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Lady of Dorne

Rage of Stars

The search in Allyria's room didn't tell them anything. There was nothing suspicious there – no letters, no things that shouldn't be there. The girl's handmaiden, a middle-aged woman Arthur did not recognize, told them that no items of her mistress' clothing were missing.

Arthur looked at the window. At leaving the nursery, Allyria had appropriated Ashara's old room, the one looking at the sea. The sun leaned pale luminescent shimmer to the gentle ripple of the surface but Arthur's sharp eye caught something else: the thousands of pinpoints hiding under the pearls of that golden silk. From the windows on the next wall, the Red Mountain rose, green and enticing, yet Arthur well knew how dangerous they could be at night. With the sunset, cold descended and it killed as certainly as a sword would, only more slowly and agonizingly. Would Allyria really leave without some warm clothes in the saddlebag?

The search in the boys' rooms showed that there were no clothes missing there either – no coats, nothing that could protect them at night.

"Two days," Arel said. "Two nights. I hope they were in a warm place."

Arthur wasn't quite sure but he wasn't about to say so. "They are young but strong," he said. "Even if there wasn't a great fireplace, I am sure that they could take it for a while without any adverse effects."

His brother shook his head. "Ilon isn't all that healthy," he said.

That was news to Arthur. Somehow, he had always taken for granted that Alynna and Errol's children would be as strong of constitution as both of their parents. Maybe because he had always compared Alynna's glowing health to Elia's fragile one. "Isn't he?" he asked.

"No," Arel said. "In the last few months before his birth, Alynna didn't have enough to eat. He was born very tiny. He had been starving in the womb. And he hasn't overcome it."

For a while, he stood staring ahead before making a step forward, abruptly. "Come on," he said. "I think it's time we pay our dear kinsmen, my loyal bannermen a visit."

Arthur didn't need elaborations to know what his brother was talking about. "You think they would dare?"

"Allyria's usual route runs quite close to their lands," Arel replied. "And they aren't in Elia's good graces right now. In fact, she and Gerold had a falling out as soon as she arrived over his trying to wed Larra by force."

"Did they?" Arthur mumbled, stung. "How do you know?" Why don't I know, was what he meant but he couldn't say it. Even Arel couldn't know just how uneasy he was with leaving his and Elia's private world to face yet another reminder that there were those she trusted more than she did him. When it came to other people, he was ready to accept it, to some extent, but with Arel, it was more galling. He didn't know why. It just was. Which was ridiculous. He trusted Arel as he did no one else, so why was he irked that Elia trusted him as well? At the same time, he was ashamed, for it was not the moment for him to think of such things when the children might be – almost certainly were – in peril.

"Lord Alric," his brother replied. "Are you coming with me?"

"Yes," Arthur replied. "Yes, of course."

The two of them left the castle immediately without even trying the morning meal that had been served for them. Arthur would have liked to take Ivorr Sand as well but it would be better if the man slept his fatigue away and recuperate for as long as he could, else he might be useless in the battle that Arthur was now sure would be inevitable. Instead, they took twenty knights and twice as many men-at-arms up the narrow path leading them to the gorge of the Torentine. Their companions were mostly men from the surrounding area but there were a few who came from Sunspear and Hellholt, so their horses neighed and skitted anxiously at finding themselves so close to the precipice. Arthur could see that Arel's impatience was growing and was relieved when finally, under a thin ray of sunlight here and there, they entered the heart of the mountain.

It was sweet smelling, and beautiful, and so home that Arthur couldn't find the words to describe the warm glow of joy and gratitude and belonging that filled him. Still, the cool wind soon brought him to the severity of their situation. While the three children had left attired warmly enough for a ride, that would not keep them warm for long if they were immobile anywhere in the mountain but near a roaring fire.

"Do you really think they might be there?" he asked. "I've heard that Gerold was not trustworthy but would Geralt let him do as he pleases? He's too cowardly."

