Coryanne

My love,

I am coming home. I cannot write down all that has happened to me, but rest assured that I am in the Stormlands again. We are marching with Prince Maekar to take Stonehelm, and then we shall join Prince Maron in liberating the Boneway. When that task is done, I will return to Lemonwood.

I pray for the safety of our family, and the chance to see all of you again.

Titus.

The letter had come before the raids had begun. Before Aliandra had left for the last time. Before Princess Daenerys and her children had fled to Lemonwood. Coryanne had still been able to appreciate the notion that Titus was coming back. She and Aliandra had eagerly told the children that their father was coming home.

Now, he could not come home soon enough. Aliandra was still missing, and there were precious few left to defend Lemonwood from Hiram Martell and his followers. Coryanne did not even know how many followers Hiram had.

She could not afford to send any riders out after Aliandra. She could only wait and despair as she assured Daenerys that she would be safe.

The Targaryen princess was terrified. She had barely escaped with her life, and she still wept for those who had died protecting her. Much as it frustrated and wore out Coryanne, she shouldered this younger woman's burdens. Her children, boys and girls alike, sat subdued and silent, ignoring everyone if they could.

Days lasted years without any information regarding Aliandra's whereabouts. Coryanne was paralyzed with fear as she heard of yet more raids on villages. Refugees continued to trickle into Lemonwood, warning of masked men flying no banners, looting buildings and burning them.

She was not completely idle. Maester Petyr had sent out ravens seeking aid, informing all leal men that Princess Daenerys and her household were refugees.

"We cannot trust any of them," Daenerys exclaimed when Coryanne assured her of the letters. "Hiram Martell is a traitor, who knows how many other men will slay us?"

"We cannot keep you safe here," Coryanne urged. "My daughter is missing, and our people are defenceless!"

Daenerys wept afresh. "I cannot… I cannot do this… Why can't he leave me in peace?"

"Hiram betrayed us all," Coryanne said wearily. "And he will-"

"Not him!" Daenerys shook her head violently. "Daemon! This is all his doing!"

Despite her weariness, frustration, and misery, Coryanne could not help but feel curious. She had heard all sorts of rumours about Daenerys and Daemon Blackfyre. The most prevalent of these tales was that Aegon IV had promised Daenerys to his favoured son, but Daeron had chosen to undo that arrangement in favour of forging an alliance with Dorne.

"Did Hiram say that he is serving Daemon?"

"Of course not," Daenerys snapped. "He did not need to say it! Why else would he be attacking me?"

Coryanne frowned. "If Daemon desired you, and wants you still, then why would Hiram try to kill you?"

Daenerys paused, her eyes widening in surprise. But then her anger and panic returned. "He wants me killed because he knows I'll never go back to him! Men always destroy what they cannot have!"

Although she saw the sense in Daenerys' words, Coryanne still suspected something was amiss. She thought of what Titus had told her about Daemon, how he had paid his respects to Garrison, how he had been oblivious to the conspiracy which his allies had carried out. That is not a man who would order the killing of a woman whom he once loved, much less her children. There is something else going on.

It was a mystery which she could only ponder aimlessly. Daenerys was in no mood to assist her, or to speculate on the motives of Hiram Martell. She stayed with her children in Lemonwood's keep, barely sleeping and hardly eating.

So it went on, day after day, until Merrix came to Coryanne whilst she read to Garin and Chayora. "Riders at the gate. They are flying the Martell colours."

They stood before the outer wall of Lemonwood, waving a white flag alongside the sigil of House Martell. Despite that, Coryanne's last remaining knight, Ser Hanno, had organised every man and woman who could use a weapon, and placed them along the battlements.

Coryanne stood beside Ser Hanno and looked down at the masked men. "Who are you?"

The foremost rider urged his horse forward, even as he held up his hand in token of peace and shouted so that all could hear him. "We are messengers from the Prince of Dorne! He wishes your assistance, as a leal lady and friend of House Martell."

"The Prince of Dorne? And which prince is that?"

"The true prince," came the reply. "The one who is fighting for Dorne and Dorne alone. As it was always meant to be."

Coryanne shook her head. "Hiram Martell assumes much if he thinks to claim his cousin's title."

"His cousin is a traitor to Dorne. He was the one who made peace with our enemies, who sold them Dorne's sovereignty for a dragon princess. What has that gained Dorne? Why should the Dornish continue to suffer under an unworthy king?"

Coryanne made herself laugh, so that she might goad the messenger. "You speak of an unworthy king ruling Dorne from afar, yet you would aid the Blackfyres in their bid?"

"Daemon Blackfyre is not our king, Lady Coryanne. He is no more worthy than Daeron."

Of course. This isn't about one dragon over the other. This is something else.

"Hiram is crazed," Coryanne shouted. "He has no allies, no hope. Maron Martell is the prince, and he has many children. The Dornish are divided between red and black dragons, they have no time for a landless man with too much ambition."

