Home of the Heart, Right on War Chart
When they arrived in the fishing villages, they found all the lights gone. It wasn't something that Dyanna hadn't expected but the knights of her escort started muttering among themselves until the coachman raised his voice to point them at the inn. As the murmur died out, Dyanna knew that they hadn't noticed that there was an inn there – the building looked so unremarkable, small and dark, like the fishermen's houses.
But in fact, there was more than the inn here by the way of lodgings. A few of the fishermen kept another room in their houses ready for unexpected guests, for this village was the closest one to Starfall, the one most boats for the castle left from. Sometimes, wheelhouses broke wheels; sometimes, horses were too weary to arrive in daylight. Few were those who wanted to navigate the dangerous waters of the Torentine at night, especially with the night mist spreading over there, so they sought lodgings in the village.
Dyanna didn't.
Her escort looked at her in horror when she raised her hand to stop the innkeeper's greeting and demanded a boat to be prepared for her. Even the man went pale. "My lady…" he started and his voice trailed off. No doubt he was imagining the punishment he'd get from Lord Dayne, whoever that was by that point, if the river claimed Dyanna. It could end up even with the rage of the Iron Throne!
She smiled. "Come on," she said. "Summon me the Fierce Four. If they don't want to take me across, I won't insist."
Of course, she knew that the four fishermen who knew the river best, the most experienced boatmen, would likely take her. They usually did. And if they refused her and her rich payment, she'd know that it was too dangerous.
"How is my lord father?" she asked as a servant hurried away to summon the men. "Is he better?"
The man's face gave her the answer that she dreaded – and the one that hardened her determination to get home before it was too late.
Fortunately, the Fierce Four agreed to take her across immediately. "How many people are you going to travel with, m'lady?" Gorvan the Red asked.
Dyanna didn't hesitate. "I'll come on my own," she said. She wasn't about to take horrified people along when she could go alone just as fine. And she'd never take Daeron because… one never knew.
"Just the two of us, that's it," Saryl Lothston said. Her face was white but her demeanor was determined. She had come to Dyanna's service immediately after Dyanna's wedding and she'd do her duty even if she turned green which would happen soon. Saryl didn't take to water well and was only too happy to be left behind when Dyanna undertook one of her regular rows in King's Landing.
"Make us three," Ruban spoke out. Dyanna gave him a quick look and he shrugged. "I've grown up here as well, my lady," he said and grinned. "Besides, it would be hard to explain to the Prince why I've left you go out into the mist on your own."
Dyanna didn't doubt that it would be so – but she didn't believe he cared about that. The ex-brigand, their ex-abductor and one of the very few survivors from the band of the Vulture King transferred his loyalty from her to Maekar and back by some criteria of his own. This sudden concern for Maekar's wishes just meant that he wanted to be there, probably to catch her if she fell or something.
"Very well," she said and leaned over to kiss Daeron who was sleeping in a knight's arms. He mumbled something without waking up. "I want him brought across first thing in the morning," she said. "Thank you for your help, Master Gotfred," she added and led the way.
In the boat, she found Saryl's cold hand and squeezed it. The night mist of the Torentine was a shock to everyone unaccustomed to it, this inability to see the person right before you. One felt as if they were lost in the nothingness, like the seven hells would open before them at the very next step. Even Dyanna's heart rose to her throat, although she knew she was in the safest hands possible. Cold wind rose from the river and slapped her face, whipping her hair free from the hairnet before she could fasten her hood better. Her lips were turning to ice. Saryl whimpered – even her determination could not fully overcome the horror of one who was left swaying in the vast expanse of world where the only real thing was the whipping of the wind and the splash of oars.
The glass globe sheltering their only torch was only a few meters away but it looked hanging in darkness, with no path connecting it to them.
It was enough for the boatmen, though. Dyanna told herself that the night was no different from any other peaceful night here. It was just that she had forgotten what the feeling was like.
No. She had always been afraid. That was why she had only crossed the river at night when she had no other choice. Like now. She chased away the insidious thoughts that this blind madness would lead to her demise, that she'd never see Maekar and her children again, that she'd die before the father she had come to see one last time. Even if she came to regret her decision, what could she do? Have them turn back?
When they were helped to the firm ground, finally, her feet were shaking.
"Princess Dyanna Targaryen!" Ruban shouted and soon, the huge gates opened, welcoming her home.
She knew not what it was due to but the mist of the Torrentine stopped where the walls of Starfall began. It was as if an enchantment held it out. Suddenly, she could see her lambskin gloves, Saryl's white face. "Welcome to my home," she said but the words felt strange, twisted. It wasn't her home anymore.
The stroke had left her father's left side completely paralyzed, so the smile he greeted her with was a half-one and his grip on her hand was as faint as a bird's. "I was sure you'd make it in time," he murmured and her mother translated. "You're a tough one."
He died two days after her arrival and Dyanna was faintly surprised how that shook her whole world, rearranging it with an echo of emptiness. No more shaking of head in despair, no more attempts to rein her imagination in. No more echoing of familiar steps or his head bent over parchments. No more joyous whinnying when he entered the stables with an apple in his hand. Instead, it was Ultor sitting behind their father's writing table, in his chair in the great hall, receiving people with none of their father's easy confidence. He'd come into his own, Dyanna was sure. But soon enough, there would be another set of problems.
"Mother," she said one morning as she and Lady Elsbet sat in her mother's solar, "when are you going to move out?"
Her mother's dark eyes snapped to her face. "What do you mean?"
Dyanna hated herself for saying it but someone had to. "Father has been dead for almost a month. Everything has started settling – but you still live in the chambers meant for the lady of the castle."
