Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun
Chapter Sixty-Eight
There was an ever present ache, though she could not tell from where it was coming from. It almost seemed as though it was all around her. As though she had been thrown into an endless dark sea and no matter how hard she tried to breach the surface of it something seemed to be holding her down, refusing to let her breath or feel anything but the ever present ache that surrounded her.
How many days had it been since she had left the bed? Had she even slept yet? She honestly could not remember, the long terrible moments of being awake blurred into one another and then she was pulled back under until she woke once again. She couldn't even move when she was awake, the furs that covered the bed seemed to have been weighed down by something so heavy that she had no hope of ever moving it.
She had not been left unattended however, through the mists that fogged her mind when she was awake she could see the faces of maids as they changed her sheets and poured something sickly sweet down her throat and changed her out of one soiled bed gown into a clean one, like she was a doll that they could play with to their hearts content.
Elia hated them so very much, she hated the pity that shone in their eyes and the sorrow that hung about them as they cared for her, the endless pity. She could almost hear what they were thinking. The sickly Dornish princess with her flat chest and narrow hips and constant illness, was it any wonder that the babe had died in a rush of blood? It had been a miracle that their future lord's heirs had been born at all.
She had been asleep when the babe had been born, the pain had been endless and blinding and there had been so much blood that the moment the first drop of milk of the poppy landed on her tongue she had been cast down into this darkness, it had seemed almost merciful at the time. The babe had been born while she was asleep but could it truly be called being born when the babe was already dead inside of her?
Half formed, eyeless with stubs where limbs should have been, that is what the maids had said in hushed whispers when they thought that she had still been sleeping. The child had no sex, malformed in her womb. The thought was like a dagger, being shoved through her heart. She had hoped for a daughter and had been left with naught but blood and tiredness, and she was so very tired now and so very empty. She wanted her eyes to fall shut and a part of her did not care if they ever opened again.
Ned must have been feeling the same as he had not come to her, she would have at least had some comfort if he had come to her and they could share their sorrow together but he had not. Did he despise her? Perhaps he might but he could not despise her anymore than she already despised herself and her own weak body, it had robbed her of her childhood, of the joy of playing with other children and of roughhousing in the pools of the Water Gardens and of riding through the sand dunes on the back of a sand steed with the wind blowing through her hair.
And now it had robbed her of something so much more precious than that, if Ned hated her now she would not blame him for it. The darkness came on her again and she sunk even deeper into it as oblivion came on to the world.
She didn't know how much time had passed till she woke again but the room seemed lighter, somehow. A chill was hanging in the air as usual but it seemed sharper now, she turned herself in bed and she saw that one of her shutters had been left upon. Snowflakes were drifting into through the wind lazily and the heat from the fire and the walls was causing them to melt before they were even close to hitting the ground.
Elia didn't know how much time she spent watching the snowflakes, maybe it was only for a few seconds and maybe it was for hours but either way she was interrupted when she heard the creak of the bedchamber door opening. A soft gasp filled the room and one of the maids hurried over to the shutters and closed the open one firmly while muttering something under her breath.
An older maid with strands of silver running through her brown hair looked down at her and there was that hated pity once again, if Elia had the strength to do it she would push the furs off of her and claws out her eyes. Were there any eyes that had never held that look in them when they looked at her? Even Ned, when a coughing fit overtook her or when she needed to sit down after a dizzy spell took her, his lovely grey eyes would always fill with pity and that broke her heart more than anything.
The maid sighed softly and turned to look at someone that Elia could not see with the furs covering up most of her side vision. "She's awake but honestly, I wouldn't hope for much. More like her eyes are open but there's naught there, poor lamb. I don't think this is the best idea you've ever had duckie, I don't want the little lords upset."
"You be quiet now Annie, the little lads wanted to see their Mother and I don't see a reason not to let them. Besides, it might just be that they help her." The voice sounded familiar but in that moment with the mist clouding her mind she could not put a name to it even though she knew that she should know it as easily as she knew her own.
The owner of the voice stepped into her line of sight and as soon as she did so her name popped into Elia's head like it had always been there. Bette, that was it. But in that moment Elia truly didn't care about her, all she cared about in that moment were the two little boys standing in front of her with their hands clasped together.
Her boys, her babies. In that moment all she wanted to do was to reach out to them and pull them close to her but her arms couldn't seem to move no matter how much she screamed at them inside of her mind. There was nothing wrong with her limbs that she could feel and yet she could not move them no matter how hard she tried. She was just so tired.