"Once again, you are mistaken. Hiram has made common cause with those Dornish who guard the Prince's Pass. They have come to realise that the Blackfyres are no better than the Targaryens. And besides," the messenger added, "Prince Maron has fewer children now."

Coryanne felt a shudder down her back. She had heard rumours that Yronwood had fallen, that Maron was defeated, even that he was dead. This messenger had every reason to lie, but Coryanne was unable to discredit him with the truth. Where are you, Titus? You will surely know the truth.

"The siege of Wyl was a disaster," the messenger continued. "Prince Maron and his eldest sons are dead or dying. Prince Maekar is disgraced by his defeat. You stand to gain nothing by your loyalty to Maron and his family."

"As opposed to the man who is attacking my people?" Coryanne gave full vent to unfeigned anger. "The man who is hunting an innocent woman and her children? The man who sneers at his lovers in the light of day?"

The messenger paused, then spoke in a different voice. "So, you know Hiram seeks the dragon princess?"

Coryanne had no answer; it was her second mistake.

"You confess it, then? You are hiding Daenerys?"

"What good is it to answer such a question? You would not believe any answer that I gave."

Coryanne's bravado failed to dissuade the messenger.

"Coryanne of House Dalt, I charge you to surrender the Targaryen interloper and her children to our custody. I charge you in the name of Prince Hiram Martell, the true ruler."

"You bleat like a sheep," Coryanne countered. "For that is the only creature that Hiram could outwit."

"Bold words, Lady," the messenger answered. "But you would not speak so boldly if you could have heard your daughter's bleating."

Gods, no. No, no, no…

The messenger turned to one of his compatriots in the middle of the group. He had been hidden from view due to his companions, so it was not until he rode out before them that Coryanne noticed the large bundle lashed to his horse.

A cry left her lips before she could restrain herself. The horseman cut the bundle free and let it fall to the ground. Then he turned and rode back to the others as the messenger continued.

"Your daughter did not give us the answers we sought. Perhaps it might please you to know that she died bravely and defiantly."

Coryanne gripped the battlements with both hands so that she might not collapse. She could not stop herself from trembling. "What did you do to her?"

"That we will leave to your own imagination. But I promise you, her end was not swift, and if you do not surrender, none of your people's ends will be swift."

He had meant to speak on, but a goldenheart arrow buried itself in the sand before his horses.

Coryanne sobbed aloud as she lowered her bow. "How dare you! How dare you bring me my daughter's bones and speak of slaughter, all beneath a banner of peace? Traitors! Murderers! Begone from my gate, and do not return!"

The messenger gave an ironic bow, "As my lady commands, but you should consider the plight of those behind your walls. Would you have them die for a Targaryen princess and her dragonspawn?"

What sort of monster could do such harm to one whom he desired? With whom he had once made love? "Tell him that I will not sacrifice innocent lives, nor will I sacrifice the honour of House Dalt. Tell him that I will see him dead for what he has done to my family!"

The riders turned their mounts around and departed without a final word, or a second glance.

She kept her composure as best she could, despite the tears streaming down her face. Ser Hanno, an old warrior who had served Garrison before any of his children were born, stood beside her, stunned with grief and rage. When he finally spoke, his voice was choked. "I shall retrieve Aliandra."

As he descended from the wall, Coryanne sank to her knees and wailed. She thought of the day her daughter was born, how happy she and Garrison had been, how proud they were when she took her first steps and spoke her first words. A lifetime flashed before Coryanne's eyes, but all the happiness was turned to ash, and every blessing seemed a curse. Voices spoke to her, but she did not heed them. Titus, please come back. Save us from this madness. You promised.

Even before she beheld her daughter, Ser Hanno's sickened expression told her the ghastly truth of Aliandra's end. She felt faint as she unwrapped the bundle and looked down at a broken and mutilated face. With a jolt, and almost relief, she didn't recognise her; it was someone else. This surely could not be the little girl who had squealed when she'd learned to swim, the young woman who had lain in the muddy waters on Walano, who had worshipped at the same temple where Coryanne had been initiated. This could not be the proud young woman who had been so graceful, so sharp.

She had beaten her father at Cyvasse when she was only fourteen. Garrison had been dumbfounded, but Coryanne had only been able to laugh alongside her daughter. She had encouraged her to explore herself and her desires. She had been a worthy successor to her father, wearing the mantle of leadership without difficulty. She had been as good a mother as Coryanne could only have hoped to be.

She had fallen to her knees, unable to breathe. When she looked again, men were already wrapping up her body and taking Aliandra to the keep, where silent sisters served. Nay. You shall not have her in death. She has gone to dwell with the God and the Goddess. They will treat her the way she always deserved.

Someone helped her to her feet, and she staggered back to the keep. It was as though someone had taken away her hearing; shouts had become whispers. Men and women and children became blurs around her. She could only see Aliandra, Garrison, and her sons. Who knows where they are now, how many of them are dead.

Coryanne halted once, realising that she must go to Chayora and Garin. She gave another sob, and nearly collapsed again. What will I say? What will I say?

