Sol’s light tends to reveal a lot of unexplainable things. Sitting with her chin against the chair, Amalya watches as small particles of unknown origin float in front of her, brought to life by what light morning brought through the front window. It just seems to hang omniously without direction nor care. Some go up while others go down. Those that travel to the very edge do not hestitate to take the plunge into the unknown emptiness of the space around them. Either they were very brave or very stupid. Either way, they would surely have far more exciting adventures then she could ever dream of having.

A very tall brawn Arthur makes his way through the small kitchen. He passes in front of her, distrupting the flow of dust in Sol’s beam. Amalya lifts her head, pushing her long braided red hair behind her shoulders. Arthur setttles down to clumsily slip on his gauntlets and shin guards in preparation for another day in the yard. He was gone most of the day now that he had become a squire for the City Guard of Rau, leaving Amalya to entertain herself alone in the house and out of site.

“What am I supposed to do while your gone?”

He glances at her, “I don’t know?  Help Elra sew her wedding dress…”

“You’re trying to be funny.” Amalya rolls her eyes.  Spending time with her sister was the last thing she ever wanted to do.  There was never a time when they did get along, or at least when one she ever remembered.  There was no reason to try and be pleasant with her. How she looks forward to the day Elra was finally married and living elsewere.  No doubt, she felt the same way.
Arthur tightens his boots with one final tug on the leather straps, “Well you asked.  I’m merely giving you cause for displeasure. Perhaps it will make the day a litte more bearable.”

  He checks his leather gauntlets, admiring them.  He was so proud to finally be able to prove his worth.  As a squire for the City Guard, he was required to trian everyday until they were each appointed a post. He was sure he would become ward under Ser Gaston, the Knight Commander of Rau. Arthur has proven himself the best fighter out of all who were recruited with him, and the most tenatious. Even if he was not made Ser Gaston’s ward, whatever position he would be given would be enough to make him proud.

“You promise you’ll teach me all you’ve learned as soon as you get back?”
Arthur adjusts his armor and looks at his sister. “You would have my head if I didn’t.”
He walks up to her and gives her an unforgiving stare.  “Try to be on your best behavior Amalya? Grandfather is at his wits end with you.”

“I’ll be fine; bored and fine.”

“I’d rather that then anything else.”

She was restless she could not help it.  Ever since she can remember, Amalya has had very little experiences of the outside on her own. Her skin and especially her eyes, were easily poisoned by the light of Sol. If she did ever venture out into the day, she had to be covered from head to toe with a hood over her head and her eyes to the ground. Their grandfather learned very early on that she could not go out alone without getting into trouble, especially now that she was of age. It was hard enough being confined to the house without her brother by her side during the day, it was even harder knowing she could not escape without him. She knew her brother was only trying to protect her, but she so wished he would encourage her to live.

“ Will you be back tonight?”

“I don’t know, why?”

“Elra’s new family will be over for dinner tonight.  It’s only a week before the wedding and grandfather insists we be there for it.  ‘You’re sister is getting’ married off soon,’ he says…’may be tha’ last time yer get to see her for a time.’  Like it’s the highlight of my life, being in the same room as her.”

“He’s old and family has always comes first for him.  Just humor me at least until the wedding.  She’ll be gone before you know it Amalya.  Then it will just be you taking care of the house; doing all the cooking and cleaning. Sounds like great fun to me.”
Amalya pushes herself off the chair. She breaths a sarcastic sigh, “I can barely contain my joy.”  He smiles as he grabs a piece of bread.

“Look out for a letter from father.” He speaks with a mouth full of food, “It’s been a while since he has sent word so I expect one to show up any day now.”
They have not seen their father for over 10 years now. The only inclination they had of him being alive was through letters he sent to them. Some were short only consisting of one or two lines. Others were long and thoughtout. Those were the letters Amalya could truly live out through his words. She missed him terriblly but she was not bitter about his absense. He was still with them, fighting to rid Joro of those terrible dragons. He was a hero in her eyes. Her one wish was to join the Dragon Guard herself one day. How wonderful it would be, father and daughter fighting side by side. Iron shielded, swords drawn to fight togetehr. It was only a small dream, but still something to hope for.
Arthur rolls out the door, leaving Amalya leaning  against the wall.  She rolls towards the door to poke her head out just enough where she was still guarded by the shadows of their home.  The town would be bustling today.  Rau was the closest city to the captial, making it a prime location for trade. The great river that runs just past the city gates brought food and wares from all across Joro. Spring had just arrived making it the height of trade season, the busiest time for city.