Mors came forward then and Elia could see that his eyes were shinning with unshead tears and Elia's heart broke to see it. "Mama, are you alright? We missed you and Papa. Where is he? He doesn't ever come and see us and aunt Ly-ly isn't here anymore and Jenjen told us not to bother him and he made Tor cry when he yelled at us when we assed him."
"I did not!" Torrhen yelled as he pulled his hand free from his brother's hand and stared at his twin like he had committed some great betrayal towards him. At any other time it might have made Elia laugh, but all she did instead was lay there as her older boy turned to look at her with grey eyes that looked so much like his Father's that the fear and the sadness she saw in them broke her heart all over again. "I wasn't crying mama, Ben was being mean to Mors and I kicked him and he pushed me down and I hurt my knees and it hurt a little. I didn't cry, wolves don't cry."
A thousand thoughts rolled through her head and the mist that hung over her made it hard to focus on a single one of them, she wanted to tell Torrhen that it would have been alright if he had cried. Wolves surely must cry at some point, must they not? When a wolf howled at the moon in order to hear any of their own kind about them, if there pack was nearby, what other reason did they have to do that other than sorrow?
But the words didn't come, all Elia did was continue to look at her son as he spoke too her of how much he missed her and his father and his auntie and with every worse that passed Elia simply felt more and more terrible. She opened her mouth and tried to speak but her throat was so dry that all that came out was a strangled croak.
Her sons glanced at one another and the little lads looked so lost that her heart broke for them and then Bette came forward and leaned down to take both of their hands and when she spoke her words were soft and comforting. "Come on now my little lords, your Lady Mother needs her rest. We will come and see her again once she's well."
Bette took both of her son's hands but not before Torrhen came forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead and Mors followed his brother, patting her cheek in a childish display of utter love that warmed her heart and broke it all at once. Once the boys had left the room Elia slipped back into the void of darkness that seemed to have become her home.
When she woke again she felt...not better, but less terrible than she had been. She could move her arms and was able to use them to push herself up to sit, even though every inch of her upper body begged her to stop. She managed to do so, but it so exhausted her that moments after sitting up she fell back down to the bed and darkness claimed her once again and another day past in sleep.
But with each day that passed, a little more of her strength returned to her. A little longer she was able to sit up in bed and stay sat up to the point that when her maids came to tend to her for the day they found her sitting up in the middle of the bed waiting for them. The first time she opened her mouth to speak all that came out was a hoarse whisper but when she tried again, words that were understandable if faint came out. "Water and food, please."
Her maids had stared at her dumbly for a long moment after the words had come out and Elia despaired at the idea of trying to speak again but soon enough the spell was lifted and the women rushed to serve her. What seemed to be a feast was brought to her, sausages and bacon and oatcakes and gravy, duck eggs and fried fish and fresh baked bread and enough pitchers of water to fill a long, along with kettles full of mint and blackcurrant tea.
She settled for a bowl of bland porridge and a cup of water with half a raw lemon squeezed into it as it was the only thing that she felt comfortable enough with eating for the moment, the first sip of water was so tart that she thought that her entire throat was going to clamp shut but she managed to fight against the sensation and made herself drain the rest of the cup.
The porridge was far more tolerable for her to eat but even then she could not force herself to finish more than half of the bowl before it seemed that her stomach was going to revolt and even the sight of the rest of the food that had been brought up to her would make her lose the contents of her belly. Her maids were quick to take all of the food away and once she had been left alone Elia stopped fighting and allowed herself to fall to the bed.
But from every day past that one, she was able to sit up for longer and was able to eat more and more and more than just porridge and within a few more days she was able to stand and walk around the room, to be sure she needed to lean very heavily against one of her maids as she did so but it was certainly an improvement.
She could even begin to hold a conversation as well even though it seemed neither her maids nor the maester, who had apparently been visiting her every day since she had been confined to her chambers to oversee her well being by Lord Rickard as well as to force vile potions down her throat, which at least when she was dead to the world she hadn't been able to taste them, were not well inclined to tell her much of what had happened since she had taken to her bed.
Elia had tried to command her maids to speak to her, to tell her what had happened while she had been abed but they had simply glanced at each other and spoke of how the farmers were doing their best to keep the crops they had planted during the time they had all thought that Spring had come and they could begin to plant again alive or how poor, simple Hodor had found a litter of kittens in the back of the stables.
