There Is Love… Is it Enough?

"Princess Dyanna is with child."

"What, again? Which one would it be?"

"The fourth of fifth, how would I know? Who can keep abreast? Their nursery is overflowing with people. She has never lost a babe, just like the Queen in her day. Those Dornishwomen are lucky."

"Perhaps they teach them how to do those things in Dorne? You know, the same people who taught them their tricks in bed, so their men wouldn't look at another woman twice? The King never did, for sure. And they say the Prince is the same. I suppose he'll stay at his lady's side as well, at least until she loses her looks. With those children coming so close one after another, she's bound to. When is this one going to be born?"

"In just over a month. Which is quite impressive. Prince Aemon still hasn't turned two."

"Really? She's quite good in the birthing bed. Too good, some say. What if it's another boy? The realm barely got rid of Daemon Blackfyre but another trouble is brewing each time she swells with child. She only seems capable of giving birth to boys. Perhaps something else that sets Dornish women apart?"

"I don't think so. Dorne would have died long ago if their women could only give birth to men."

The thick Myrish carpets and the bright tapestries had more than one use! Dyanna had always scolded her boys quite severely for eavesdropping, yet here she was, bending over her massive belly. Next to her, Astrea was shaking her head angrily and Dyanna squeezed her sister's hand tight, lest Astrea do something stupid like go out and put those women in their place. Dyanna didn't even notice their curiosity anymore. That was part of being married to the King's son, every stupid woman coming from the backwaters talking over her marriage, her beauty and her children. Confirming the validity of the attitude that she herself had started feeling towards Maekar and herself. Not from within the family – in this, the Seven were merciful. At least, not for now. But in the future?

Rustling skirts, fading voices… Dyanna finally released the breath she had been holding in and resumed walking to the garden where she intended to have a stroll like she often did.

As if the talebearers weren't enough, she noticed a tall silhouette as soon as she stepped out into the open air and shot her sister a suspicious look. Lately, those meetings had become all too common. Had Astrea told him that they'd be there? As hard as the girl was trying to hide her infatuation, Dyanna knew her all too well.

"We're going back," she said and Astrea didn't even think of objecting. It wasn't just Dyanna who knew her, she knew Dyanna as well. Once she grew suspicious, she'd smash her head against the wall but not yield. Under her sister's harsh eyes, she didn't even dare look back. She had to content herself with the looks of admiration coming both their ways because if Mariah Martell was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and Dyanna the queen of charm and elegance, Astrea Dayne was the queen of King's Landing the way only an extremely beautiful, witty, young, and well-connected maiden might be.

One would think that by now, she'd be used by the changes that being with child imposed on her. She was used to them. But each babe had surprised her with something unique to them alone. With this one, it was her propensity to fall asleep the moment she smelled something that vaguely resembled a pillow. In this case, it was the cushions of the low couch she preferred, soft and scented and Dornish that she would immediately find herself in her onetime chamber, with Astra making fine, even stitches in her embroidery and Septa Angarel examining critically the cleanness of the chamber.

A loud yell startled her awake and she sat back as fast as her belly would allow. Aemon was shrieking with no intention to stop, pointing at the book his grandfather was holding and shaking his head furiously but of course, he couldn't tell what exactly the problem was. He had barely started talking. "No!" he was saying again and again. "No 'ight!"

Tiredly, Dyanna wondered what wasn't right. Something that was greatly insignificant, no doubt. Due to his age, her son was experiencing emotions – all kind of emotions – extremely strongly.

"Ah," the King said. "I missed a page, didn't I? I'm sorry, Aemon. Here, we'll do it right."

He turned a page and started reading and gradually, the little boy's wails stopped. Dyanna closed her eyes and dozed off again, only waking up to silence and Aemon navigating his wooden dragon through a mountain of clothes and books. She shot up.

"Easy, easy," Queen Mariah said, appearing in her line of vision. "I'm here. He won't be allowed to eat it, I promise."

Dyanna relaxed. The King looked at his wife, surprised. "Eating wood?" he asked. "None of ours did that."

