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The Sword in the Darkness
A World of Shadows
Lyanna could not say when she stopped waiting for her father and brothers to come and save her. Every day, the chance of people remembering that they saw her and in which direction she went became smaller. If they had not come at the fourth moon of her stay here, they were less likely to come in the fourteenth, not more.
Why did she think she'd be still here in ten moons? She did not know. But with every day, the feeling that this would happen grew and it no longer provoked the same disgruntlement. After all, in a month or two she'd be unfit to travel. Surely Rhaegar would not decide to take her out then.
She had yet to feel the child but after the first instinctive horror, the thought that it was there, inside her, made her unusually docile, feeling that her doubts had been silly. Rhaegar was her fate and she was his. What a stronger bond between a man and a woman who loved each other could there be than a child? The fearful dreams were still there but they had lost their demonic power because she now knew what would happen. For the first time since she had headed off with him, she could see concrete, real steps for their future. Of course she would not kill Elia Martell! Why had she even taken these dreams seriously? She, Lyanna Stark? Kill a woman? Or a woman and two children? What a ridiculous notion! Still, a worry shot through her sometimes as she sat watching the men practice – of course, she now had no wish to ask them practice with her, she had a babe to keep safe! – and putting her dreams in order. Rhaegar might believe that their children would save the world but he did not know what Lyanna felt for sure: this first child that she was carrying would be a Northern pup, not a dragon from the south. Even when she was at her most tired and lazy, she did not forget it. She could hardly wait for her pup to arrive, so she could start teaching him the Northern ways before they were brought to court…
But then, the man arrived in full gallop, his horse almost dying under him, and the news he carried were so dark that Lyanna only screamed and screamed until her voice lacerated her throat so cruelly that it would take weeks for it to heal. She fell asleep to Rhaegar's arms and assurances that everything would get better and in her exhaustion, she believed him.
A few days later, she did not.
"I don't care about your plans and talks about safety," she said angrily. "This far, nothing of the things you told me has come true. Why should I believe that I'm safer here? I want to go home. That's where I belong."
"This isn't going to stop the war," Rhaegar pointed out. "It'll only endanger you."
She stared at him, wondering if he were this stupid. "I know this," she said impatiently. "I am not trying to stop the war. My place is at home."
He cupped her chin, making her look him in the eye. "Your place is with me."
Lyanna tossed her head to make him release her which he did. She shook her head. "It isn't anymore."
He ran his fingers through his hair. "Listen, I'll make up, I promise. It was a most unfortunate thing that happened but…"
"A most unfortunate thing?" Lyanna repeated, her lacerated throat vibrating, her voice propelled by a new wave of rage. "A most unfortunate thing? This was murder!"
"I know and I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'll try to make it as painless as possible for you…"
She snorted. "You're already late!" she reminded him. "And you can forget about doing things for me. If you haven't done that first thing, they'd be still alive. I don't want anything from you – and I'm not going to wed you, I'll let you know!"
The surprise in his eyes made her feel some angry delight. It did not help much but it was better than nothing, so she went on, "Forget about your prophesied children! I never believed in this tale anyway and the only way you can have them from me is to rape me – I believe you won't go this low?"
He shook his head. "I can't believe we're having this conversation."
"I can't believe my father and brother are dead either," Lyanna shot back. "And for what? I am not this infatuated with the idea of being your queen, you know!"
"My queen?"
"Yes – after you set the Dornishwoman aside. How much time did you think it would take to settle the matter of succession?"
He was staring at her with such surprise that she wanted to slap him. Did he really think her this stupid? Had he believed that she believed in him this much that she thought he'd be able to do this in a day?
The silence stretched and all of a sudden, Lyanna felt uncomfortable. It was a very peculiar feeling because her rage had not gone down a notch.
"You expected that I would set my wife aside and disinherit our children for the one you would give me?" Rhaegar finally asked in an odd, strangled voice.
"The ones I would give you!" Lyanna corrected him fiercely. "Did you not tell me that you needed three?"