No one saw fit to tell her what she wanted to hear even when she commanded them too, no one was telling her about her husband. No one wanted to tell her if Ned was within the walls of the castle or even if was back in the North or was still south of the Neck or if he had even left from the Stormlands yet. Lord Rickard must have commanded them to keep silent about whatever had happened, who else could have made them tell her nothing?
The way that Maester had reacted when she had put that question to him had all but confirmed it for her as he had prepared another of the foul potions for her to drink, speaking of how his Lord only wished the best for her and did not wish for her to worry unnecessarily as she recovered from the trauma of losing her babe. They had been ordered to tell her nothing and the rage threatened to consume her in that moment when she had understood, her sorrow being the fuel to the fire and it took all she had to not reach across and throttle the old man with his chain.
For what seemed to be an endless amount of days her life had been reduced to nothing but the four walls of her bedchamber and being spoon fed like a child and having to force down more of the vile potions, the imprisonment was lightened somewhat whenever her boys were brought to her and she could hold them tight to her and she could cling to the fact that no matter what happened she still had them.
Benjen came to see her as well, sometimes with her boys and sometimes on his own and he did his best to try and cheer her but he was not the young shy boy he had been when she had first arrived at Winterfell, still young yes but he could not be considered a child anymore and he knew what she had lost and he knew that there was little he could do to make that any better.
There had been a moment when it had been just the two of them alone in her bedchamber, the maester had forgotten his latest tonic and the maid had gone to fetch her some tea and bread and when they were alone Elia had begged her brother-by-law to tell her what was happening, she had even forced herself to dig deep into the well of sorry inside of her to bring the tears to her eyes in hope that it would move him to tell her what he knew.
For a moment she thought she had been successful when Benjen had opened his mouth but before he could say anything the door to her bedchamber opened once again and the Maester had walked back in with the vial full of potion clasped tightly in his wrinkled and liver-spotted hand. He only had to take one look at her face to see that tears running down her cheeks and once he had he chastised Benjen, asking what he had done to upset her.
Elia tried to stop him but she was still weak and Benjen was young and strong and worst of all, fast. He had jumped off of the bed and ran out of the room before either she or the Maester could stop him. The Maester asked her to forgive the boy, certain that he did not mean to upset her. Elia forced a smile on her face and calmed herself by imagining throttling the man.
His potions might have been vile but at they very least they did seem to take some effect on her, one day when she had woken her maids had commented on the color coming back to her skin and the light returning to her eyes. Elia could not claim that she felt well, how could she after what had been lost to her? But she did not feel like the Stranger had swallowed her whole and spat her back up again after finding her too hard too stomach.
She was even able to stand by herself for a time before her knees threatened to buckle and even take a few steps by herself before she fell to the floor, she tried to walk for longer and longer each day. One of her maids brought her a gift, one she recognised as the weirwood walking stick that had been carved for Lord Rickard shortly after his heart had failed him which he had rejected out of pride.
Starks could keep their pride, Martells had better sense and the walking stick did make her walking, and in truth she was being charitable to herself by terming it that as it would be more accurate to call it limping, a great deal easier to bear. Even so, for all she knew that she needed it, it was much easier to use it in her chambers when just her maids were there to watch her hobble.
Going out into the castle would be a different matter and she fully intended to do so no matter what anyone else wanted her to do, on the day where she had felt the best she had done in the longest time she made her way over to the door of her bedchamber. The Maester put himself in her path and had commanded her to return to her bed, claiming that she had still not fully recovered from her trauma.
Elia conceded to the man that might indeed be true and perhaps that she did need more time to rest, but what she knew was true was that if he did not remove himself from her path she would have no choice but to use her new gift to crack his skull open and step over him to reach the door. Maester Walys stared at her, perhaps wondering if she meant her threat or not, but he scurried out of the way to let her pass rather than press the issue.
The corridors of the Great Keep was so silent that for a moment Elia had wondered if someone had came into the castle during the night and killed everyone within the walls, the only sound aside from her own breathing and her footsteps as well as the footsteps of her maids was the sound of the walking stick clicking against the stone floor.
