TWO : ASHARA (I)
He departed on the morn, with a kiss to the brow of both Alys and Jon, and even one to her, despite their quarrel last night. She felt his love in the gesture, and that reassured her that she was making the right choice.
She was going to miss him, but it would shame the memory of her brother less the sooner he was gone. That morning Ashara spent with her daughter and the Targaryen babe — Jon, Ned had told her — who was now her son.
Alysanne already adored him. Together they rolled around in their shared bed, bonding as brother and sister. Ashara had ordered more blankets and toys to be fashioned for him, in colours of green and blue and purple and white, which raised an eyebrow or two — as did the sudden appearance of the boy. But Ashara knew that the people here could be trusted.
If they could not, then who?
At high noon Maester Justyn shuffled in, carrying a few bound scrolls and smiling with ease. He did not seem surprised at the sight of little Jon, but then again it had been he who greeted Lord Stark the day before.
"No one must know," she found herself telling the short, middle-aged man. "Can you insure that all of the handmaidens and guards are assured that I bore twins? Lie to them, blackmail them, have them killed if you must."
Was she truly willing to kill for this boy? Ashara looked at him, one hand snaked through the bars of the cot. As though sensing her distress he grabbed her finger with his tiny pink hands and gripped it. She almost smiled.
"My Lady," Justyn nodded gravely and shuffled a bit closer, chain clinking to the delight of Alysanne. "I will do what must be done, though I doubt it will come to executions."
Ashara nodded, biting down on her lip. "What of my brother?"
It hurt that she no longer needed to specify which one for Justyn to understand. The little things brought her pain even more than the reality of his absence; Alys would never know her uncle. Allyria would grow up hearing about her brave brother, the Sword of the Morning, and yet she would be too young to remember his face.
Justyn cleared his throat. "Lord Dayne is still in Blackhaven, my lady," he said to her. "He sent a raven — he said not to expect him for some time."
Ashara took it, but could not bear to read the words. Through the thin parchment she could see his dastardly handwriting, which Mother had always desired for him to fix. But Aron was too far gone in his penmanship; he would never improve.
She smiled sadly. "Is there anything else, Maester?"
"Yes, my lady," Justyn crept forward. "Your sister is to arrive from Sunspear in a few hours. I have seen to it that preparations have been made for her rooms and, if you wish it, there are plenty of provisions for a welcome feast—"
"A welcome feast?!" Ashara rounded on the little man, outraged that he would dare suggest they celebrate anything at all during these dark days. "My brother has just died. I have two children to care for — three, now, with my sister. I have not the time for such trivial matters, Maester Justyn."
She turned back to her babes, who were lying on their bellies and looking up at her with their grey eyes. "You are dismissed," she told the Maester.
Once he had shuffled out, Ashara knelt on the floor and sobbed.
Her sister arrived just when the Maester said she would.
Allyria looked well, and tired. She was not yet six but still she carried the great burden of grief upon her slight shoulders. She wore a black dress, embroidered with purple, and her hair had been tied back in an amethyst net. A miniature version of Ashara herself.
She greeted her sister with a tight embrace and a kiss to both cheeks. Their tears touched.
"Oh, Ashara," she whimpered. "They say he died... Is it true? Is our dear brother gone?"
"Yes, my sweet sister," she took the girl's hand and nodded to the ladies waiting behind — her nursemaid and septa — and led her inside the castle. "Arthur fell in battle, little Ally. His sword was brought home, but not his bones."
Allyria sobbed, and so Ashara stopped their trek. They were halfway to Allyria's bedchamber, which was only across from Ashara's, but she was struck with a better idea. Kneeling down, she dried Allyria's cheeks and smiled softly. She had to be brave, like Arthur. "In war many die, my sweet sister," she said, "but there are also those who are born; gifts from the gods to remind us how precious life truly is."
Allyria looked up, pink lips dipped into a perfect pout. "What do you mean?" She asked, with all of the innocence of a child.
Ashara quickly rose and pulled her along. "Come, now," she ordered. "I must show you."
They stopped before the door to the nursery. Allyria looked greatly confused, but it seemed for the first time that she noticed Ashara's slightly swollen belly — which grew smaller with every day that passed.
With a cry of delight Allyria pushed open the door and ran inside. In an instant she was bent over the two babes, cooing and giggling. Ashara rubbed her back. "Your niece and nephew; Jon and Alys."
"Oh, truly?" Allyria's eyes were earnest, wide and hopeful. She was such a sweet little thing.
"What reason do you have to doubt?" Ashara chuckled, avoiding an honest answer and circling the crib.
Her sister did not notice. She stroked Alys' hair and kissed Jon's brow, glowing, her grief forgotten in this moment of peace. "They're wonderful," she whispered in an awed tone. "Do you think Alys will be kind, like mother? And Jon brave like Arthur?"
