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Falling Stars and Bright Sunlight

At the Mercy of the River

Two weeks later…

Ashara woke up before dawn. Her sleep had been troubled, haunted by the enormity of what was going to take place today. They had come back from Sunspear two days ago but Arel had insisted that she rest before undertake the dangerous initiative that was ending the existence of the being inside her. Taking my child's life, she thought, determined to be honest and cruel to herself, and she felt something like remorse. Her hands went down a body that had already started to change. She was no longer as graceful as she had been, and the feeling of her growing breasts was not pleasant either. She could no longer ride her sand mare comfortably and since the very beginning, the black beast had been anxious, as if she could feel her mistress' unhappiness. Early enough in her pregnancy, Ashara had tried to ride herself into a miscarriage, with the only result of tiring herself and the mare almost to death. It would be a while before she was forgiven, it seemed. It turned out that Whirlwind was a resentful beast – and besides, she clearly profoundly disliked the fact that she now only got the grooms to take her for a ride. I disrupted my mare's life as well, not only my family's and my own, Ashara thought, feeling profoundly sorry for herself as she walked up the shores of the Torentine. The river sang softly to her of smooth current and sunlight dancing atop the white gleaming surface, yet she knew how swiftly she could find herself sucked in the vortex underneath. Not unlike her life at court… or her life here. When they'd been children, her brothers had used to come to swim here – always the two of them, or sometimes accompanied by a few other boys. Once, Arel had been otherwise occupied or simply reluctant but Arthur had gone in on his own. Ashara remembered how pale he had been when he had finally made his way home, disheveled, soaking wet and downright scared. The current had started claiming him.

Maybe it would be easier if she just entered. The thought of childbirth scared her more than ever after the little she had glimpsed of Elia's labour. The Queen had decided that maidens had no work getting to witness what awaited them, too, one day, and Elia had agreed. The maesters had told Ashara that being so far along, she'd experience the pain almost as badly as an actual birth. The very thought of that made her scramble for something, anything that would spare her that.

"Don't be stupid," she said aloud. Throwing herself in the Torentine would probably spare her not only this pain but the pains of a lifetime – literally! Like, in taking her life away literally. Ashara wanted to live. "And besides," she kept talking to herself, "it's too much bother, walking to the centre and whatnot. It'll be easier if I just throw myself from the Palestone Sword."

She giggled nervously, entirely aware that she was just trying to postpone the inevitable, enjoy a last hour of sunlight and the smells of her own land before undertaking the journey that would mark another rite of passage in her life as a woman, much like her night with Brandon had done before.

She looked up and let the sun caress her dark hair. She knew she was losing her fashionable pale complexion but she did not care. One could not live under the Dornish sun and stay fair-skinned, unless they spent all their time indoors. Soon, she'd turn almost olive and then she'd look just like Arel again, violet eyes contrasting to dark face just as strikingly as they did to a creamy one.

Her way led her up the hills, the soft green and burned brown that would finally develop into the Red Mountains; slightly annoyed, she noticed that she was out of breath. Pregnancy and the Red Keep seemed to have transformed her into quite the weakling. But she didn't stop walking. Soon, the aroma of honeysuckles filled her nostrils and the buzz of bees was a nice accompaniment of the rising delight she felt. A few birds joined in. The sun thinned to rays splintering the canopy of treetops over her head. Ashara was now in the beginning of the gorge of Torentine; reluctantly, she decided against going on. She felt safe enough in her own because the mantle she carried for the colder areas here, in the hills, was embroidered with House Dayne colours. No one of the shepherds around would dare attack their lord's sister. But if she went on, she'd find herself in the High Hermitage territory, and she did not trust them one bit.

