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A Snake in the Mists

Raging Fires

From her place at the window, high above the world, Alynna could see the river of lords and ladies flowing into the great hall. She could only see the basics of their outfits and headdresses but she could easily tell them apart from the servants running around on errands. A group of youngish squires went in, laughing. The wind stirred the leaves of the trees in a song Alynna could not hear. In the sunset, when her thoughts drifted unmonitored, she saw a familiar fair face, a smile that was meant for her alone. She looked down hoping to see him. She was sure that should he pass, she would recognize him despite the distance. She had always done so.

Instead, she saw a group of people stopping at the entrance. One of them looked up, straight for the tower. For a moment, their eyes met and then, as if knowing who the one watching her was, Lyanna Stark turned around and went in.

"Looks like your queen is looking for you," she said.

Rhaegar sighed, close to anger now. "She isn't my queen," he snapped. "By the Seven, Alynna, it was a mistake! I have admitted it. I have told you I was sorry. I am. I didn't think it through. What do you want of me?"

"To undo it," Alynna shot back without turning to look at him. "And since you can, you'll have to deal with your wife, like it or not."

"And your snakes," Rhaegar reminded her. "I didn't give you to the torturers, did I?"

"And endanger your precious Prince Who Was Promised?" Alynna asked and laughed in disgust and disbelief. "You were never in danger and you know it. In another day, you'll be as good as new."

"You humiliated me!"

"As you did me," she reminded him and whirled around. "At least I didn't do it in front of everyone. And you didn't exactly endear yourself with her family or betrothed. We have plans to do, remember? Or do you only see grey eyes now?"

"And what eyes do you see?" he asked back, surprising her with the sharpness of his perception. "Oh don't look at me like this," he went on. "Since we arrived, you've been acting weird and I know the reason. You're in love with someone, Alynna, and I think you're a hypocrite for blaming me for the same thing. No," he amended. "In fact, I know it isn't the same. I know I ought to have been more circumspect."

"Yes, indeed! I don't care who you bed, as long as they aren't daughters of a Great House." Alynna's eyes narrowed. "If you do take her, or a Lannister, or a Tully as your mistress, prepare for the worst, Rhaegar."

She wanted to add that should he do so, she'd feel free to take a lover as well – Errol's face appeared before her instantly – but even as angry as she was, some instinct of self-protection froze the words in her throat. So she only said, "I won't stand for it."

He sighed, staring at the snake bite on his lower arm. "Yes, I think you have shown it already. Could you not forgive me?"

It wasn't as if Alynna had a choice. She looked him in the eye, twisting the ruby on her finger. The swift motion made it glow like blood on her hands. "I suppose I will. But," she added and his smile of relief faded, "I will not forget."

His dejection surprised her. She hadn't realized that her forgiveness or forgetfulness did mean something to him. Perhaps they still had a chance.

Winter came back with vehemence that stunned the land back into sunken oblivion. The farmers who had been preparing their grains for sowing took them back into their pots; the animals who had been smelling the coming of new grass munched on their old fodder unhappily. The roads, so crowded and in process of a spring repair, turned into mud and then into firm glides of ice that broke at whim, leaving carts and people groaning into the sea of slush.

At Dragonstone, Alynna was struggling with her most difficult pregnancy in eight years, since she had started having her children.

She could not say when she had first felt the change. In the last three years, she had been with child almost constantly, so she had all but forgotten what the feeling of her own body, without another occupant inside was. But that same burden enabled her to tell the difference.

Perhaps it had all started the morning she woke up with this swelling on her face. Or rather, when it did not disappear like oedemas in her other pregnancies had. Instead, it spread, giving her a double chin and puffed up throat, so much that she could no longer put her favourite choker on even after two repairs. Her hands resembled sausages, her belly so huge that she felt the babe's kicks deeply muted. Often at night, she startled wide awake, gasping, and waited breathlessly for the babe to move, show her that it was still alive in the middle of all that water. Headache was a constant given now, as well as the pains high in her belly. The maesters were constantly wandering in and out of her chambers checking on her and assuring her that as far as they could say, the babe was doing fine. Of course, Alynna was happy to hear that but with time, she wanted to scream each time she heard that. The way they said it, they seemed to believe that she should be so soother that she'd stop paying attention to her own discomfort. Her own pain. The fears about her own life, for she felt that the swelling had enveloped her lungs as well. Perhaps she should. But she could no longer kneel before the altar of the Mother – her swollen knees, easily as big as babe heads, could not possibly support her gross weight and even if she somehow managed to kneel, headache would finish her off right there.

