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A Seashell in the Tide

The Seventh Whirlpool

Lately, Daenaera had taken to wander down the coast for hours, scaring both her mother and Maester Girard. Sometimes, she herself was startled to realize that she had left the castle of Salt Shore early in the morning and it was now well before sunset. Had she taken nourishment? She could not remember. She must have because if she hadn't, the babe showed its protestations quite vigorously. Like Jason, this one managed to take all the food it needed for itself, leaving Daenaera to vomit the rest.

"Yes, my lady, you ate," Suzette would say. She had come into Daenaera's service a few years before Lothar's death when she'd been a very young, recently orphaned child and had been thrilled to be reunited with her mistress in Dorne where Daenaera had sent her as soon as it had become evident that she wouldn't be able to keep her as she and Patrek were trying to survive. "See?" she'd add, pointing at the bag in the foot of the path. "That's what I carried our lunch in."

But Daenaera couldn't remember, too wrapped in her fears. The forthcoming birth terrified her, now with the recent memory of knowledge, and the certainty that she'd have to give up this little one gnawed at her heart. She had tried her best not to feel any connection to this child but the moment she had felt its first movements it had all failed. She wanted the birth to begin soon so the babe was safely out and at the same time, she wanted it never to arrive because the moment it did, she would lose it forever. Still, her belly became more rounded, the babe descended into the most favourable position possible, according to Maester Girard, and the moment was near.

Sometime in the late afternoon when the sun wasn't so bright, Daella came to them with Jason. Daenaera's little boy was already exploring the world on four feet or clinging to their hands and that one time when Daella had left him on the sand, he had tried to… well, eat the coast. And the sea fascinated him. He was constantly pointing at the white foam crests, the gulls soaring into the searing blue of the sky, their screeches piercing to the eye, the way waves lapped the sand and withdrew under their feet. Daenaera discovered them again through his wonder that was always, always tinged with bitter grief for all the things he showed her she'd lose with the second babe. She stared at the sea and longed to ride the seventh wave, the wave of happiness her stepfather had been telling her about when she had been a child. Run far away where she could undo her mistakes, atone for them, have both her children with her. Sometimes, she thought she saw a wave rising higher than the others but it was never for her. She'd be forever chained to her one night of weakness.

"We'll take good care of him or her," Daella assured her and while it was a great comfort to Daenaera, it was nowhere near enough. "Aegon has much to answer for," she added sometimes with wild anger.

But Daenaera knew that her royal uncle wasn't the only one to blame. If she had stayed to hear what Lewyn had to say… If she had resisted him in that night of theirs… If, if, if. She could have done so many things differently, yet she had done none.

Her fear that Patrek might return in the wrong moment had faded. Arianne had assured her that it wouldn't happen. No one of those who saw Daenaera at Salt Shore would breathe a word on the threat of Lord Alor's anger. She only had her conscience and regret to fear, and fear she did.

The night before her pains started, Arianne sent a raven from Sunspear and Daenaera knew that her life had changed again. Her goodbrother, the Lord of Seagard, had passed away. Patrek was now Lord Mallister and Daenaera his lady. They both needed to go back there as soon as possible. But Patrek still had duties to the Second Sons and besides, from Dorne's good relations with the Free Cities, Daenaera knew that he had taken a camp follower as a constant companion and she was with child due a little after her own. He wouldn't leave the girl without looking back before making sure that she had given birth safely, especially when she didn't have the benefit of care Daenaera had enjoyed at the birth of their own child. It wasn't in his nature. It was Daenaera who had to do all in her power to recover and leave Salt Shore for Seagard as soon as she was able to.

The walls closed around her even closer.

Her babe was born in mere hours and Daenaera almost sat up, alarmed, when she perceived the silence in the room. "Why isn't he crying?" she demanded and pushed herself further up. "Why isn't he crying?"

Maester Girard gave her a quick look. He didn't look concerned. "Your pains were too short, my lady," he said. "It happened too fast and he's stunned, that's all. Look," he added as the midwife turned the newborn with his head down and slapped him lightly on the bottom, at which Daenaera slumped back in relief. Now that her son was crying, she could feel all the pains and pangs of the aftermath. The pains might have been short but they had been extremely intense. And she had yet to expel the afterbirth.

When it was over, the wetnurse came to the bed, smiling. "Do you want to see him, my lady?"

Daenaera had long decided that she wouldn't even have a look. But it was as if another being had taken over her, stifling her will and leaving only that wild desire to take the child and hold him tight. "I do," she said. But she was too weak to actually hold him. Perhaps it was for the better but it didn't feel so.

People said that with newborns, it was hard to tell who they'd look like. But with this babe, it was more than evident that he was Lewyn all over – swarthy skin, a shock of thick black hair. Only when the eyes opened, Daenaera realized that they were not the usual newborn blue but dark purple. Somehow, she knew that they wouldn't change and unlike the fears that had tormented her right up to the birth, she now felt delight. She had left something of herself in her child, after all. She closed her eyes, breathed him in and imagined that the two of them were somewhere far away, never having to return. He and she, and the seventh wave…

The last thing she remembered before drifting to sleep was someone taking him from her arms. Her tears flowed.

