Tyana

I am the Lady of Blackhaven. I will be the mother of Lord Dondarrion. They will answer for this.

The guards did not speak to her. They barely even looked at her as maids brought down food and water, or came in to replace her chamber pot. They were keeping her well fed, at least, and she had been spared the dungeons on account of her blood and her condition. But she was imprisoned nonetheless.

She had been taken to a small guest room in the Spare Tower, one which was situated almost at the base of the stairwell. That had puzzled her at first, for surely they would want to keep her somewhere more secure, somewhere higher up the tower. But there was little hope of her escaping, regardless of where she was kept. She was not permitted to leave, though she could go to the window and look out at the grounds.

That was when she realised the true intention behind her choice of room. Anyone walking the grounds was free to look back at her, and Tyana could not endure the shame of having so many eyes gawking at her, judging her, laughing at her. She avoided the window after the first day in her new quarters.

I am the Lady of Blackhaven. I will be the mother of Lord Dondarrion. They will answer for this.

Those words echoed in her mind over and over again. At first, she thought that she was trying to stop herself from going insane. But then she eventually wondered if those words were driving her insane.

She had hidden away in her chambers before, but this was the first time that she was forbidden to leave, and she'd never stayed in a room this small before. It felt constricting, even with the open window which brought sunlight streaming in. The weather was beautiful, the height of spring sunshine, and it seemed to be mocking her.

How did I end up here, she wondered feverishly, who put that dagger in my bed? Was it Royce? How could he have done it?

No matter how much she tortured herself thinking about it, she could not recall a clear moment that Royce could have slipped into her chambers and slipped that dagger beneath her bed. One of his friends, then, he had so many of them. Priss, perhaps? That little whore...

She tried screaming to the guards of her suspicions, ordering them to investigate Priss. When that did not work, she requested it, trying to sound calm and commanding, and then descended into tearful begging.

I did not do this! I am innocent!

She tried begging the maids who visited her, but they were stone-faced or else turned away. Once, she tried to slap one, and she was restrained to her bed, bound and gagged like a common criminal. After that, she'd been meek as a mouse, simply pleading in a quiet voice which went unheeded.

Priss never appeared, nor was there any news of her arrest. Tyana began to wonder if it really had been her. Perhaps it was that brother of hers. He was always friends with Royce. Maybe it was...

No, she couldn't imagine that it was Lomas. He had been her staunchest ally from the start. Why would he turn on her? He hated Titus more than she did.

Thus she went through every single member of House Dondarrion, and every resident of Blackhaven, for what else did she have to do? They had even not allowed her any needlework. It didn't occur to her until the second day why that had been done, and she had not known whether to scream or cry. Is that what they think of me? Is that what I am capable of doing? How could I do that to myself? To my baby?

She could not sleep; time lost all meaning to her when she tried. She lay in bed as the hours went by. She greeted and bid farewell to the bat, the eel, the ghosts, the owl, the wolf, the nightingale, and the dawn chorus of birds. On the second night, she finally did collapse into weary sleep, but the nightmares woke her several times, so that she was still slumbering through the third day. But what did that matter? She had nowhere to go, after all.

Besides her guards and the maids assigned to her, nobody visited her. She was not surprised; she had never felt truly welcome in Blackhaven, but this utter rejection of her hurt more than she could have predicted. How quickly they forget, how quickly they abandon. Their allegiances change with the wind, storming one way then the next.

On the fourth day, the guards entered her room, but not with the maids in tow.

"You are to be sentenced," one of them said.

Tyana wanted to scream, run away, claw at these men, but she knew that it would all be for nought. She would be dragged to her judges, even in chains if necessary. They would not hesitate to do that to her. So be it. I shall march proudly, I will not give these louts an excuse to manhandle me.

Much as she could stay poised, and walk with a measured pace, she could not stop tears from flowing down her face. She was forced to look at the guard before her as a guide for where to walk, for she could barely see beyond him. Occasionally she sensed others watching her, and she could hear their voices. The odd word drifted into her ear, but she tried her best to ignore them all.

Time and direction were meaningless, so it was a surprise when she found herself in the hall. She walked forward as she was bidden, to sit in a chair placed for her. The same one that Royce used?