Now, Rhaegar only left her side when she could no longer deal with his anxiety on top of her own. He even stopped reading about his prophecy when he was around her – a certain sign that she looked truly terrible, sick enough to scare him. He was attentive to her wishes, careful to hear her unspoken desires. He seemed to feel guilty and as angry as Alynna was, she didn't wish the guilt of thinking that they have harmed their child upon anyone, so she reluctantly started returning his ministrations, although that worsened her own state. She was short-tempered, more than ever before, and taking care of someone else's peace of mind exacted a great effort.

Her mother arrived the day she started seeing spots and Alynna saw the horror on her face that got concealed almost immediately. Her own fear grew.

Then, the seizures started coming. Or at least, the handmaidens said they were seizures. Alynna had no memory of it and Ranna and the maesters would not tell her. She missed Ashara, missed having a confidante and cherished friend like her. She could only hope Ashara was dealing with her own pregnancy better than her as she fought her fear and the rebellion of her body here, in the mists that only make the swelling in her lungs worse.

She thought of Errol. She always did. She wanted him here and at the same time was relieved that he wouldn't see her so misshapen, so ugly. But somehow, she felt sure that he wouldn't have seen her monstrous belly or dough of a face. He would only see her.

When the seizures started coming two, three times a day, Ranna finally decided that this was too much. "Drink this, child," she said and in her eyes, Alynna saw the desperate fear, the terrible uncertainty that her mother did not know what she was giving her, a saving cure or poison. And she realized, deep in her bones, that she had to deliver this babe now, or she'd die before making it to term.

A few times, she thought she'd die – when, in the middle of labour, she felt the twitching of her facial muscles that preceded the seizures; when her lungs started giving out; when, at opening her eyes, she heard shouts of " She lives, she lives!"; when they showed the newborn to her and she could only see those black spots and then see nothing at all.

"We thought you'd die," her mother told her, with tears in her eyes, the day Alynna knew she'd make it through.

"You were dead," a midwife whispered and a maester hushed her.

"I thought you'd die," Rhaegar told her when finally, they were alone in her chamber and she was in her full presence of mind.

"Would you have mourned me?" she asked tiredly.

"Yes," he said and while she had no reasons to doubt his sincerity, the flush on his cheeks told her that he would have also been a little relieved – and was ashamed of feeling this way. Alynna supposed she couldn't blame him. The last three months had given him plenty of time to think of his young and vigorous wolf girl, so different from his wrought-up wife, with her contorted body and bloated face in which the eyes were no longer visible. The Seven knew that she constantly thought of Errol whom she knew in his not so pleasant traits as well.

She looked down at the prize that stirred and mewled in her arms and her heart melted. He looked so white, his skin translucent, the fluff on his head thick but invisible that if she didn't know, she would have never guessed that he belonged to her. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "Is this the problem?"

It clearly was since once she took him to the breast, he went to work with impressive speed. Biting her lips against the pain, she stared forward and thought of a sea that was not the grey waters of Dragonstone but blue and golden, and summer, and her own.

"Aegon," Rhaegar said. "What better name for a king?"

"Are you going to make a song for him?" she asked – an offer for truce. Since she had ruined his silver harp at Harrenhal, he had never played anything in her presence again. From time to time, she had, until her fingers became too swollen, so the harp was staying lonely and forgotten near the window.

"He has a song," he replied. "He is the prince who was promised and his is the song of ice and fire."

Alynna closed her eyes and tried to tune him down. She couldn't believe how stupid she had been. What had she been thinking? That he'd care for their son as a babe? That he's throw his efforts into teaching him how to be a good king? That he'd finally start seeing them as family and not a selected group of horses gathered together specifically for breeding purposes? When would she stop making this mistake again and again?

"There must be one more," Rhaegar said but whom he was talking to, she couldn't say.

How dare you talk about more children to me at a moment like this? she screamed in her head but there was only one thing that she could say. "There will be," she said and couldn't resist adding, "More than one."

This, she saw with malicious delight, erased his dreamy smile pretty fast.

