Chapter 55: Chapter 54 - The Maiden Of The Vale
124 AC
The sixteenth day of the tenth moon
Jeyne Pov
The world around me was shrouded in darkness, my heart pounded in my chest like a frenzied beast trying to escape. The pain in my arm throbbed relentlessly, a constant reminder of the chaos that had unfolded. Bound and helpless, I could only rely on my instincts to survive.
The horse I was on seemed to gallop endlessly, and with every jarring movement, fresh waves of pain shot through my injured arm. I desperately wished I could escape this nightmare, but the tight restraints ensured I couldn't even lift a finger to defend myself.
Blindfolded, I was left to imagine the horrors around me. The darkness became an ally to my fears, amplifying every sound, every whisper of the wind, and every creak of leather. I couldn't see the raiders who had attacked, but their sinister presence loomed over me, their intentions lurking in the shadows.
The taste of blood lingered in my mouth, and I could feel its warm, sticky presence on my face. I must have been injured in the attack, but my memory was hazy, my mind trying to shield me from the true horror of the events that had unfolded the night before.
I struggled to recall what had led to this ongoing nightmare. Fear consumed me, wrapping its icy fingers around my heart, and the sense of vulnerability was overwhelming. My mind raced with thoughts of what they might do to me, my imagination conjuring up the worst possibilities. Would I ever see Jessamyn again or was this the end of my journey?
I felt the weight of the world upon me, the burden of uncertainty and the pain of loss. The unknown future stretched before me like a bottomless abyss, and I was at the mercy of merciless strangers.
As the horse continued to carry me, I tried to make sense of my surroundings. The landscape felt unfamiliar, and the distant echoes of laughter and harsh words sent shivers down my spine. Each passing moment only intensified my fear, and I longed to break free from the ropes that held me captive.
After what felt like an eternity, the horse finally stopped, and I was roughly pulled down from its back. The blindfold was ripped away, leaving my eyes stinging from the sudden exposure to the dimly lit surroundings. Before me, a grim scene unfolded—the flickering flames of a fire danced amidst the gathering of thirty to forty men, their voices blending into an eerie chorus of conspiratorial whispers and drunken revelry.
I gazed upon the faces of these men and my heart sank with terror. They were not mere mountain clansmen as I had expected. Instead, I saw hardened mercenaries, their eyes reflecting a darkness that sent chills down my spine. Some appeared to be knights, their armor glinting in the firelight, a silent testament to their deadly prowess. I knew in my gut that these were not men to be trifled with.
But the most chilling sight was that of a familiar figure standing before me—the one I had once called cousin, Arnold. His face bore a wicked smirk, and my blood ran cold as the realization struck me that he was the traitor behind all of this.
"Arnold, what is the meaning of this? Release me at once!" I demanded, my voice trembling with both fear and anger.
The sound of Arnold's laughter echoed ominously through the cold, desolate night. My heart pounded in my chest, and a sense of hopelessness washed over me. I tried to muster strength from within, my voice quivering as I confronted him.
"I forgave your treachery, Arnold," I stammered, attempting to reason with the darkness in front of me. "I spared your life instead of condemning you to the Wall or to the headsman's block."
His eyes narrowed, seething with anger, as if my mercy only fueled his desire for vengeance. "Stop pitying me, you wretch! You usurped my rightful position. I was supposed to be the Warden of the Vale, not you!" he snarled, the hatred in his voice palpable.
My mind raced, trying to make sense of the horrifying truth. My own cousin had betrayed me, and now he sought to silence me forever. "Kinslayer!" I accused him, my voice filled with desperation and fear.
His lips curled into a malevolent grin. "I will not be the one to end your miserable life," he declared with a sinister calmness, his words chilling me to the core. "No, I have gathered a legion of men here who will relish the opportunity to spill your blood."
A wave of terror crashed over me, knowing that I was surrounded by heartless mercenaries and bloodthirsty knights, all eager to carry out his sadistic plan. My hands trembled, the realization of my impending doom sinking in like a weight on my soul.
"you should feel grateful", he said.
"Grateful?" I shouted back, incredulous. "Grateful for what? For the cruelty you're about to unleash upon me?"
Arnold's eyes gleamed with a sadistic delight. "Oh, no, cousin. Grateful for sparing you from the worst fate. I could have allowed my men to have their way with you, to subject you to the cruelest of tortures," he hissed, savoring the torment he was inflicting on my already shattered spirit.
My body shook with fear and revulsion, and I could barely stand on my trembling legs. The darkness around us seemed to close in, suffocating me, as the glow of the fire highlighted the depravity in my cousin's eyes.
"I will never be grateful to a monster like you!" I mustered the strength to retort, my voice quivering with defiance.
Arnold's laughter rang out once more, a chilling symphony of madness and malice.