"He was," Arel corrected. "While Shanai was still alive."

Arthur had barely known Arel's first wife and by the set of his brother's jaw it didn't look like Arel cared to elaborate, so they rode in silence up and up, trampling on grass and honeysuckles until a sudden turn of the path revealed High Hermitage: high above them, the castle stared at them, all edges and hostility. In the sunlight it reached into, its towers shed red like a waterfall of blood. Near the walls, the Torentine roared an angry unwelcome.

"Such a charming place," someone murmured sarcastically from behind.

Arthur looked at his brother. "You won't do anything rash, will you?"

Arel smiled wryly. "When have I ever!"

This wasn't terribly soothing and he must have realized it because he said, "I won't do anything that could create unneeded problems. Besides, they aren't here. I don't know where they are but even if those two had something to do with it, the children aren't here, you can trust me."

Arthur barely had the time to feel impressed with his brother's intimate knowledge of their beloved kinsmen when Arel rode forward, leaving him no choice but follow.

"Open the gates," Arel ordered, looking up to reveal his face. "Didn't you hear me? Open those gates."

It took a few minutes or so but the great gates, grey with time, finally opened and before anyone could say anything, Arel rode in, gesturing at everyone to follow. But at the end, it was only he and Arthur who entered the great hall where no stirring betrayed usage of the spacious room with a vaulted ceiling at all.

"I want to speak to your master and Ser Gerold," Arel turned to the castellan who hurried over to greet him.

The fact that he did not lose time with any pleasantries made the man's eyes widen. "Ser Gerold isn't here, my lord," he replied.

"And he's been absent for… how long?" Arel's voice was still mild. "No, no need to answer. Your master will do this for you. Is he coming, or should I go and find him myself?"

The castellan looked taken aback by the lack of the angry outburst he had been expecting. Arthur wasn't.

"He's in his chambers," the knight replied. "Dealing with correspondence."

"Call him," Arel said. "Immediately. The matter is urgent."

But when after a short time, no one had appeared yet, he turned around and headed for the staircase without thinking twice. Arthur followed, wondering what had happened to make the relationship so strained. Or rather, so overtly strained. It had never been a good one but Arel had always preferred distance to outright strife. His worry over the children certainly had something to do with it but judging by Arel's offhand comments at Sunspear and Ashara's undisguised antipathy, things had escalated beyond Arthur's wildest expectations.

At the top of the stairs, in the shadows of the long gallery, both of them stopped and listened as if they hoped to hear children's voices, then swiftly proceeded to the oak doors leading to the private chambers. Arel knocked briefly and entered after only a short waiting.

Violet eyes, much like his own, greeted their arrival. "I was going to come down as soon as I was done here," the master of High Hermitage said.

"I am sure of it. That's why we came," Arel replied. "Do you happen to have any idea where my sons and sister are?" he asked bluntly.

Arthur cringed. Too much time at King's Landing had left him unaccustomed to things starting with rudeness. Finishing them with rudeness was one thing. But at court, they always started with enough fake sweetness to give him a toothache.

In the sunlight, their host and Arel looked strikingly similar, both tall, black-haired, and violet-eyed. But that was about the extent of their similarities – that and the hostility flowing deep like the Torentine, as unbridled as the sea about Dragonstone at storm.

Geralt Dayne looked bewildered. "Let's make it clear," he said. "Sweet Allyria clearly did something she shouldn't have done – seems to run in your family, my lord. Ashara comes to mind, - the boys got dragged into it somehow, and you think she came here, of all places?"

"That's not what I said."

"Ah." Geralt paused. "Are you accusing me of something, my lord?"

Things were escalating by the moment, the words shooting out almost before either participant had the time to think them over.

"No," Arel said. "Not yet. I'd very much like to know what Gerold has been doing for the last, say, one week. He's been amazingly absent for a man who usually knows how to make his presence known."