The relief that Alynna met his leaving with had been palpable. The joy of Aegon's birth was still going strong but it was darkened by the slowness of her recovery and the fact that everyone, from Lewyn to the stable boys, seemed to be silently judging him for upsetting the poor woman. The ferocity of their arguments was no secret, although no one knew the topic of them – except, perhaps, for her mother who was giving him strange looks. In the two years they had spent here, Alynna had managed to bind everyone to her, so now Rhaegar felt like someone harassing a woman in her own home. That was probably how everyone viewed him. No one knew what he was trying to do for them, so their children would have a future.

The Sword of the Morning glittered, bright and spear-tipped like Alynna's eyes as he was wandering the sacred hill calling for the ghost to come out.

"Come on," Arthur finally said. "She isn't here. Let's get ready for the night."

Rhaegar looked at him, sitting on this weirwood stump, and all of a sudden saw the entire situation through Alynna's eyes. He had taken his men on a long exhausting journey to consult a strange woman who might or might not be mad and if she was not might or might not be suffering from age-related forgetfulness if she was alive at all on the matter of how he would know which one of the children his lady wife might or might not give him would be the prophesied third head of the dragon that was supposed to save the world from lethal threat via means Rhaegar had no idea about… And they had ended up here, sitting on those old stumps, gnarled and blackened, and probably good for nothing else but firewood after three nights of looking for her and probably scaring her into hiding.

All of a sudden, he wished he was back at Dragonstone. His real life was there. His children were there, as well as their mother who had almost died to give him a son and was ready to try again despite that. Alynna had created a home for him, for them. It was there – Rhaegar could almost see it shimmering in the blue night air. It wasn't the life he would have chosen but it was a good one. Would be if he only chose so.

Strange that such thoughts would come to him at High Heart, of all places. He looked around the calm sleeping land. Even the night birds had hidden away from the cold. Far away, the lights of Harrenhal told the tale of the king who had been hated and despised.

"Come on," Rhaegar said. "Let's get ready to spend the night. Tomorrow, we're heading back."

No one said It was about time but Rhaegar imagined that he had heard it. Perhaps it was just his own voice in his head.

"Wait!" Oswell Whent suddenly spoke. "I think I hear…"

Everyone went silent. The trained warhorses didn't make a sound either.

The echo carried well in the cold night and they could hear it was two riders well before they burst out in the top of the hill. Rhaegar saw the pale outline of a profile beneath the hood and his heart missed a beat.

"My lady," he said.

Lyanna Stark instinctively started to turn her horse away but then stopped. She had recognized him as well. "Your… Your Grace?" she asked uncertainly. "I didn't… I didn't know you'd be here."

"What are you doing here?" Rhaegar asked.

"It's the godswood…" she tried to explain, pointing at the stumps. Her voice caught and while Rhaegar liked to think it was because she was puzzled but happy by their encounter, he noticed the covert looks Lyanna was giving her surroundings. He could say that she was getting more afraid by the moment. Alone, in the dark forest, with those armed man… The man riding with her could hardly make a difference, yet he started to bring his horse before hers. A guard, probably.

"I won't disturb you any longer," Lyanna said. "I beg your leave…"

"I do not give it," Rhaegar heard himself say and her eyes went wide.

"What?"

"I can't believe it!" Arthur hissed. "Have you forgotten that you're wed? That your lady wife nearly perished to give you a son? Is this your way of honouring her? Again?"

But Rhaegar didn't care to hear more of his friend's reproaches. He could not let her go. Now he saw everything so clear. Alynna was his princess, his future queen. She'd give him sons and daughters that would ensure the Targaryen line would never rest with two young people and their small son, never ever again. But Lyanna – she would give him the third head of the dragon, the ice to his and Alynna's fire. It was all about balance and Alynna was anything but balanced. Too petty. Too vengeful. Too focused on today and not caring about the future generations. She'd probably impart this attitude to her children. Lyanna, though… she could impart the feeling that sometimes, people needed to just stand for what was right.

And she would give him the love he had not allowed himself to crave for. The fact that it was a son that had been born to Alynna, the realization that Rhaegar himself wasn't the Prince Who Was Promised liberated him in a way that he had never thought possible. After all that he had done in service to a prophecy that was not about him he deserved Lyanna.

Who was backing away, the fear on her face growing stronger.

