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A Snake in the Mists

In the Shadows

The leather ball was small and very soft. It could easily fit into a man's palm and it was something little children loved playing with, squeezing it to no end. Yet Errol looked at it as if it was an enemy's warhammer. He'd like to delay the moment of his fight with it but that would mean spending the rest of the day under the shadow of anticipation, so he braced himself, took the ball in the palm of his left hand, and squeezed. Tried to.

Sweat beaded his forehead. He barely contained a cry. The pain was such as if the muscles and tendons had been cut off – which had almost happened. He didn't remember every blow but it looked that the problems with his torn arm had concealed the greater problems with his wrist and fingers. They were now so weak that he had no strength left in them and the finer motions were well beyond his reach. The tiny soft ball presented a greater challenge than anything the master-at-arms had ever demanded of him, extremely painful and very exhausting.

The door opened and Errol spun around, furious. He was far from happy that anyone would witness his fruitless efforts and opening the door of his bedchamber without asking was something no one did, so that was what he said. "I would expect of you to knock before entering," he said angrily.

"I did," Alynna replied. "You just didn't hear me."

"Ah." He renewed his efforts. Now, when the motions had to come from his hand and not the entire arm, his weakness was visible. He tried not to look at Alynna, for he hated the mix of guilt and sympathy that he knew he'd find there. The thought that he might never be able to grab her and spin her around was almost more than he could bear. "Have you had a clash with my mother again?"

She didn't answer immediately and when she did, her voice was full of remorse. "No. But even your father wishes that you found someone else. I am not the woman he'd want for you." She paused. "If one of my own children found yourself in your position with someone like me," she added, "I'd dislike me as well."

Errol sighed and tried to open and close his fingers around the ball slowly, in a controlled motion. All he got was a reflexive jerk that didn't complete either motion, at which point he chose to let go of the activity.

"Care to go out for a ride?" he asked and she beamed at him.

"I'll beat you to the Hoof!" she cried and went to her chambers to change.

The date when the portrait had been drawn was not specified but Alynna knew the girl must have been very young. She had wed when she had been younger than Alynna at the time of her first wedding and the portrait had been drawn before that. Thirteen or fourteen perhaps? Her hips looked quite narrow and her breasts were almost nonexistent at this point yet something about her hinted of great beauty that, according to written accounts, had soon become reality. She looked nothing like Alynna, save for the gleaming waterfall of dark hair. Alynna had always liked the slight wickedness in her smile, taking it to point at the girl's character. But this night, all she could see was the glint of violet eyes. She knew it was from the candlelight, of course she knew that, but it felt like judgment. "Do you condemn me for my treatment of him, my lady?" she asked the portrait. "Would you have done the same in my circumstances?"

Of course, the girl couldn't have replied even if she could, by a whim of the Stranger, hear the question. She was a girl, closer to Lyanna Stark's age than Alynna and with no experience in life yet. In fact, she had died when she had been younger than Alynna was now. And of course, her husband had never left her to face the music for his own misdeeds while he planned to live away in romantic oblivion with another, younger woman.

Yes. That was what she needed to remind herself constantly. She had not gone north to usurp Rhaegar's rights. She had done her duty by him while he had happily shirked his by her. And she would not feel any guilt. Any at all.

It was late in the evening when they came for him. "Come with me," an elderly man whose resemblance to his father made Rhaegar jump out of his skin for a moment. "Alynna wants to talk to you."

"Where is Lady Lyanna?" Rhaegar asked sharply. He had been going mad with worry, having woken up and found out that she was not there. He had placed little trust on the information that she had been released.

"She's on her way to her North," the man answered and Rhaegar gave him a look of disbelief.

"Do you expect of me to believe such an outright lie?"

The man didn't even shrug. "Why would I lie to you?" he asked. "What do I gain? Come on."

Indeed, Alynna had nothing to gain by lying to him. And she certainly wasn't interesting in soothing Rhaegar's fears. Lyanna must be on her way home, indeed, Rhaegar thought with great relief.

"What does she want of me?" he asked.

"She will tell you herself," the man replied but when Oswell Whent rose to accompany them, he shook his head. "You're staying here. Have no fear, he'll be back soon."

"Yes, Ser Oswell, stay here," Rhaegar said. The last thing he wanted was to bring more trouble to Oswell. He had already done him a lot of harm.

