The Bastard of Godsgrace

The Bastard of Starfall was beautiful, and Daemon was a simple man. Her hair was a deep brown, and her skin was dusted with freckles. She wore the purple of House Dayne like a suit of armor, and the color brought out the lilac in her eyes. "You didn't come with us from Dorne," Daemon said dumbly. Her raised eyebrow said she agreed.

"I was with my mother's family," she said quietly. "But it is time I go home."

"Ellaria said your mother was noble born herself," Daemon continued. That was rare, to be noble born by both parents. But he couldn't deny that Dyanna had that look about her. She seemed as proud and dignified as any highborn lady he'd seen at court. She certainly hadn't grown up in an Oldtown whorehouse like Obara, that was for sure.

"The third daughter of a lesser lord," Dyanna said, as if it were something she'd memorized. He supposed it was a tale she was used to telling. He knew he'd spoken of his father that way a thousand times. "She died of a summer fever a few years ago."

"And him?" Daemon asked, nodding toward the knight who accompanied her. The man was tall, with the sort of jawline that would make a maiden swoon. Or a squire, for that matter. He was clearly not Dornish of stock, but he wore no colors to betray his house.

As Dyanna looked toward the man, her frown softened. "A friend of my grandfather's." She was not very talkative, this bastard. But that only made her more intriguing. By the time they reached Dorne, Daemon vowed he would shed some light on this mystery.

It took several great hall dinners for Daemon to realize Ser Caswell was avoiding the lords and ladies of the Reach. At first, it had simply seemed a coincidence. In Tumbleton, the knight had fallen ill and missed supper.

In the small castle of Tumbleton's great hall, Daemon was seated near Dyanna. Her as one of Ellaria's ladies, him as Ellaria's protector. Lord Footly seemed somewhat uncomfortable to be hosting a troupe of bastards. But he managed to keep his thoughts to himself. The same could not be said for many of his company...

Daemon had tried to ignore the jabs. He'd heard more than a few during his time in King's Landing. Dyanna sat on the other side of Ellaria, seemingly consumed with her own thoughts. She appeared oblivious to the taunts. Had growing up in the Reach truly desensitized her to the disdain? Or maybe it was only her worry over her knight blocking her ears tonight.

But the next day, Ser Caswell was riding alongside Dyanna, healthy as ever. Daemon didn't think much of it at the time, perhaps he'd eaten something off in one of the villages. Sickness was common on the road after all.

Then in Grassfield Keep, Dyanna sent Ser Aylward on an errand in the castle village. The whole supper, she dodged questions from the young wife of Lord Meadows. Her husband had once known the knight at Storm's End it seemed. Lady Meadows wished to know if they had kept in touch following Renly's passing. Dyanna gave the woman very little information. She expertly steered the conversation this way and that. In the end, Lady Meadows had all but forgotten she asked anything at all.

When Ser Caswell failed to appear in New Barrel, Daemon realized it was by design. Yet another mystery from the stoic knight and his bastard charge. Throughout dinner Daemon pondered over the possibilities.

In King's Landing, Ser Caswell had been a frequent companion of Garlan and Loras Tyrell, they'd been childhood friends. Aylward had even been at Renly's side in King's Landing, prior to Renly's ill-fated grab for the crown. How had this knight gone from companion to lords, to a bastard's escort. Perhaps it had something to do with that Redwyne girl. If she'd even been in King's Landing at all.

No one seemed to agree on the mystery of Desmera Redwyne. Her father insisted she'd never set foot in court. Others were sure she'd been Margaery Tyrell's closest confidant. Other rumors suggested she seduced Jaime Lannister, nearly luring him away from his Kingsguard vows. Before the Queen stepped in, of course.

If Ser Caswell had been Desmera's sworn shield, the controversy she caused would be more than enough to relegate him to this duty. Though, that wouldn't explain the closeness between Dyanna and her knight. They were constantly together, speaking in hushed voices. Dyanna always seemed just a bit off kilter at dinners without him.

Determined to get to the bottom of things, he stole a flask of cider and decided he would take Dyanna into town when they reached Ashford. It was time he took his questions to the girl herself. And what better way to loosen lips?

Daemon drummed his fingers on the table, waiting for his moment. He stopped his incessant tapping only after a scalding look from Ellaria. He couldn't help it. Lord Ashford was exhausting. Their plates had been cleaned ages ago, yet still they were here.

Finally, one of Lord Ashford's daughters helped him off to bed. Daemon took his chance to approach Dyanna before she could take her leave as well. He offered the flask to her, by way of greeting. Dyanna gave the bottle an appraising look.

"It's Fossoway Cider, I picked it up in New Barrel," he explained. "They say it's the best in the Realm." Dyanna nodded and took the flask. "Come into town with me. I hear Ashford has a lovely market."

Dyanna raised one eyebrow. "It's past dusk, ser. Surely the market is closed."

She made a very good point, but Daemon was not deterred. "I hear their town is rather lovely too," he insisted. Dyanna rolled her eyes but motioned for him to lead the way. Behind, he heard the pop of the bottle's cork and grinned. He would get to the bottom of Dyanna Sand yet.

They made their way through the town of whitewashed, thatched-roof houses. It was quite lovely. Eventually settled in Ashford Meadow, on the shore of the Cockleswent. Dyanna sat near the edge, trailing her fingers through the water. He'd never seen her look so peaceful.