"My lady," he said. "Let's talk about freedom."

Although the fear did not disappear, she stopped nudging her horse away.

When they approached the pass, Lyanna was the one who most insisted that they not stop. Rhaegar could not help but feel that she was in a hurry to make things final, override any misgivings she might feel when they emerged from under the blankets to face yet another day of riding away from all the main roads in the winter that was not like the one she knew at Winterfell. This is no winter, she insisted and Rhaegar agreed, was ready to say anything, see anything her way. He couldn't afford to lose her ice and her – well, that he simply couldn't lose.

Sometimes, he had doubts – stupid, unreasonable doubts. What was he thinking, running away to Essos like a brigand? What would he explain to the world when he returned? He had no doubt that Alynna would be furious. His father perhaps even more so. He probably wouldn't even recognize his own children. This was madness, that was what it was. But then Lyanna would look at him and smile, and he'd forget about his misgivings. What misgivings?

He tried not to look at Arthur because the Sword of the Morning's granite face was always quick to remind him. At least Oswell was happy for them, something that was good through the long month of their journey.

"Is that it?" Lyanna asked eagerly.

"It is, my lady," Arthur replied. "The Boneway."

"So we'll pass, and we'll soon see the Sea of Dorne and board a ship… " she started excitedly for like a hundredth time.

Rhaegar gave the mountain a look of deep distrust. It was a thing bred in his bones, he supposed. He was about to enter the only kingdom that had defied the dragons – secretly, like a thief. Well, he thought, I did steal something. I stole the blue rose. He smiled.

It took them a day to go through. They entered at dawn and emerged at sunset, all the while being met only by a few animals and screeching birds.

"Is this how Lord Yronwood keeps watch?" Oswell asked dismissively. "I can almost believe he wants Dorne to fall to everyone who wants to take it."

"Perhaps," Arthur replied. "Or perhaps we make just too small a group to be…"

And then, someone yelled, "Who is there?"

"Seven hells," Oswell spat. "Looks like they found us."

"If we hurry up…" Rhaegar said.

"This is of no use," Arthur said calmly. "We've been encircled for a long time."

The resounding echo of hooves came out all of a sudden, startlingly close. From behind the trees, bows appeared.

"So it was you," Rhaegar stated, quite calmly. "You've betrayed me. How could you?"

"How could you?" Arthur replied, not looking away.

"Still being the one for great gestures."

Rhaegar turned to the rider who was close enough to them to whisper and be heard this high in the mountain. It was Carral Gargalen.

"Welcome to Dorne," he said, quite calmly given the circumstances. "I guess you're hungry? Such a long travel…"

Rhaegar cut him off. "Spare me your irony. What's the purpose of all of this? Dragging me back to Alynna? That's' ridiculous. She cannot stop me if I want to go away."

Carral's face did not change. "Not at all. Firstly, I wouldn't know where to look for her. She might already be at King's Landing."

To his own surprise, Rhaegar laughed. "What? Why would she go there? She'd rather not leave Dragonstone at all."

"Indeed," his goodfather agreed. "But alas, your father demanded that she and the children go to court to answer for your misdeed."

All of a sudden, Rhaegar didn't find the situation remotely funny. "What?"

"Oh yes." Carral was clearly livid but somehow he managed to keep himself under control. "As soon as you took off on your romantic journey, Brandon Stark rode to King's Landing to demand that you meet him out to die. Unfortunately, he only met the wall of his cell."

"What?" Lyanna yelled.

Carral didn't even look at her. "Rickard Stark is currently riding for King's Landing to answer for his son's crime. And by what our sources tell us, he isn't likely to leave there alive. Alynna has managed to stall until now but soon, she'll have to go there before he has her dragged out by the hair."

Without hesitation, Rhaegar turned his horse around. "I am going back," he said.

No one of the riders encircling them moved.

Carral slowly shook his head. "I am afraid you just don't get it, dear boy," he said. "Leaving alone by no means guarantees your return to King's Landing. And having her in tow," he added, finally giving Lyanna a passing look, "most definitely cannot coexist with the duties you undertook when you took Alynna as your bride. So we'll now accompany you to a lovely old tower. I have made use of it in the past and been very joyful there. Admittedly, I would not recommend it for a longer stay but I am not particularly concerned with your comforts."