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Lady of Dorne

Home and Chance

There were many things that could be said – that had, in fact, been said – about the notorious pair Aemon and Aelinor Targaryen. Some of them were even true. But no one could ever say a thing about the way they had brought up their children. Their eldest son was currently toiling in the Dornish fleet under the brilliant mastery of the trade and the bad temper of the third in rank there, their youngest resided in the Water Gardens still and their daughters knew how to comport themselves. No one who saw them could take him for anything but what they were: royalty, graceful and dignified, despite never having been at the King's court. Now, as they rode up the Red Mountains, the joyful sereneness on Lady Alaenys' face completely masked her fear, her reluctance to live the rest of her life here, in this stormy land, with the man who was a storm by himself – a storm that would not roar and drown everything in a downpour but would unleash a hail whenever he felt like it, destroying the world – or at least, his immediate environment – with no more malice that the hail would. A man whose brother had had her uncle and two of her cousins murdered simply because of their Targaryen blood. If she shared her disappointment with her sisters, no one else knew. But it was not likely anyway – Vaela would probably tell her to rejoice in the fact that her betrothed was young and strong and Naeryn would simply roll her eyes and say that it depended on Alaenys to turn the storm into a soft rain. Of course, Alaenys would not discuss the matter with Naeryn at all, for she could see how petty she would look to a woman who had no chance of making a match that was nearly as good through no fault of her own.

"I believe he'll treat her as he should," Alric said as they neared the Boneway.

"I hope so," Aemon replied. "He has no reason not to."

"It went more smoothly than I could ever hope."

"And in time. We needed to reach accord immediately to neutralize any further moves from King's Landing."

Alric's hands gripped the reins more tightly. "What moves?" he asked sharply. "If you're talking about Rhaegar's attempts to sway the mountain lords and ladies…"

Aemon's face was grim. "He did worse," he said. "Or better, I suppose, depending on the point of view." He paused. "He approached Mikkel," he said.

For a moment, Alric thought he had not heard right. Surely Rhaegar wouldn't dare…? He'd know that Mikkel would be the last person on this earth who would support him in his wish to gain Dorne? The slight to his niece aside, Mikkel had lost his own, much beloved son in the battles.

Then, another realization hit him so hard that he felt he could not breathe anymore. Why was he learning about this from Aemon? Why Mikkel hadn't written to him in person? He had received ravens from his brother almost every week, yet Mikkel had never mentioned the proposal. That could mean only one thing: that he had actually contemplated the offer. "What?" he asked. "What did the King want?"

Aemon looked aside. "He was desperate to win some of the major lords to him. And Mikkel would have been a great asset, for more than one reason."

"Don't lecture me on what a fine asset my brother would make!" Alric seethed. "What I want to know is what the King offered him."

"He refused," Aemon said, quickly. "Don't forget it, Alric. At the end, Mikkel refused."

"What," Alric asked once again through clenched teeth, "did Rhaegar offer?"

"The chance of ruling Dorne in his name," Aemon said. "And pardon for Gillerd. A permission for him to come home."

"A bribe," Alric said dismissively. "What could move Mikkel to even consider this?"

He realized how stupid his question had been almost immediately. Aemon only looked at him, astounded. For a moment, they both remembered Gillerd as they had last seen him six years ago, being led out of the Tower of the Sun after Doran had proclaimed him guilty in the murder of a man who had been unarmed in full view of five witnesses. Gillerd had been exiled from Dorne this very same day, over the strong protests of many who felt that he should have died for his deed and had gotten away lightly only by the benefit of being a Gargalen and others who insisted that Doran should have never condemned him at all. This very day his wife, Alric's daughter Loreza Sand, had killed herself. They had lost both of them. Arianne who had been lingering for a while had died shortly before that. This had been one of the darkest periods in Alric's life.

"Love," Aemon now said flatly and sighed. "Remember, he's one of the only two sons Mikkel has left now."

Alric stared right ahead, his anger at his brother shifting and focusing at the one who was really to blame – their damned king.

For many hours, they didn't say a word, both thinking of better, easier times.

