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Lady of Dorne

Fear

This far, Alaenys' impressions of King's Landing had turned out to outdo all the worst parts of Elia's descriptions. Had she ever thought the idea of the omnipresent stench amusing? It was far less so when she approached the foot of Aegon's Hill. Unfortunately, the babe shared her distaste and was not reticent to show it quite blatantly. Alaenys supposed she should be grateful that for now, she had not thrown up all over the King or Queen's splendid finery! No, this was a pleasure reserved only for her lord husband and once, to her greatest embarrassment, his onion knight. At Storm's End, she had had covered jars placed in every chamber she visited but too often, she simply hadn't made it to them. Now, she was queasy each morning and throwing up each afternoon but at least, in the evening she felt relatively fine. At least fine enough to attend the evening feast where everyone gawked at her and was quick to make disparaging remarks that she promptly returned. But there was still one of her – and hundreds of them. The fact that the King had neglected to invite the Lady of Dorne to the great tournament held to celebrate the fifth year of his ascension showed quite clearly the standing of Dorne with his court: it was non-existing. In the few cases Alaenys had actually found herself close to Rhaegar, she could see the dislike in his eyes despite his overall polite behavior. He could not forgive Elia for proving herself a good neighbour to the other side of the Dornish Marches, showing that even her new kinship with the villain would not stand in the way of justice. After this, Rhaegar could hardly summon such a loyal subject and supporter of peace and law to question her on matters that he had no say in.

As a result, the King's court had resorted to an overt insult by omission. Elia was certain to have been enraged at being left out of the formal invitation, despite not having either the inclination nor the ability to travel now, so close to her time. And Alaenys, with her Targaryen looks and Dornish birth, was taking all the effects of the new attitude of King's Landing against her homeland.

"You need not come," Stannis said from the table where he was working on some papers, or so she had thought. He might have been staring at her without Alaenys noticing. "I'll go alone tonight, and I'll say you're unwell. The rumours about your state are spreading around already, so no one will be surprised. There's no reason for you to put up with all that."

Alaenys smiled slightly, shaking her head. "My mother never hid away, even in the hardest hours of her life," she said. "I won't hide either. I won't let it be said that Lady Baratheon is too weak for court – or anything else!"

Her words sounded very brave but she immediately regretted them as his face closed even more than usual. She shouldn't have mentioned her mother. While Stannis was too well-bred to say something, she knew that he wouldn't be comfortable until the babe was born healthy.

"It was just an accident, you know," she said slowly. "Our children won't be like this. There's no reason for them to be."

He looked uncomfortable. "I am sure I have no idea what you mean," he said.

"Don't you?" Alaenys asked softly. "I think you do, my lord. My sister's infirmity was just a bad stroke of luck."

"Your half-sister," he corrected and she bit back a sigh. Normally, she would have corrected his punctuality but now, it was more than that. He needed to remind himself that Naeryn wasn't really her sister, was perhaps a daughter of a monster who had been deformed himself, so there was nothing wrong with her mother's – Alaenys' own – lineage.

All of a sudden, she wished for the babe to start kicking already. Maybe some strong movements would put her husband's anxiety to rest. Of course, she knew she would never dare ask him for such an act of intimacy…

"Yes, of course," she said. "Still, I don't need to hide from court. I am well. I won't give them the satisfaction! And I don't run away from battles."

He looked at her with surprise that almost made her sigh. What had he expected, a poor little mouse who'd run away and hide at the slightest shade of insult? Ah well, she had to admit that her looks weren't great help either. She was so slender and fair-skinned that she looked downright frail, although she was anything but. I suppose I should be grateful that he's ready to endure the evening and the whispers alone to spare me any discomfort. All of a sudden, she wished for these first three months to be over, so she could have her husband in her bed again. She had started realizing that this was one of the places where she might win him over somewhat from his aloofness.

Another means was being what he needed her to be, so later, Lady Baratheon met her husband in a splendid crimson gown, with Daella's famous parure of a necklace and earrings of diamonds and huge rubies on her alabaster skin. There was a slight smile on her lips and she had drunken enough of her herbal potion to be reasonably sure that she could withstand the aromas of various meals, the smell of the candles, and that of the hundreds of people she'd meet soon without gagging. Just in case, though, she had dampened a cloth in strong perfume and rubbed it in her right wrist, so she could inhale it each time she was in danger of being overwhelmed by a particular smell.

