Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun.
Book 2
Chapter One-Hundred and Twenty-Six
It was an awful day for a wedding, and an even more awful one for a coronation, the skies were grey and thick with heavy clouds and there was already the scent of rain on the air. The ocean was not calm, the waves were crashing against the stone of the island with enough force that any ship that had the misfortune to still be on the waters would no doubt be smashed into splinters.
And yet none on the island seemed to take that as an omen, not that anything was going to stop the treason that was to be done here regardless. Lyarra rose from the worn stone bench she had sat on for the past hour, her head protected from the rain by an old stone arch that bordered the prayer garden along with its three identical brothers, the garden had been a godswood once from what she had overheard from the servants, but House Sunglass had ripped out the heart tree centuries ago and raised a statue of the Mother Above in its place.
Lyarra would have liked it here if she was a guest, but she wasn't even one in name and the eyes on her back made her feel like there was a noose around her neck. As she left her guards that had been assigned to her for the day followed behind her, it was odd that within the Red Keep when she was still just a princess, she was so used to having men follow her about and yet a different context made something so similar seem utterly threatening.
She made her way back to the motherhouse, her sisters in faith were occupied with placing fresh candles and scrubbing the stones, none of the guests would set foot in here but even so the revered mother had made it clear that she saw that as no excuse, every inch of the motherhouse was to be made immaculate and she would hear not a single word against it.
Said revered mother was standing in front of the statue of the Father, her hands folded in prayer and her eyes were shut but it seemed that she sensed Lyarra stepping closer to her as her grey eyes opened, there was none of the contempt that Lyarra had come to expect from Septa Noella in the old woman's eyes but that did not mean that Lyarra trusted her. "Greetings sister, what have you brought in from the gardens this day?"
"A bushel of maiden's purity, your reverence as well as some sprouting butter and bell flowers, laughing dragons and bluebells as well," Lyarra spoke with a sweet smile, perfect and practiced. "I thank you for allowing me to bring the flowers in here, they are the maiden's gift after all and I can think of no better way to worship her than to bring her gifts into this sacred placed to worship them."
The soft but wrinkled hands of the older woman gently took hers in hand and Lyarra had to wonder if the old woman truly understood what was to happen on this island tonight, there was no doubt that she knew about it but Lyarra doubted that she truly understood what the consequences of it would be and in a way Lyarra could not blame her for that, Lyarra knew little of the other woman but one of the younger septas had told her that the revered mother had been born a daughter of a noble house that had too many daughters and thus had been given to the faith as a babe.
If that was true, then the other woman had only seen a slice of the world and it was a slice that could not be relied on. Lyarra was a Septa, but she was also a princess of the realm and she had always loved her histories, and she knew what would happen if what happened tonight was allowed to happen. It would mean fire, steel and blood before the thing was done.
"You have a good and gentle soul Septa Lyarra, you are a credit to our order," The older woman smiled sweetly and Lyarra thought that she would like her well enough if things were different. "And you are proof that your father and mother have a true spark of goodness in them, children are crafted by their parents as the Smith crafts any weapon, I pray each day that your father repents his sins and embraces the light of the Seven, for the sake of his soul and the sake of peace."
"I pray much the same, revered mother," Lyarra smiled, while fighting the urge to slap the older woman across the face for daring to think of her parents in such a way. "I should go and place these flowers in their places."
The gentle old mother let her go with another smile and Lyarra set to placing the flowers around the inside of the motherhouse, she laid a fair few at the statue of the Maiden and some at the feet of the Mother, and she made certain to lay some bluebells at the feet of the Warrior, to be certain they were hardly winter roses but the blue of the flowers was close enough and she was certain that the god could see the prayer in her heart.
Once she was done Lyarra went to her cell and sat on her straw bed and reached up her sleeve, when she had been a girl she had been fascinated by how Grand Maester Pycelle seemed capable of producing a seemingly endless amount of treasures from his sleeves, bits of parchment and colourful glass phials and a thousand things and more and with his long grey beard she was certain that the man had been a wizard when she was young enough to believe in such things.