The tormenting pain in my arm and head seemed unbearable, but it was nothing compared to the agony within my heart. As the cruel words of my cousin, Arnold, echoed in my mind, tears welled up in my eyes, blurring the world around me. I felt utterly betrayed, abandoned by the family I once trusted. The young man with pink hair, tried his best to tend to my wounds, his eyes showing an empathy I had not expected.
He gently tore the dress to access my bleeding elbow, and though his touch was tender, it couldn't mend the broken trust that lay shattered within me. As he bandaged my head, the flow of blood slowed, but my soul remained wounded, unable to find solace amidst the darkness that enveloped me.
"Please save me," I whispered, my voice trembling with vulnerability, hoping for a glimmer of compassion from the silent young man. His eyes met mine, and for a moment, I thought I saw understanding and sadness reflected in them. It was as if he sensed the despair that clung to my soul.
But my fragile hope was short-lived. The harsh words of one of the mercenaries, a cruel reminder of my dire situation, shattered any remnants of optimism. "He is fucking mute, you bitch," he callously remarked before returning to his revelry, showing no concern for the pain in my heart.
My tears fell freely now, mingling with the blood on my cheeks. I felt utterly alone, surrounded by heartless mercenaries, a mute companion, and the haunting memories of the cousin I once loved. The weight of betrayal crushed me, and I cried out softly, my voice filled with anguish and sorrow.
My tears fell freely now, mingling with the blood on my cheeks. I felt utterly alone, surrounded by heartless mercenaries, a mute companion, and the haunting memories of the cousin I once loved. The weight of betrayal crushed me, and I cried out softly, my voice filled with anguish and sorrow.
In that desolate moment, I felt like a lost soul, adrift in a sea of darkness with no guiding light to lead me home. My mind replayed memories of happier times, where laughter and love filled the halls of the keep, now forever tainted by the cruelty that befell me.
As the night wore on, the fire's dying embers mirrored the fading hope within me. I clung to the mute young man's gaze, finding a shred of comfort in his silent companionship, though it couldn't heal the wounds of treachery and loss.
In this forsaken place, where evil danced alongside shadows, my heart cried for a salvation that seemed far out of reach. The world around me seemed to fade into a haze of despair, as I clung to the last threads of hope, praying for a miracle to rescue me from the darkness that threatened to consume my soul.
Four days had crawled by since that fateful incident. Arnold no longer saw fit to blindfold me, perhaps taking sadistic pleasure in watching me bear witness to my own despair. Instead, I found myself riding alongside the young man with pink hair, whom I now knew was Tyroshi, according to the whispers that traveled among the mercenaries.
I had come to rely on him during those treacherous days. Though mute, his presence provided a strange comfort amidst the relentless chaos that surrounded us. He would offer me small nods and gestures, as if trying to assure me that he understood my pain, even without words.
The wounds from the attack still stung, both physical and emotional. My arm ached, a constant reminder of the cruelty that had befallen me at the hands of those I once called kin. And my heart felt heavy, burdened by the weight of the betrayal I had endured.
Yet, in the midst of this darkness, I found myself drawn to the pink-haired Tyroshi. His sad eyes spoke volumes, and I wondered about the hardships he had endured, the pain he might have suffered. It was as if our silent souls had formed an unspoken bond, finding solace in each other's silent company.
As we rode together through the rugged terrain, the world seemed to blur into a haze. I barely noticed the passing landscape, my mind consumed by memories of happier times—of sunlit meadows and warm embraces that felt like distant dreams now.
Deep into the treacherous heart of the Mountains of the Moon, our journey had taken us. The winding paths seemed to lead to nowhere but oblivion, and the eerie silence of the desolate landscape sent shivers down my spine. It became painfully evident to me what Arnold's sinister plan entailed – he intended to end my life in this unforgiving terrain and then lay the blame on the mountain clans.
After Arnold and his men had finished setting up camp, a chill settled in the air, mirroring the coldness that had engulfed my heart. He approached me with an air of malevolence, his eyes dancing with delight at the prospect of my demise. "It is time, cousin," he sneered, his devilish grin sending a shiver down my spine.
With a cruel command, he made me walk towards the base of the mountain, flanked by two of his knights and the pink-haired Tyroshi. The rain began to fall, a somber accompaniment to the impending tragedy that was about to unfold. My mind wandered back to my family, my parents and brothers who had left this world too soon. I could barely remember them, yet the thought of joining them in the afterlife brought a sense of solace amidst the impending darkness.
As we approached a clear opening in the midst of the mountains, Arnold issued a chilling decree. "Bend down," he ordered, and I complied, lowering my head to meet the cold, hard ground beneath me. The mountains loomed before me, their majestic beauty a stark contrast to the cruelty of the moment.