"I do," Ashara said. "And I think Alys and Jon will adore their aunt."
"That's me," Allyria whispered, eyes on the babes. "Oh, this is going to be great fun!"
Ashara laughed. "Yes," she said. "It will."
Allyria and she dined on sweetcrab, buttered bread, boiled eggs and honeyed ham that night. Allyria went on about her time in Sunspear and her dear friend Sarella, who was fierce and strong but quick to laugh. Ashara was grateful that her sister did not resent Ashara for sending her off. It had been to prevent her from knowing about Alys; her shame and now her life.
Over a bowl of sugared oats that they shared, Allyria confessed that she had snuck out riding with Arianne Martell, once. She felt guilt over the whole affair, but Ashara reminded her that sometimes people must do rash things to remember the difference between good and bad, and her sister nodded — at last feeling peace.
Then they reminisced over the family they had lost; Mother, Father, and Arthur, whom had been so good and honest, and deserved better than to die in war.
At last Allyria asked the question Ashara had been most dreading. "Who slew him? Our brother?"
"A northman," Ashara told her, purposefully vague. "A man of high honour. It was an accident. You must hold no grudge against him."
Allyria nodded. "Arthur would not want that, anyway," she said quietly. "He would want us to mourn him, not avenge him."
"Arthur was no vengeful soul," Ashara agreed with a nod. They finished dessert in peace and then Ashara pushed back from the table. "You must sleep, sweet sister," she said firmly. "Your journey was long."
Allyria, to her surprise, nodded. "Goodnight, Ashara," she said, reaching up to kiss her cheek. And then she walked from the chamber. Ashara was left alone with her thoughts; grief and guilt and uncertainty, and most of all pain.
She crawled under the thin covers of her bed and stroked the silken sheets, trying to sort through her feelings. Alys and Jon were a bright spot in this dark world, she decided, and she would raise Jon as her own and love him as her own. As a matter of fact, there was already a blossoming affection there which she hoped would grow as he did.
4 years later — Starfall
The babes ran though the halls, giggling and calling out to each other in their child voices. To Ashara, the sound was sweet; it brought happiness to this otherwise lonely place.
Not so lonely anymore, she reminded herself; not with Allyria here and Aron back at long last. He had elected to take over the position of Lord, but as his sister she was still Lady — doing the tasks her mother had done. There was no time for sewing, thank the Gods, but Ashara still found spare moments to walk with her sister though the gardens or go riding with her brother.
Most of her time, however, was spent on Jon and Alys. True to herself she loved them both greatly. They were her pride and joy. Allyria felt the same, and she knew Aron bore affection for them. Perhaps given time that affection would grow, but he had only been back for two months.
Ashara sat in the Lady's solar, reading through the messages which were not as important according to her brother; wine merchants, trading deals with the Reach, shipments of Arbor gold from the Redwynes, and... A raven from Lord Eddard Stark.
Ashara had set that one aside to read last, for it was personal business she guessed and had nothing to do with matters of Ladyship. She concocted replies to Ser Danyo, Lord Mace Tyrell, and Lord Redwyne.
With great trepidation she reached for the letter, which was bound with a white wax seal bearing the sigil of House Stark; a snarling direwolf. She ripped it open and read.
Lady Ashara Dayne,
I am writing to inform you that I have a great wish to see my son and daughter — now that they have reached four years of age I feel that they must know the face of their father.
If you have alternate plans or wishes please write back; I will not depart on any journey until I receive a reply, I promise you. I expect any travels to take up to three months, though with a smaller party perhaps I could make it in half that time.
Well wishes,
Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell; Warden of the North
Ashara stared down at his kind words and felt her heart break all over again. During these past four years, she had felt herself distance away from Ned. She had felt an abyss form between them, but the children they shared had formed a bridge of sorts; a connection that could not be broken, no matter how hard she tried.
Ashara wiped her eyes and sighed. She would reply in the morning, after thinking the matter through.
Gently she folded the letter and slipped it into the pocket of her gown, which was purple gossamer with Myrish lace on the sleeves and hemming. A perfect representation of the colours of her House. No longer did she mourn. She stood and left the solar, feeling cramped all of the sudden.
Ashara made her way to the rookery, where dozens of ravens awaited a send-off. Ashara tied her replies to three and let them loose. When she turned around, she discovered Jon was watching her with curious eyes.
"What is it?" She asked of him, bending over so that their gazes would match. "Is something wrong, my sweet?" She lifted his chin. He looked a bit peaky, but otherwise well.
"M'fine," he said. "Why do the birds say 'corn'?"
Ashara smiled. "It's what they eat," she replied, taking his hand to lead him away. They descended the narrow steps together, her gait graceful whilst he hopped his way down like an excited hare.
"Corn is yucky," he told her, jumping off the last step. "Why eat corn when you can have sweets?"