Lady Elsbet didn't look away. "Has Arlene complained?" she asked sharply. "I thought she was just giving me time to get used to… the change."
"Is this what you are doing?"
"What do you mean?"
That warning voice Dyanna remembered from her childhood! She almost squirmed in her seat but refused to be cowered. Her mother could no longer send her to bed without supper. "Things are going on just like they've always been. The mistress of the kitchens discuss meals with you; when it's cleaning day, it's you who organize things. Men and women turn to you with their problems, as if you're still the lady of Starfall. But you aren't."
For a moment, Lady Elsbet's face tightened in anger and then crumpled. Dyanna quickly looked away. She had never realized just how important her father had been to her mother, not before his death. All she had known was that the love she sensed between Daeron and Mariah was not there with her own parents. But shared life also had a way to bind people together. She regretted that she had to take even this small mainstay from her mother, her clinging to the duties that were no longer hers.
"Does it hurt?"
Lady Elsbet's voice was sharp again but her eyes were filled with worry now. Dyanna gave her an uncomprehending look and then realized that she had been massaging her breast for a while.
"No," she said and smiled. "It just pulls from time to time, that's it. Where the scars are. If Maekar were here, it would have been no problem at all. He's better at giving me massages and when he does it twice a day, I have no trouble at all."
That wasn't the first time her mother tried to broach the subject and it wasn't the first time Dyanna rebuffed her, assuring her that she was feeling fine. Almost a year since the lesion had been cut out, she still didn't want to think about it because she'd inevitably wake up shaking in the middle of the night and right now, Maekar wasn't there to shield her in his warmth.
Lady Elsbet didn't insist. Instead, she asked, "Will you take Astrea for a while? I think life in a bigger household might do her some good."
Dyanna wasn't surprised. Actually, she had discussed the matter with Ultor just the day before. She was taking in her household girls from all over the Seven Kingdoms. It only made sense for her own sister to be one of them. A smile crept on her lips as she imagined the success Astrea would be at court. At fifteen, her sister was a girl of overwhelming beauty and charm, although Dyanna was a little stunned at the way she had failed to grow properly. She was starting to form all the curves required but she was so short that from the other end of the room, she'd look not an inch taller than a twelve-year-old. "I'd love to have her," she said. "Have you talked to her?"
"Not yet," her mother replied. "I'll do so, as soon as she returns from the river."
Dyanna smiled. Lately, her sister had been teaching Daeron to swim and he was very enthused. It warmed her heart to see how those two had immediately taken to each other. Somewhat to her sadness, Daeron still disliked Aerion's arrival in their lives. In fact, Astrea was as older to Daeron as she was younger to Dyanna. It was a strange thought.
"Are you happy?" Lady Elsbet asked all of a sudden. "With him?"
Dyanna was so surprised that she forgot to rub her breast. "Yes," she said. "I am. Why are you asking me this question?"
It was very unusual for anyone to be interested in a woman's happiness with her husband. If she could give him heirs, she was; if he treated her with respect, she was; if they managed to coexist together without storms, she was… but that was not what her mother was asking about.
Lady Elsbet shrugged. "I've been concerned about you," she said. "I've seen him a few times after your wedding when he was in Dorne on the King's business. And I hear the rumours. He is not beloved. He doesn't have a way with people."
"I didn't think you put so much trust in rumours," Dyanna said curtly. "Haven't you heard that I am being unfaithful to him with every knight and stable boy who catches my fancy? Because that's also something people say."
Her mother's posture relaxed a little. "So, it isn't this terrible?" she asked. "I mean, a wild child like you…"
This description stung. Was that how her mother would always perceive her? As this willful, devilish child who was the bane of her nerves? But something else stung more, worse. "I don't blame him for being unwilling to lose time for empty flatterers," she said angrily. "Or for only giving credit where it's due. For this matter, I can't blame him for not being a focal point for lively companies. He can't help it. It just isn't him."
"And you just accept it?" Lady Elsbet asked incredulously. "Once, you would have…"
"Once, I was a stupid little girl!" Dyanna burst out. "A little girl who thought she could change people, mould them the way she wanted them to be. But this is real. This is now. I don't care how charming he looks to others – or not! Charm doesn't make a man. He's charming enough for me."
Her mother's stunned expression showed Dyanna that she had understood. Finally! Dyanna went to the window to be treated to the sight of Daeron and Astrea going for their everyday walk around the island, three knights following them. She smiled, her irritation abating. "He can't help how he is," she said, astounded that she was still wishing to make her mother understand. By the Seven, was she still the child who was trying to make Lady Elsbet realize that she wasn't lying, at least not with malicious intentions? Part of her resented this explanation that she was doing. Her relationship with her husband was something between the two of them! Another part still longed to make her mother understand why her assessment was so very unjust. "He hasn't had it easy, Mother. He's grown up as an afterthought. Charm comes with being in the light. He's always lived in the shadows."
"I know," Elsbet sighed. "I only fear that he'd make you unhappy."
Dyanna smiled. "He might, one day. But not now. Even his letters are courteous, never mentioning that I stole here behind his back despite knowing that he'd disapprove."
Her mother stared at her in horror, no doubt imagining how Maekar would introduce his wayward wife to his fists as soon as they got close enough to each other. She had taken Dyanna's words the wrong way.
The door opened abruptly. Arlene entered, her face stunned. "Daemon Blackfyre has just proclaimed himself king," she said. "And taken Summerhall. We're in a war. And the Yronwoods would likely support him… and they know you and Daeron are here, Dyanna."
Suddenly, Dyanna felt that perhaps she should be spanked like a willful child.