suspicion.
"Orys, this is Bella. I've decided that you should have your own servants, given your age," Cersei explains, only adding to my suspicions.
"Just Bella?" I ask, making Bella hesitate.
"Bella Rivers, Your Highness," Bella says, her tone soft and nervous. Rivers, meaning a bastard of the Riverlands.
"And where are you from, Bella Rivers?" I ask, looking at the outline of a stag behind her. One of Father's bastards, surely.
"Stoney Sept, Your Highness," Bella explains, essentially confirming my suspicions. Which is the location where the Battle of the Bells took place, something my father has told me about. I give my mother a questioning look, and she simply nods.
"Mother?" I ask, my tone stern and inquisitive.
"You've more or less worked it out. Bella is your half-sister, from one of your father's indiscretions," Cersei admits. "He was displeased to know what career path she had found herself in, and I suggested bringing her to King's Landing. She hasn't been legitimised, but she has been officially recognised as his daughter."
Not officially a Baratheon, then. Not yet, at any rate.
"Then welcome the Red Keep, Bella. I can't say I didn't suspect I had some more siblings out there, given my father's past reputation, so it's a pleasure to meet you," I say calmly. She's no threat to my rule, and from mother's words I suspect she was a whore before she was brought here. Probably the daughter of one, as well.
I can't say I disagree with Father's displeasure at someone with royal blood selling their body in a brothel.
"Thank you, Your Highness," Bella says, trying to curtsey. It's a good attempt, but something she was clearly trained to do very recently, from her clumsy movement.
"She's still undergoing training to ensure she is adequately trained to serve a prince, but I wanted to introduce you," Cersei explains, making me nod. "Breakfast has been delayed, but you are expected to attend in an hour."
"I'll be there," I confirm, watching her leave, but not before I spot the slight smirk on her lips. What is she up to? She's scheming something with Bella, but I can't quite work out what just from the auras.
"Is there anything you require, Your Highness?" Bella asks, looking a little lost as she scans the room.
"Not right now. It must have been quite the change, leaving Stoney Sept for the Red Keep," I probe, making her nod quickly.
"Ay- I mean, it was, Your Highness. I didn't quite believe the messenger at first, but some of the older whores confirmed that my mother was King Robert's favourite," Bella admits, confirming my suspicion on how she's taken care of herself. "But I know how lucky I am to have this chance. I won't let you, or her Majesty, down, I promise. If you need anything at all, you need only say the word, Your Highness. I'd be honoured to help you, however I can."
So, Mother suggests I get some experience, offers herself, and then brings a former whore to be my maid. A maid who has clearly been told to see to all my needs. A maid who is my half-sister, and indulging in that temptation would… open me up to the idea of bedding Cersei herself.
Is that it? No, that's part of it, but I'm sure she's up to more than that.
"I appreciate that, Bella," I say smoothly, none of my suspicions showing on my face or in my tone. Watching as Bella rushes to make my bed, I do feel my eyes briefly drawn to her curves as she bends over, and I make no effort to hide it as she spots me watching.
For a moment, she pauses before she arches her back just a little move, hips swaying in my direction as she works. I don't mention it, and neither does she, as I prepare for breakfast.
– Later –
"I swear to the Gods, I will raze those fucking islands to the ground. I'll send Balon to the depths myself, laughing as he screams for his squid god to help him," Robert swears, red-faced as he smashes his hand down on the table. Breakfast was… delayed by some news from the North, and Margaery gives me a questioning look as I guide her to follow me into the Small Council chambers. "I told you we should put that fucking squid down, that Balon couldn't be trusted! I told Jon we should just slaughter the iron bastards to the last."
My arrival draws some attention, even distracting my father from his rage for a moment as they look from me to my betrothed by my side. Margarey sinks back, falling behind me slightly at the looks, but they don't question my decision to bring her as two chairs are procured for us. The only one who could would be my father, and he doesn't even look twice at her.
"Father, I've heard from Mother. A new Greyjoy rebellion?" I ask, making him growl and nod.
"We don't know if it's a full rebellion yet, but they are raiding the North in increased numbers after Balon's son died while a hostage of the Starks," Varys explains quietly, getting a look from Lord Stark.
"How could you let this happen, Ned? I told you to keep a close eye on the fucking squid. Some Greyjoy shit gets killed in a brothel, sticking his tiny dick in the wrong girl, and the Greyjoy's think that's enough for them to commit treason?" Robert snarls, his warhammer resting against the table.
…the Greyjoy died in a brothel? I carefully avoid looking at Littlefinger, having zero proof, but my investigations have shown just how widespread his network of whorehouses is.
As the conversation (and my father) rages, I hesitate for a moment, but Margaery takes my hand into hers under the table and gives it a small squeeze of encouragement. She's already worryingly good at reading me.
"Lord Stark, how prepared are your people for their raids?" I ask, keeping my tone calm as Ned Stark turns to me.
"Our banners weren't ready, but my son, Robb, has begun to gather them. We can hold our own, but the Ironborn are hitting poorly defended locations and fleeing back to the seas before we can retaliate," Ned admits, causing my father to spit out the word 'cowards'. "The North has no real fleet, and can't take the fight to the Ironborn in Pyke."
