Northern lights

99. So it begins

Rosalie Stark

Trying to run, Rosalie's dress got caught on the rose thorns, hindering her chances of catching up with the boys. Pouting, she pulls on the dress roughly, yet it doesn't budge. Grinding her teeth, she can feel her hands shaking in rage. Her eyes narrow at the roses, pulling at the skirts once more, finally freeing herself. Huffing, she lifts her chin and sends the rose a final glare before turning back to the path.

As she steps forth, the corners of her lips turn upwards as she finds one of the boys have waited. After all, they are guests and likely didn't know where to run, but she found herself grinning as the boy outstretches his hand, offering up a golden rose to young Rosalie.

"Why are you giving it to me?" Her eyebrows furrow. She had only ever seen men give ladies flowers when they wanted their hearts in return. It didn't quite seem like something this boy has in mind. Grandmother taught her to graciously accept gifts, but to always be cautious about who it comes from. Too often, the gifts can turn into tricks that can cost one greatly.

"It reminds me of you", the boy answers with a slight shrug.

Staring at the rose, her eyes narrow ever so slightly before relaxing. Smiling kindly, she reaches for it with her right hand, hoping he doesn't notice it trembles. Looking up at his eyes, she can't help but wonder if his blue eyes can see how shaken her heart is by a simple gift - one she never received before. 

Walking side by side, Rosalie and the boy left the garden, unaware the very rosebush she glared at before wilted slowly touched by her rage.

Inhaling sharply as she takes her position, Rosalie finds herself with a faint memory of a time her husband had visited Highgarden. She couldn't help but wonder if he knows that the first rose she ever received was from him, or that the first time she had felt her heart quicken was his fault. It's silly now, looking back with such nostalgia when he's her husband now, but a part of her aches for all the time wasted. If they were betrothed as kids, they could have been married long ago. If Robb wasn't so stubborn and the Lannisters didn't start a war, they'd be married long ago. Fate had given them numerous opportunities to marry, to start a life together and enjoy happiness, yet it cruelly robbed them of it all right before their eyes whenever it was within reach.

And now, as they've exchanged their vows in a ceremony that they've whispered to each other hundreds of times before, Rosalie stood alone on her wedding night, terrified of what the next morning will bring. 

Her eyes turn upwards in response to Drogon's screech as he and his brother fly overhead.

Outside the walls, the Unsullied warriors double march to join the formation. The entire Unsullied company stands at attention in disciplined rows and columns. Ahead of them stands a line of catapults, with stones and braziers by their sides. In front of the siege weapons, the entire Dothraki horde is mounted and waiting, swords drawn.

Behind the Unsullied, Rosalie stands with the Northmen at the ready, Jaime a few feet away with Brienne, both unaware she had joined their ranks. She notices Tormund and Beric helm the motley wilding force. The Hound and Gendry push their way to the front to join them and a nervous Sam arrives. jostling Edd.

"Oh, for fuck's sake. You took your time." Edd exclaims.

Horses snort and whinny. A mounted Jorah waits, seasoned and determined, but Rosalie can tell even he is nervous. 

A wet snout bumps Rosalie's hand and she looks down to find Ghost by her side. He's reminding her to put her glows on and prepare. The wind blows and the darkness reveals nothing.