Once again, the highest-ranking knights of the castle were before her: Lyle Bolt, Baldric Swann, Lambert Penny, Baelon Massey. Gulian Straw sat beside them with a quill. Ser Lomas was absent again. Has he recused himself? Or has he been arrested too? She looked away from them, down into her lap.

"Lady Tyana Dondarrion," Ser Lyle began heavily, "you have been found guilty of murder."

That shocked Tyana. She looked up at the aging man, "Guilty? Is there no trial?"

"One was held in your absence," Lyle answered, "as it was deemed that you were in no fit state to be present."

Tyana's hands trembled, "Was there no defence given? Who spoke for me?"

"Your trial was fairly done," Lambert intervened, ignoring her questions, "and it is time to announce your sentence."

Gods! "What is it, then?"

Lyle sighed and put his hands together before him, "The nature of your crimes... in ordinary circumstances, your rank might deem you the right to join the silent sisters, but the Faith has made it clear that it will not have you among their ranks, for you are untrustworthy, and your sins are such that only the gods might seem fit to forgive. Therefore, it is our duty to sentence you to death."

A cry burst from Tyana's lips, even as she covered her mouth with both hands. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought to hear those words.

Lyle spoke again, raising his voice in case she cried out again. "Given that you are pregnant, it has been judged that your sentence shall be carried out after the birth of your child.

Of course. The baby. That is what always mattered more than my life. I was ever a vessel for the future heir, and even now, that is all they care about. That is all they ever cared about. Such was the fey mood which seized Tyana that she gave a burst of wild laughter. "So! When will you tell your future Lord of Blackhaven what became of his mother? Will you tell him how you executed her when he was barely out of her womb?"

"She is crazed," warned Ser Baldric.

"That's enough," Ser Lambert shouted at her.

Or what, you stupid man? What more can you do to me? That thought gave Tyana courage, and she laughed again. "I curse you all," she shouted, "I curse you with bitterness and sorrow, and a painful death!"

They did not answer her. She felt two pairs of hands grab her and pull her out of the chair, and she allowed herself to be led out of the hall again, back to her prison cell.

When she was given her food later that day, she considered starving herself. Why should she live for months beneath a death sentence? But of course, she knew that they would force her to eat. She could not jump to her death, nor could she cut herself. The guards would stop her from hanging herself if she tried. There was nothing left for her.

The days continued on, until she lost count of them. She was given books to read, which helped pass the time, and someone finally did come to see her.

Septa Perianne was not much older than her, and she seemed to be perpetually frightened of everyone. She seemed especially frightened now as she slowly entered the room.

"What do you want?" Tyana was in no mood for courtesies.

Perianne drew a shaky breath, and spoke in a manner which suggested that she'd rehearsed her answer before arriving.

"I am here on a matter of duty. The gods will judge, but they are also capable of mercy. I would hear your confessions and assist in your repentance before death."

Tyana wanted to laugh again; everything seemed farcical, the way they were dealing with her. All that she'd held sacred and valuable was worthless now, so why shouldn't the gods be any different?

"I have nothing to confess," Tyana declared, "I am not going to spend my last weeks groveling for your pleasure!"

She expected Perianne to blush, look away, and retreat back out the door with her tail between her legs. But while she was flushed, she stood her ground and did not look away.

"Believe me, my lady, it is not pleasurable to be here. I am here because you need me."

Gods. I didn't think her capable of such talk. Is that how low I have fallen? Tyana glared at her and folded her arms. "What I need is justice, and that is sorely lacking in Blackhaven."

"Justice belongs to the gods first and foremost," Perianne replied, "and it will be they whom you face after death."

Tyana thought of slapping her, spitting in her face, or dragging her around by the hair until the guards stopped her. But somehow, she couldn't do it. The truth was that she was so starved of a conversation that she did not wish to drive Perianne away. Maybe I do need her after all.

"Tell me something, Septa. Do you play cyvasse?"

Perianne blinked, looking utterly bewildered. "Cyvasse?"

"Yes," Tyana answered. She was still too proud to admit her loneliness, however. "I daresay that I might die of boredom if I must read another book. And since you insist on being here, we might as well play a game. So I ask again, can you play cyvasse?"