Tonight's festivities were hosted in the throne room again after a few evenings where other places in the Red Keep had been chosen, including the Tower of the Hand and the Queen's Ballroom – ah, what a disaster that had been! Did the Northern woman have no idea of how to play hostess? Even the wines they had been served had not been matched to the meals! Alaenys had heard the rumours that she had been the one who had seated them at the same table with Mace Tyrell at the first night. She had clearly looked uncomfortable when she had realized that the Fat Flower and Alaenys Targaryen of New Star would spend the dinner trading veiled barbs. But the fact that they had been seated at the same time with Tyrell at almost all other nights – that had probably nothing to do with the Stark woman and everything to do with the King. She still looked uncomfortable but he looked definitely pleased hearing Alaenys and Dorne being taught their place by everyone about. Where was the kind man Elia swore he had once been? It's the war, Alaenys thought. He's just as scarred by the war as everyone else. Sometimes, she had seen a similar bitterness and anger pointed at others and himself in her own father's eyes when the shades of Aemon's past came to haunt him.

"Surprise, surprise," Stannis muttered when the marshal started leading them to the dais. They would both happily pass on it if that meant they'd pass on most of their table-companions as well, Lord Tyrell most of all. Well, not quite since seating them on a lower table would be nothing but insult.

"My lord, my lady," a voice suddenly spoke at Alaenys' left. She looked up and gasped at the sight of the Master of Ships. "I hope you're feeling well enjoying the King's hospitality."

Was he mocking her? Of course she wasn't enjoying the King's hospitality! Neither was he, if his looks and the rumours in the halls were any inkling. "Entirely," she assured him.

Lord Yronwood hesitated and then asked his next question with suddenness that took her aback. "I wanted to ask… How is your sister doing? Her bravery has cost her a lot."

Alaenys' fury rose so high and unexpected that her cheeks burned. "Ah, so now you're so very concerned," she snapped. "Where have you been all those months? Why are you showing interest only now, for the Mother's sake?"

Without gracing him with a real answer, she tugged at Stannis' sleeve to show him that he should keep leading her to the dais.

Where the first thing they heard was Mace Tyrell's plans to undergo a travel to the Dornish Marches as soon as he went back to his domains. "I love visiting every corner of the Reach's land," he explained.

Stannis ground his teeth and Alaenys went white with shock. Was he trying to start a war here, at the dinner table? With everyone watching eagerly for their reactions? Alaenys noticed the dark look the King gave Mace Tyrell. Clearly the Lord of High Garden wasn't supposed to insult Stannis. Just Alaenys and Dorne.

"We'll meet there, then," her husband spoke in a minute, his tone as measured as always. "As you know, I am good at waiting. I'll be waiting for you."

Lovely. Alaenys looked down at her plate and focused on the only two meals that smelled actually appealing to her sensitive nose. Were the threats of war between his vassals the way the King wanted to mark this anniversary?

But no. Now glaring at both lords, he spoke, "It looks like you'd better meet only at the table, my lords. The Dornish Marches are not known to be a happy place for meetings."

"Especially for Dornishmen," Mace Tyrell muttered and Alaenys bristled once again. But she should take care not to weaken Stannis' not enviable standing further, so she kept her mouth shut, only biting back from time to time when someone made an especially derisive remark against her homeland. Really, she got the feeling that the only ones who felt uncomfortable here were Stannis and she. And both Queens, of course. Rhaella, recently arrived from Dragonstone, tried to hold peace at the table. Lyanna Stark also tried – or maybe she intentionally tried to make matters worse, Alaenys was not sure. A Queen could not be so lacking in knowledge about the subtleties of political tensions, could she?

Alaenys was trying to have a conversation about the difference in life and styles in the Vale and Stormlands with the Hand's wife when the aptly named Queen of Thorns broke in. "Looking at your own style these few weeks, my lady, I'd say that you'd introduce a new fashion to the Stormlands, and not a good one. Not everyone there can afford dressing their wives in that revealing style all Dornish women seem to prefer. Let alone that people in the rest of Westeros have different ideas of modesty."

Alaenys opened her mouth to retort that young women should dress beautifully before they turn into dry thorns but the beginning of the entertainments drowned her voice.

