A/N: All of the warnings. Sorry :(

Chapter 10: What Safety Comes from Treason

Elia

The world was black. No — worse. The world was red.

Really, the color combination was ironic. Like a twisted homage to the baby in my arms. Little Aegon was so quiet and still. His features had always been pale but… why was his skin so ashen? I brought my hand to his face and found it shook. My hand. Why was it shaking? I wasn't cold. No, wait — I was. So very cold. So very numb. My fingers reached his cheek and it was also cold. Cold like everything. Colder than me.

My ears were stuffed with cotton and it was just Aegon and me in the depths of this cold sea of red and black. He shone the purest white against the darker skin of my hand. Against the smears of red on his cheek and hair.

I could feel the frown on my lips, but it felt miles away. I never dressed Egg in red. It wasn't his color. He looked best in lilacs and purples, like his eyes. They were closed now. He slept so quietly.

He slept too quietly.

I brushed his matted hair out of his face. The silver ringlets fell limp behind his ear.

I touched my lips to his forehead but his eyelids didn't flutter open.

Oberyn

His search had proved next to fruitless and he threw the body roughly back onto the ground with a sickening squelch. It was less than satisfying. He wanted to bring the man back to life and flay him slowly, rub salts and poisons into raw muscle that would burn like the sun and melt the meat off his bones like living Wildfire. Make him beg for death like a babe would for it's mother—

He stilled and his face was twisted further into a mien of anger and grief.

—but I would never let him die, he thought viciously. He would bring him back from the brink time and time again. Sell his own soul to the dark magics of Asshai if only to prolong the man's suffering for eternity.

All of his wishing would not bring the cretin back to life, however. Not him, and not Aegon.

He turned to where his sister sat on the ground. Still, but for the occasional trembling of her hands and shoulders, and blank eyes that moved only to take in the features of the dead child in her arms.

He spewed profanities loudly at the world at large and then stomped hard on the corpse's chest, hearing the snapping of ribs, but it didn't help his rage or his sorrow. It only bloodied his boot and made the other two men in the tent watch him warily.

Elia didn't flinch. Aegon didn't move.

He turned his heated glare on the Wolf Lord instead.

"You! This was your King's doing!" he growled as he stalked the small distance of the tent towards him. A small dagger slid into his hand as easily as if it were an extension of his arm and he lunged at the Stark.

The man was quicker than he expected and managed to block the blow, if barely — the dagger glancing off at the point where the sword's blade met the handle. Oberyn twisted with the momentum of his attack and went after his other side with a second knife. It managed to cut a path through the leathers on his arms, but knives weren't the best choice against armor. What he wouldn't give to use his spear, but it would be wholly ineffective in the confined space.

Swords, however, weren't much better.

He sliced and stabbed, the Wolf barely managing to dodge his attacks as he was pressed backwards into the fabric of the tent.

There! An opening.

Oberyn's hand flew towards the lord's neck only to be blocked by another sword. He gritted his teeth at the missed opportunity and turned sharply to sneer at the man who'd warmed his bed only hours before.

"Move aside, unless you'd like to join him in the ground. You will not find me sentimental over a fuck."

William's frown turned into a glare, but he did not back down.

"Fuck you. What the hell do you think you're doing? It was your own fucking people that led the attack on the camp."

An attack on the camp? That made him pause. His eyes narrowed on the Northman, only then noting the blood sprayed onto his leathers and sword and the gash on his brow. He turned his gaze towards the entrance of the tent as Obara broke through the fabric. Quickly assessing the situation, she ran to him and turned with her spear in her hands, defending the side of his body that faced the open space of the tent.

Despite grief and the anger than flowed through him, he could not help the feeling of pride that welled up inside him. She had a ways to go yet to be truly proficient, but she was strong and persistent, his little warrior. He should have looked for her after the attack on Elia and Aegon, but he hadn't thought…

He hadn't thought much of anything beyond his rage and vengeance. Doran always did say he was too quick to loose his temper and his blades, and it cut him deeply to think his tunneled view could have cost him his own daughter. She had clearly been in whatever skirmish had happened on the other side of the tent, though she seemed unharmed but for some scrapes.

It would seem there was more to the attack than he had first surmised, and he begrudgingly stepped back, lowering his daggers, but did not sheathe them. After all, it would be foolish to let his guard down with all that had happened.

"Explain."

William still looked like he wanted to gut him, but he managed to get the words out.

