Falling Stars and Bright Sunlight

Justice and Fairness

"Would you like to return to Starfall?"

Ashara stared at her brother, as if she could not believe he was even asking such a question. "Go to Starfall? Now?"

Arel realized his mistake and ran a weary hand through his hair. "Listen, I am only concerned about you. You cannot truly help anyone and the whole situation is hard on you. I really don't think you need to see Lady Aelinor right now… she's arriving tomorrow and they say she's great with child."

Ashara shook her head, confused. "Naeryn's mother is with child?"

"Yes," Arel said and looked down. "Such things happen."

"Indeed they do. To some women more often than others." A note of fierce anger underlined by sadness crept in her voice. "How many times did it happen to Mother and that brigand who was stealing our inheritance and starving our smallfolk? Two times? Or was it three? Yes, I think it was three… that I know of."

Arel spat an obscene oath at himself in his head. He had done his best to protect her and Arthur from the ugly reality of how low their mother had fallen after their father's near lethal accident. He had been complacent, letting himself believe that he had succeeded.

"Don't think about it now," he said, looking around at the solar that they shared and that suddenly felt too small to contain the weight of fury, helplessness, and pain they had fought so hard to leave behind.

"I do," she breathed. "Every day. How was it once again? Like mother, like daughter."

"No!" Arel raised his hand to stop her and rose. "This isn't true. Don't even think about it."

"How could I not? Lately, I've been scared that she might… that she might return."

Her horrified whisper was so low that he didn't as much hear her last word as intuited it. "She won't," he said firmly. "She's well aware that she isn't welcome. And the money from Starfall will keep coming only if she keeps her distance. It's in the past. All in the past. It's over."

"No,"Ashara whispered. "It isn't. It changed all of us. I wonder whether Arthur would have strove so hard to prove his honour if It wasn't for her dishonour? Would I have been so determined to prove myself so different from everyone, to live life to the fullest before I settled down if I wasn't afraid that I might seek it later at the first disappointment? And what did she do to you, I don't want to think about. You should have been like the others, fostered away with no care until you were grown up. You could have been the Sword of the Morning, do you remember?"

Arel looked away. "I prefer not to remember things that could have been… or not. Arthur is the one and he's doing it…"

He would have said, "With honour" but rethought. "Splendidly," he said instead.

"You could have done it just as splendidly," Ashara insisted. "I remember what the master-at-arms-used to say. But you never get the chance to practice the way Arthur did. You had to be our shield against them when you were but a boy who had so much to learn. And look where we are. Arthur is the Seven knows where following the whims of someone who's headed his father's way. And the two of us are here, in the middle of the night, without anything good in sight. No happiness that we can even glimpse."

He felt a pang of pain as he was listening to her. But he knew she was right. He touched her cheek. "But we survived, Ashara. Some nights, I didn't think we would and yet, it happened. I won't let the past disturb you unduly. I want you to leave Sunspear. It'll only become worse here. People are gathering for Gillerd's trial and they no doubt will start questioning you about the Red Keep and Aerys and I don't think you have anything reassuring to tell them."

The look that his sister gave him made him shudder. It was nothing short of bleak hopelessness, with fear lurking behind. "I only hope the hostages do nothing to gain his notice," she whispered. "And that it is enough."


At the end, she didn't leave for Starfall. Very few people left Sunspear those days – the lords and ladies who had come for their annual council with their overlord figured that since the council was only shortly delayed, it would be better to stay in their Sunspear houses, rather than travelling to their own seats and then returning almost immediately. Besides, by now everyone knew that the Prince of Dragonstone had disappeared with a girl he had no business ever talking to and that had fueled Aerys' madness. Their own sons and daughters were hostages for Princess Elia's good behavior, as well as Dorne, should something happen. It would, everyone whispered. With a madman, it always did. And when it did – whatever it turned out to be, - Sunspear would be the first place where news would come. So, no one was leaving.

The Old Palace was filled with everyone it could accommodate and then some. At the end, Arel and Ashara were forced to move out of their chambers, with Arel going to sleep in Alric's antechamber and Ashara sharing Naeryn's bedchamber – a very unsettling accommodation since they were both very anxious, hissed at each other like angry cats, and Naeryn had this habit of pacing when nervous. Ashara looked at her, felt her irritation grow, reckoned that by now, her friend must have walked half the way to the Wall, and thought that Naeryn looked like a beast in a pit – clawing at its walls but unable to get out.

At leaving the chambers, she inevitably happened upon someone who asked fearfully was it really this bad at King's Landing. Were their people in danger? Soon, Ashara started going out only with a hood she tugged around her face to hide as much of it as possible. Of course, that meant that she couldn't see too well, so she constantly tripped into her own hem.