She had one goal in mind and she kept her focus on that, ignoring the ache in her bones that begged her to let her go back to the bed. The journey to Lord Rickard's solar was longer than it had any right to be and when she finally arrived at the door she was clutching the stick so tight that he knuckles had turned the same colour of the weirwood in order to distract herself from the pain she had been feeling.
Elia did not knock and she did not have one of the guards waiting outside the door announce her, she summoned all of her strength and stormed into the solar and shook herself free from when one of the guards tried to grab her by the sleeve of her dress, he was a big man and strong and if he had used even half his strength she would not be able to pass him but more than like he had heard of how fragile she was and did not want to try and harm his future lord's sickly wife.
It would be enough to make her laugh if it also didn't want to make her scream and pull at her hair.
Lord Rickard was sitting behind his desk and when he saw her come into his solar with the guards he had placed on the door, her maids and the master following behind her like the handmaidens of a bride on her wedding day he sighed and held up his hand to them stopping them before anyone could speak. "Everyone please leave the room, Elia please come and sit down as you look like you can barely stand."
She waited for everyone else to leave the room before she made her way to the chair, sitting herself down and laying the weirwood staff over her knees. "My lord, would you please inform me as to what has happened for however long I have been left abandoned in my bedchamber? None has seen fit to tell me anything, nothing of any merit at any rate. Why does Winterfell seem so silent? Where is my husband? Has he been informed of-has he been informed of what has happened."
Lord Rickard stared at her and even when the both of them were sitting down he casually dwarfed her to the point where she had to tilt her head up so she was looking into his eyes were the same grey as Ned's and she remembered that the first time she had seen them they had been full of kindness and wisdom, now it seemed as they were filled only with something that Elia did not dare to name. "I would like to start by saying that you were not abandon anywhere, you had been through a traumatic ordel and you nearly died. I simply did not wish to give you more for your heart to grieve over."
Ned was dead, what else could it be that would give her any more grief than what she was currently feeling? If not Ned than Lyanna or Oberyn or even Doran despite what he had done to her and her husband's family. "I thought that you had suffered enough grief." Lord Rickard continued and it was the quietest and saddest that Elia had ever heard the massive man sound since she had come to Winterfell. "I will tell you something now and I would prefer it if it stayed between the two of us."
"After Brandon was born but before Ned...Lyarra fell pregnant twice and both times we lost the babe, the first was merciful in a way as it was so early that it was only a rush of blood and then it was done but the second time." Lord Rickard breathed and Elia was shocked to see tears in the corner of his eyes which he blinked rapidly away. "There was a babe that time, we buried her in the godswood under the shade of the weirwood and Lyarra insisted on naming her after her Mother, our little Arya."
"I ensured that your child was buried next to her, perhaps they shall be a comfort to one another." A heavy breath made the Lord of Winterfell shudder. "I...did not love my wife, she was not what I wanted and I could not be what she needed me to be even if I wished to be. But we were both of us Starks, we had a duty and our love for Brandon and our grief for our babes it forged something strong between us, something that could not be broken. If it was love it was not love between man and wife, it was something different but not lesser than that."
"And I remember the grief well, I would not inflict knowledge of what has happened since you've been abed on you, I could not. You were suffering the worst thing that any Mother could be. If I have done you wrong then it was a wrong done out of kindess, of wanting to spare you a little bit longer so that you might heal some more before having to face it. If I've done you wrong, then I apologise my lady. Deeply and sincerely."
It was only after Lord Rickard had finished speaking that Elia realised that she had been crying though she could not say for who, perhaps she was weeping for all of them? For herself and Lord Rickard, for Lady Lyarra who she had never meet and for all their babes who had not even taken a breath. She did not know for who or why but the tears came and would not stop even if she command them too.
And yet it would seem that she would have need for more tears, something had happened while she had been recovering and for a moment she was so terrified to ask what it was that had happened that it seemed that all of her courage had abandoned her and all she wished to do was get to her feet and hobble back to her bedchamber and threw herself under the covers once again till the world went away.
But she did not, she had spent too much of her life being hidden away inside from the world, in order to keep her safe. How many times had she been told that? By endless masters who had all said the same thing? That she was weak and sickly and she could not play with the other children in the pools? Father who had brushed her hair back behind her ears, kissed her forehead and called her his precious princess and told her that the other children did not know how to be gentle and held her close as she had cried.