Up and up the group went until suddenly after a turn in the road they saw it – the old castle perched on a rock with its massive walls and high towers, surprisingly graceful, reaching up for the brilliant sky that bathed the grey stones in bluish light. Rhaenys gasped in wonder and without thinking, spurred her pony forward. Alric smiled, for he had already recognized who the child would favour in her pursuits and it wasn't Elia. Fortunately, it wasn't Rhaegar either. She would fit perfectly amidst the Sand Snakes. His smile turned sad when, unbidden, the memory of Arianne came to him. Sometimes, I can swear this child is her uncle's daughter and not mine, Doran had often said with straight face, making both Oberyn and Arianne laugh.

Elia did not call her daughter back. Instead, she, too, rode forward, breathing fully air that suddenly felt so much sweeter. "Dorne," she breathed, her eyes sweeping over the rock, the castle and the deep gorge below, at the mountain tops framing the central tower from behind. "I am home."

The rest of their escort had not caught up with them yet when the castle reminded them that it had initially been built as a single watchtower: they were spotted. The huge gates opened, leaving a single rider through.

Lord Toral Wyl, the master of the castle and everything around, was a tall handsome young man. Since he was a few years older than Elia, he had already left the Water Gardens when she was born and she didn't know him all that well. She remembered his father, though, and now saw that Toral had inherited the blue eyes and blonde hair of his mother – traits passed to many Yronwoods save the current lord. At approaching them, Toral dismounted and went for Elia's sand mare with his head bowed, as a bannerman to his liege. "My lady," he said and bowed deeply. "You are most welcome."

She smiled slightly. "I could not pass one of my most valiant bannermen by, let alone miss the chance to visit with such an old and cherished friend as your lady wife."

He smiled back. "She's been waiting for you in days," he said. "Shall we go, then?"

Elia gasped with delight when she saw the party gathered in the bailey: Lady Blackmont and Elvar, Lord Fowler and his family, the young Lord Manwoody, a young man who her father quietly informed her was Lord Yronwood's heir... It looked like every major House from the Red Mountains had come to meet her. She smiled at Alynna and held out a hand for Arel to kiss, acknowledging the new kinship between them. Even Lord Qorgyle had gone all the way from his the desert seat to greet her. She was slightly disappointed not to see Oberyn anywhere but she reasoned that someone had to stay in Sunspear. Her uncle Mikkel Gargalen was here, though, and the sight of him made her as happy as the sight of her grandmother had.

Ashara made a step towards her and sank into a deep curtsey. Elia embraced her, held her tight and tried to stop the tears from falling. "I never thought I'd see you again," she whispered. "Never."

"And I always knew we'd meet one day," Ashara lied. "Here, at home."

At home, Elia mused, taking in the castle, the mountain, the solid walls. How strange that after all their travels, after residing in King's Landing and having all the reasons in the world to believe that they'd made their lives there, they had come back where they had started.

"I have started again," Ashara murmured. "And now, so will you."

Elia drew back and smiled bravely. Ashara looked at the newcomers and swept a quick curtsey to Alric. Her eyes went past Arthur with horrifying indifference before she stepped back to leave the rest of them greet their princess.

Mikkel embraced Elia; she was startled when she saw how old he had grown in the years apart. As Lady Blackmont made her curtsey, Elia examined Elvar and saw, relieved, that if there were any difficulties in the short time since his unexpected wedding, they did not show.

"You look fabulous," Elvar whispered when he embraced her. "Were it not sorely needed, I would rather have you stay unwed. Freedom does you lots of good."

She chuckled and then tensed, when the young Ser Cletus Yronwood bowed respectfully. "Welcome home, my lady," he said.

She inclined her head. "Thank you, my lord. I am very happy to be in Dorne again and even more so to have a friend be the first one to meet me."

He looked up, straight in her eyes. "I can be the staunchest of friends, my lady," he assured her.

She stared back, intently. Was he sincere? He looked like he was but she didn't know him; it was hard to tell. Fortunately, he was quite eager for his wedding to take place as soon as possible and given the fast eager look he gave Vaela, politics had little, if anything, to do with it. If he doesn't mean it fully yet, he will soon, Elia thought and smiled, accepting his assurances.

"Will this chamber be comfortable?"