It was a nice cool night when they finally left the tower that had become Rhaegar's prison. He breathed the fresh air in, took the sight just beyond the horizon from his window that had tormented him with his nearness and invisibility and knew that if Alynna tried to imprison him again, he'd rather die. He eyed the chestnut they had brought for him and for a moment of madness, he wondered if he could escape. But the old man seemed to read his thoughts because his people closed ranks around Rhaegar as they rode. Despite everything, Rhaegar was overjoyed to feel the well-trained animal beneath him. The sand steed was as tense as a harp spring, replying to even the slightest movements of his thighs. For a moment, he wondered what had happened to the one that had been part of the gifts sent from Dorne on the occasion of his wedding. In the beginning, Alynna had accompanied him on her own fast horse and they had both enjoyed their long rides. But then she had gotten with child and one of the occupations that brought them together had been over.

Now, they were going past a carpet of flowers, their aroma gentle and mixing with the breath of sea. It was strange to think of that now but Rhaegar had only ever associated Alynna with the vast expanse of sand that made Dorne like no other kingdom, golden and rich, and hot enough to burn everyone who had displeased it. He had never thought that she might have even seen flowers before traveling north for their wedding. Those looked dark in the moonlight but he imagined that in bright sunlight, they might be pleasing lavender, or perhaps deep violet hiding shades of paler purple in their hearts.

A castle slowly rose before them, tall and threatening. It was a testament to Rhaegar's despair that he wouldn't mind all this much even if he was killed there. Anything was better than returning to his prison.

With some surprise, he realized that no one cared to hide his face too much. Sure, he was instructed to keep his hood lowered but there were no extra measures. Perhaps it was because of the time – at this hour of night, the yards were almost deserted and of those who remained, almost no one looked at them. He met the eye of a young girl but she paid him no mind and anyway, would he really want to put a child in danger even if she could help him?

They entered the stone structure, their steps echoing against the walls. A long hallway was lit sparsely but enough to prevent accidental bumping or stumbling. On his left, Rhaegar saw the open door of a deserted great hall, with the basilisk banner on one wall. But they didn't enter. Instead, they climbed a staircase, walked through two adjacent smaller halls and the man who looked so disconcertingly like Aerys raised a hand to knock at a door. "Come in," a woman's voice said at the other side.

The door opened.

Here she was. Sitting in a wide, well-padded chair, she left the parchment she had been reading and looked at the men accompanying Rhaegar. "Thank you," she said. "You may leave now. Arthur will pick up from now on."

Rhaegar looked left and right and sure, here the traitor was, standing against the wall, all attention. His turned cloak was gleaming obscenely white against the dark panel-work.

"Are you her sworn shield now?" Rhaegar asked with contempt as the rest of them filed away.

"No," Arthur said evenly.

"I don't have a sworn shield," Alynna said. "All men in the Kingsguard are equal."

That was smart of her, Rhaegar had to admit as he took a seat, wondering if she'd have Arthur to try and make him rise again. He wouldn't put it past her. She was petty enough for such small actions.

He looked at her with undisguised curiosity – and then a portrait on the wall caught his eye. The girl he had encountered in the courtyard? No, the portrait was too old for that. And then, he recognized the sitter. He had seen her shown as an older woman, still very young but a woman nonetheless, in the Red Keep. "Dyanna Dayne?" he asked.

Alynna nodded. "That was the portrait my lady grandmother received as a gift from Starfall when she wed my grandfather."

"There was a girl in the yard when I came… The resemblance was remarkable. Is she a Dayne?"

Alynna shook her head. "You've seen my eldest daughter. Yes, I've often heard that she's the very image of Lady Dyanna – and her own great-grandmother, of course. The Valyrian blood is strong with her, people say."

Rhaegar stared at her. "That's the most you've ever said about your children," he said.

"You never asked," she replied and for a moment, he was stricken by the sudden thought that they might have just missed each other. He had been trying not to infringe in her private space and grief and she, in turn, had taken that to mean that he wasn't interested. What else had they taken the wrong way about each other? Had there been a chance for them to create something solid, so she would not take her grudges to such extreme? Or that he would not feel the need for something more, better? At least in the beginning, it had looked better… Since then, he had had plenty of time to ponder and wonder what he had been thinking.

He gave her a careful examination. She now looked older, more careworn and oddly, lovelier than he remembered her. For the last years, he had pointedly summoned in his mind the image of the mountain of flesh, water splashing almost audibly in her limbs and torso at the slightest movement, her cheeks ready to burst, eyes hidden in fat and face covered with brown spots that all the paint in the world could not mask. Anger had entirely replaced his guilt over being the reason for this repulsive state of hers. But now, she looked more beautiful than she had at the time of their wedding, even with being prematurely aged. It was strange indeed.