"You can't always have sweets," she reminded him. "And ravens cannot eat the same things that we do."
Jon frowned. "Why not?"
Ashara laughed. "It makes them sick," she said, "and some things could kill them. You don't want the birds to die, do you?"
Jon shook his head. His hair was wild and tangled, a mass of dark curls not unlike Alysanne's. Ashara knelt down and smiled. "Who's been giving you sweets, Jon?" She asked playfully, knowing she had not of late.
Jon sheepishly scuffed his feet on the tile. "Uncle Aron," he admitted, cheeks streaked with pink. "And sometimes Auntie Ally."
Ashara laughed. She was glad her brother had taken so kindly to the children. "From now on, I advise you stash up those candies, Jon," she warned, "for I will have words with my brother about him fattening you up."
"I'm not fat!" Jon protested, wide-eyed.
Ashara poked his belly and he giggled. "You are if I say so," she told him, beaming at her baby boy. She kissed his brow. "Where is Alys, then?"
"The gardens," Jon replied. "Auntie Ally wanted to show her the poppies because it's spring, now."
Ashara nodded. "Do you have a favourite flower, Jon?" They had resumed walking through brightly lit corridors; the walls were lined with open windows that overlooked the gardens and courtyard, depending on the side. Down below Ashara spotted her daughter running with Allyria, trying to catch a lizard it seemed.
"Boys can't like flowers," Jon protested, as though it was the most ridiculous thing for her to suggest.
"Oh, yes they can," Ashara assured him quickly, earnestly. "Why, the Tyrells in Highgarden are home to many boys who adore flowers, and there's nothing wrong with that."
Her voice was soft, but Jon appeared admonished anyway. "I like blue winter roses," he admitted at last, "but there's only one bush outside..."
Ashara smiled and picked him up. She carried him the rest of the way. "How about I write to my dear friend Lady Alerie and have a few sent here? I'm sure she would be delighted."
Jon beamed and promptly kissed her cheek.
They met Alys in the gardens. Ashara spent the rest of the afternoon watching her two children and Allyria splash in the pools and fountains, laughing. Aron came down after a while and kissed her cheeks in greeting. "They are happy today," he noticed.
"I promised Jon to send for blue roses from Highgarden," she said, smiling fondly. "And you must stop giving them sugar, Aron!"
Her brother laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that merry way they had done since he was a child. "Alright," he vowed. "I'll empty my pockets tonight. On the note of Highgarden, however, Mace Tyrell has requested that we visit. His lady wife misses your company, apparently, and they wish to meet your children."
Ashara nodded. "I do believe Loras and Margaery are the same age as Alys and Jon — or around there, at least. It will be good to see Alerie once more; we were great friends in court."
"That may be so, but relations between Dorne and the Reach have never been the fairest, sister," her brother smiled ruefully. "Dornishmen sacked Highgarden, and vipers killed their lord. I worry for your safety in such a place."
Ashara nodded solemnly. It was true, yes... "This is different," she decided. "I am friend to Lady Alerie. And Mace is a fat, old man. What has he to gain from attacking me or mine?"
"A war?" Aron suggested. "Vengeance?"
"No," Ashara thought both motives were quite weak. "We will go. It will help solidify friendships between Dayne and Tyrell."
Aron smiled and placed a hand on her shoulder. "They wish for you to be there within a few weeks," he said. "There will be no need to send a raven for those roses; you may pluck them yourselves."
That night Ashara composed a letter to Ned, saying that she was sorry he could not visit at this time, for they would be in the Reach for a few months at least.
Aron would remain, but Ashara would take both the children and her sister, along with the nursemaids and septa. Highgarden had its own Maester and Mace kindly promised that the children could resume their lessons with him.
Ashara wrote to Alerie that they accepted, and that she would be delighted to see her again. She sent the notices out and went to kiss her children good night.
"When will we leave for the Reach?" Alys asked, clutching her red stuffed wolf which had been a gift from Ned for her second name day. Jon had one as well, though it was white.
Alys was positively ecstatic about the prospect of travel and seeing a new place. Ashara was, as well; after five long years in Starfall, she had been waiting for a chance to leave. To visit those who had survived the war.
"In a few days," she told her daughter. "Plans must be made and horses must be readied, and we will need to buy a gift for the Tyrell children, won't we? No guest should show up empty-handed — especially not to that of a lord's place."
Alys nodded. "Do you think Lady Margaery will like me? Even though I'm a bastard?"
"Never call yourself that," Ashara ordered, none too sharply. Alys winced. Ashara softened immediately. She took Alys's hand and squeezed it. "In Dorne bastards are not looked down upon, but in the rest of the world? Some might see you as below them. But the Tyrells are accommodating, I promise."
"What does that mean? Acc-accama..." She struggled with the word and scowled.
"Accommodating," Ashara corrected gently. "It means... They will accept you easier. And as the daughter of a noble lord and lady? No one would ever dare insult you."
Alys nodded, appeased. She kissed the soft nose of her wolf and then Ashara's cheek. "G'night, Mummy."
"Good night, sweet child."
Ashara blew out the candle on her beside and walked to the other side of the room, where Jon slept. He had been waiting, staring up at the high ceiling. Ashara smiled and looked up. There were stars painted there — so many. They looked so real she could almost believe there was no ceiling at all.
"Are you excited?"
Jon nodded eagerly. He scooted down in his blankets so that she might sit beside him. "I've never met anyone our age," he whispered.
"It will be good for you both to have friends," she promised him, smoothing back his curls. It occurred to her, in that moment, that the Tyrells had been fiercely loyal to Rhaegar Targaryen. Even if the truth of his parentage somehow slipped out while in the Reach, they would not betray him.
But Jon was her son. Blood of the dragon or not.
"Good night," she said, kissing his nose.
Aron was standing outside the door to her chambers.
"Brother," she said, a little startled. "What is it?"
"I fear the Tyrells might have other ambitions in this visit," he told her, in an odd rush. "Allyria is of an age with their oldest boy, Willas. Could it be marriage that they seek? Betrothal?"
"I doubt they would sell off their oldest son for a Dornishwoman," she told him, letting him enter her chambers and pouring them both a goblet of wine. "Probably they are waiting for the Queen to birth a daughter."
"Mm, that may be so," Aron nodded, "But a Princess who is near seven — or however long it takes Cersei to birth a girl — years younger? It would be an improper match. You know how ambitious the Tyrells can be, sister."
"So what?" Ashara turned. "You wish for Allyria to remain in Starfall?"
"If she did—"
"No, brother," Ashara sighed. "On this I must refuse you, I fear; Allyria has only ever been to Sunspear, and that was ages ago. She must see the world. And what is the harm in a betrothal between her and Willas, anyway?"
Aron anxiously eyed the door. "I... Have proposed an alliance between Houses Dayne and Dondarrion."
"Oh, brother, you didn't!" She set down her wine in a fury and crossed the room, grabbing his warm, pale hands in her own. "Tell me you did not!"
"Nothing has been decided as of yet," Aron assured her, hurriedly. "But I fear that if I do not give an answer in these next years I might make an enemy."
"You will not," she said firmly. "Leave this matter to me; the marriage of our sister. Tell the Dondarrions that I have ceased any planning on your part and insist that I handle Allyria. They will understand; it is the truth, after all."
Aron rubbed his temples. "Very well, sister," he said. "Do not come back empty-handed."
It was on the morning they departed that Ashara finally received her reply from Lord Stark.
He was most gracious in his acceptance, and asked that she inform him when they returned to Starfall so that he might finally re-aquatint himself with the twins. Ashara formed no reply to his words, and resumed her final stages of packing.
Jon and Alys were mounted on their ponies when she reached the courtyard. Ashara insisted they ride there, at least part of the way; she would not have her little children ride in a wheelhouse when they were more than capable of handling their horses.
Ashara made certain that they had everything they needed for the trip. Alys was glowing as Ashara rummaged through her saddlebag. She slipped in a few more apples and a sack of oats for the pony in case it grew tired and smiled at her daughter. She looked wonderful; her dark hair had been fixed in a lazy northern style for the journey there, and she wore a breezy Dornish dress to help with the heat.
Jon urged his pony to stand next to Alys as though there were going to race. Ashara climbed atop her own horse, a filly called Quicksilver, and joined them. "Try not to fall off," she warned them. "And be safe on those. Stay close to me and Allyria, do you understand?"
They nodded. The portcullis rose slowly and gratingly, but soon enough they were on their way.
AN: Here we have another chapter! Not all of them will be as choppy, but this story needs to progress. Was it choppy? Give me your opinions on this. Remember that every character is different, and they have different ways of thinking and doing things. Obviously the vibe of this chapter is going to be different from the Ned one.
Okay, so, a guest reviewer commented that it would be dishonorable of Ned either way (as in, being with Ashara or Cat), because Ned was betrothed to Ashara but he married Cat, and he married Cat, but he's smooching with Ashara. This, while quite accurate, isn't necessarily the case. Ned and Ashara were not, in fact, betrothed. I mean, I know that they said they were, or it was implied... But it's just one of those things that was said, or promised, after they'd done the deed and little Alys was sprouting up. It's a midnight vow that holds no weight.
Ned married Cat on the orders of her father (kind of), but he loved Ashara. It wasn't dishonorable to marry Cat, because there was no official betrothal. What WAS dishonorable was Ned taking Ashara's "maidenhead," as it were, when they weren't married. He "dishonored" her. But yes, I totally see what you're saying and sort of agree, but it's all really very technical.
Sorry for the overly long note!