Elbert had been trying very hard to atone for his cruelty since their return to the Eyrie - it had been half a year, more, and he had done surprisingly well. Dara had come to understand why he was so popular, and had been painfully relieved at the cessation of whispers about his stream of mistresses.

"My lord uncle has a great many such books, Dara," Elbert told her eagerly, holding open the door of the library until she was through, letting it drift shut with a soft thud. They likely should not have been alone together like this - oh, how Bran and Lya would tease her if they ever were to know! - but Dara knew that Lord Jon trusted her and Elbert both, and Elbert had been nothing but respectful since his disgraceful display that night at Harrenhall.

Thinking of Harrenhall brought two memories of striking eyes, as it always did - Prince Rhaegar's, staring so intensely at Lya as he set the crown of blue roses in her lap, and Asric Dayne's, as he bowed low and pressed an earnest kiss to Dara's knuckles in farewell.

"They are called atlases, my lord," she corrected Elbert teasingly, dragging her mind to the present - there was no sense in dwelling on the thrill Asric Dayne's presence had set coursing under her skin, after all. Dara was to wed Elbert, and while he had never made her thrill in any way at all, she hoped they might find contentment together. They could be friends, she knew, even if there was never to be any passion between them, and they would have their children, too, and she needed little more than that.

Passion and such things had always been more Bran and Lya's domain than Dara's or Ben's, and she was happy to leave them to it.

They passed a pleasant enough afternoon perusing Lord Jon's vast collection of maps - Elbert scampered up and down the bookcase ladders like a squirrel, and laughed aloud when she told him so - and Robert was amusingly miffed that they had not invited him to join them. He gave up when they laughed him into admitting that he would have been terribly bored, and Dara wondered how it was that not even a year ago she had been dreading her life here after she wed.

Surely, she thought as she brushed her hair for bed, her future was not so bleak as she had feared it would be.

And then came the letter from her father.

"How can Lya be gone?" she said desperately, waiting in vain for Lord Jon, kind, helpless Lord Jon, to offer her some explanation when there was none to be had. "My sister, she, she cannot be gone!"

Once she has calmed, once she had read and reread and read once more the letter in her father's hand, she took stock of all that she knew for certain.

She was due to leave soon, to go to Riverrun for Brandon's wedding to Catelyn Tully. Dara had met Lady Catelyn several times and liked her very much, and thought she was a better wife than Brandon, with Barbrey Ryswell hidden in Barrowton, deserved.

Mayhaps Lya had left Winterfell ahead of time? It was the sort of silly thing she would do, driving everyone to madness for fear of what might have befallen her only to turn up utterly unscathed...

But there had been talk, according to Father, talk of strangers in strange clothes with strange accents about Winterfell, come home, daughter, you are needed in Winterfell.

"I am stronger in Winterfell," she thought aloud, pacing her rooms with Father's letter clutched in her hand. "The pack survives, and I am all alone here."

Dara awoke the following morning after a fitful night to more of Robert's abominable, infuriating rage, and a letter from Elbert.

"I will find her!" Robert snarled, storming up and down Lord Jon's solar in a frightening temper as Dara fought to remain composed, fought not to lose her temper.

She wondered if Robert had ever seen her truly angry or upset. She did not think so, and so she decided that it was high time that he did.

"If you cannot control yourself, leave," she bit out, and he halted entirely in sheer surprise.

"Dara-"

"Lya is my sister, Robert," she said, torn between agony and fury. "Please, Robert, please, I cannot think with you pacing and shouting, please."

He surprised her by subsiding, throwing himself into the nearest chair with a huff, and she turned to Elbert's letter.

"He is with Brandon," she said, turning to Lord Jon. "Or, at least, he will be with Bran very soon - they were supposed to go to Riverrun, weren't they? For the wedding?"

"Aye, child," Lord Jon said, crouching before her and taking her hands, "but I fear they are southbound now. Bound for King's Landing, little wolf."

"Why...?"

"You did not read all of your father's letter, did you?" he asked, looking miserable and pained and sorry. "My poor girl - it seems that Prince Rhaegar was the one to take your sister."

Dara remembered deep eyes in the shadow of Harrenhall, deep, wild eyes boring into Lya, and she screamed.