It's been a week since Loreza's stillbirth when her husband's trial started. Now, Ashara truly wished that she had listened to Arel and gone home. Arel knew everything, he always had. He had known how ugly it would be. Even at King's Landing, Ashara had never experienced such horror, such feeling of being tainted just by being there and listening.

An invisible wall separated the throne room in two. While the septon was singing his way through the prayer, Ashara used the momentary hush to take stock of the situation. She was surprised to see how many people sat in sympathetic half-circle around Lord Vaith. Surely the accident could not warrant such attention? But of course, it wasn't the actual murder that drew the unrest. For too long, Mikkel Gargalen had wielded too much influence with his goodsister and now his nephew. Too long, too much.

"There will be too many of those who'll do their best to see him convicted," Lady Allyrion had told Mikkel just yesterday. "Yes, I know the young Vaith was likely guilty. We all know that the girls from pleasure houses talk of his love of cruelty. And Loreza isn't a woman who's careless with her favours. But you must understand – you were too impertinent in the taking. You and Carral both. What is this, being always the first ones to be consulted and the ones who always get to pick the first choosing when favours are concerned."

"Right!" Mikkel had snapped. "And did it ever occurred to you that we aren't given this and that just because? Where in the seven hells were those vultures when work had to be done?"

The small woman hadn't been moved at all by his anger. "Don't tell me that you deserved such largesse," she had said calmly. "Of course you did. Who would have given it to you otherwise? But it was too much. Insultingly much for all others… Now too many long to see your downfall. Someone has to pay. Someone always pays. It'll be a hard day tomorrow. Ah, my lord, you're a smart man. You know I'm right."

Today, the lady looked just as composed as she had last night. Mikkel had swept all emotions away from his face and didn't move a muscle even when his son was brought into the throne room closely escorted by guards, like a common brigand.

To Ashara's surprise, Gillerd looked composed as well. Very gaunt, with a single vein pulsing at his temple, the bruises under his eyes showed the torment of the sleep-deprived. But he looked calm, save for the brief moment his eyes rested over his wife. There was nothing of Loreza's famed beauty left in this bloated face with flakes. The swollen belly still sticking out under her gown clearly reminded everyone that until very recently, she had been with child and caused a flow of half-whispered speculations whose this babe had been. Only Alynna's grip over her hand and whisper in her ear seemed to stop her from fainting right there. They shouldn't have let her come, Ashara thought despite the fact that when she had first heard that Alric didn't wish for his daughter to attend, she had railed inwardly, Now you're very concerned. Maybe you should have been when you left her without someone to watch over her day and night when she was a helpless victim for every drunkard who decided to pass by.

Everything was so sickening. For a while, Ashara allowed herself some hope because the fact that the child had been stillborn meant that there was no holdback for Gillerd to say why he had reacted so violently, why he had believed immediately that the other man had indeed bedded his own wife. Before, he would have never admitted this much, would not have thrown Loreza to the wolves as a woman who would give birth to a child who was not her husband's and try to pass it for his. Neither she and the babe nor their own older child would have ever been able to escape the scandal. But now, it was different. There was only one victim.

But soon, Ashara came to realize that fairness and justice was not the same thing. She believed Loreza and Gillerd – but the law had no reason to.

"Did the lady tell you who her supposed attacker was?" the accuser – a small man Ashara didn't know – asked.

"No," Gillerd replied. "She was unconscious at the time."

"Or so she says," the balding man muttered to himself, causing a riot in the hall. Almost all of the women rose and gave an indignant cry and Doran, seemingly having trouble in containing his fury, asked the man and Lord Vaith to be as good as to refrain from such insinuations.

But the evil was already done. In the faces of many of the people present, Ashara could see that they did, indeed, doubt the authenticity of Loreza's story. She was a bastard. A woman born of lust herself. Someone who didn't belong with wedded women, no matter how highborn she was. The very fact that she had managed to make her cousin wrap the cloak around her shoulders meant that she could make him believe everything she said, believe that she was a victim and not the whore she might very well be.

"Arel?" she whispered. "This is bad, isn't it?"

He gave her a grim look and clasped her hand. Despite his outright composure, his fingers were cold and clammy. "It'll only become worse," he said.

And it did. Gillerd couldn't deny that he hadn't thought to ask Davel Vaith whether he had indeed forced himself on Loreza, or had it been just a night of shared pleasure. Sleeping did not mean unconscious. She might have been simply sleeping a hangover away. Lashing out in blind rage because a drunken man said something was no way to go in life. Justice was never found in the bottom of one's goblet. Surely he could have demanded an explanation when it became clear that the other man would not fight. Listening to the many arguments, Ashara almost found herself agreeing. After all, the law demanded proof, not rage… and then she looked at Loreza and her mind was clear once again. By the Mother, this was someone she had known since her time in the Water Gardens! Someone whose entire world was called Gillerd.