Perianne regarded her with mingled wonder and pity, but her voice was expressionless when she answered.

"My grandfather taught me to play before he died."

"I see," Tyana answered, feeling awkward; Perianne had answered her earnestly, humbly, yet she still felt shamed by this meek woman.

Perianne hesitated again, but then gave a small nod. "I will return with a cyvasse board."

And though Tyana knew that the guards would hear her, she wept with relief after Perianne left, and she was still sobbing when the young septa returned. Thankfully, Perianne had the decency to ignore her sorrow, and patiently waited for her to dry her eyes and compose herself.

Thus they began to play, in silence at first. But at length, Tyana was seized with curiosity, and as she waited for Perianne to make her next move, she broke the silence between them.

"Who was your grandfather?"

Perianne paused, then looked up from the board. "His name was Jellon. He served House Melcolm in the Vale of Arryn. So did my father and mother."

"What did they do?"

"Jellon was a scribe for Lord Melcolm, and then my mother became wetnurse to Melcolm's grandchildren. My father was a groom in the stables."

Tyana nodded, making her move on the board. "Why did you go to the Starry Sept?"

Perianne sighed, "My mother died of sickness when I was seven, and my father was trampled by the horses when I was twelve. Lord Melcolm decided to send my sisters and I to be trained as septas, so that he would not have to pay for our dowries."

"My sympathies," Tyana murmured; now that her own fate had been sealed, she felt much more sensitive to the shadow of death.

"Such is the way of life, and the will of the gods," Perianne answered.

The rest of their game was played in silence, as were the three games they played afterwards. When the last was finished, it was time for supper, and Perianne bid Tyana a brief farewell, promising to return the following day after her lessons and other duties were finished. The cyvasse board and pieces were left behind, though Tyana put them away and did not touch them again that day.

The septa was true to her word, and they resumed their games of cyvasse. Tyana was ashamed that she knew so little of Perianne, for she had never sought her company before. She asked more questions of her, curious about life in the Vale and the Starry Sept. Perianne spoke freely, never asking questions of Tyana in return, and saying nothing of the gods; there was some understanding which they had reached, and it continued for the following days.

One day, during a game which she was winning, Tyana asked Perianne what had happened to her sisters.

"The Starry Sept did not encourage us to stay close. We had given our lives to the service of the gods, and we were meant to surrender our earthly ties. But I know that my older sister was sent to Lord Banefort in the Westerlands. I do not know where my younger sister is."

Tyana sighed. "I used to pray for a sister. I had three brothers and I despised them all my life. They never paid attention to me, and thought me a nuisance. When my father died, my oldest brother became lord. I was only eight years old. He sent me to live as a ward to Lord Estermont. I grew up there until I married Arlan. In all that time, I never once wrote my brothers, not even when I heard one of them had died. I gave him no more thought than a dead rat, truth be told."

Perianne frowned, "Why are you telling me this?"

For some reason which Tyana could not identify, she was compelled to speak her mind. "I suppose it is my first confession." Then a wave of melancholy swept over her, and she wept afresh. To her great relief, Perianne said nothing, but simply held her hands and sat patiently.

It was not the last confession that she gave. As she grew heavy with child, she spoke more freely to Perianne, confessing her sins. But she never gave the confession which she knew Perianne was expecting her to make; she would not concede total defeat to her enemies, whomever they were.

It was on a day which she judged to be three weeks from giving birth, when Tyana leaned forward so close to Perianne's face that she could count the number of her eyelashes.

"I know that you do not have the power to grant requests," Tyana whispered, "but will you pass my words on to those who do?"

"I shall," Perianne replied, "but I cannot guarantee that your words will be heeded."

"All the same," Tyana resumed, "I would ask that my child, be they daughter or son, be sent to the Faith after they are born. I would have them far away from this treacherous castle. I loved my husband, and always will, but I wish I had never set foot in Blackhaven."

The septa nodded, saying nothing. Much to Tyana's amazement, Perianne suddenly closed the narrow gap between them and kissed Tyana lightly on the forehead before murmuring a blessing. Warm tears dripped onto Tyana's face, mingling with her own as they both sat there together, clutching each other's hands so tightly that Tyana no longer knew where their fingers began and ended.