Mariah only smiled. "I don't know what children you were raising but each one of mine tried to eat the furniture the moment their first tooth broke. That's what children do. They don't know what they're supposed to eat yet, so they chew on everything."

Well, at any rate Aemon was unaware that he had been supposed to drink his mother's milk. Dyanna had been too afraid for him to even try, and the maesters had been too afraid for both of them to ever allow it. Still, it sometimes made Dyanna sad. "I wish we could go back home already," she said without thinking and then froze, realizing how rude she had sounded. Daeron and Mariah had always been as good to her as they knew how, pretending not to notice her small peculiarities and trying to fulfill every wish that she expressed to them. They loved and spoiled their grandchildren and although Dyanna couldn't really condone the last, she felt grateful for that. They had insisted that Dyanna gave birth here, where the best of maesters could help her, instead of Summerhall which had far less resources of this kind. Personally, Dyanna would prefer the red priestess, Raniel of Asshai, but she had to do with what she got. After a while in the wake of Aemon's birth, when everyone had been satisfied that both mother and child were doing well, a part of Dyanna's fear had washed away. But not all of it. She feared the birthing bed as all women did and she feared that the corroding disease would sneak its way to her there when she was at her weakest again. King's Landing was undoubtedly the best place to be in case something went wrong, yet Dyanna longed for her own home. Even the uneasy peace between the Marcher lords and her own people had started looking endearing. She wanted to walk and work in her own gardens, feel the comfort of something close and hers but that was no excuse for such rudeness that was completely uncalled for.

Mariah came close and patted her hand. "Do you want us to summon your lady mother?" she asked in a low voice.

Dyanna shook her head. Summoning her mother? That would mean that she admitted defeat. That she let her fear control her life. The gossipers who disliked the other Dornish woman brought among the dragons after the Queen herself would no doubt rejoice in spreading the word of her cowardice. People still talked about her past illness, she knew that. Should she succumb to her own longing and send for her mother, the rumours would flare once again, people would look at her, her children, Astrea, and wonder…

"You're most gracious, my lady," she replied. "But I'd rather not subject my mother to such a long journey. After my lord father's death, she hasn't been well."

Had they been in Summerhall, she would have send for her mother. There, it wouldn't have looked suspicious at all, given the far smaller distance separating the castle that was her home and the one that no longer was.

Suddenly, her gaze became sharp. She looked around intently before asking with visible displeasure, "Who brought Aemon here, Your Grace? I had entrusted him to my sister…"

Mariah looked surprised by the change in her gooddaughter's demeanor but replied anyway. "She was here. She asked me if she could go on her own business for a while and I let her go. Shouldn't I have?"

Dyanna drew a tortured breath, rose, went to a door that opened into a marble paved terrace overlooking the sea, yet another proof of the Queen's desire to make her feel welcome. She had spent her childhood looking at a sea, a very different one, but she could appreciate the harsh beauty of those waves hunting and crashing each other in a hiss of foam as pale as the Stranger's mare. And in the yard beneath her, servants and handmaidens ran on their errands like usual. Where could Astrea be? She needed to inquire the girl very sternly tonight. If she had been with the heir of a certain House in the Eyre, Dyanna would make her regret ever having seen that she, Dyanna, was asleep.

"No," she said, smiling at her goodmother. "That's fine. It had escaped my memory that I had asked her to do something for me."

No one should know that her sister was prone to willfulness and secretiveness that might badly affect her chances. Soon, Astrea would be betrothed to the heir of House Caron, building stronger peace between the people on the two sides of the Red Mountains and although Dyanna considered Pearse Caron a well-mannered and pleasing enough boy – certainly a far cry away from those savages who called themselves Marcher Lords – she doubted he's embrace his future bride's eccentricities the way Maekar had embraced hers. Dyanna's. He didn't need Astrea's perkiness to make him feel alive. He was lively enough on his own.

