Chapter Text
At the time the bedding came, Lyanna desperately wished for more of the calming draught but she doubted anyone would be this thoughtful to provide her with any. This far, no one had, she could tell by the way her anxiety returned, manifesting itself in desperate fear and even shaking hands. She tried to calm them down and for the first time since the beginning of her labour she realized that she was helpless before the acts and will of her body – she could impose none of her own and that stunned her just like it had done then.
All around her, merriment abounded. As the evening advanced and wine poured like water, people had forgotten the reason for the wedding and the identity of the bride. Forced gaiety had become real. A mockery of wedding was just as good a reason for a feast as any other. Lyanna had the feeling that she was the only one who did not feel elated, one way or another. Even her bridegroom was smiling, talking animatedly to one of his companions – a man as swarthy as him who had slid into the seat Princess Elia had recently vacated.
Princess Elia! The future queen! Lyanna could not believe that this was the end. Her father and Brandon were dead, thousands of others were as well, the realm had gone through a war and destruction and those who had wanted to cast the Mad King aside had succeeded – and for what? For Elia Martell’s son! Who might not even be Robert’s child – no more than this one was Rhaegar’s!
Oberyn Martell’s companion seemed to have read her thoughts, for he leaned closer to the Prince and asked in a low voice, “Is Elia not coming back? It’s been some time.”
Oberyn shrugged. “I doubt it. Many women in her state have it hard during the day but for her, evenings are more exhausting.”
Memories of Lyanna’s own state a few months ago rushed into her head, so vivid that she could feel anew every trouble caused by it – and she was stronger than the painfully slender, frail Dornish princess. But no, she forbade herself to feel any sympathy for the woman who had betrayed Rhaegar and did not even mourn him. She ordered herself not to listen to the conversation and instead looked around the table for Ned. He was talking to Robert but even after he noticed her attempts to attract his attention, he steadfastly refused to give it to her. Did he feel guilty? At the moment, Lyanna was ready to forgive him everything if he would only give her a smile of reassurance because the moment was coming… coming…
Wild fear and wilder yet hope filled her as the door cut them from the noise and torches of the cheering crowd. She had heard that women liked having Oberyn Martell in their beds but she did not think he would take care to make her like it. In fact, he’d probably unleash his resentment upon her – and take delight in it. Still, she could not give up on the hope that he’d find her too repellent to touch. She had no illusions what her new husband thought of her – punishing her would likely be this part of the marriage that he enjoyed most…
The pain of the bedding was excruciating, much worse than when Rhaegar had taken her maidenhead and yet Lyanna had the strange feeling that he was not trying to do anything cruel. Was it her revulsion at the thought of having a man other than Rhaegar touch her that made her very womb tighten and the channel go tender? She did not know but as she lay with her eyes opened and forbade the tears from coming, the whiteness of the bridal chamber seemed to mock her with the pretention of a true wedding, true marriage, the pain of a first coupling… She wanted to go to her babe and fall asleep holding him to her, but of course, he was under the care of a nursemaid – chosen by Elia Martell. And she couldn’t leave her bridal chamber without causing further rumours and frictions between the men from the North, Dorne and… all other regions. What did I push myself into a year ago, she thought desperately and immediately banished this thought from her mind because it felt like a betrayal. But the treacherous hints kept returning now and then and when her new husband fell asleep and the moon dipped behind the windows that were made of glass – she had never seen such before she had first come south – she finally could no longer fight it: what anguished her most was the fact of what could have been. Oberyn Martell was a handsome men and this entire environment was like she had always imagined her bridal chamber would look like: a magnificently appointed room, a handsome man and behind the door, many people celebrating. At her true wedding, she had only looked at Rhaegar and while the two servant maids had done their best to make their chamber look enticing, they had been peasant girls. They had not known how to arrange thing in any refined manner…
She did not want the man or the marriage but she still barely managed to stop herself from weeping for what could have been. And this was a betrayal worse than everything Elia Martell had done.
“When are we leaving?” she asked a few days later as he came to collect her and lead her to the great hall for the evening feast – the only time they got to talk, it seemed.
Oberyn didn’t even look at her. “Not yet.”
“Not yet?” Lyanna repeated and tried to hide the horror his words filled her with. “We aren’t going to stay here forever, are we?”
This idea could not be borne. Stay here, where Ned kept distancing himself from her and the men she had grown up around followed his lead? Where women’s voices chattered merrily before she entered a room, only to stop as if cut with a knife when she entered? Where people would serve her with difference but never look at her? Where Princess Elia and Robert’s grandmother kept being sickeningly polite by inviting her over in her hours of leisure with their ladies and Lyanna had to watch as the women fretted over Elia’s state and discussed the details of her wedding – to Lyanna’s former betrothed? At least Robert kept away from her but to her surprise, even this was not quite to her liking. She had never doubted his love for her – before. Now, he couldn’t be bothered to even be cruel to her. He did not mind having her at his table. He even said a few words to her from time to time, although he was mostly preoccupied with his future lady wife and despite not begrudging the Dornish princess this marriage – she would never want the man who had killed Rhaegar, - Lyanna bitterly wondered why with her, he couldn’t have been the way he was with Elia. Perhaps then… At this, she would startle out of her daydreaming and an overwhelming feeling of guilt would crush her.
The best way to alleviate it was to hold her babe in her arms but sometimes, even this did not help. Rhaegar had wanted a dragon and not a wolf, yet a wolf cub they had gotten. Such a Stark that she looked for Brandon in him, and his father. But as her love for him grew, she was eager to get away from this poisonous well that was King’s Landing. Oberyn had no interest in either of them, so he would leave her to build a life of her own, where only she and Jon would exist. But this could not happen here.
“We’re going to stay for my sister’s wedding, of course,” Oberyn replied, still not looking at her, and Lyanna felt like a stupid little girl. Of course he’d want to see the wedding and the coronation – House Martell’s hour of ultimate triumph. This had been the entire motivation behind their actions ever since Aerys had first approached them in regards to Elia’s marriage. She had just thought that he’d be so eager to separate her from everything and everyone, have her in his power that he would not put up with any delays.
The ever so rare mentioning of Elia effectively put an end to the conversation and the silence persisted until they reached the great hall and the evening feast where people at the high table were trying to make small conversations out of decorum but since Lyanna did not know how to engage in women’s chatter and had no common interests with them, they quickly abandoned their attempts and she was left to her silence, the occasional word from Oberyn and two or three of the other men, and the realization that if things kept going on like this, she’d soon take to the needle, just so she had something to talk about with the others. It could not get any worse…
About a month later, when Elia’s third child was born as dark as her but with purple eyes and a patch of silver hair that stood up against her olive head, Lyanna found out that the pillars of her world could and did break anew.