"Where is Lyanna?" he asked sharply. He wanted to hate Alynna, had hated her just before he had entered. He wanted her to hate him as well. At least things would be clear then, instead of this whirlwind ravaging his mind – anger, betrayal and this utmost sadness that confused him more than anything else.

"She's on her way home," Alynna said. "I never intended to do her ill… well, at least when my first anger passed," she added honestly.

Yes, that was more like her. "I should consider myself lucky that I didn't experience firsthand what you would have liked to do to me," he said coldly, "if stealing my crown is the lesser evil in your eyes."

She tried to laugh contemptuously but it came out rather pained. "No crown is worth what you put me through those first few months," she spat. "Your crown? Do you know what your father intended to do? He was going to disinherit you for Viserys! The parchments were ready. He was about to make the announcement as soon as he was over with the Stark. The children and I would have been kept in the Red Keep forever as a leverage against you because he was mad enough to think that you cared about us. That you would have come back once you heard."

"And you think I wouldn't have?" he flared up. "Didn't your father tell you what happened when I got to know that you were about to go to King's Landing? I was going to come back!"

She didn't look surprised. "Yes," she said. "This time, perhaps. And perhaps you would even have stayed. If we made it out of that unscathed. But for how long? Where were you intending to stash your Lyanna? How long would it have been before you turned your back on us for her again – or someone like her?"

In her mind, there was no doubt that whatever Rhaegar felt for Lyanna, it could not be love. To Alynna, someone who could not love their children could not love anyone. And no matter what he claimed now, he had been ready to while away years in Essos without even bothering to think what his mad father might do to them. With time, she had even started feel kind of pity for Lyanna who had wanted freedom and love – and fidelity, by what she had learned about her – and found none. After all, when Alynna had been her age, she had been very reluctant to share her future husband with others as well.

"That's why you chose to rob me in advance?" he asked, voice rising. Colour rose to his cheeks as anger propelled him out of his chair. Immediately, Arthur made a step forward, as quick as Rhaegar knew him. But Rhaegar didn't advance on Alynna. He only glared at her. "I don't believe you. About my father, I mean. You've been lying on the whole realm for years…"

"Was I?" she shot back. "You were about to waste all our chances to succeed on the throne – all the stability in the realm – no matter if you wanted to or not! Even if I haven't stopped you on the way to your glorious escape, the results would have still been the same. You turned your back to all our efforts – and you expected that I'd keep fighting just to hand you the fruit of my labour like I did with my actual labour?" She laughed. "I am your wife, not your mother."

"Unfortunately!"

"Yes, indeed! But take heart, you can always take another wife in Essos. A fierce wolf like Lyanna Stark or a nice girl who would latch onto your every word."

He almost didn't register the bait. "Essos?"

"Yes. Tonight, you're leaving – you and Whent. And I hope you never come back and create trouble for Aegon."

"Trouble for you, you mean," he spat.

"This is the same thing," she snapped back. "And you aren't included in our unity because you excluded yourself the moment you decided that having her was worth ruining our family and destroy our future."

She was now standing as well, glaring at her with the same anger that he was glaring at her with. Her lips were drawn and against the paneling made golden by the fire, she looked like an enraged lionesses – or she-wolf. Hungry. Rabid.

All in all, Rhaegar had been right. Her wounded pride had played part in her decision to act.

"You're leaving for Essos," Alynna said again with visible effort to collect herself. "And I will avail myself of the result of the years I spent trying to make the situation stable."

"And did you succeed?" Rhaegar asked with morbid curiosity.

She went to the table, poured herself a goblet of wine and, surprisingly, poured one for him as well. Rhaegar didn't think she was even thinking of her actions. She was just this ladylike – always offer to the other person in the table. Arthur, though, didn't get one – he was on duty.

"I sent Varys packing," she said. Rhaegar noticed that she did not mention where she had sent the eunuch. Wise of her, perhaps. "And I made marriage alliances with most of the Great Houses. Including the Starks," she mentioned, just in case he had some ideas. "Benjen Stark in in the Tor now. He'll be wed to my daughter in a few years. Mace Tyrell's daughter would be Aegon's queen one day."

With this in mind, Rhaegar could basically outline the other marriage ties she had in mind. Not a bad move at all. His eyes went to Dyanna Dayne's portrait and he felt a profound sadness that her descendants had reached such a point. Just like her marriage, his own had been meant to bring only unity and prosperity. And perhaps it had. Perhaps the Seven Kingdoms were being ruled well by her great-granddaughter, the traitor. His fury was suddenly flavoured with something like relief. Whatever happened now would not be his fault. He had tried to help the world but the world had not known this and had thusly condemned him. Lyanna had left him and he hoped she'd find happiness in her North; Alynna would never take him back even if he could force himself to touch her ever again. Clearly neither of them would be the mother of his third head. Perhaps he had been wrong again. Perhaps he could just pursue his lifelong passion with books and old scrolls, instead of trying to create a family with a woman who was a stranger to him in everything?