For once, it was easier to choose duty over love. She went to the chamber where her guests had been assigned. A single guard, grey-bearded and spindly, nodded to her as he opened the door.

Princess Daenerys sat on a couch with her young children, still looking despondent and afraid. Coryanne was suddenly struck with dreadful anger for this silver-haired woman, but she did not give a voice or action to it. She simply stood in the doorway, swaying on her feet, until the princess noticed her.

"What has happened? Has he come?" Daenerys' eyes widened more than usual. "Lady Coryanne?"

"My first husband was Garrison Dalt. Do you remember him?"

Daenerys seemed even more pale than usual. "Of course I do. He was a great man."

"He died because of you."

Daenerys' mouth opened, and she seemed to shrink into the couch.

"My husband was killed by a conspiracy that wished to undo the peace with Dorne. The peace made by your marriage. My sons were nearly killed for it too." Who knows how many of them are dead now.

"My Lady," Daenerys stammered, looking more terrified than ever before. "I-"

"Now my daughter has died for you too. Her name was Aliandra. She died while trying to save her people from Hiram Martell's raids. All because you fled here!"

The children were staring at her, crowding close to their mother. Daenerys was weeping silently as she put her arms around them. "I-I am so sorry…"

Coryanne raised a hand to stop the apology. Daenerys obeyed.

"Whatever happens to me," Coryanne declared, "do not forget what I and my family have done for Dorne, and House Martell.

Daenerys nodded fervently. "Of course."

The princess might have said more, but the open window brought a new sound to her ears. There was also a terrible smell.

"Fire!" It was one of Daenerys' children. She clung to her mother and wailed in fear.

Coryanne went to the window and looked out.

Terror reigned everywhere she looked. The walls were being overrun by men dressed in the colours of House Martell. The defenders were too few and too disheartened to hold them back. It was a trick all along. Hiram only needed to know that Daenerys was here. He gave me Aliandra back to take my mind from the wall.

The enemy was not only without, but within her walls. She could hear smallfolk shouting in anger and in desperate panic.

Her grief needed to wait. With the greatest effort that had ever cost her, Coryanne threw herself away from the window. "Come with me!" She grabbed a discarded spear, prepared to use it.

Dread and renewed purpose drove her to sprint through the keep to find Garin and Chayora. The purpose was sharpened and the dread expanded within her as she searched room after room without success.

They did not respond to their names as she shrieked them over and over again. Daenerys wailed behind her, but she heeded her not. I will lead you to safety, but first I must find the children.

Smoke slowly filled her nose wherever she went. Screams began to echo in the halls and corridors of Lemonwood.

Ser Hanno appeared, leading several other men. Blood was spattered across their bodies and their weapons, but none of it was their own.

"Lady! You must come with us! We can find our way to the cellars and barricade ourselves."

"For how long?" Daenerys wailed. "They will find us!"

"An army is coming! They fly our colours! I saw it through the looking-glass!" Ser Hanno's eyes were wider than Coryanne had ever seen them. "We must wait for them to arrive."

"Where are Garin and Chayora?" Coryanne grabbed him by the front of his jerkin. "I will not abandon them! Where are they?"

Hanno blinked, and he looked away. "I tried to find them, but they went out into the yard earlier… I saw them flee to the stables when Hiram attacked, but the roof was struck with fire arrows. The horses went mad… The children were too slow, they couldn't escape…"

Coryanne heard nothing else. She did not need to know what else had befallen her and her family. She no longer cared whether Hiram took the castle. She did not even care what happened to Daenerys or her children. She turned away from Hanno and ignored his cries. She ignored Daenerys' calls. They soon stopped, and she heard them no more. She walked back the way she came, downwards to the fire that surely awaited her.

The ghosts circled around her as she made her way through her home. They appeared in every room she passed. She saw her daughter and sons as infants, children, adults. She saw what they were before this war. She saw Garrison, smiling as he always did. She saw Titus, looking shy and nervous as a young man. She felt his lips on hers, she felt Garrison's lips, she saw them embrace. She wished to take them to her chamber, where they could lie together. She saw Titus and Aliandra together, with Chayora between them. She saw Garin playing with his father. That was all she could see; there would be no more memories, no future, nothing left.

She felt so drained that she could only stare in surprise. There was less fire than there had seemed, but the smallfolk were scattering one way or another. Martell men were running about with weapons, cutting down smallfolk who fled or fought back. It makes no matter.

She ignored the distant horn calls. She ignored the flames, the smoke, the attackers and attacked alike. They all grew faint as she walked out of Lemonwood, towards the shore.

The sea was cold. It had always been cold ever since she was a little girl. The taste of it never changed. It had been the same to her on the shores of Dorne as it had on the shores of Walano. It cannot be that far away. I can return there now and sit beneath the Talking Trees.

The water crept up her body as she walked towards the sea. She gathered stones and placed them in the pockets of her silken clothes. She was too tired to swim; she would walk home. For it truly had been her home, more than Hellholt or Lemonwood. She had never known pain or hardship in the Summer Isles. Why did I ever leave? Why, oh, why did I ever leave?