But it did not take her long to learn that the old man simply had pockets sewn on the inside of his sleeves and Lyarra had done much the same in her own robes when she had become a septa herself, it had come in handy more times than she could count over the years as she had kept extra herbs up there if a poultice needed to be made to break a fever or sooth a chest complaint, sweets or toys for children to keep them distracted in times of turmoil or grief within their homes, her sleeves had been home to the tools that she had used to ease suffering.
But now, they were home to something else. Her guards would notice if she tried to run but none of them looked too closely as she picked some flowers, but even so these were flowers that she felt better to keep hidden. Tansy and pennyroyal, such pretty flowers that Lyarra imagined some sweet novice had planted them in the garden without any knowledge of what they could be used for.
For a few long moments she simply stared at the plants in her hands and wondered if she was truly going to do this. But then her thoughts turned to her father, her mother, to Torrhen and Mors and Rohanne and Meria and Sansa and Arya and Bran and Rickon and Rickard, and to Rhaenys whom she had loved since she was old enough to truly understand the sort of love she felt for the other woman.
They all needed her to do this, though Rhaenys would no doubt not forgive her if she knew and Lyarra could not blame her for that, she could not forgive herself either. But Rhaenys would be alive, it was the only way through this that Lyarra could see with her love being able to keep her head attached to her neck and Lyarra would rather that Rhaenys hate her and live then love her and be killed for a traitor.
And so, she pushed away all her fear and sorrow, prayed to the Warrior for the strength that she would need and another to the Mother Above for mercy and then set to her work. She had no mortar and no pestle, nor a knife to chop the plants finely but on her second day in the prayer garden she had found a large stone with a jagged edge that she had since hidden in the straw that made up her bed.
She used that rock to cut the plants up and then used the flat side of it to begin to grind it up, it was a slow and painful process and each time it sounded like there were footsteps coming close to the door of her cell her heart leapt into her throat and she hid the half pulp, half powder that she had made of the plants into her straw until the footsteps sounded like they were going away.
Lyarra was not done when it was time for the first ordeal to start, the sound of the bell ringing was so loud and so sudden that she almost jumped out of her skin, she quickly hid her work and then rose to her feet, brushing her hands on her robes.
It was one of the younger Septas who came to fetch her, Septa Astaria was twelve years older than Lyarra herself, but her grey eyes were older still and sad, the some of the novices did so love to gossip and one of the choicest pieces that they spoke of was that Astaria had been born in a brothel in the Riverlands, in a small village near Riverrun. "Sister," the other septa spoke, her voice as sweet and sad as a song. "It is time."
Lyarra nodded and followed Astaria out of the cell and joined the rest of her sisters, as one whole they left the motherhouse and made their way to the castle sept, the largest building of all of them within the castle walls.
They took their place off to the side, the more senior sisters at the back and the novices in maiden's white at the front, Lyarra stood in the middle and watched as the sept slowly started to fill with lords and ladies, some she knew but most she did not, there were less here than she had feared there would be, but a lot more than she had hoped as well.
Altogether, perhaps the gathered lords and ladies here commanded some six thousand swords, hardly enough to have any true hope of unseating her father from the iron throne alone but how many others supported Lord Sunglass in his ambitions but could not be here in person? How many more swords could he call upon? And even if this was all that he could call on how many more would take advantage of the chaos?
The sight of Rhaenys cut through all her rapid thoughts and for a moment Lyarra was happy, the older woman was always beautiful to her, if she was dressed in novice robes, septa robes or dresses of silk and lace, but even though she walked of her own accord nothing could wipe away the agony on her face, six heavy boned septas walked abreast of her to keep her from fleeing and Septa Noella lead them to the altar.
The High Septon was not here, clearly, he had supported Lord Sunglass in his ambitions and Lyarra had not forgotten how he had allowed them to take both herself and Rhaenys from their cells within Baelor's blessed sept, but his absence would be noticed from King's Landing, but the man who stood in his place was dressed in the cloth-of-silver robes of the Most Devout.
Lord Sunglass was standing next to him, a crown in his hands, a silver circlet with seven dragons rising from it, each one carved out of ruby, sapphire, jasper, topaz, emerald, amethyst and lazurite, Rhaenys knelt but only after two of the septas placed their hands upon her shoulders. Lord Sunglass delicately placed the crown atop her brow and the brother of the most devout spoke.