The fresh scent of blooming flowers fills the air. That and the knowledge of all the activity of the day only entices her more. She pushes herself out of the protection of the shadows and into the light. The light feels warm against her face. It never felt unnatural to her, her porcelin skin soaking up Sol’s rays like a sponge to water. Perhaps it was different for everyone else, but the bars of her confinement were beginning to break. The longer she was kept away the harder it was to contain her.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

She turns her head to see her very plain sister staring at her with wicked eyes.  Elra wait for her answer. Amalya manges a smile despite there bieng no joy behind it,

“I was just seeing Arthur off.”

“You shouldn’t be poking your nose out. Don’t you know better? You’re not a child anymore Amalya.”

Elra moves towards the small washbasin and rinses her hands, “When are you going to grow up?”

Amalya sits back down in her chair to resume her observations.

“I need to go to the market today and grandfather insists I take you along with me.”

Elra turns towards Amalya, “You’re to help me gather food for dinner as well as provisions for the wedding.  Is that understood?”

“Of course, sweet sister.”

“Don’t you sweet sister me.”

Elra grabs a few woven baskets and shoves them in Amalya’s arms.  Amalya reluctantly takes them, knowing this trip could go very badly for her if she does not corporate.  Elra ties on her cloak and makes her way towards the door.  She stops in front of Amalya who throws on her hood,

“It would appreciate having no trouble from you; now or a dinner.”

“You’ll be married in a week, I’m sure I can be good until then.”

“You better be.” Elra heads out the door, “Come on then. We don’t have all day.”

Amalya sweeps out the door behind her. The two sisters walk hastily towards the marketplace. Thier house was not far and soon they were right in the thick of the early day rush.  Elra casually eyes each table, examining the wares of the sellers flaunting their merchandise.  Amalya keeps her hood up, trying to keep the glare of the sun from reaching her face.  She can’t help but notice the deep-rooted gazes of the passersby.  She rarely leaves the safety of her home; her presence amongst the living is somewhat odd to many folk. Though the gaunt and stares are not new to her, she still wishes they would just keep to themselves.  It was not like she was contagious or horrifyingly scarred. Some would see her inability to accept Sol’s light as a curse perhaps, a bad omen in regards to who she was and what she would become. Silly supersticous banter thier grandfather calls it, nothing more then peoples inability to understand what they have no knowledge of. It did not matter what he said. Sol was the creator of all things in this world. Of course people would think such things of her beacuse how could a person who cannot accept Sol’s light be anything but cursed?

Elra doesn’t seem to notice the constant stares of the onlookers. Years of experience have taught her to ignore them for her sake. Amalya wishes she could have learned as easily. She stops at one of the stalls, examining a piece of fine cloth.  Amalya lumbers over to her, “That would make a lovely dish towel.”  Elra glances at her sister without so much as a response.  Amalya begins to fish through the fabrics herself.  She notices the merchant eying her warily. “ Don’t worry,” she speaks aloud, “I won’t turn you to stone.” She drops the cloth and walks away.  Elra makes a grab for her sister and takes her by the arm, “Must you be so rude?”

“I thought we came her for food, not shopping for more linens and pretty dresses?” Amalya pulls away from her and continues on through the marketplace. Elra soon catches up to her,stopping her where she stands, “Can’t you just be obedient for one day? For Marin’s sake Amalya, why must you be so unruly?”

“Maybe if you started treating more like a human being instead of a disobedient hound.”

“A disobedient hound would be more agreeable than you!”

“How would you feel if you knew people were staring at you, thinking you were anything but who you are? It is not so easy to shake.”

“You only ever think of yourself. The world is an unfair place Amalya. It’s time to stop living in your dreamland and grow up!”

She pushes Elra away from her and dissapears into the crowd,

“Amalya! Get back here!”