A day later, she managed to rise and made her first steps. She had vowed that she wouldn't go anywhere to the nursery and yet it was there that they took her. A soft pushing of the door, a few steps, and she saw him – with Lewyn leaning over the cradle.

She hadn't even known that he had arrived. She knew that he was now wed to Saria Wyl but even when Daella had told her that the wedding had passed, it had only stirred a faint pang in her heart. The pain of knowing that she'd have to give birth only to give the babe up had not left room for any other. For the first time since she had been twenty-five, the sight of him didn't make her pulse with longing. Her only wish was to run at him and push him away from the cradle. He'd have this child forever. She only had days.

He straightened and looked at her. "Thank you," he breathed and all of a sudden, her stupid eyes filled up. Unthinkingly, he reached over to wipe her tears off as he had many times in the past but she jerked back. His hand fell down.

"Are you well?" he finally asked. "I was told that you were."

Daenaera nodded silently, not trusting herself to speak.

"Will you be good to him?" she finally asked, desperately needing the confirmation.

"I will," he replied and then hesitated. It was better not to tell her that Saria was with a child as well. It was bound to get her worried about their son's future, his childhood, Lewyn's treatment of him. With some luck, it would be years before she knew.

A stirring in the red covers brought the attention of both of them to the cradle. The newborn mewled and to Daenaera's horror, the front of her robe went dark with wetness. Without another word, she turned back just as the wetnurse came in. At the door, she hesitated and looked at Lewyn. "What's his name?" she asked. "Have you decided what you're going to name him?"

"Morgan," he replied immediately and her throat constricted again. She nodded, pressing her lips together to stifle her sob, and went out as the cries of the hungry babe faded and the milk tore at her breasts as it made its way down nonetheless.

Her entrance in Seagard was an unexpectedly grandiose one. She had planned on crossing the town as quickly as possible but she had not even left the Cape of Eagles when the whispers started. The townspeople came out in the street to see her. They knew, they had learned somehow. The romantic story of Patrek giving up everything for his bride had made its way even to the town prison, so men and women now cheered, happy to see their lovely new lady and the child in her arms. Daenaera Velaryon had managed to give them what her predecessor had failed at – a healthy heir. It didn't matter that the wild cheering scared Jason so much that he buried his head in his mother's shoulder.

Daenaera reached the castle amidst acclamations that approached those her uncle gathered. The ones that her much worthier grandfather had never received. Would people have celebrated her so if they knew that she had cheated on their lord? That she had given her child up? She very much doubted it. But she'd do her best to prove worthy of the adoration they now showed her.

Eriana's eyes when she met her were full of tears. She was drinking Jason in as if she could hardly believe it. "You've been blessed," she whispered and Daenaera suddenly wondered for how many years Eriana had hid her disappointment in not getting a grandson from her older son.

"Let's put him to sleep," she replied and with this, just like this, she entered this new stage of her life, as the new Lady of Seagard who had proven herself in the most important if all aspects.

'He doesn't look like his mother at all. Except for the eyes, perhaps."

The words themselves were innocuous enough but Lewyn looked up sharply nonetheless. Saria wasn't even looking at him, she was focused on the tiny clothes she was sewing. The babe was about to come in less than a month and she had started making changes in the nursery and wardrobe all of a sudden. Her golden-brown hair shone in the sunlight and she looked as innocent as the Maiden herself. Lewyn had been stunned to hear that she had visited the room they had chosen to be as far removed from her chambers as possible – and its new occupant.

"He looks like me," he said calmly, hoping that he was just imagining things.

Unfortunately, he wasn't. Saria left her sewing aside and looked him squarely in the eye. "Is Daenaera Velaryon going to make any demands?" she asked.

Lewyn sighed. His moment of hope had lasted less than a moment. He didn't answer because he simply had no idea what he should say. He wouldn't let his wife make trouble for Daenaera, of course, but he couldn't blame her for feeling offended. He had fathered Morgan on another woman mere months before their wedding and he had brought him here while Saria waited for her own child to arrive.

All of a sudden, she laughed. "If you could see your face, my lord," she said. "All men are the same… or all princes, perhaps?" Then she grew serious. "I've seen you with her when I was a little girl," she said. "Ten or eleven, I think. Even then, it was evident how smitten you were with her."

This much about discretion. Lewyn had prided himself on their relationship being something known only to those close to him when a girl of ten had seen it for what it was.

"I fully intend to treat you to the best of my ability, Saria," he said. "You'll never suffer such a situation with another child. I would have spared you as well this one if I could. And Morgan's mother will make no demands."

There was pain and longing in her eyes. The thought that they were not for him but for her wish for someone to love her like this was a meager comfort.

"Even now you won't say it," Saria whispered. "What is this hold of hers over you?"

She straightened and drew a breath. "I understand that you have to keep him," she said. "It's only right if his mother can't or won't. He isn't the one to blame for his existence. And I cannot respect a man who takes what he wants and then abandons the result. But that binds me in no way. I don't want him in my life, Lewyn. Or our children's lives. Take care to keep us at good distance. The Water Garden is a big palace. If needed, remove one of us to Sunspear. But I don't want him in my life."

He nodded, his mind already working on a way to make it up to both her and Morgan. He couldn't come up with one.