"I now proclaim Rhaenys of the House Targaryen, the first of her name, Queen of the Andals, The First Men and the Rhoynar, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, protector of the Realm, Defender of the Faith, scourge of the heretics, punisher of apostates, bringer of justice to the wicked and alms to the faithful, long may she reign!" the brother shouted and every man and woman within the hall took up the chant, none seemed to notice or care about the tears running down their new Queen's cheeks.
But even though the coronation was over none left the sept, the true horror was not done yet. Lord Sunglass stood next to Rhaenys as the septon of the most devout began to speak the words that would bind the lord of Sweetport Sound to the new queen, the last time she had been able to speak to Rhaenys she had told her that she would not speak the words, Lyarra had begged her otherwise. She could not bear it if she was hurt.
And so, she spoke them, so quietly that no one could hear the words but she spoke them all the same. And then it was done, and Lyarra was crying too.
There was to be a feast next but by then the Septas were returning to the Motherhouse, Septa Astaria took her by the wrist and gently lead her away from the sept, in the motherhouse their feast was a few loaves of brown bread with butter, a sweetgrass salad, hardboiled duck eggs, and an onion pie. It was more than pleasant food, but she found that she had little appetite and begged the revered mother to be excused.
Once Lyarra returned to her cell she set back to her work, grinding the plants all through the night until it was as fine a powder that she could make it, she used the rock to cut out a page from her copy of the seven-pointed star, sending a prayer up to the gods for forgiveness as she did so, and folded the powder inside of the paper and slide the folded page up her sleeve.
By the time she was done she only had an hour to sleep before the hammering came at her door, she was still rubbing at her eyes when Septa Noella came in the cell, a heavy frown on her face. "The Queen is distressed; she has asked to see you."
She rose and nodded, even though her stomach was tied into knots. "Of course, would you go to the kitchens and ask them to prepare a pot of mint tea and some honey? It has always soothed her in her worst moments."
"I am not a servant," Noella said with her frown deepening. "And I would remind you sister that your place in our chapter is only a pretext, you are a hostage and nothing more than that, you have no authority to give me any sort of orders."
"Very well, let us dismiss the pretext. I am a septa of the faith of the seven, I have devoted myself to charity and good work and faith, but I am also the daughter of a king and a queen, I have the blood of winter and summer in my veins, I have the strength of a wolf and the fierceness of the sun in me, and you do not ever get to tell me no, sister." Lyarra was shorter than the other woman, but she still stared her down. "And your new Queen values me highly, so I would speak to me more softly."
"Now, go and fetch the tea and do not forget the honey," the older woman's face was pale and her lips had thinned, she nodded stiffly and turned and left the cell and Lyarra wished that made her feel better than it did.
Two of her guards were waiting for her and they escorted her to the main keep, a clay pot and a clay kettle was waiting for her on a silver serving tray outside of the Lord's chambers and the made her smile.
It did not last long when she saw the pitiful sight within, her heart was naked and shivering in the middle of the bed and her eyes were red raw from tears. Lyarra placed the tray down on the table and went to her, holding her close and stroking her hair as her love sobbed and shook against her.
Lyarra could not say how long they sat there, but it was Rhaenys who pulled away first and shook her head. "I am ruined, they have debased me and crowned me and killed me."
"Hush now, you are none of those things and my father will understood that you wanted none of this," but if there was a child, an heir, then the threat would always be there. "I made you some tea, would you like a cup to steady yourself?"
Rhaenys hiccupped and nodded and Lyarra went to the tray and poured Rhaenys a cup and added three spoonfuls of honey to it and then added the powder to it when she was sure that Rhaenys wasn't looking, pennyroyal and tansy with honey and mint to make it all the easier to swallow.
Lyarra brought the cup over to her and handed it over to her, "drink all of this and sleep my dearest love, all will seem better in the morning."
Rhaenys nodded and took the cup and drank it deep, the tea had cooled enough that she could drink it all in three gulps and then laid back down and Lyarra laid down next to her, stroking her hair and wept silently.
End of Chapter One-Hundred and Twenty-Six