It was clear that Mariah didn't believe her but she didn't demand a better answer either. Instead, she watched Dyanna going back to her couch and then, without thinking much, adjustеd her robes and sat on the floor to play with Aemon, choosing a heavy elephant, grey and wrinkled, to match his dragon in sheer strength.

Dyanna tried to chase her fears for the upcoming birth and Astrea both. She looked at her goodfather. "So, Aemon can understand words well enough to know that you missed a part of the story?"

He poured her some Dornish wine. "Not quite."

Dyanna's face fell. "Oh," she said. It had been stupid of her to hope for such a thing. Her babe was just a year and four moons old.

Daeron leaned forward from his chair. "Dyanna, he knows which part of the story belongs to every single page."

Her eyes widened. He nodded once again. "Yes. He's been listening so intently that he noticed all the details. Today, he was upset because he thought I have turned the wrong page. Indeed, I had turned two instead of one. He's a very, very bright boy."

The smile that had been tugging at her lips became too bright for her to hold back. She looked at her son's dragon who was trying to sneak around the elephant without looking at him because if dragon couldn't see elephant, then elephant could not see the dragon either, obviously, and laughed. Aemon might be as bright as his grandfather claimed but he was still a boy. A very little boy.

The babe kicked and Dyanna gasped. Recently, kicks had been increasingly rare as the child grew bigger, so this one took her aback. The King instantly pushed the goblet towards her and when the kicks stopped, she drank. "She's very sneaky," she murmured. "She does this only when I'm fully relaxed so she can achieve the greatest effect."

"Is it going to be a girl?" Daeron asked. "What do you feel?"

"It's a girl," she said with confidence that even she recognized was borne out of her own desires. And his. When he smiled, she was equally touched and enraged. Just a few years ago, his desire for a granddaughter had been only due to his longing for the unknown that he had barely touched with Daenerys. Now, there was something other to it. Something that felt sullying. To her horror, she heard herself say, "And not the burden of abundance that another boy is going to be."

That was so brazen even if it was true – especially because it was true – that for a moment, she could not think. But Daeron Targaryen was not a man who'd admonish other for speaking out the truth. Instead, he just sighed and said, "I wish it wasn't so. But I've wanted a granddaughter since forever."

Since you ended up with four sons, two of which not needed at all? Dyanna wondered. She understood his reasoning, she didn't doubt that he was happy with the precise number of sons he had ended up having. But she couldn't wait to go home anyway. Daemon Blackfyre's rebellion had changed things significantly. Now, she could feel an echo of what Maekar must have felt all the way through his childhood. Somewhere along the way, her fertility had become as troublesome as it was welcomed, the children she might yet have not only unneeded but a potential danger. Especially when Jena hadn't had a single time quickening with child after Matarys' birth.

She couldn't wait to give birth and go home.

"Where have you been?"

"I was with Daeron."

The answer was so swift and confident that Dyanna knew it would be no use to ask her son. Daeron had been prepared to support Astrea's lie. Or it might not have been a lie… entirely. "You took him along as you were meeting Golden Stream?"

"No," Astrea said, too fast again. But her expression was such that it could have fooled anyone but an experienced liar like Dyanna, and a family.

"I think you have. I told you that you weren't allowed to see him! By the Mother, do I need to write it down for you? He isn't right for you."

"Like Maekar wasn't right for you?" Astrea challenged.

Dyanna sighed. Tired and hungry, yet unable to keep her food down because the babe had decided that she didn't truly want to eat, she was ill-prepared to deal with a girl in the first clutches of love. "Maekar is exactly right for me," she said. "He was even then. Just like Pearse Caron is for you. You, of all people, should know that I was experiencing some great doubts when my betrothal was announced. But it worked for me. It will work for you as well. You'll see."