She loved dancing. Her husband did not. Right now, she didn't mind so much because the babe didn't like it either. She closed her eyes briefly and let herself be carried away by the music and the blissfully quieter table. Until she felt someone watching her, making her look up startled.

"You look bored, Cousin," the King said. "Isn't our company good enough to keep your attention?"

"More than good enough, Your Grace," she answered immediately. "I was just… dreaming."

"Dreaming," Olenna Tyrell snorted. "Might put your fantasies to better use. Entertain us. Sing something to us. I hear you're quite talented at it. Something that's widespread in Dorne."

Alaenys' breath was cut short. Surely the old hag didn't expect that she'd actually….? Like a street entertainer? She, the Lady of the Stormlands, the granddaughter of King Aegon the Fifth of His Name?

"Mother…" Alerie Hightower said nervously.

"Don't call me "Mother"!|", the wicked old woman snapped. "To my best knowledge, I was nowhere near Oldtown at the time of your birth."

Stannis started to say something – no doubt an angry reply – but most of the people at the table were already praising the idea.

And the King nodded.

Once again, Alaenys felt that she might faint. She would refuse, of course, find a pretext… But then, looking at the gloating faces, she realized that that would be almost as good to them, seeing her disgrace herself with angry outbursts. Instead, she smiled sweetly at everyone and pressed her husband's hand warningly. "Of course. I'll be honoured to sing for you. If I can be given a lute?"

Stannis was the only one who squinted his eyes at her. They might still not know each other that well but he knew that she would never be this obedient, so he was perhaps the least surprised one at the table when the hall, silenced by a sign of the King, started filling with tunes he had only heard occasionally since they would never be sung in a Baratheon's presence.

Where the waves of Old River are crushing,

In Boneway's wickedest part,

The enemy their way would better be watching.

For no one can raid Dorne and live.

Everyone's eyes widened in shock at the boldness of the gesture. Had they really thought that she'd suffer insults to no end? That she was a shy little mouse just because she was outnumbered as heavily as not being able to retaliate at everyone? Alaenys' eyes ran over the crowd and found her intended audience at the dais. Some of them actually gaped at her, their jaws dropping. She smiled and went on, forced the tune through her tight throat, giving Mace Tyrell a few verses.

The flower thought he had won greatest glory

But no. He was always watched.

The sand snakes showed him their bite and he perished.

For no one can raid Dorne and live.

Stannis was staring at her in a way that was quite disturbing. She couldn't say whether she'd be complimented or taken a hand to this very night. Well, it was too late to change anything. To the King, the last verses, and to Lyanna's Stark shocked face and the appreciating smile she was trying to fight off.

The bodies of dead piled in scores – full two thousand.

The Red Mountains proved their name.

The haughty bright dragon was sent to the Stranger.

For no one can raid Dorne and live.

Rhaegar Targaryen might be used to everyone applauding his singing but Alaenys did not expect applause and indeed, there was none. Shock was abundant, though, and she was smiling as she removed herself from the gallery of the musicians. Why everyone told me that scandalizing the court at King's Landing was a bad, bad thing, she wondered as she joined the others at the dais again. The brief flash in her husband's eyes showed her that being taken a hand to wasn't a viable option for her that night and she regretted the fact that the servants had already cleared the tables. All of a sudden, she was so hungry that she could eat all her meals and some of Stannis' as well!

In the last few months, there had been almost no places where Elia felt fine in. Her bathtub was one of her favourite residences now. She spent a good deal of her free time here. If she could conduct Dorne's affairs in the water, she'd jump for it.

"A screen?" she asked plaintively. "Please Arthur?"

"No!" Arthur and Rhaenys replied together.

"Mama, be serious!" Rhaenys scolded. "You're even a younger girl than me if you think you can hide behind a screen in your bathchamber while having people here."

Elia's smile broke out and Rhaenys giggled. "Oh you're joking," she said. "Fine. I'm going out," she added. "Lady Nym is going to the Water Gardens. May I accompany her? We'll be back tomorrow morning. The babe won't be born before I come back, right?"

"No way," Alynna's mother said from the door. "How are you feeling, precious?"

Rhaenys thought about it. "Impatient," she admitted. "I want the babe to be born already, so I can play with him."

Elia and Arthur shared a look. No matter that Rhaenys said she understood, she spoke as if the new child would be of age to play with her immediately. She missed Aegon more than she wanted to admit.

