Loving a shadow, part 1
The dawn of March 1, and its equivalent in Westeros, slowly rose. In both worlds, two important burials would be held. That of Cerseri Lannister, and Denethor II.
Five days after her death by drowning alongside most of House Lannister by the hands of Khamûl, Cersei Lannister was buried by her husband. For a Queen consort, hailing from one of the most powerful families in Westeros, it was a very toned down and rather hurried burial, and the simplicity of it all would have been seen as a personal insult, both by Cersei himself and Tywin. On top of everything, the burial could not be held in the Great Sept of Baelor, as it had been ruined by the force from the burning hails and the holy oils making the resulting fires worse. So Robert and those of the royal court who could be present thanks to not being dead or suffering serious injuries, had to be in the Maidenvault.
"Where is Myrcella and Tommen?" Stannis whispered to his brother, both of them dressed in black as an official sign of mourning, but neither focusing much on what the septon said about the deceased queen. Of course, the absence of the only princess and prince who managed to avoid being kidnapped, must have received attention.
"Back up in the nursery, they witnessed their mother and most of her relatives die by drowning in front of her very eyes, and they may not react well on seeing how her swollen body may look below the closed lid of the coffin, with the Silent Sisters having done their best to make Cersei look less gruesome for this final appearance of hers as the Queen."
Robert knew that their arranged marriage had been unhappy from the start and that Cersei deeply resented him for some of the flaws between them even if both had their ghosts haunting the marriage, but he had recalled her mad rantings about that she had been fated for Rhaegar and by this, the now widowed Baratheon King intended to at least give Cersei one Targaryen theme in this burial:
The closed coffin with her body would be placed on a funeral pyre just like if she had married Rhaegar, and he had ordered that her ashes would be spread out in the Sunset Sea where Casterly Rock had been until only fourteen days ago.
"In the end, we both had shadows that we wanted to love more, than the person at our side…"
His shadow had been Lyanna Stark, or rather, who he had believed her to be, a female version of Ned because the current Lord Stark had been fostered alongside him in the Vale, while Cersei had never let go of the shadow that had been her possible life as the wife of Rhaegar. After all, she had insisted that Tywin had promised her that she would become the Queen consort of Westeros, only to find out that it was a very different royal groom that she would be wed to in the end.
"May you get the Silver Prince in the next life of yours, Cersei, and I hope that he will not shame you like he did to Elia Martell."
That was all Robert could say as a farewell to his Lannister wife, as her coffin was placed on the pile of firewood that would soon be lit.
"Sire…" Margaery Tyrell made a deep curtsy for him when Robert was about to pass by her, "you will stop at nothing to get the royal children back, right?"
Come back with Crown Prince Lyonel, so I do not miss the chance of becoming a Queen. Or did my late father Mace die in vain to try giving me a crown, since he saved your life in the Greyjoy Rebellion and got himself killed in that action instead?
That was the unspoken meaning behind her question, as far as Robert could tell. But if the girl believed that she could trade Lyonel for Tommen as her future royal husband if his oldest son did not return, well, then Robert knew that she would get a nasty surprise at the reveal that he had set up betrothals for all the children now, and that Margaery could not expect help from the norm of a younger brother taking over a betrothal if the heir died before the marriage.
"What? Finding me such a neglectful father that I would not try to get back my lost children and instead focus on finding a new wife as soon as possible so I had more heirs instead? Then you are wrong, miss Tyrell, very wrong."
It was rather enjoyable to see the not very well-hidden stunned look on the young brunette's face over his words. Sure, she was the granddaughter of the famed "Queen of Thorns" but not even Olenna Tyrell neé Redwyne was omniscient about various people nor could she always guess right in what someone might do, something the old woman would probably never admit to her granddaughter out of pride.
Because of the trauma from witnessing the deaths of the current House Lannister, Myrcella and Tommen had changed. Any signs of their previously cheerful nature was gone, their sleep at night was often disturbed by nightmares of seeing the terrified Cersei trying to get air before her lungs was filled with water, that made them wake up screaming in terror and crying for their father, and now they did cling to Emma whatever she came to the nursery or the other nannies who worked below Holly as the main goveress.
"Where are our brothers and sisters!? Where is Holly?!" Tommen pleaded as one of the older women tried to comfort him, wanting to see the missing siblings and things to return to normal. Mother was gone, no one could tell where his brothers and sisters were, and now he had heard that Robert would leave as well.
"Sandor, where are they?" Myrcella asked, and before she could stop herself, she began to cry again because she missed her siblings. Normally Sandor would be rather awkward when one of the royal children cried, but now he used his cloak to shelter Myrcella from sight, so she could cry her heart out without someone noticing her eyelids become all swollen.
"I will join the King to search for your brother and sisters, but we will not give up before they are back here."