"Uncle, how soon can we have the royal fleet in the North?" I ask, turning to Uncle Stannis, who frowns thoughtfully.
"I keep them prepared, but it will take time to muster them. I believe I can send enough North to… discourage the Greyjoy from raiding by the end of the month," Stannis explains with his usual no-nonsense attitude.
"Father, I suggest we do so. Send our fleet to guard the North's borders and force Balon to the table. If he attacks them, it is treason, and he'll meet his God sooner than he hoped. We can't sit back and let the Ironborn rape and pillage one of our Kingdoms," I say, making Robert take a deep breath, still redfaced and clenching his fists before he nods.
"Stannis, put those fucking squids in their place. If they attack the royal fleet, I'll finish what we should have done when Greyjoy's rebellion failed," Robert orders. "Ned, get your men to work with him and fortify your coasts while the fleet buys you the time you need."
Ned nods, giving me a grateful look as I watch the auras of the council carefully. Most lighten as Robert calms down, one darkens. Why are you unhappy, Littlefinger?
"I can blockade them onto their islands," Stannis agrees, the tiniest hint of approval on his face. "We showed them before that we can outmanoeuvre them on the seas. The Ironborn are no true warriors; they are undisciplined and too used to raiding for a real, prolonged battle."
"You finally get to play with your ships, eh, Stannis?" Renly asks playfully, getting a tired, annoyed look from Stannis. "Do you think Greyjoy will be stupid enough to try another rebellion? It's barely been ten years since his last failed attempt."
"That fucking squid only bent the knee to save his filthy neck. He probably celebrated when he heard his useless shit of a son died so stupidly, finally giving him a reason to cause chaos again," Robert growls. "He's a bitter old cunt who never got over the thrashing we gave him. King of the Iron Islands, my hairy, fat arse. They've probably been preparing for round two since the moment the Rebellion ended."
"If he's foolish enough to attack our fleets, it'll be the end of House Greyjoy. Two rebellions in ten years is more than enough for us to put an end to them," I point out, making my father smile darkly, one hand stroking his warhammer, clearly picturing splitting Balon's skull open with it.
The conversation moves on to planning out our response, and I relax slightly as I listen carefully. They might be raiders, but the Ironborn are known for their prowess on the seas. If this becomes a full war, it's going to be a messy one, even if the Ironborn would almost certainly lose. I speak up a few times, but for the most part, I settle in and listen to the older and more experienced men. Uncle Stannis is in his element, and he even seems pleased that I'm putting this on his shoulders.
With the knowledge that we'll be reacting, Father calms down enough for the Small Council to plan our response to the Ironborn. Apparently, Theon Greyjoy had snuck out to get his dick wet without telling anyone, and while the Starks had a duty to keep him safe as a hostage, and he did die in Winter Town, right outside Winterhold, it's enough to partially cover for their fuck up. If Balon had come to the crown demanding retribution or compensation for his son's death, he'd have certainly gotten something, but that's not their way.
They don't ask for things, they take what they think is theirs.
The meeting passes, with Stannis setting out to prepare our fleets. I think he's glad to be getting away from King's Landing. Father leaves with Ned, reminiscing about the good old days when he could have picked up his hammer and sailed North to beat Balon to death himself.
"I have to say, it was a surprise to see you at the council meeting, Lady Tyrell," Varys simpers.
"She's to be Queen, isn't she? I attend these meetings to better learn the realm I'm going to rule, why wouldn't she learn beside me when she will rule by my side?" I ask, getting a strange smile from him. Varys is the one person I truly cannot read. I'm sure he still has some lingering loyalty to the Targaryen, but it's almost like the dragon behind him is sleeping. Whatever he is truly loyal to, I don't think it is any one House.
Margaery smiles at me, confirming that I invited her to join me. I can tell some people are already questioning that decision, especially with the Tyrell and Lannister feud currently raging, but I've made my decision.
"You spoke well today, nephew," Renly says with a smile, his eyes flickering to Margaery for a moment. "Not many can get His Grace to see reason."
"I said what he wanted to hear, that we should do something about the Ironborn," I say with a shrug. "I'm sure Father would prefer to raid the Iron Islands and tear down Pyke to the last brick, and frankly, he might still get his chance if Balon doesn't back down."
"I've met the man; backing down isn't his style. His own people might just throw him into the sea for their Drowned God if he did so a second time," Renly points out, making me sigh and run a hand through my hair.
"Then nobody will be able to say the reckoning we deliver upon them isn't justified," I retort, making him chuckle. I'm giving Balon a chance to back down, if he doesn't take it, it's his own damn fault what happens next.
"Extending a hand in peace, while keeping your other ready to beat them if they don't take it? You'll make a fine king," Renly jokes, his eyes glancing at the other people in the room for a moment. "Can we talk, Nephew? In private, though Margaery is welcome to join us."
Agreeing, I follow him to a smaller room.
"I didn't suggest this marriage because of my relationship with Loras," Renly says bluntly, making me pause and raise an eyebrow in surprise. "I genuinely thought Margaery would be a good match for you."