Amalya continues to stare at her feet, moving away futher from her sister’s sight,  ‘I cannot take much more of this.’  She  could not move fast enough.  It was maddening; she hated being alone and confined to the house but being branded an outcast by the city was just has horrible, if not worse. She wishes she could just break out into the world and see nothing but openness. To be free was the greatest gift she could ever hope to achieve. Finally she steps into the square, the main crossroads of the city.  Amalya looks up.

There are far less people here now then in the main marketplace. The square split the raod in 3 ways, the marketplace, the northern gate and the stockyard which acted as the City Guard’s main training grounds. Amalya walks over to the surrouding gates of the stocks.  A small army of guards are scattered amongst the field.  For each one of them, a small group of trainees follows behind like a gaggle of newborn goslings. She places her woolen-cloaked hands on the wood and leans forward as she watches over the yard.

 Arthur lifts his great sword above his head and lands a blow on his opponent’s shield.  The might of the sword breaks the squires footing as Arthur moves in to dispose of his enemy.  The boy swings his sword at Arthur’s shins. He misses as Arthur leaps forward, rolling onto the patched ground.  He then deals the final blow across his opponents back, landing cleanly in the center of his spine.

A shout from one of the guards ends the duel.  Arthur stands up, extending his hand to his opponent.  Amalya raises her voice in exaltation, clapping her hands loudly at her brothers’ success.  Heads turn and eyes fall upon her.  Arthur lifts up his opponent off the ground and gives a casual glance in her direction. She was sure he would be cursing her name at the sight of her, but hopefully she was too far away for him to notice who it truly was.
“Who let you out of your cage?"
Amalya stops cheering and slowly turns around.  Three unruly boys of different heights and smells stand behind her.  They were the Barrow brothers, the three slimy sons of Ser Gaston.  They weren’t the nicest bunch and had a knack for getting on everyone’s nerves.   They all adorn large bull pig noses and appear to be more hoggish than human.  The middle boy, the tallest of the 3, snorts loudly at the jape.

“Leave me alone Gallin.”

“Shouldn’t we have a call to arms? I didn’t think you were allowed out unless we had a full moon?”
The two other sniveling boys laughed.  Theo had hideously large buckteeth that stuck out well past his nose.  Amalya glares at them distastefully.

“You better watch yourself before I shove your teeth down your throat.”

“Threatening us are we? I don’t think that’s wise considering you’re outnumbered.”

Gallin, Theo and knobby-eared John begin to close in around her. Amalya stands her ground, her fists clenched tightly.  She was never one to get in fights before, but she was not about to let the Barrow boys get the best of her. They had nothing else better to do.  Gallin pushes his finger towards her. Amalya quickly swats it away, backing up against the fence.

“You touched me!”

“Better cut that finger off before you catch it Gallin,” Theo staggers out through bits of tooth jutting laughter. John pulls on her cloak as she wheels around to thwart him.  He staggers backwards, his hands raised in protest.  Gallin gives her a malicious look. He walks up to her and pushes her against the fence; “My father will have your head knowing that you put your hands on me.”  His staggering stature looms over her like a dark tree.  Amalya does not take his eyes off his gaunt face.  Gallin breathes heavily, “He’ll kick your brother out for this…there’s no way he’d let anyone associated with you protecting OUR city. “
Without warning, Amalya swings her fist right across Gallin’s face.  He staggers back, clutching his injured face.  John and Theo stare at him with mouths fully agape.  Gallin shakes his head as he fishes around in his mouth producing a bloody tooth.  He stares at recently vacated tooth, trying to process what just occurred.  Amalya doesn’t move from her position. “Hold her down!”
Theo and John close in.  Amalya tries to make a break for it, but John grabs her cloak, pulling her to the ground.  The boys get on top of her, straddling her arms as best they could.  Amalya struggles to break free but to no avail.  Gallin approaches her with rolled up sleeves.  Amalya stares helplessly as he raises his arms to strike her. As quick as a whip, Amalya lunges her right leg forward, meeting Gallin right in the crotch.  His body goes rigid as he goes down slowly, his face plastered with a painful expression. 

Next Chapter: Chapter 2: Consequences