Ashara's voice was politely interested, the one of a hostess concerned with her guest's comfort. Her eyes did not avoid Arthur's but they were just as polite and dispassionate as her tone.

"More than comfortable, thank you," he said and it was more than mere courtesy. Compared to his cell in the White Tower, this chamber could pass for a throne room – a heavy carpet, a soft bed, carved chairs and tables. There was a coffer for attires that he did not have. Pain shot through him at remembering that ten years ago, he would have simply entered his brother's chamber without thinking twice and taken some of his clothing. They had traded attires regularly then.

Ashara nodded. "I'll send someone with refreshments. The dinner will be laid out in the great hall."

Wait, he wanted to say. Stay a little more. He had thought that the fight with his siblings over his past behavior would be painful; now he realized that he much preferred a fight over this chilling indifference – Ashara playing a hostess, Arel talking animatedly to everyone in Elia's party but sparing for Arthur only the merest formalities.

He stared at his sister as she went for the door. Married of four years and a mother of two with a third on the way, Ashara was no longer the willowy slender maiden from the royal court but now she was possessed of a beauty that was more mature, composure that had overlaid her features with the unmistakable seal of contentment. She thought she was so different, yet she was only beautiful, Arthur thought. I thought I was different, yet I was only good with sword. Ashara had found her place with a conventional husband but Arthur was still looking for his.

Laughter and shrieks brought him to the window. Ashara followed and smiled at the sight of the children that had run out in the courtyard. Arthur stared at the dark-haired boy who looked oldest. "Is this your son?" he asked and Ashara shook her head.

"He's Alynna's," she said.

"And…" Arthur started and immediately wished to take the word back. But Ashara had understood.

"And Errol's," she said coolly. The child brought into this world already an orphan, the child born mere days before his mother wed Arel Dayne in bout of fear and despair. As I served the ones who made all of that happen.

She pointed at another boy, younger and fair-haired. "This is Edric," she said.

So, this is the future lord of Starfall, Arthur thought just as the child fell down, hit his head, rose, wiped the blood off his mouth and kept running around.

"Arel must be very happy," he said. "A healthy heir after Shanai's three miscarriages."

He meant to sound light, hoping to lure her into a conversation. Instead, she turned to face him, her eyes furious. "Five," she said. "Five miscarriages."

"I didn't know," he said, feeling a surge of sadness. "Arel didn't tell me."

Ashara smiled tautly. "I am sure you will excuse him for not going to that tower to inform you in person. Although I am sure he would have, had he known you were there. Or maybe he wouldn't have, being crushed by Shanai's death and so on. I might have come but you failed to inform us."

"One of my many failings," he said sarcastically.

Once, Ashara would have fallen into his trap, staring the row he needed so desperately. Now, she didn't. "Yes," she said coolly without entering into dispute.

You failed Elia, you failed me, you failed Arel, you failed Rhaenys and Aegon, you failed Errol, you failed everyone who you grew up with and who is dead while you sat the war you helped created away, you failed Dorne. He heard it very clearly without her saying it.

A moment later, she was out of the room and he was standing back at the window, desperately trying to get himself warm and failing at this, too, because the cold was not coming from the outside but dwelled within his heart.

"Are you happy?"

Alynna looked at Elia from the coffer she had seated herself on. For once, Elia looked so invigorated and full of energy that they could be mistaken for each other, for they were born strikingly similar to each other in looks. They hadn't seen each other since the rebellion, when a desperate Alynna, recently widowed and a mother again, had begged Arel Dayne, a lifelong friend of both her and her late husband, to marry her and protect her, promising him an heir in exchange. Few marriages had started with less happiness.

"Yes," Alynna said. "I am very happy."

Elia left the silver hairbrush on the dressing table, rose and came near to examine her cousin's face and judge the sincerity of her reply. Alynna met her eye calmly, unflinchingly. Elia felt incredibly happy for her and at the same time, filled with hope for herself. If Alynna who had been in a marriage of shared love and trust had managed to find happiness again with a man she had married for a deal, then Elia stood a chance as well.

Once again, she embraced Alynna and decided that in two days, she'd leave. Ashara's hospitality was flawless but Elia could not wait to reach Sunspear – and the beginning of her new life.