"The camp was surrounded. Men came at us from all sides. Twenty at best guess. They struck hard, and all at once, and then retreated. We managed to take down two, and captured another, but the rest escaped." He paused for a moment, his eyes closing briefly before meeting his own once more. "Ethan didn't make it."

Oberyn could feel his heart and expression softening some at the sadness in his voice. William had been fond of Ethan — protective over the young man that had spent so much time as Aerys's prisoner; the only survivor of Brandon Stark's brash attempt at rescuing his sister. It was no surprise that he should be the one to fall, still recovering from his injuries and malnourishment. However, that he should be the only one, when they had been surrounded and outnumbered… that did not sit right with him.

"It was a distraction," he ground out, recognizing the attack for what it truly was. "A coordinated effort to pull as many bodies away from the center of the camp as possible while their true purpose was carried out by a smaller party in the shadows… damn it all!"

His fist ached for something to hit. He'd only wondered briefly why it was that his men hadn't followed him into the tent. After seeing Elia and Aegon his focus had been absolute — he'd been blind and deaf to everything else. Even the rest of his family.

"Rhaenys. Where is she?"

"She is safe, my Prince. Sleeping in your quarters. Farron is keeping watch," came the reply from his man, Brude. Slowly a few more men had trickled into the tent, but remained on the outskirts, a respectful distance away.

"Rhaenys…"

That voice made him spin to look at its owner. She hadn't spoken a word since he'd made it into the tent. Elia looked back at him with dull eyes that seemed to be looking through him rather than at him. He moved towards her and crouched down to pull his cloak more firmly around her shoulders, rubbing gently at her arms, hoping it would comfort her some.

"Rhae is fine, sweetling. Just sleeping."

"Yes," she dropped her gaze to the bundle in her arms, "just sleeping. Aegon is tired, Bryn."

His heart shattered all over again and he could barely swallow past the lump in his throat.

"…Yes. Let's get you both to bed, darling. Go with Brude. I'll be with you in a moment."

He got her to her feet, but when Brude went to grab her arm to guide her out she flinched at his touch and her eyes widened in fear.

"No!" She ran from him and made to leave the tent, but Stark caught her before she had made much progress. She turned on him, crying and yelling and hitting his chest with her free hand, but the man pulled her closer to him, whispering into her hair until the fight left her and all that could be heard were her wails, fading slowly as the last surge of energy petered out.

After a moment, the Wolf Lord turned his eyes on him — a silent request.

As much as it aggravated him to do so he gave a curt nod and then looked towards his man, silently ordering him to go with them. He wasn't letting her go anywhere without someone he could trust implicitly. Never again.

He'd go with her himself, but there was work to be done.

"Where is the prisoner?"

Ned

Elia seemed to barely register his presence as he moved her through Oberyn's tent and guided her to sit on the odd assortment of pillows next to the bed in which Rhaenys lay in a fitful sleep. She was quiet and pliant, like a puppet barely hanging on its strings — like any moment they would snap and she would crumble to the ground. Even still, her grip on Aegon was unwavering.

How could this have happened?

Could it truly be as the Prince had said? Had Robert taken leave of all his senses and committed this heinous crime? Could his wrath truly be so great he would so blatantly break a truce and send knives in the night to kill innocents?

No, he had to believe that was not the case. He could not accept that the man who had been a brother to him in all but blood could truly do such abhorrent things — his cruel words back in King's Landing notwithstanding. It had to be another. He suspected it was the Old Lion. He attempted this very thing not weeks ago. It did not take much of a stretch of the imagination to assume he could do so again. But to what purpose? Elia and her children had relinquished the throne. What threat could a widowed and disgraced mother and her children be?

He knew he was viewing this in a much too simplistic way, but politics and secret dealings had never been for him. He left that to the Southerners.

"He's not waking up, is he?"

He drew a sharp breath and looked at her, but her eyes were pointed downward. She looked so different from the woman he had gotten to know. Gone was the teasing smile and sparkling eyes. In its place was a fragile woman with blood-crusted hair and a haunted gaze. She had managed to remain strong and light-hearted even after her ordeal in King's Landing, however there was only so much a person could take, and he worried this would be thing to finally break her. Her mind seemed half gone already.

He wasn't sure what he could possibly say to her heartbreaking question, but the silence clawed at him and he knew he must say something.

"I'm sorry, Elia."

So inadequate. So shallow a sentiment when compared to her grief that it made him wince, and the pained sobs that came from her only served to carve deeper into his heart.