"You're awfully quiet, you know," Daemon said, sitting beside her. "It unsettles people. They think you're learning all their secrets and plotting against them."

She rolled her shoulders back and smiled. "You mean it unsettles you." Daemon huffed, but she was right. No one else seemed to take much notice of her solitude. "Who's to say I'm not plotting?"

Daemon grinned. "I'd like to be in on it, if you are."

She paused to consider, humming to herself. "Perhaps one day." They sat there for a moment, listening to the sounds of the river. "I'm not plotting," she admitted, but quickly added, "At least not quite yet." Daemon leaned forward to listen.

"It's just nice to fade into the background for a bit. It's all so exhausting. The politics, the favors, the manipulations." She took a swig from the flask. "It's exhausting pretending to be someone I'm not."

"It won't be that way in Dorne."

Dyanna sighed. "Perhaps not." He wanted her to believe it, Dorne was a whole other world. She would find people there who understood her, just as he had. But there was no way to convince her of that. He'd done all this for her to open up, and how that she had, he was at a loss. He took the flask and took a long swig of his own.

"I'm sorry about Oberyn. I didn't know him long, but he seemed like a good man." she said after a moment. Daemon nearly choked in his surprise. He wiped his mouth and pressed the cider back into her hand. She sighed, recorking the flask, and setting it aside.

"I understand that urge to push it away, to look for distractions, and lose yourself in other people. The more mysterious the better," she added, pointedly. "It won't make the hurt go away. It's not always a bad thing, sometimes the people nearest to you won't tell you what you need to hear."

Daemon was certain he was gaping at her like a fish. He'd been right on the mark before; she was learning all their secrets. How else could she possibly have read him so well? "That isn't what I'm doing."

Dyanna raised one skeptical eyebrow. "When's the last time you spoke to Ellaria?"

"A few hours ago, at supper," he said, defensively.

She rolled her eyes. "Not that show we put on each night for our gracious hosts." Her words dripped with scorn. Maybe she hadn't been so hardened to their disdain after all. "I mean genuinely talked with her. There's only so much my words can do for her. She needs a friend who understands what she's feeling, someone who knew him."

Dyanna was right, he had been avoiding Ellaria since the trial. He just hadn't known what to say. Oberyn had knighted him, been his friend and mentor. But Ellaria...he'd never experienced the kind of love she had for Oberyn. But that didn't give him an excuse not to try. It wasn't fair to either of them.

He hadn't realized how long he'd been sitting there, staring at the water, until Dyanna pushed the flask back toward him with an incredulous laugh. "Now that that's out of the way, permission granted to ask me whatever you want. Solve your mystery."

Daemon only hesitated for a moment. His feelings could wait until morning. "Why did your knight leave King's Landing? How did he fall so far?"

"Fall so far?" Dyanna repeated, putting a hand to her chest. For a moment, he thought she might be offended, but then she winked. "Because of me, of course."

It was a rather boring answer, and he sunk a bit. "You mean because he knew your family?"

A sly smile slowly spread across her face. "Well you see, it all started when Cersei Lannister learned I'd been slipping into her brother's chambers..."

Daemon's eyes went wide, and then impossibly wider as the pieces came together. "You're Desmera Redwyne?"

She leaned her head back and laughed, and after a moment, Daemon couldn't stop himself from joining in. He still had a million questions, but he didn't want to let the mystery go quite yet.

"Are you sure you aren't another of Oberyn's Sand Snakes?" He teased. "Seven Hells, the first thing I'm talking to Ellaria about is sending you back to wherever you came from! Put you together with them and we're all in trouble. Not to mention Arianne."

She grinned mischievously. "They sound exactly like the kind of people I need at my table."

After that night, Dyanna seemed to gain a lightness in her step. She moved a bit easier among their company, speaking a bit more, frowning a bit less. Though Daemon couldn't say for certain if it was because of him or because they had crossed into the Stormlands. He couldn't even be sure he knew her real name.

Ser Caswell seemed to find comfort in the change of scenery as well, in his own subtle way. Daemon even caught him smiling at Dyanna, once or twice.

As for Ellaria, she was still holding steady, despite everything. Daemon rode alongside her, and Ellaria gave him a sad smile. "Almost home," he said with a sigh. "I hope the ravens arrived long before us. I don't think I could bear to be the one to have to tell it."

"It still doesn't feel real," Ellaria said softly. "I still expect to turn around and see him."

Daemon couldn't hold it back any longer. "Seven Hells, I'm so angry at him." Ellaria looked up suddenly, but after a moment she nodded. "And there is no point in that. We can't change anything; it won't bring him back."

"I think a part of me always knew it would end like this," Ellaria said softly. "He was never the kind of person to go quietly. I just hoped it wouldn't be so soon." Her face crumpled as she fought back tears. She was going back to her daughters, the younger Sand Snakes, the eldest only four and ten. He couldn't imagine telling those girls that their father was never coming home.

Daemon sacrificed his balance to reach for Ellaria's hand. She squeezed his fingers tightly before letting go. "I'm sorry I didn't come to you sooner. I should have."

"You needed time," she said. "But you're here now."

"We can remember him together," Daemon promised.

As they rode toward their next camp, Ellaria launched into a story of Oberyn when they were younger. Daemon let his head fall back in full belly laughter, feeling as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. For the first time since the trial, he truly felt as if this was something they would survive. It was what Oberyn would have wanted.