All of a sudden, he dropped all pretenses. His face contorted in a mask of concern and hatred that Arthur had not seen in fifteen years, had prayed he'd never have to see it again. "I believe your nephew is this Vulture King," he said bluntly. "And I also believe he was the one who took Allyria and the boys by force because they knew something that would prove it. Only, by doing so he destroyed every need of proof. I will have this castle searched from gates to ceilings, Geralt, and you'd better pray that I find them here and unharmed. Because if they don't appear within the next week, I will have High Hermitage razed to the ground. As to you, you could look for employment with another lord, only I doubt you'll find one in this part of Dorne."

If Arthur hadn't been watching his kinsman so intently, he would have missed it: the brief narrowing of the eyes that would mean anger with most people… but not necessarily so for Arthur himself, so in Geralt, he saw it for what it was.

"Arel, he knows something," he said harshly. "I'll have the search started now."

He hesitated. His oaths of a knight and former Kingsguard told him that what he was about to say next was dishonourable no matter how he looked at it but by the Stranger's pit, he wanted it so much. And then he remembered a young Alric laughing and claiming, "Hate me? Of course they hate me. I don't mind it, as long as they fear me," and Princess Arianne shaking her head and scolding him that he was being too reckless. But cautiousness had never done much good with certain people. If Arthur was about to keep the peace in Elia's lands – and in this case, do some good to his own family as well – he should let go of some scruples.

"And I have no doubts that the result will show what you think they will," he added. "So we can start with taking the castle down tomorrow night… even before we set off to deal with Gerold. I mean, the Vulture King," he added sarcastically.

Arel gave him a quick look. They had no intention to wait for so long but giving Geralt the wrong impression was a good thing. Normally, it would take from three to five days to organize a chase this big, so their kinsman would probably think they were bluffing and trying to make Gerold do something rash to reveal his location. Which wasn't their plan. They were intent on finding him, not goading him into anything. Now, it was more urgent than ever.

Geralt looked as if the White Bull had landed his massive fist straight in his face. "You wouldn't dare."

"I dare more things than you can imagine." Arthur smiled. "You might have heard that the Princess and I are not only spouses but actually holding each other's heart. Why else do you think she would have sent me here to head the search? Who do you think she's going to believe? You or her own husband who will give her proof?"

"A fabricated proof," Geralt Dayne retorted. He looked quite convinced that the proof could be nothing but fabricated. With sinking heart, Arthur realized that no matter what had transpired, they would not find the children here.

"A proof," he replied and gave another smile. "Who is going to defend you? Lady Blackmont, with her personal and justified grudge? Lord Manwoody who is sure that this side of the Dornish Marches is to be attacked soon? Cletus Yronwood who'd do anything to win Lady Vaella's affections? Or maybe my goodbrother?" He schooled his face into a thoughtful expression, wondering whether he could really get away with such a thing. Elia would not take well having High Hermitage burned without a solid proof. Anyway, Geralt need not know that.

He paused. "If you know where they are, Cousin, you'll tell us now. Or else, I'll deal with you now and explain things to my lady wife later, not that it would make any difference for you."

Geralt Dayne's face grew increasingly flushed. His eyes moved from his liege lord to Arthur and he could see enough of their expressions to know that they were deadly serious. But like Arthur said, it would not make any difference.

"I don't know where they are," he spat. This was the truth, as unpalatable as it was to those two.

Looking at him, Arthur felt that the search would only be a loss of time but he ordered one anyway. He would never forgive himself if someone was hurt and he had overlooked a thing. Besides, it could give them some inkling about Gerold's location.

It didn't.

"I should have known," Arel spat on their way back. "Geralt is a spineless worm and Gerold knows it. He would not have risked telling him anything we could squeeze out of him just by shaking him hard."

He was furious with himself for losing them a few hours. What a fool! Fear was never a good advisor and he knew that, yet he had let it guide him.

"When we find Gerold, we'll find them as well," Arthur said. Maybe. For now, that was the most likely explanation, yet he could not chase away the memory of another disappearance of a highborn girl that had looked like abduction.