A moment of clarity washed over me as I closed my eyes, accepting my fate with a heavy heart. I knew there was no escape, no last-minute savior coming to my rescue. My life had come full circle, a tragic tale of betrayal and loss, leading me to this desolate moment.
In those final seconds, my mind conjured an image of Jessamyn, my lover, her face radiant with love and laughter. Oh, how I longed to see her one last time, to feel her lips against mine, to whisper words of love and farewell. But that dream was beyond reach, and my heart broke at the thought of leaving her without a proper goodbye.
The sound of Arnold's voice pierced the silence, pulling me back to the grim reality. "Kill her, Tyroshi," he commanded, a glint of malice in his eyes. I turned my gaze towards the young man with pink hair, and there, in his eyes, I saw the torment and anguish he carried, forced into this cruel act.
In that poignant moment, I understood that the Tyroshi was no less a victim of Arnold's treachery than I was. His pain mirrored my own, and I could not harbor any resentment towards him. Instead, I wished that somehow, in the depths of his silent soul, he knew that I forgave him.
With trembling hands, I placed my head down, closing my eyes for the last time. My heart ached with the yearning for one final moment, one last memory of love before departing this world. But all I could do was imagine Jessamyn's sweet embrace and hope that in some distant realm, our souls would find each other again.
The weight of acceptance settled upon me, and as the rain continued to fall, I let go of the fear and embraced the bittersweet peace that came with knowing my journey would soon end. In the face of darkness, I found a sliver of light, the knowledge that love transcended even death's grasp. And with that, I whispered my silent goodbye to the world, to Jessamyn, and to the life that had been stolen from me.
The moment felt suspended in time as I awaited the inevitable, but the heavens seemed to conspire in our favor. Instead of the dreaded sword's descent, screams of agony echoed around us. My eyes opened wide, and the scene before me became surreal—a scene of chaos and retribution.
Two of the knights that Arnold had enlisted lay motionless in their own blood, felled by an unknown force. My gaze instinctively turned towards the pink-haired Tyroshi, who now stood over Arnold. The sight was nothing short of shocking. Arnold clutched his mangled hand, his expression twisted with fear and disbelief.
"What the fuck are you doing, you fool? You work for me!" Arnold's voice trembled with a mix of rage and terror.
The Tyroshi laughed, his voice filled with righteous contempt. "You are filth, of the worst kind, Ser Arnold," he pronounced boldly. "You were going to kill your own cousin for power; you do not deserve to live."
Fear now etched deeply on Arnold's face as he demanded to know the identity of the man who had so bravely turned the tide against him. "Who are you?" he stammered.
"I am Ulf, son of Mary of Dragonstone!" he proclaimed, his voice resonating with a strength that seemed to echo through the very mountains themselves. "I am the White Knight and I am the one who will end your pathetic excuse of a life!"
In a swift and vengeful motion, Ser Ulf swung his sword, severing Arnold's head from his body, ending the malevolent reign of my treacherous cousin in a single, chilling stroke. I stood there, frozen in shock, my mind struggling to process the swift justice that had unfolded before my eyes.
As the rain continued to fall, I found myself drawn to Ser Ulf. His lilac eyes, tinged with a mix of intensity and compassion, held my gaze. In that poignant moment, a connection formed between us, one that transcended words, an unspoken understanding of shared pain and the courage to face darkness head-on.
He turned to me, his voice gentle amidst the storm's fury. "Lady Jeyne, we have to leave soon," he said, his concern evident in every syllable. Without hesitation, I found myself drawn to him, seeking refuge in his embrace as the rain enveloped us.
In that intimate moment, I felt a newfound sense of safety and trust. Ser Ulf had become my unexpected savior, a knight in shining armor who had appeared from the shadows of despair. My heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that he had risked everything to rescue me from the clutches of doom.
But our respite was brief, as the sound of a horn pierced the air. The mountains came alive with a chorus of battle cries, and to my astonishment, I saw the mountain clans descending upon Arnold's men. It was a shocking turn of events, one I could never have predicted.
As we mounted Ser Ulf's horse and fled, the thundering hooves of our pursuers echoed in our ears, driving us to go faster, to escape the wrath of the mountain clans and the mercenaries who had once served Arnold.
With every stride, my admiration for Ser Ulf grew. His bravery and unwavering commitment to justice had saved me, and in the midst of this tumultuous escape, I knew that my life had been forever altered by this enigmatic White Knight.
In the heart of adversity, a profound connection had been forged, a bond that defied the odds and brought two souls together in the face of darkness. As we galloped on, the rain and the wind whipping around us, I clung tightly to Ser Ulf, knowing that he was the beacon of hope in this whirlwind of chaos.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
Last_Quincy
Last_Quincy There you have it folks Ulf managed to save Jeyne from the clutches of her power-hungry cousin but will he be able to keep her safe from the mountain clans? Let me know your thoughts
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone