Blonde Ramblings

Betrayed by his family, abandoned by his wife and forced to marry a woman he did not love to bring peace to a country that wasn’t his.

This fan fiction is free to read.

Chapter 1 – The Fading Sun

The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In an Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose along a forest path, it was not the beginning, there are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time, but it was A beginning.

The wind flowed down over the city of Camelyn white and silver-streaked marble towers topped with golden domes. High above the city the wind tugged at a banner. Red cloth with a roaring golden lion and topped by a golden crown. The Royal banner of Andor floated high above the inner city. On the wind streamed, past the new city and towards a forest. Giant oaks and leatherleafs played with the wind as it passed them. Under limbs and boughs the wind flowed on, endless. A leaf, turned golden and edged with red crackled on the wind as it blew down the path, over the heads of a group of men, some were mounted but most walked on foot. One of the men grabbed at the leaf as it floated past his face, crushing it between thick fingers.

‘I am sure she did not …” The man began, his face was white but red marked his cheeks. Brien was tall and solidly built, arms and legs as thick as tree trunks. Beside him walked a shorter man, dark-haired and dark-eyed. This man wore a dark tunic of deep red velvet, it was lined with purple and thread of gold ran along the button enclosures, marking out the sigil of the rising sun.

“I am sure she knew exactly what she was doing.” The man in the dark velvet over cloak spoke coldly, his voice clipped and sharp. “My wife delights in goading me. But she has gone too far.” Taringail Damonodred broke off a limb and tested it for a walking staff. “Far too far, it is time -”

“Surely, you don’t mean?” Brien gasped, his pale face almost white with shock. “But she is -”

“Queen? A woman?” Taringail sneered back at him.” He paused and looked back over his shoulder at the scurrying servants. “Tell me Brien. You have been by my side since we left Cairhein together.” Taringail sighed. It seemed so long ago, indeed perhaps it had been. It had been almost twenty years since he had first came to this land. This land that was promised him to rule and they had never accepted him. Never.

Brien paused and looked away, his face flushed. “She has made mistakes, but she is young yet.”

“My wife.” Taringail continued in a savage, stinging tone. “Is rude, obnoxious, spoiled and greedy little girl who stamps her foot if she cannot get her own way and cannot think beyond what is immediately in front of her.” He paused and turned back once more, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “And relies far too much on that conniving minstrel.”

Brien laughed nervously, “ But surely, your Grace, you don’t believe the rumours – do you?” He added, looking behind to ensure they were alone on the path. 

Taringail breathed a heavy sigh. “All I know for certain is that the children are innocent – for now. She keeps me from them – the youngest ones at least. I may spend as much time as I like with Galad.” It was as if a mask had left his face. His children were a delight to him. His only joy.

“He’s a good lad.” Briar said almost brightly, and they moved off together as the sound of others coming up the past behind them. It was a small group of five or six men, dressed alike in red cloth, the lion of Andor marked out in yellow on their breasts. A mixture of servants, soldiers, and hangers on. None of them were to be trusted. They were all Morgase’s men.

Taringail eyed them all coldly, something was brewing, he could feel it. The sky ahead showed light grey clouds, but it felt as if it should be showering. Something was wrong. He watched as two small boys came hurrying along the trail. Each boy held a long stick that they began beating the small bushes to either side of the trail and yelling loudly. Licking his lips, he pulled an arrow from the quiver at his side and fitted it against the bow, eyes watching the sky. Hunting would soothe his mood. He would go back to the Palace and …

He lurched forwards as pain shot through him, stumbling into the bush. Blinking, he looked around, gasping for air. There was a loud noise and Brien toppled beside him. Blood was trickling down the mans face. Taringail tried to push the mans body off his. No … no … It was an ambush! He had to get back to the Palace. Elayne, sweet little Elayne … Gawyn and Galad. The faces or the memory of their faces swam before him.

“Andor has Queens, Little One.” A voice hissed in his ear and a man laughed.

Taringail tried to see, tried to turn his head. He knew that voice. That laugh. No, it was impossible, the man was dead. Had to be dead. But if he survived, did his sister? Did his wife, his first wife?

He could feel the blood trickling, welling up in his throat and he coughed, spluttering.

“The children.” He gasped. He was dying, he knew it. “Protect the Princess. Protect Elayne.” And all went black.