Memories of events long gone were bad advisors as well.

Had Lord Alric felt like this when he had had to balance Arianne's interests against the wellbeing of his own family? Arthur had heard the story of the glorious battle at the Stepstones hundreds of times. The part that usually went unmentioned was that Aelinor Gargalen, at the time Maelys Blackfyre's unwilling bedmate and his betrayer, had almost lost her life to the monster's blade.

His mood was hardly improved when they returned to Starfall and he saw the person waiting for them there.

"Looks like you and I are destined to be together through fair and foul," Oberyn said, rising from the chair he had been occupying for a while. Not very long, though – he must have arrived pretty much immediately before them. Either that or he had decided against changing his travel-dirty clothes.

"What are you doing here?" Arthur snapped. He was in no mood to deal with Oberyn's meddling right now. "Didn't Elia tell you to stay bloody away?"

"She changed her mind," Oberyn replied. To Arthur's surprise, he went on explaining, instead of taunting him. "Naeryn saw a violent storm coming and she glimpsed that it will howl all around Starfall, so she decided that she was needed here. At hearing this, Alynna, of course, couldn't stay away."

And Arthur had thought his day was a bad one! Now, they had a woman convinced that they would fail without her active help and a distraught mother to deal with. Next to him, Arel muttered, "I was hoping she wouldn't have to learn about that just yet," and headed for his wife's chambers.

Arthur collapsed in the nearest chair and closed his eyes.

"You aren't going to fall asleep now, are you?"

Arthur opened an eye. "Go away, Oberyn. Just go away."

Of course, Oberyn didn't. Instead, a goblet appeared in front of Arthur. He sniffed it and drank. "I hope it's just wine," he murmured.

Oberyn smiled a little. "It is. Elia will mind if I leave her a widow so soon after becoming a wife and my father insisted explicitly that I treat you with all the respect due to his own person." There was a trace of indignation to his voice before it became serious. So serious that Arthur opened his other eye to look at him. "Look, Arthur, I am sorry about what's happening. I am worried as well. I've heard that Lady Allyria is a nice girl and Ilon and Edric are my nephews. They are Alynna's children. I want them back safe and sound. And I am not here to halt you in any way. I just came with Alynna and Naeryn, that's all. I am to take my orders from you until this vulture creature is done away with."

Arthur drank again. "What does Naeryn say?" he asked. "Where is she?"

"She was with Alynna. She told me that later, she'd try and ask the crystal for some guidance. Where he is, how many people does he have, if he has the children and so on." He paused. "She knows what she's doing, Arthur. Let her come and go wherever she wants to and believe what she's telling you."

The thought of sorcery and believing some invented signs slinking in his life once again made Arthur rebel. For the Seven's sake, he had thought he had left those behind in the Red Keep!

But he knew what Arel would say. He would be ready to try out anything. And if Elia had sent Naeryn here, it meant that she wanted her to take any part Naeryn felt was needed.

Welcome back, sorcery, Arthur thought bitterly and took another sip before going to bathe and eat, and start preparing for taking actions.

The bed was too big. Oh it hadn't been so when Elia had first come here. But now, without Arthur in it, it was looming huge and lonely, reminding her of their velvety nights together… as well as the blackening bruises Oberyn had given Arthur and Elia's own penchant of interrupting things with dashing to the privy to vomit. It had never made her feel uneasy, not the way it had with Rhaegar.

But now, the bliss of the first few weeks had evaporated, leaving them into a situation that reminded Elia very much of her childhood: he was away fighting and she was here ruling. And in truth, she was surprised just how little she missed him during her busy days – there wasn't time for her to squeeze him in.