Sandor refused to mention that there were many risks to come, that Robert actually would join a war that neither Myrcella or Tommen would be able to understand yet. Another world, and a overnatural being so evil in nature that even Westeros and Essos were threatened at this very moment unless this Dark Lord was defeated.
"Can you give your father and uncle a blessing in being successful on this quest? I am sure that they would be happy about it," Emma added in, taking out her own handkerchief to dry the tears that Tommen also had shed. The two blonde children could only nod, but at least they had calmed down now.
"Master Clegane...we believe that your help may be a little needed in what we must do soon."
When King Robert Baratheon lit the burial fyre of Cersei outside on the courtyard, her daughter and son with Jaime did their best to escape the bath barrels the castle maids had prepared, because they understandably had gotten a fear of water from witnessing the death of their mother.
"Stop howling like some kittens and let the maids clean you off! Do you want to be seen with dirty skin and unwashed hair in front of the fucking court?! If you do not bathe or at least keep yourselves clean, you will attract illness!" Sandor muttered as he helped to hold down Tommen in the bath barrel so the nursemaids could use cloth rags to rub his skin clean, speaking of his own experience from the Rebellion that gave Robert the crown and the Greyjoy Rebellion. Fleas and lice were just one of many ways to get sick from, especially in war when there was no way to escape the many soldiers around yourself.
"FAAAAAATHEEEEER!"
Bathing Myrcella and Tommen with their current reaction to water was not the easiest task, but after a lot of struggles between the two children and the adults, at least the princess and prince had gotten clean for a while.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
In Minas Tirith, a state burial for Denethor had also started. Black flags had been brought out, a sign of mourning in the capital city, and in all of Gondor, its people tried to wear black clothing, or whatever that was their darkest clothes, to show a final respect for the now deceased Steward.
"Madam, there are two girls who are not here…"
"No, leave the two foreign girls in their beds. The healer said that they both showed signs of having suffered a concussion alongside their other injuries, so they can not be outside for the stronger light and sounds from the mourning songs," the matron told her younger co-workers, when overlooking that all the children in the orphanage was presentable enough to blend in among the people on the streets.
In the large chamber at the upper level of the large house building where the girls would sleep at night, Sansa Stark had trouble with falling back into her earlier nap. Her bed was close to the open window, and even without the gentle wind carrying songs in an unknown tongue for her, it would have been impossible to not notice the black-clothed people in the street.
"All black…?" her mind tried to register with some difficulty because of the concussion and needed to shelter her eyes from the daylight with a raised hand, "Have...the King...passed away…? King Robert...was he fatally injured by the hail…?"
Her memories of five days earlier were irregular and indistinct, same for Arya who still was sleeping in the bed next to her own, but she did remember the burning hail, and the feeling of losing her footing before falling down. Somewhere in her memories was the sound of Father screaming their names as he pleaded for them to wake up and a white-clothed, blurry person standing with their back against her.
"Sansa…" Arya muttered half-awake, "that bandage on my leg itches!"
Arya had broken her left leg badly in the fall from the stairs, and currently had splints on each side of the broken bone, held tightly in place with long strips of linen. The younger Stark sister had been an energetic personality from birth, and Sansa did actually feel a little sorry for Arya, who hated to be bed-ridden whenever she was really sick.
"You can not remove it yet, what if you heals wrong?"
Sansa was only ten and Arya seven, but Maester Luwin had explained the risk of a broken limb healing wrong when Beth Cassel had gotten a broken finger from a awfully wrong throwing of the wooden ball in a ball game between the Stark sisters, Jeyne Poole and Beth half a year before the royal visit in Winterfell and surely neither sister wanted that to happen?
"I want Mother…and where is Father? Surely he should have come to get us now?" Arya added, voicing the very feeling that Sansa also felt. So far, there had been no one able to speak the Common Tongue of Westeros yet with them, everyone speaking a language they had never heard before, and while familiar with the tales of Old Nan back home in Winterfell, the idea of being in a different world altogether had not yet raised in their minds. As far as Sansa and Arya knew, they had been separated from their father and Robb, perhaps being taken to an orphanage somewhere in King's Landing because the smallfolk in the capital had not recognized them as a sister set among the many daughters of nobility at the royal court.
As Boromir had not yet returned home, Faramir acted as the main mourner. The body of his father had now laid in state for four days, and today it would be placed inside the House of the Stewards. This was a building in the Hallows of Minas Tirith, situated near the House of the Kings on Rath Dínen. Capped by a great dome, and within was a wide vaulted chamber with shrouded walls, which in turn was filled with marble tables upon which were carved forms of sleeping men, the tombs of the Stewards.
"The carved form of your father shall soon be done, my Lord, it is just that the stone carvers will need some time to finish."
"Do not press them to hurry. There is a war going on, and their skills may be needed somewhere else."