Her eyes gave her the answer and she shuddered. Yes, he had. Yes, he had… Only, he had failed to mention that he thought Elia Martell's children were part of the prophecy. He had not expected more children from her – he already had them!
The anger that had shrunken the room just to Rhaegar's face flickered and died, replaced by primal horror. She had started making plans, building expectations… and she had forgotten that none of the things she had thought about the two of them before had happened the way she had envisioned them. "I have a question to ask of you," she started in a voice that was so calm that Rhaegar cast her a look of surprise. "You intend to set Elia of Dorne aside, wed me and make my son the heir to the Iron Throne, do you not?"
"Is this what you have been thinking?" he asked back in a voice that was as calm as hers.
Lyanna hesitated. In the beginning, it had not been this. She had had no idea just how their love would shape their lives. But as the babe had started becoming real for her, expectations had cleared out. She had believed that by children of prophecy, he meant their children – he had certainly never spoken about Elia's! He was well aware that she would never accept being one of two wives – even Elia of Dorne would be hardly as spineless as to take this humiliation calmly. She would likely try to poison Lyanna and her babe if she was allowed to stay at court. Rhaegar couldn't have thought that she'd accept being a mistress, right? Her, a daughter of Winterfell? When she could offer him far more than Elia Martell even in terms of politics? He could not expect that she'd settle for her children being less?
He could not. He did not. And yet…
"I'm sorry but I've never had such intentions," Rhaegar finally said and she gave him a blank look.
"What?"
"I did intend to take you to wife," he said, strangely aloof. "Truly. But I had no idea that you had these plans." He paused. "I should have known. I was looking for a mother for Visenya – and Visenya was all but a good stepmother, always seeking to advance her own son."
The accusation stunned her speechless. What did he mean? Rumours had it that Visenya had killed her stepson!
Rhaegar was looking at her just like she thought she was looking at him, as if he were trying to bring pieces together and make them fit. She wondered if this was the same Rhaegar Targaryen whom she had loved, paying for this love so dearly. He, too, looked at her in bewilderment.
"I was wondering about the details," he said. "But you gave me the answer. My children will be raised together – by someone who can be a mother and queen both."
The shriek did not quite leave Lyanna's throat. She stared at him, praying that she had not heard right. He could not mean that he'd throw her away, could he? Take her child and throw her away?
"I had many notions about you, my lady," he said mournfully. "All of them wrong. I'm glad we came clear, though. I had no idea that you have arranged my plans for me. I knew you hated my wife but I had no idea just how strong this hatred ran. An heir by you! As jealous and rapacious as you… I will not countenance such upbringing. Once my daughter is born, you'll be free to return to your brothers – and Lord Robert if he'd take you. He still might – like me, he seems to have loved an illusion."
Loved? If he had loved her, he would have never thought these things about her. He would have never thought of taking her child and giving it to his wife to raise. At this moment, Lyanna realized that the chains she had dreamed of freeing him from were not on his hands and feet – they were on hers. She had placed them there. Her father and Brandon had died, so she could shackle herself.
"You're a monster," she said, still in this eerily calm voice. "And you have never loved me. The worst thing is, you don't love her either. You don't have it in you. If you think I'll let my child grow with two people who won't love him…"
"You seem to think you have any say, my lady, but you don't. I make the decisions. You're staying here for now. Later, I'll think of something."
He left to the clatter of the jug Lyanna threw at him, hitting the door instead. The sound made her startle, bringing reality to her in sharp relief.
She was a prisoner of the man she loved. Only valued for the child that would be taken from her as soon as it arrived.
Her father and Brandon were dead. Ned could meet the same fate, and Robert as well – and she had never wished for him to die.
There was a war. A war that would likely be blamed on her because no one would believe that the woman was not to blame. Had she not blamed it all on Elia Martell?
Darkness encroached her from all sides and she barely made it to the bed before – "No, I'm not swooning. I've never swooned in my life!", she thought before she did.