Pale Hand of Fate Aiming the Blade

Chapter 1

When all was said and done, Dyanna had to admit that she had lost precious time overblowing her concerns. Despite the eventful start of their settling into Summerhall, the unrest had been dealt with much easier than she had expected. Many still mourned the loss of loot from skirmishes but they had learned to appreciate the stability and certainty coming from knowing that their crops would stay in their possessions, unburned. That trade on both sides of the Marches was something that many could avail themselves of. That they had every chance to go to bed at night without waking up to the roof above burning and the cattle being taken away. That taxes would be collected without much ado. Gradually, the processions Maekar and Dyanna undertook a few times a year turned to be less harrowing experiences than they had used to. At times, she almost felt as if she were visiting friends, from both sides of the Red Mountains.

Except for Starfall.

"How could you let her go?" Ultor demanded, furious, and Dyanna rose angrily, glaring at him right back.

"I didn't let her go," she snapped. "Do you think I would have just smiled and waved goodbye?"

"Frankly?" he asked. "Yes. You must have known, Dyanna, else she would have been here and she isn't."

Dyanna wanted to deny it. That was not true. Still, something held her back. Hadn't she known? Truly? She knew what she, herself, had been capable of. Why hadn't she assumed that Astrea could be just as reckless? Had she been so engrossed in her own fears, her own happiness, her own little world that she had missed the very obvious warning signs?

"It's so easy for you, isn't it?" she exclaimed resentfully. "You just handed her over to me and then oh, it's all Dyanna's fault and you're as pure as driven snow…"

He looked at her uncomprehendingly and she realized that she had used an imagery that was not typical of Dorne. The divide between them seemed to grow.

"I let her go with you because I thought you might make a lady out of her," Ultor elaborated. "I should have known that instead, you'll make her a liar and traitor."

Dyanna flushed and clenched her fists, realizing painfully that he was right. But by the grace of the Seven hadn't she caused a new tension between Dorne and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms… and it wasn't late now either. It would only take one of her misplaced letters to emerge…

"How dare you!" she flared up.

Her brother wasn't impressed. "You didn't even need to teach her being one," he allowed. "Just watching and emulating you would have sufficed. You know that she thinks you a hero and let's face it, Dyanna, you would have run away with the first stableboy if Maekar wasn't pleasing to you."

"How so?" Maekar asked, entering the solar. "I thought you'd have Astrea to talk about instead of discussion our marriage," he added, looking at his wife.

"We have nothing to discuss," Dyanna stated and took his arm. "Take me to our chambers, now. I'm tired."

Ultor didn't try to stop her.

Later, they patched things up, of course, but it just wasn't the same. When Astrea's letters started arriving one after another, Dyanna wrote a short answer to the first one wishing her sister joy of her new life but she didn't answer any of the following ones. After a while, she stopped reading them and after some time later, Astrea stopped sending them. Dyanna felt a mix of relief and sadness as the new babe swelled in her, moving with life as she went on about her usual duties, smoothing tensions, taking young girls into her household to teach them manners, examining the accounts of her household, overseeing the children's education, being charming and presentable, always next to Maekar when needed. Always mindful that she should be charming enough for both of them. Fortunately, it wasn't hard for her, although this last babe was doing odd things to her body. Her cheeks were now extremely hollowed and her body strangely corpulent. But her allurement seemed untouched. Only she knew how much keeping the image cost her – she and Maekar who now doubled his care and attention to her. But he couldn't help her. Fortunately, it all came back in place when the child was born, another son and not the daughter they had both hoped for.

"Next time," Dyanna said, smiling, as she was holding and snuggling her new babe. "It'll be a girl next time."

Maekar nodded, blissfully unaware of the strange premonition that suddenly told Dyanna that this still unconceived babe would be her last.

Mock reading.

That was one the last clear memories that Dyanna treasured of something good, bright and hers, something to keep her warm and full of willpower in the dark days that followed. Aemon, just over three, pretending to read to Daella who was staring at him fascinated from her cushions and interrupting him with her own "reading". Safely away from the noise, Daeron, for once relieved of the nightmares that had started plaguing him once again, had curled himself in a ring around the babe, Aegon, under the watchful eye of Aegon's wetnurse. Dyanna lowered herself on a couch and Aemon and Daella immediately crawled to sit down at her feet, book and all. Daeron and Aegon didn't wake up.

"Sword or mace?" Dyanna asked with interest some time later as she went out to watch Aerion's practice in the yard.

"Morningstar, I think," he replied but didn't let the sword down. Instead, he doubled his efforts, trying to impress her, before squinting at her. "Are you feeling well, Mother?" he asked, concern ringing in his voice.

"Yes," she replied but he wasn't the first person to tell her this.

"Do you think I look ill?" she asked later that night when she was preparing for bed. That strange corpulence had returned. Now, she looked downright obese and she could feel the splashing of water that was too much for a babe. Too early as well. Could she be carrying twins? She shivered in superstitious fear remembering the fate of Daemon Blackfyre's twins.

'No," Maekar denied. "Just tired."

Surely there was nothing to worry about? It was fine for Dyanna to be exhausted. The discrepancy between her bulging belly and the thinning extremities was to be expected of a woman with child, especially one who had been so every year in the last four. It was just now that he discovered her true loveliness. Her body might be bloated and her skin splashed with brown patches but her beauty lay in the contours of her face and the light deep within those violet eyes between the thick long eyelashes, in the liveliness and wit of her conversation and her way to make everyone feel like the most important person around. Truly, she was still Dyanna. Just a tired one. He had already decided that this child would be their last, though. The hardships of constant pregnancies had finally started to take too much from her.

"Still the loveliest lady around," he added and she snorted.

"That's easy for you to say," she said. "I don't think there are any ladies here, in those wild marshes."

But now, there was no derision in her voice. It was just a jest.

"Come here," Maekar said but instead, it was him who went to her and held her tight. Dyanna felt that everything was fine once again.

And then, it all turned into a nightmare. It was that nightmare coming back. The day her beloved attendant Saryl Lothston left with her new husband, presents and grants from Maekar and Dyanna heavy in their chests, Dyanna felt it again. The lump. In her disfigured breast, now swollen by the new babe. She didn't quite scream but she was close to that. The babe stirred, then tumbled and Dyanna's fear for herself was immediately replaced by the desperate horror of realizing that her child was now living with the disease.