At night, though…

"Did you issue a sentence in the hens' case?" Rhaenys asked curiously when her mother came in to kiss her goodnight. To Elia's relief, her daughter now looked calmer and happier. Of course, a good part of it was the knowledge that for the time being, she didn't have to share Elia with Arthur. But Elia thought that it was also the fact that she was getting settled here, feeling at home. That made her feel Rhaenys closer and even more hers. As usual, she tried to push away the thought of Aegon also getting settled into his new life, getting used to living without her, becoming less hers.

"Well?" Rhaenys insisted. "Did you?"

"Did you?" another voice chimed in and Elia had to laugh when a head popped out from under the covering. Ellaria's eldest girl, also named Elia, had clearly decided to spend the night here. Or Rhaenys had invited her. Now they both stared at her with the obvious idea that the complaint regarding the hens was the funniest thing they had ever heard.

"Yes," Elia said and gave them both a stern look. "And it isn't a cause for laughter, I want you to know. Poisoning your neighbour's hens is a very serious offense if the neighbour relies on their eggs to make living."

Crushed by her reproach, they looked down. Elia wondered whether she should let the lesson sink by keeping a firm line, or be nice, as her heart prompted her to do. At the end, her desire to impart values could not win against the burst of love at seeing the two heads on the pillow staring up at her beseechingly, so she smiled, kissed them goodnight, and left, making sure that the night candle was too far from them to be overturned by chance.

She walked down the hall, her hand on her belly, as if she could touch the babe the way she could Rhaenys. Night was the time when she missed Arthur most and Aegon's absence was a physical pain, crushing her under its weight. Now, she had Alynna to be concerned about. She could already say that sleep would not come fast to her tonight, so she sat down in her solar and started going over the accounts of the treasury. No matter how she parsed it, they would have to approach the Iron Bank. Just like Alyse Ladybright had said.

"You aren't still working, are you?"

Elia looked up and smiled invitingly. "Why, Alaenys, come in."

The girl stepped in readily. "I hope I am not intruding."

"No," Elia assured her. "Not at all."

That was a lie but she could see that her cousin was scared and in need of company. Reassurance, maybe. Elia remembered the days before her own departure for King's Landing and all of a sudden, the accounts did not look nearly as important as they had.

"Is there any news?" Alaenys asked, taking a seat across from Elia.

"No," Elia replied. "But it's too early anyway. They will deal with this Vulture King in a timely manner, have no fear," she added.

"Yes," Alaenys murmured, visibly disappointed. Of course she wanted the villain to be removed. She just didn't want to have the road safeguarded because then, there would be no reason to delay her departure.

Elia sighed. "It won't be this bad, Alaenys. Surely not as bad as you think it would right now."

"And how do you know?" the girl asked belligerently, leaning over to start leafing through the account books absent-mindedly.

"Because it's never as bad as new brides think it would be," Elia replied, and Alaenys laughed, surprised.

"I am being silly, aren't I? I mean, I am marrying a great lord in his own right, he isn't terribly old, he isn't a misshapen lady, and he isn't a womanizer, as far as I know…"

Is it going to be enough, Elia wondered and prayed that it would be even as she reassured Alaenys that yes, she should consider herself very lucky indeed.

For a while, they chatted about small things. The age difference had never let them be truly close or at least, not confidantes like Elia was with Alynna, Naeryn, and Lanore who was far away at Essos. But they were fond of each other and right now, they both needed someone near to keep fear at bay.

So Elia told Alaenys all she wanted to know about life at court, and what gowns ladies wore, and how foul-smelling King's Landing was – "I don't believe you! There can't be such a stench, anywhere!" – and the hurdles she had encountered while getting used to her new responsibilities. The greatest hurdle, by the name of Aerys Targaryen, remained unmentioned and so did Elia's relationship with Rhaegar, from the very beginning. And when the girl started giggling at the comical way Elia described her travails, Elia knew that she had achieved what she had wanted to – imbue Alaenys with confidence that things could work out. Truth was something that they didn't need. Not here, not tonight. So they drifted off in their world of no impediments too big to overcome, no sullen husbands-to-be, and no mad kings who would start a war destroying so much of what they held dear.

