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Arthur wrapped the soft cloth around the tiny blob of humanity with tremendous care. It did not matter, per se, how rough one might be, but he simply didn’t have the heart to jostle to poor creature after its prolonged suffering, short though it might have seemed in the eyes of many.
He almost wished his home was within reach to serve as resting place, but the nameless little corner he and Oswell had found would have to serve.
Whent reached out. He hesitated just a moment before handing the precious remnants over. Gently, the child was lowered into the awaiting earth.
A small pile of rocks marked the spot after.
<*>
“Rhaegar,” the faint voice rose from the mound of pillows and embroidered silks. It then dipped to an inaudible volume before yet another word broke into clarity. “Name.” Arthur winced from the door way at the distant smile upon the face of his charge. “Aemon...nice.”
“She would not survive the journey,” Oswell argued from the girl’s bedside.
“She shan’t survive staying either.” He argued back, thinking of the spirited girl who’d laughed as she charmed a proper charger into following her, assuredly not its master, out of the stables.
“Father?” Lyanna’s voice quivered. Another small piece of the one-sided conversation was quick to follow. “Wonderful?”
At least she was in a pleasant spot, poor Lyanna Stark.
<*>
“He looked a lot like his mother, but those eyes,” Arthur paused, calling to mind the cloudy gaze, somewhere between grey and deep purple, “they would have been your eyes before long.” Rhaegar was gazing out the lancet, seemingly unmindful. “I am so sorry.” Not having any children of his own, Arthur did not pretend he understood the pain; he offered no gauge of the grief his friend must be enduring.
The Crown Prince turned to face him. He had aged a decade within the span of the report to look upon his face. Arthur held that hard gaze against his own. “Some things even your might sword cannot vanquish,” the King’s son offered.
<*>
“Of course she must recover,” Elia allowed, benevolently placing a hand upon the slumbering girl’s head. Rhaenys did not stir. “But we can hardly guess at her state of mind when she does, now can we? It would do more harm to take her to King’s Landing where His Majesty might find reason to harass her or your lady mother to send her into decline. Arthur, surely you will counsel His Grace to reconsider?”
He might have declined intervening, he supposed, but for some odd reason, did not. “If Your Grace thinks it best to take the lady along, by all means, do.”
He recognised it after.
Pity.
<*>
He did not suppose he was meant to hear the heart-wrenching sobs coming from within the chamber. Arthur recalled an equal parts indignant and frightened Jaime Lannister protesting the tears of a woman far worthier of suffering.
He would not have suspected poison. And why should he? As a man he knew little enough of the birthing chamber. It seemed Lyanna would never give Rhaegar the Visenya he so dearly desired. At least some heads would rest easier with the knowledge.
Another recognisable sound came, chilling the blood in his veins. He chided himself for a fool. A piece of furniture falling over did not make son like father.
<*>
To think the gods had reserved such a mundane end for such a monstrous soul was mystifying. Arthur stared at the corpse lying unmoving upon its slab of stone. Sleep had taken the King and simply neglected to return him, leaving behind a triumphant son, an expecting wife and a most pleased good-daughter. At the very least the war might have claimed him. Sighing into the emptiness of the great chamber, he leaned against his sword, taking advantage of the privacy afforded by the circumstances. The Silent Sisters would be by once more before the sun set and he would be bound to stand as stiff as a statue for their benefit.
<*>
Arthur watched Lyanna’s face with interest. She held the tiny child, her face a study in confusion. “I do not understand.” Though her voice was stronger, her body had remained frail, confining her to her bedchamber for the most part. No longer the exuberant creature from before, her faded glory arrayed like a mantle upon her shoulder, she still held a certain sort of magnetism.
Rhaegar leaned over both females, his stern expression not letting up a bit. “This is our Visenya, yours and mine.”
Lyanna’s lips flattened for the briefest of moments. “Very well, Your Majesty.”
After all, Rhaella could certainly not care for her child from beyond the grave.
<*>
“She looks a lot like her father.” Ned Stark was not a threat. He peered down at the babe in the cradle through his one good eye. Arthur relaxed against the wall, watching brother and sister interact. Lyanna’s gaze sparked with something. Her smile seemed somewhat forced.
“She has nothing of me, does she?” Were he not present, she might have even made a clean breast of it to the head of HojjHouse Stark. “But she is very obviously her father’s blood.”
“My son looks like his mother.” His sister’s smile melted into a truer variant and her head cocked to the side. “I shall bring him when next I visit you.”
<*>
Rhaenys was chasing Aegon around, having forgotten about her blasted black cat for the time being. Arthur nursed the long gash running down the inside of his palm. He held back the oath threatening to break through as blood surfaced once more. He turned his gaze from the beast sleeping in a sunny spot to Lady Lyanna and her daughter.
Visenya was babbling excitedly, holding onto the little flower-crown her mother had bestowed upon her. The silver streams running down her back shone brightly in the light. She took no notice of her mother’s grief. The old poison had mingled with the new, killing off yet another son or daughter the Northerner lady would never get to hold.
<*>
“Take good care of them,” Rhaegar spoke, placing a hand upon Jaime Lannister’s shoulder. “They are in your hands now.” The young Kingsguard nodded sternly. There were more words Arthur did not listen to. He had heard many such speeches in his lifetime. Instead, he attempted to decipher what lay beneath the mask Lady Lyanna wore.
Daughter held in her arms, she hid the lower half of her face in the girl’s bright hair. Arthur was willing to bet she hid a smile.
Rhaegar cut into his line of sight. “Lyanna, be safe and return to me soon.”
“Of course, Your Majesty. My family has missed me and I them, but I will do my best.”