Even Mother in her way, she had trained her somewhat with a sword but she had soon abandoned her with that and had focused her efforts on making Oberyn the warrior while she had been left with simple words, how only a fool tried to be strong in a way that they were not and so she had to find a different way to be strong, her way.
How many of her suitors had Oberyn chased away? When he had found her in one of the groves of blood orange trees being kissed by Arthur Dayne he had screamed that he would kill him if he came near her again. How many times had Doran warned her not to be concerned as he stared intently on the maps, the look on his face the same as Mother's as she decided her fate.
Elia was tired of being caged and she would not allow her fear to win control of her, she was a Stark of Winterfell as much as a Martell of Sunspear and she would remain Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken in the face of Winter as it came. She dug inside herself and found what she had felt when she had given her ultimatum to Lord Tywin back at Casterly Rock and spoke.
"My Lord, what you did was done out of kindness, I do not dispute that. And perhaps indeed there is some wisdom in what you say that telling me while I was still recovering from what had happened would have done more harm than it would have done good. But be that as it may I am recovered at this moment and I would beg of you now, tell me what has happened."
Lord Rickard spoke and told her everything and Elia wondered once again if she had done the right thing by asking to know.
Gods, Rhaegar what have you done?
It seemed almost insanity, to think that Rhaegar would do such a thing? That he could do such a thing? But then she remembered that every coin had two sides and simply because the coin had landed one way did not mean that the other side had simply ceased to be. But even madmen had reasons that made sense to them, what reason did Rhaegar have to take Lyanna as he had done so?
He had named her Queen of Love and Beauty, she remembered the way the frost blue petals of the winter roses and had looked among the dark strands of her hair, it had seemed a sick jape, an old nightmare twisted and brought to her awful to rip old wounds open once again. Did Rhaegar love her? How could he as he did not know her?
Some men would do anything for a pretty face, even certain things that might seem like madness it occurred to her then but something like this? This would start a war, this would be the lit match being thrown into the lamp oil. Tywin Lannister would surely not suffer this insult to his daughter and Rickard would have to do something to get his daughter back, he would have no choice but to march his men south.
Lord Rickard was soon knelling at her side and pressing a cup of something into her hands which Elia gladly drunk deep from, Nothern Ale was still as terrible as she rememebered it to be but in that single moment she loved it more than anything and drained the cup in a matter of moments. When the cup was empty and her goodfather had taken it from her she asked the most important question. "Where is Ned?"
"He is on his way to the Vale with Howland Reed and a small number of guardsmen, making his way to the Eyrie to meet with Jon Arryn which might be for the best for all of us. We are uncertain if the King knows what has happened yet but when he does I cannot imagine his reaction will be pleasent for any of us. The North can not win a war alone and much of what Jon Arryn and I had planned must not come to the forefront, it was not meant to be this way and I had hoped that...well, what we hoped for is seldom what is. I have written to my own men and the banners have been called, they are on their way here? You ask why Winterfell is so silent? Most of the men have gone to Winter's Town to make it ready for the thousands that will descend on it."
Elia was quiet as she considered all that she heard, knowing Ned was so far away was painful but the news that Howland Reed was with him did not comfort her. He had said that his daughter would be a Queen but he had been wrong about that and how had Rhaegar known where to find them? She did not like what she was thinking but she could not find herself coming to any other conclusion.
Elia got to her feet and clutched her weirwood stick. "If my Lord would excuse me I mean to go and write a letter to my brothers, if war is coming then Dorne must be warned and are spears must be called." Lord Rickard gave her his leave to go but he called out to her once she had reached the door, as though he had suddenly just rememebered something.
"I have been writting to Prince Doran already my Lady though I am sure he will be glad to hear from you but I must ask you something, do not tell him what has happened to you? I know it is unfair but such a tale can spread quickly and my son is in more danger now than he has ever been, lines will be drawn in every kingdom and Ned will have to fight to survive. Please, do or say nothing that could distract him from that."
Elia pressed her lips together firmly, nodded stiffly and left the room, shutting the door behind her as she left.
And as she made her way back to her bedchamber, she tried to stop herself from shaking, though from rage or sorrow she could not say. It did not matter, letters had to be written and she had to be strong.
And she would be.
End of Chapter Sixty-Eight
Well, that's that.
This was a hard chapter to write and it was not one I was happy writing but it was one that was important to both the characters and the story.
Please feel free to leave a review and constructive criticism is always welcome.
With a great deal of love,
DiscordantSymphony