She sat on a big boulder at the edge of the gorge. Unlike the rest of the rocks around, it was bathed in sunlight, so it was warm. Ashara slid her gaze over the Torentine, now rushing wild and marvelous downwards in a small waterfall of pearls and golden threads. In this moment, she didn't want to go away from here. But through the peaceful tranquility here, old questions and doubts besieged her again. Elia's state had been so unstable even in the beginning of her pregnancy that Ashara simply couldn't see how she could make it to the end and stay healthy. They shouldn't have tried for a second child so soon after Rhaenys, Ashara thought. Elia needed more time to regain her strength and besides, maesters claimed that often the second one of two children born in a short span was weaker and unhealthy, with the mother not having enough energy to pass to the babe in the womb. But Rhaegar looked… well, he looked like a man obsessed. She had overheard him talking to Elia and Arthur and sometimes she could swear he was headed on the road to insanity, with his fixation on this prophecy of his. Sometimes, Ashara wondered whether he was convinced that his prophecy would keep Elia's safe, for he needed her for his heads of the dragon; other times, she cynically wondered if he even cared whether she lived or not. Her pride and dignity meant nothing to him, he had proved it at Harrenhall, so why should it be different with her life? Arthur looked uncomfortable whenever she raged about this. Ashara rather enjoyed being able to flay the Prince in front of Shanai who agreed that Rhaegar needed a good beating.

In short, it had been the most unfortunate time for her to leave King's Landing. Elia ill, Rhaegar becoming a prophecy fiend, Arthur having forgotten how to smile, the Queen sprouting new bruises every day… Things were getting steadily darker and as much as she hated the poisonous air in the Red Keep, she could not help but feel that she had deserted them – Elia, Arthur and Lewyn, Rhaella, the rest of Elia's Dornish retinue. After Rhaegar's failure to catch this Knight of the Laughing Tree, Aerys had started deteriorating rapidly and the only one who could protect them from his wrath was Rhaegar – when he deigned to look up from his cursed books.

Absent-mindedly, she raised a hand to wipe the wetness off her forehead and then startled. She had been so engrossed in her thoughts that she hadn't noticed the heavy dark clouds weighing the horizon down. A single look was enough to show her than in the matter of minutes, she'd be attacked by a vicious torrent of icy rain. The cool air would turn cold. Everything would become slippery.

Still, Ashara didn't panic. She had grown up in these hills. She looked around and chose a brushwood she'd hide amidst. Climbing down the hills in a storm coming from the mountains was the worst thing she could do. Even the slightest slipping could send her down in the river that would turn into a raging sea soon enough.

She rose – just a bit too hurriedly. The hand she used to push herself away from the boulder slipped and she lost her balance. Despite her desperate attempts to cling to the branches and roots of the trees she encountered, she was slipping downwards, against the Torentine. Terrified, she screamed but the roar of the coming storm overhead and the rushing river beneath drowned her words.

The rest of it were flashes of a nightmare she would never remind clearly and would never want to. The river carrying her along. The floating tree trunk a moment before it clearly hit her head. The glare of the sun later, maybe much later. And her desperate attempt to scramble out, find a warm and secure place. She didn't care whether she'd be scolded and called a fool. She wanted to live… she wanted it… even if she had to spent the rest of her life in misery and sorrows! And then, the knife. It was a real knife and someone was twisting it slowly in her belly, so severely that she could only whimper.

When she came to herself, Ashara saw that she was in her room at Starfall. The master was looking at her with concern. Arel quickly came from somewhere beyond her field of vision. "You're awake! Finally! Are you cold?"

He brought a goblet of warm milk, whine, and honey to her lips. She drank with a great effort and looked at herself, to find out, surprised, that she was indeed cold despite being tucked under thick covers and the fire in the fireplace was high.

"What happened?" she murmured and tried to rise in bed, surprised how hard it was.

"No," the master said. "You have a head wound, my lady. You must stay abed."

"A head wound?" she repeated and tried to search amidst the haze in her head. "The Torentine."

"Yes," Arel said. "Toral Wyl found you almost ashore. The river must have carried you all the way from the hills."

Ashara fell silent then, considering his too serene behavior. I must be in a really bad way if he isn't scolding me. "Am I going to die?" she finally asked.

He gave her a look of exasperation. "No, unless you decide to die of the spanking I intend to administer when you're better. What were you thinking?"

Ashara's first thought was that she didn't have time to wait to get better. And then, the pain in her lower belly and a look at the basin and bloodied cloths nearby showed her that she wouldn't need to.

She hadn't wanted the child, yet now she could not help but feel an inexplicable twinge of loss.