The tension grew with every new witness, every question Gillerd had no convincing answer to. He had acted on feelings; law was concerned only with proven facts. Of which he had none.

Slowly, Ashara came to realize that he would see no fairness. The mood in the palace and city had been such that Doran himself would better watch out his steps. Many blamed him for being too peaceful, for sending his sister to King's Landing at all – and their own children, sisters, and brothers with her. Of course, that was his late mother's doing and not his but that was conveniently forgotten. And the fact that at the time, everyone had been thrilled was of no importance now. Even the smallfolk outside howled with rage over the injustice being done to Elia and didn't understand why Doran would not simply demand her back. He could ill afford to stir more unrest by issuing a judgment that would be in such a blatant disrespect of law. After all, who was Gillerd? He was only Doran's cousin! Even Prince Oberyn had not been above punishment as everyone well knew.

But justice would mean a death warrant. That was the punishment for unprovoked murder.

What would win? Politics of family feelings?

At the end of the day, Ashara saw everything in a red blur and Loreza did not have enough strength left to hold her own head up.

"I am ready with my judgment," Doran announced and Ashara blinked and did her best to focus on him. She had never seen him this pale.

Whispers rippled through the crowd. Every pair of eyes in the hall was now fixed on their prince.

"No one can usurp the power of justice and proclaim themselves accuser, judge, and executor in the same time," Doran started. "Not even my own blood."

He was now staring at his cousin who stared back without remorse and Ashara saw that he fought to keep cool. She tried to do the same, although she couldn't believe it. Doran would not do such a thing, surely? He would not sentence his cousin to death? He would not implicitly dub his half-sister a whore?

"A man tainted with such a stain can no longer live among us," Doran said. "From this moment on, you're an outcast from Dorne. You shall leave tonight, never to return. You aren't allowed to take anything but the clothes on your back, not even your name which shall no longer be spoken among us. To Dorne, you are dead."

For a moment, there was an absolute silence crashing against the coloured glass of the windows. Then, Loreza screamed, "No!" before collapsing. Her head hit the wooden chair before her. Alynna tried to lift her and failed.

Everyone in the hall was now shouting – at least Ashara thought so. Half of the people yelled that this was no justice, that there were different rules for Gargalens and the rest of Dorne and the other half railed that every man was entitled to defend his wife with all he had. Ashara's head started pulsating heavily; she watched through a haze how Gillerd started to go to Loreza but the guards stopped him. He tore his eyes away with visible effort and bowed to Doran, very low, before the men took him away.

We must be glad that he was spared, Ashara thought. But she wasn't sure that the fate Doran had condemned Gillerd to was much better than dead.


She could hardly wait for the council to start and be over, so she could go back home. In fact, she was very much inclined to accept Arel's offer and leave the very next morning. Sunspear was no longer a place she wanted to be. And news could find her at Startall as well as here. Her brother would take care of that. Now, she only waited for the day to break. And when it broke, then what? She had no answer.

It was already near midnight. The palace and city had finally calmed down – barely. Ashara sat on the balcony of Naeryn's bedchamber and argued with herself whether she was strong-willed enough to rise and take a shawl. She was so cold… But everything that she knew and didn't know, everything that had happened had wearied her down so much that making the few steps back to the inside of the chamber looked like a huge effort.

A movement made her turn her head, slowly. She had expected Naeryn but it was Oberyn. Something in his face made her drag herself back to the room. He looked numb.

"Is Naeryn here?" he asked. His voice was strange, hollow.

Ashara shook her head, confused. "No… I don't know where she is…"

He drew a hand across his forehead. "You might be better fitted, in fact… Come with me."

"Just wait for a moment."

She went to the wardrobe and pulled out the first shawl she saw.

"Where are we going?"

He didn't reply.

At this hour, there was no one in the hallways of the Old Palace. Ashara tried once again to coax an explanation out of him but he seemed to be focusing all his energy on breathing.

When they reached a chamber in the family wing, Oberyn finally gave her a look. "Help me," he said. "Do everything you can to put her in order. I don't want my father to see her like this. And I… I can't…"

"Who?" she asked, not understanding. "How?"

He didn't answer, just pushed the door open. Now, Ashara saw that his hands were shaking so much that he could not hold anything. Probably that was the reason he had asked her for help. She entered.

Till the end of her life, she would never forget the silence of the bedchamber, with its velvet and comfort. The place meant for people to rest, forget the rest of the world.

The place Loreza Gargalen had chosen to end her life.

With a strangled cry, Ashara ran for her, for the corner where the prepared cradle still sat. Loreza had not let anyone take it out. She was now kneeling before it, her arm thrown over the side as if she wanted to stroke a sleeping child.

Ashara took the arm and removed it. It was very heavy and already starting to benumb. Her other hand still held the hilt of the dagger she had plunged in her heart. In the carpet, a thick line of blood had already started to congeal.