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The Sword in the Darkness

In the Company of Fear

The first few days after Rhaegar's leaving were a blur of weeping and cursing – weeping for her father, for Brandon, for her own naivete, for Ned and Ben who might still meet death, Robert whom she had just been unwilling to wed, for the war that she had never had any intention to start and cursing Rhaegar, his lies, and his prophecy – unless it was part of his lies. Gods, she had thrown her lot in with a man that she did not know well enough to know even this – if he believed in what he had talked to her for months in a row. Fool, fool, fool! About a week later, the hardest day came. The day she could not even raise her head from the pillow, choking on her own sobs. She almost didn't go to the privy when she needed to because the way there – all through the bedchamber and then a little further down the hall – looked so long. She actually thought that wetting herself was a better idea than making the effort to rise and walk the distance.

When she woke up, her pillow was soaked all the way through but the pain had gathered into an ice block in her heart. As big as it was, it no longer consumed her and left room for other feelings. Thoughts. Fears. As the babe kicked, she felt the fear advancing, crawling up her calves and thighs, cling to her like a second skin. She did not particularly care if she lived or died – in fact, she was quite sure that death would be a mercy compared to facing her brothers – but she wanted this babe to live. If the rebels won, it would – but if not? If Rhaegar came up the victor? If he took their child from her and gave it to his barren wife to raise, replacing the one she could never give him? Lyanna might not be adept at politics but she knew that no queen liked her husband fathering a child on a woman from a House more prominent than her own. If Rhaegar believed in his prophecy, he'd think that their babe's safety was guaranteed. But why should Elia Martell believe this? Lyanna certainly did not! And if Elia did not believe it, she would have no reason to tolerate Lyanna's babe… All the stories she had heard of Dornish vengefulness, Dornish jealousy, Dornish treasons sprang to her mind. Elia belonged to the people who had killed the Young Dragon under a peace banner! Just how many humiliations would she suffer before she acted on her spite? Lyanna remembered Elia's stunned horror at Harrenhal and knew that the other woman had not forgotten. What if she knew about Lyanna's expectations that she and her children would be displaced in favour of Lyanna and her own children? Rhaegar had looked so disappointed in his cruel mistress - he might have gone running to his wife and blabbered out everything in his attempts to gain her forgiveness. A Dornishwoman, a Martell, a mother who certainly wanted to have her son as king would surely give it with her lips if not her heart… Elia would not dare vent her hatred on Rhaegar – would she dare unleash it on Lyanna's babe? No. At least not openly. But a babe's life was so fragile. And Rhaegar, believing his prophecy, would never think to protect their child from his wife.

Weak people become cruel when they have power, Martyn Cassel often said. Lyanna prayed that it would not be the case for Elia Martell but she could not be sure. Especially if the other woman knew.

If the rebels won, her child would be safe. But they would not. Lyanna almost regretted her father's way of looking at the other side when she crept closer to the knights talking about battles… and politics. He had told her not to do it, that eavesdropping did not befit a lady but she had always known when he meant it and when he meant, "Don't let me catch you doing it again"… and her tears would start flowing again. She would wipe them away angrily but she could not drive the voices from the past away. The rebels were just less numerous. They would lose the war – and their leaders, their lives? This thought was unbearable but the prospect of giving up the child stirring in her to Rhaegar and the Dornishwoman was just as horrible.

Now, when Rhaegar was no longer here to fascinate and terrify her, she started looking at her surroundings – and she was startled to realize that among her attendants, there was not a single Dornishwoman. No Dornish cooked their food, washed their linens, took care of the horses. The feeling of being trapped rose to a feverish level. There could be only one reason to go on with the trouble of transporting stormslanders all this long way: no Dornish could be trusted to keep their mouth shut, no matter the amount of the bribe. Nothing could make it clearer to her how hated she was in Dorne where she was stranded. And that was without her ever having done anything to them! How could she put any trust in Elia Martell's goodwill? Or Rhaegar's, if he changed his mind about the prophecy once again? She beat herself with the belated realization that she should have known as soon as he told her. He had changed his mind once. Why not again?

Too little, too late.

Her jailors, otherwise known as the Kingsguard, were no more happy with the situation than she was. She could say. They wanted to be away – everyone in a different place! Another tale that she had admired all her life was unraveling right in front of her. Ser Gerold often spoke of how much he wanted to be in King's Landing. Oswell Whent did not disagree but he did not agree either. In fact, he was being uncharacteristically silent. Arthur Dayne spent all the hours he had for himself – which were quite a lot – staring over the mountains, in the distance where the road to Starfall cut through the green. In a strange way, he wanted to be home just as much as Lyanna and she could not understand why he would not just do it.

When she asked him about this, he just laughed without any merriment. "Even if I wanted to, do you think I'd be welcome? I'd rather not go there at all, instead of being turned down. House Dayne has been unflinching in their loyalty to House Martell for hundreds of years."

Before a white knight had chosen a silver prince over a dark-haired princess. He did not quite say it but there was no need. With rising despair, Lyanna realized that her child would likely have an enemy in him as well – if Elia Martell wished so. And her intention to ask him what the Dornish princess was like, if she was indeed as gracious as people came, if she would hold the sins of parents against a child died in her throat, along with all the other words that she could not say because there was no one to hear her. They would all listen to her but this was not the same thing.

The rebels just had to win.