Astrea didn't say anything, just shot her an accusing look saying that Dyanna didn't understand her at all, that the two situations weren't even remotedly comparable and that her sister was worse than their mother. Lately, Dyanna had found in herself more empathy for Lady Elsbet than she had ever thought possible. She must have been as much of a handful for her mother as her sister was to her now if not worse. And despite the fact that she couldn't say so, she knew that Astrea's situation was much worse than her own. She might not have loved Maekar at the time of their betrothal and wedding but she had always been drawn to him. Just not in a good and productive way. There hadn't been another boy that she was interested in. But was her sister's interest something that should have the utmost precedence in their considerations? Could they lose her to some backwater in the Vale when peace in the Marches could be helped by this match desired by both the Daynes and the Carons, and even the King himself? Of course not. Love was a nice thing but it alone wasn't nearly enough to sustain a marriage. Astrea in the Vale? As if! Even if everyone lost their mind and accepted such a match, it would never last. And this far, Dyanna still had all her wits about her. Astrea was her responsibility and acceping this Eyre boy just because Astrea liked him would be the height of irresponsibility. Astrea was meant for something better, even if she couldn't see it yet. She was, after all, just sixteen. Life at Nightsong would be far easier for her than life in the Vale. And Pearse Caron was smitten with her.

"It'll never work," Astrea proclaimed. "I'll never be happy with those Marcher savages!" she went on and Dyanna really wished that she and the rest of the people at Starfall had given the matter some thought before disparaging the Marchers in front of a young and impressionable child.

"I want you to send Perren Golden Stream away," Dyanna said later that night when Maekar followed her into their bedchamber. "We aren't taking him to Summerhall with us."

Her husband gave her a look of surprise. "Well, I already promised his father… Why is that sudden change?"

"He's too fond of wine and disrupting order. And he's gaping at Astrea too much for my liking."

Maekar's expression became hard. "Are you telling me that there would be problems on this account? That's an important marriage that we have in mind for your sister."

"I am not," Dyanna denied and then reconsidered. "At least I don't think so."

It turned out that she was wrong and they discovered it in the very aftermath of informing the young man that they were changing the agreement. In the next morning, Astrea's bed had not been slept in and she was nowhere to be found.

"This damned fool," Maekar raged even before the notice about the wedding arrived. "This little fool! She's now ruined it all, making us look like fools in the matters – all of us. The King and me! You! Ultor! How are we going to explain it?"

Dyanna was no less furious but underneath her anger, there was a sudden, unexpected undertone of worry. Irrational fear for her sister. Right before she gasped and brought a hand over the side of her belly as a pool of liquid started pouring out of her and she realized that the faint tugging she had been feeling for the better part of the day had been labour all long.

Her child was born in the bright light of the afternoon sun that Dyanna couldn't endure. As much as she enjoyed it while expecting, when giving birth, it cut at her eyes, blinding her, torturing her, tearing her eyes away from their sockets – and the babe seemed to share her dislike because it gave a mighty wail and didn't stop bawling for the next hour.

"What is it?" Dyanna asked and realized that no one heard her through the noise.

The head midwife told her and she didn't hear, focusing instead on the woman's lips and reading nothing.

"It's a girl, Your Grace, a girl!" the midwife finally yelled. "A fine child. She's being taken care of and…"

Dyanna leaned back, unable to believe that she had done it. Finally! A girl for Maekar who had said more than once that he wondered if it would be different to be the father of a daughter. A girl for Daeron who had been waiting for once ever since Aerys had been born. A girl who would be cherished and adored, instead of a boy who would be a nuisance. She laughed and opened her arms eagerly.

"It's a girl."

Maekar sounded disbelieving when he was later admitted to her chamber. He was holding their daughter more tenderly than he had ever done for any of their boys and Dyanna laughed again and told him not to be stupid, Daella would not break more easily than they would have.

"They say it's a girl."

The King looked awed when, breaching the protocol, he came to visit her. A new casket of jewels sat atop the chest at Dyanna's bedside, full of rubies and amethysts which she was particularly fond of. He had brought them in person.

"Should I show her naked to you so you can see for yourself?" the young woman asked mischievously and reached for her babe. Daeron chuckled and said that it wasn't needed. Later, he might feel gratitude that the child was a girl who would be needed and not a boy but for now, he was just a man who could not believe that he had finally been given his heart's desire. A little girl. And Dyanna was happy.