Allyria Dayne's senses had sharpened so swiftly that she still wasn't accustomed to it. She now heard the footsteps as soon as the man started climbing the spiraling staircase. She even recognized him – the same man who carried their tray with meals thrice a day. And when he opened the door, she saw that she had been right.

"It's you again," she spat, doing her best to hide the fear that had her shaking like a small terrified animal under the blanket she had pulled as high as she could with the two little boys snuggled next to her. Somehow, she felt that her shows of arrogance and courage too his courage away, so she sought arrogance and bravery once again hoping that this time, it will work. "I told you I want to speak to your master."

The man silently placed the tray on the table and headed for the door, looking over his shoulder, as if he feared that she'd lunge at him. To an outsider, it would look ridiculous, for he was a bear of a man and Allyria was too small even for a fourteen-year-old. But her displays of outrage seemed to paralyze him, although not enough to make him do what she said.

"Don't turn your back at me!" Allyria yelled. "I want to speak to your master. Now! Where are our men? The children are very ill and he needs to know it."

"He… he does, my lady," the giant said haltingly.

That made her pause. She had assumed that he had not dared approach Gerold. The thought that Darkstar might know how ill both boys were and didn't care was far more troubling. She had clung to the reasonable assumption that he'd like to keep them alive and well so he could use them, so if he didn't….? She had to know what was going on.

The bear was leaving, there was no time. Allyria's eyes fell on the tray at the table. "If you don't call Gerold Dayne here right now, I'll inhale these olives and I'll choke to death, and then you can explain that to your master who will have one person less to hold my brothers with!"

The man turned back to look at her. To her surprise, there was something like hesitancy in his eyes. By the gods, had he actually bought this? "If you don't bring him to me right now, I'll choke and I'll die, and leave all of you to face the consequences!" she threatened again.

He banged the door so loudly that she and Ilon actually jumped. Allyria shook her head, still unaware whether her stupid bluff had been believed. He had looked scared but then, she couldn't believe that someone could actually fall for such flat a lie. How could one choke to death on purpose? On olives, of all things?

"Allyria," Ilon whispered. "Are you going to die?"

"What?" she asked, confused, before realizing that he, too, had heard her. "No! No, Ilon, no. I just wanted him to believe it, not you. Come here now."

Once again, he relaxed against her and she wrapped him in the blanket as warmly as she could, feeling his forehead. His fever had risen further. He had started getting ill in their first night in this cold bedchamber and he was getting worse. She feared that soon, he'd go into delirium. He was shaking, his teeth clattering, his extremities turning bluish.

At her other side, Edric was so immobile that she poked him, scared that he'd go to sleep. With head injuries, it was a dangerous thing because one might never wake up, so she talked to him, trying to keep him awake or waking him up because he nodded off as soon as her attention was turned elsewhere for a brief moment. He seemed unable to chew properly and she alternated between being scared that he'd choke and being scared that he might starve.

Their grooms had been separated from them almost immediately and Allyria feared that they might not be even alive. After all, if highborn who could serve as precious hostages could be kept almost dying with cold in a room with no fire and a single blanket so high in the mountain, servants would hardly be kept alive and fed. Her fear was growing with every hour the children sickened in front of her with her being unable to help them and the clamour, comings and goings in the narrow courtyard. She had no idea what her hated kinsman had in mind but it couldn't be anything good.

The chamber had no windows, just an embrasure high in the wall. If Allyria rose up onto her toes, she look far above the round walls, straight into the blue heart of the mountain range that was so ridiculously named the Red Mountains. And there, just a few tops away, lay the castle Wyl, Ashara's new home. Ashara who had no idea that they were so close. Ashara who might have already learned of their disappearance and worry.

Please, Allyria prayed. Please, Ashara, think of this place. Ashara, Toral, Arel – please someone comes here to look for us. We're here.

And then, the door opened.