Because Denethor had died so suddenly, the form carved with his likeness was not yet done, and until then, his tomb would have to be sealed with a simple roof of granite. But his name had already been carved in on the side:
DENETHOR II
Third Age 2930 - 3019
Steward of Gondor 2984 -3019
Faramir took a deep breath, feeling a mixture of emotions as the body was laid inside the tomb and the granite roof slowly pushed into place. Between him and Boromir, there had never been any doubt that the older brother had been the favorite of their father, but as grew into adulthood, Faramir had seen what sort of invisible burden this was for his brother.
"You loved Boromir, father, but even you had your shadows. You tried to see my brother as the image he upheld, not some of the flaws that he tried to hide from you."
But that shadow was gone now, and all Faramir could do was to pray to the Valar that Boromir could return home before Mordor unleashed a new attack on Gondor. It would be difficult, even if Boromir could inspire the soldiers to keep fighting, and Faramir wanted to ease some of that trouble for his brother as much as he could.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
In Meduseld, Elia knew that if the fever did not break soon, Théodred's life would be in danger as his body would react in the same manner as a heat stroke. A recurrent fever could last up for fourteen days, and the serious infection in his stomach wound was not helping.
"...will not...leave….you…" her husband whispered as she gave him more water to drink, and then cleaned his sweaty face with a wet rag. He did not have much strength to speak, but she realized that he refused to die yet.
"I know that you will keep fighting until your very last breath, beloved, and I trust you to not give up that eaisy," she told him in a gentle tone, trying to be strong for his sake. Then, as if to distract them both for a moment, Balerion suddenly jumped up on the blankets.
"Oh no, not on my husband right now, you old stable king," Elia scolded the tomcat gently, and was about to lift off Balerion down on the floor before he tried to place himself on a currently not so well-chosen place to rest on her husband.
"Meow. Meow! Meoooow!"
In the next moment, Balerion put his ears back and growled in a warning manner, like he would do when he was getting ill-tempered, warning that it was only moments before he would prove why he was still the reigning feline king of the royal stables and attack another cat trying to challenge him. But his reaction was not aimed at the mother of his beloved owner, rather at something behind Elia.
"Elia...something...white…behind you..."
Now she could feel that something was not normal in the bedchamber. As if there was something else apart from themselves and Balerion. Something not quite of the living world, and did not feel exactly friendly.
Out in the great hall, Andréth and Aégnor was getting a lesson from Éowyn and Allyria in how to knit, when the twins suddenly made the same moment by looking up.
"Hey! Put down that sword, weapons are not allowed inside the Golden Hall!" Aégnor commented aloud, at seeing a faint image of a ghost not far from the throne. The ghostly man was dressed in white, but he had clear signs of belonging to House Martell in his looks and there was a familiar sun and spear symbol embrodied on a purse from his belt.
My apologies, dear great-niece and great-nephew, descendants of my sister, but there is a sworn brother of mine that I need to drag away from your parents before he does something to anger your madre.
With those words, Lewyn Martell went towards the bedchamber where the King and Queen of Rohan was.
"What…..madre!" Andréth called when his unspoken meaning sunk in, "Madre! Feder!"
But when the door was opened, they only saw that Elia stood up, her back strainted, in open defiance and her eyes burning in wraith, between her injuried husband and the other ghost which also held a sword. A ghostly version of a ancient sword that Allyria knew from her childhood home.
"How dare you show yourself in front of me now, after your betrayal against Dorne by choosing to be at the Tower of Joy and guard that wolf-bitch as she was carrying the bastard child of Rhaegar...Arthur Dayne?!" Elia spat out with pure venom in her voice. For it indeed was the spirit of the last Sword of the Morning from House Dayne that stood in front of the living Queen consort of Rohan, and it was only her that prevented him from coming closer to her vulnerable husband.
~X~X~X~X~X~X
Author note: Yes, I headcanon that Robert belived Lyanna to be more like Ned in character because he likely only met her once at Harrendal and never got to spend more time with her to know her actual personality, as per what Ned said in canon; "You saw her beauty, but never the iron underneath."
Olenna Tyrell may be one of the few remaining people from a older generation in Westeros, but as Robert points out in his comment to Margarey, her grandmother can not always be right about things
Sansa and Arya not gasping the possibility of being in a different world, is meant to mirror Elia at the first chapters of Foreign Lands before she began to realize that Rohan did not match what she knew of Westeros; it is far more logical to think of more realistic scenarios such as that the Stark sisters is in a different part of King's Landing as well that they got separated from Eddard in the chaos over the burning hail and attack of the Nazgûl. Besides, they are children on 10 and 7 years old, unlike Elia who already was 27 when she came to Rohan, a adult would be able to imagine more possibibles that would not seem like something made-up