He was unsure what to do in the face of her crying and her pain. He had little practice in consoling women. His sister had so much wolfblood in her that she shied from letting anyone see her cry, and he'd only known his lady wife less than a handful of days — not enough for her to weep over his parting, or anything else.

He had experienced his own grief, however — had his own share of losses.

Eddard knelt in front of her in much the same way Prince Oberyn had and looked down at the bundle cradled in her arms. The babe looked surprisingly peaceful. If it were not for the traces of blood on his face and the bluish tint to his lips he might think him alive still.

It was too horrible a sight, so he obscured it from his vision by gently pulling Elia into an embrace, letting her tears soak into the shirt and leathers on his shoulder. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but she leaned into him and clung to the front of his shirt as if he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

He had no words that could fix this, but he could mourn with her and be witness to her pain.

That would have to be enough.

Elia

…

"The night is dark and full of terrors."

…

Did any truer words exist? If they did, I did not know them.

The night was dark. Ned had left long ago — relieved of his post by my brother. Or rather Oberyn. My brother wasn't here. My sister wasn't here. Not my father. Not my mother.

Mami…

I felt myself crying out to her in my mind as if I were a child again. How I wish my mother were here…

My eyes burned with unshed tears but they wouldn't fall. And then the feeling was gone. I felt wrung dry. I felt… not much, but there was a deep pain under layers in my chest. Beneath the cage of my ribs and within the struggling muscle under it. It made it hard to breathe.

Aegon was gone.

Gone, as if whisked away by some unknown entity. As if he'd be back. Could ever come back.

Aegon was not gone.

Aegon was dead — strangled in his crib by a stranger as I fought to reach him.

I got there, but not quickly enough, and I wasn't able to stick my knife in the man more than a handful of times before his companion restrained me once more, dragging me back to the bed.

Everything after that was a blur — snapshots of the worst night of my life.

The man was on top of me, pulling at my nightclothes — ripping them where he could, cutting them where he couldn't.

He'd started to undo the ties on his breeches when his head came off in a halo of gold, his body falling heavy atop me.

Aegon lay still in his crib and his pale hair bloomed red when I touched my fingers to it.

Oberyn was before me, a black shadow at his heels.

Aegon rested against my breast, but he didn't cry. He didn't move.

There was shouting somewhere in the distance.

The hand of a dead man reached for me.

Ned held me till my tears ran dry and my brother came back to me.

Not my brother. Oberyn.

I had woken up to a dead baby in my arms — and I knew I would never dream again.

My sleep would forevermore be haunted and full of terrors.

A/N:

I'M SORRY!!!

I know a lot of people were rooting for Aegon and looking forward to his future, myself included, but it just didn't work out. I'm going on instinct and what I think would make for a captivating story, and though I did like the possibilities that came with Aegon living to adulthood (and I may consider writing something else with that later), this particular story seemed to call for him to end his role here.

Next chapter shouldn't be nearly as depressing, but I should warn you there's still more challenges to come before things start looking up again.

REVIEWS

jdboss2: Thanks! Although I'm not sure why you feel it can only be a short story? My hope is to write through all of the events that happen on the show.

ssiribas: La verdad es que estoy intentando que sea Ned, pero es difícil. Aún así seguiré hasta que no logre hacer más con eso. Tampoco soy fan de Catelyn, a pesar de que me dicen que es mejor persona en los libros. Ned/Ashara también podría ser una posibilidad.

lepetitereina: Thanks! :D Glad to be back!

And this chapter should better explain the situation. Unfortunately they are not all ok...

D3Diton: I do have some plans for that. It'll definitely be a slow and very limited uplift. Eliana is not an engineer, or a scholar, or a fan that somehow knows how to make everything. I'm trying to portray her as realistically as possible so she'll be able to help some, but not overly much.

M2R: Thanks :)

Camsonius: Lol, we've spoken already so... yeah. Thanks for the dramatic comment anyway! XD

InfinityMask: We shall find out soon.

Asharzal: I'm sorry :( I really wanted to save Aegon, but it just wasn't working with the story. The mastermind behind the assassination plot will be revealed soon.

ol-11jrw: I hope this chapter explains what was happening a bit better. And I'm sorry :'( at least Rhaenys is still with us.

a guy1013: Sorry! I don't know how I read that wrong! I think maybe I melded "will" and "ashara" together somehow. I think I know what's happening with Lyanna and Jon, but Ashara and her babe are still undecided. It'll be coming up soon, though, so it won't be too long till we know how that turns out.