Pain flared through him. All that was good and right but he'd have to make a sacrifice. Accepting the situation would mean never seeing his children again. He had doted upon Rhaenys and while he had barely seen Aegon at all, he wanted to. But doing so would only wreck more havoc in their lives and even end them, quite possibly. Their mother had made sure of that. He swallowed, wondering if she had done it on purpose, backing him into a corner she knew he would not try to fight his way out of. It was a terrible feeling, loving one's children and resenting their mother.

"Is my father alive?" he asked with a bated breath. Despite everything, Aerys was his father – and he had been a good one for many years.

"Yes," Alynna said. "He's taken care of."

He didn't know if he should trust her on this. But why not? What did she have to gain by lying? "What about my mother? Viserys?"

"They both live in comfort at King's Landing," Alynna replied. "As well as your new sister. Daenerys, she's named." Despite the fraught relationship she had with Rhaella, or perhaps because of it, she wasn't about to let the old Queen out of her sight.

To her own surprise, she decided against telling Rhaegar about the exact circumstances surrounding Daenerys' birth. Rhaella had never spoken a word but handmaidens were quite garrulous.

It went without saying that no message of Rhaegar's would reach them; the resentful glare he sent in her direction told her that he realized this much. "And my mother is fine?" he wanted to know.

Alynna smiled a little. His love for his mother had always been one of the things that made him more relatable to her. "I daresay she's found some happiness," she said. "Of course, she cannot wed again."

And neither can you, Rhaegar thought gleefully. Her vengefulness had left her stranded on this account. She'd never take the risk.

Alynna sat back, clearly overcoming her emotions. "I'll take care that you have a comfortable life, Rhaegar. The Iron Bank will ensure this. Just as far as you don't make any threatening moves."

And she'd know if he did. He wondered why she was bothering with this and not simply killed him. Perhaps she was scared of building upon her children's father's very blood, just like he'd never have her executed if he had the chance, ever. He resumed his seat as well. "What happened to Jon Connington?" he asked and was surprised to see a flash of guilt in her eye. He leaned forward, his heart in his mouth. If she wouldn't do anything to Lyanna, she certainly hadn't done anything this bad to Jon, right? He had never offended her. He simply disliked her but never gone beyond a scathing remark or two in front of Rhaegar – well, more than two when she had lost her looks in the last months of her pregnancy.

"He was exiled," Alynna said. "But I didn't have his lands forfeit. He still has a good life in the Free Cities. I have never wished to do him harm."

Was she apologizing? Because of Jon whom she seems to have treated quite leniently? He understood her just as little as when she had first come to him with a smoother forehead and a smile that hid so much grief. "I guess that's it?" he asked.

She nodded. "Unless you wish something else?"

"Yes," he said. "Tell me about the children. They aren't here with you?"

"No."

He hadn't truly expected it but it still hurt. The fact that he had to hear about them from her was outrageous but that was the hand he had been dealt. The hand that he, despite everything, would choose again if given the chance, for those two months of unhindered happiness.

It was late at night when she finally stopped talking. She had poured wine a few more times, for both of them, and they were now quite tired. Only Arthur looked alert. When she finally ran out of things to say, she rose abruptly and went to the window, staring out into the night. Silently, Rhaegar rose and went to the door. He heard another door opening and when he turned back, he thought he was seeing things. A man who looked very much like him, as if he was his specter, had appeared out of nowhere and now crossed the room and wrapped an arm around her waist. Alynna leaned her head against his shoulder just before Rhaegar closed the door. He looked at the elderly man waiting for him in the hallway. "He is…" he started.

The man nodded. "My son," he said. "Errol."

Rhaegar looked at him, astounded. "And you let this go on…" From the things the servants had whispered he knew that the heir of Salt Shore had no intention to wed. Now, things became clear. Errol Gargalen probably wouldn't wed at all, not while he was with someone as volatile as Alynna.

Mikkel Gargalen smiled a little sadly. "This isn't the relationship I would have chosen for him," was all he said, and Rhaegar was left wondering. All that had happened was worth it for him, even the life in secrecy that awaited him. Would it be worth it for his faithless wife who'd have to spend the rest of her life on the alert, hiding her love in the shadows?

He'd never know…

The End