"So, you are with Loras then?" I ask, and Renly doesn't hesitate to nod and admit to his 'deviancy'. "I don't hold your preferences against you. Honestly, I can't blame you too much. These Tyrell flowers are too damn pretty."
At my joke, Margaery giggles and relaxes slightly, and I can see some of the tension leave Renly.
"I didn't believe that you were being blackmailed or betraying the family by conspiring with the Tyrells, Renly, and anyone can see that the Tyrells are a good match. It doesn't take a genius to know who made your… open secret into a far more damaging scandal," I admit, running my hand through my hair again. It's a bad habit grandfather used to scold me for, because it shows when I'm stressed and exposes weakness.
"Tywin isn't exactly subtle, but then he doesn't have to be," Renly half-jokes, clearly a little stressed.
"He's afraid that having Loras be your Sworn Shield while I'm your wife would give us too much influence over you," Margaery admits, squeezing my hand. "If it hadn't hurt my brother, I'd almost be impressed by how easily Tywin bared his fangs."
"He shamed Loras publicly, humiliated him, and me, to get a step ahead in this rivalry, and for what? Orys is half-Lannister, raised in Casterly Rock," Renly says, some of his frustration showing. "The High Septon has recommended we both be disowned, to 'set an example' and show that such deviancy won't be tolerated in the Royal family."
"Let me guess, Father politely told him to fuck off?" I ask, making Renly snort and Margaery giggle even as she frowns at the idea of the Faith demanding her brother's disowning.
"Not so politely, but yes," Renly admits with a fond chuckle. "His exact words to me were 'go find some girl, marry her and knock her up and these rumours will stop'. I don't know if he doesn't believe them or simply doesn't care, but either way his lack of interest couldn't be more apparent."
"Somehow, I doubt Lady Tyrell was particularly polite about it either when the High Septon bothered her," I continue, getting a nod from Margaery.
"I've not heard anything, but neither Grandmother nor Father would listen to the High Septon," Margaery confirms. It's entirely possible the High Septon avoided Olenna entirely and sent a message to Mace instead, but I doubt anything will come of it.
"This is just the latest scandal. Give them a week, and the gossipers will find something else to discuss, no matter who is fanning the flames," I say, making Renly nod in agreement. "By the time the tournament comes around, I suspect most of the Knight of Flowers fans will have forgotten the scandal."
"Loras has always loved the crowds, and they've loved him right back," Margaery agrees with a warm smile.
"As for my Sworn Shield? I'm going to choose my own from the tournament. Everything else has been decided for me, but at least this I've decided to choose for myself. It might be Loras, it might be some formerly no-name knight who catches my eye with their showing," I say easily, seeing the understanding on Renly's face.
"Considering it seems like half the Seven Kingdoms are showing up, you'll have quite the buffet to choose from," Renly agrees, patting me on the shoulder. "I just wanted to make sure this mess wasn't dampening your upcoming marriage, but it seems I was worried for nothing."
His eyes flicker down to where I'm still holding Margaery's hand, but I just smile.
As we say our goodbyes, I know that my closeness to Margaery has already started to spread. I see no reason to hide it, and Myrcella gives us a big grin as she spots us entering for the very late breakfast, still clasping hands.
"Did you kiss?" Myrcella asks immediately, making me laugh and ruffle her hair just a bit harder than necessary, messing up her neatly combed hair.
"A gentleman does not kiss and tell," I retort as I take my seat, gesturing for the servants to get a chair for Margaery to sit next to me.
"We kissed," Margaery confirms with an impish smile, as I realise my mistake.
Margaery on one side, Myrcella on the other, the gossip begins and I find myself longing for the tension of the Small Council chamber once more.
– Bonus Scene — Daenerys Targaryen
Her 'marriage' to the horse lord had come with a mountain of gifts, so many lords of Essos paying lip service to her (and to the powerful, dangerous man she'd been sold off to). It should have been the alleged Dragon Eggs that drew her attention; they'd certainly gotten Viserys' attention, but for her, it was something else that drew her gaze.
She didn't know who the hooded woman was, but her explanation of the beautiful golden blade being created by dragons had called to her as the woman handed it to her, hilt first. When Daenerys placed her hand upon it, she felt the heat of the foreign-looking blade travel up her arm and ignite her heart.
She never even noticed the woman slip away as she stared at Goldbrand, and nobody seemed to know who she was, or had even seen her to begin with.
Viserys had tried to lay claim to it, but for the first time in years, she stood up to him and refused. He stepped forward in anger, raising his hand to strike her for 'waking the dragon'. Khal Drogo punched him in the stomach, sending Viserys stumbling back, shocked and confused.
Her brother stared at her in shock, betrayal and fury, but she didn't back down and told him that it was her wedding gift, along with the Dragon Eggs. Not his. He went to argue, but surrounded by the Dothraki riders he once swore he'd let fuck her to get his army, all of them glaring and defending their new khaleesi, her brother's fury faded from an inferno to a pathetic, sputtering flame and died out entirely, backing away in cowardice.
It caused the fire in her heart to grow all the stronger, stroking the blade and admiring the way it felt warm to her touch.