"Go to Laval," Arthur suggested. "He has no more duties for today."

Soon enough though, he found himself kicked out of the bedchamber immediately after he had helped Elia get out and dry herself. Ranna Gargalen looked at Elia's naked body. Her face remained carefully impassive but Elia's own fell. "Does it still lie transverse?" she asked after her aunt had touched and prodded from all angles. She knew the answer, though. She hadn't felt her babe turn.

Ranna didn't hesitate. "We have no way to know that it lies transverse," she pointed out. "Your belly is wide indeed but it isn't flatter as is usual with babes who lie this way. Perhaps you're just carrying a girl."

"Perhaps," Elia said, smiling despite her fear. Should she stay alive after the birth, she'd never be this flippant again! A baby who was in the most dreaded of all lies almost never lived and neither did the mother. And if her aunt was right, she must be carrying a girl by the size of a calf, the size of her own belly considered! Would she fit? Maester Caleotte tried to mask his concern but he had summoned other maesters to consult with and Elia had asked her aunt to come over from Starfall where she had been tending to her daughter, Allyria, and Naeryn whose injuries were quite severe. But all three of them were reported to get better and Elia's fear grew with each day her belly became wider and higher. Ranna did have a way with healing and many of the people at Salt Shore had sought her out instead of the maester. Sometimes, Elia had heard people say that Ranna was better at delivering babes than many a maester and she needed that reassurance, especially when she didn't want to tell Arthur about her fears.

But Ranna hadn't reassured her the way Elia had hoped. Instead, she had tried to hide her own concern. She still did.

"Am I going to die?" Elia asked all of a sudden and was horrified. Never before had she given voice to the panic that was claiming her.

In her aunt's eyes, she could read that Ranna wanted to say 'no'. But Elia wouldn't believe her anyway and Ranna had always preferred the truth. She was good in veiling it at many nuances but she had rarely spoken a lie if she could avoid it. "I don't know," Ranna admitted. "I hope not. I'll do everything I can for it to be not. But I simply don't know."

She supposed she should now tell Elia to not worry too much. But that would be no veiling the truth, it would be burying it so deeply in the ground that it could not be dug out of it. And it could not happen. Every woman in Elia's place would have worried and no worry was too much. She could lose the babe or die herself, or both, or end up in a state that would have her beg the Mother for death. Childbirth killed and maimed countless women every day. During her own healthy pregnancies, Ranna had always been scared that she'd be one of them.

"Now put some robes on," she said instead. "Go for a walk in the garden. Eat a hearty meal. Try to keep yourself as fine as you can. That really helps… more than you know."

Elia doubted something could help her but nodded. Ranna went to the window to let the sun in and stilled.

"What?" Elia asked. "What is it?"

"A royal ship," Ranna said. "The three-headed dragon."

They looked at each other, the same thought weighing both of them down. Had Rhaegar gone truly mad? Was this the start of a hostile campaign? They had already heard of Alaenys' bravura in the Red Keep, although the court hadn't exactly called it 'bravura'. Elia still couldn't believe it that Rhaegar had taken his resentment of her so far. Maybe it was because Alaenys was also with child that she had conceived almost immediately after her wedding and to the best of Elia's knowledge, Lyanna's womb was still empty. Maybe in this healthy and so dragon-looking cousin he saw what might have been had she been born only five years earlier. Could his yearning for his prophecy push him so far, into a war, when he had been so mortified at his part in the last one?

"Well, looks like my walk is out of the schedule," Elia said. "Help me dress for a council. I'll summon them as soon as I know what in the seven hells is going on."

Her answer arrived in less than an hour when Ciar whom she had sent to the port to see what was going on and what did this ship want entered her chambers. To her enormous relief, she saw that he was smiling.

"Nothing to fear, Elia," he told her. "Turned out that we simply have visitors."

She was opening her mouth to ask a question when the shine of a very familiar golden head entered the solar well before the head's owner did. He examined the surroundings and then gave her a bow, as deep as he had when she had been still queen. "You may enter, Your Grace," he called out to the door.

"Thank you very much, Ser Jaime," Rhaella replied dryly from the hall. "I was already yearning for your permission."

"Mama!" Aegon shouted, running into the solar to throw himself at her before his grandmother had made it to the door.

Elia held him tight, her heart singing with joy – and the horrible anticipation that Rhaella might have brought Aegon over to see her one last time.