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Post by Gandalf on Jul 14, 2020 12:03:43 GMT -5
They had left the wide and straight path of the Kingsroad behind them, having ridden for five days on dirt paths and abandoned forest trails towards the Dornish marches. The Capital was far behind them, and all the war that went with it. Dorne’s own banners had dispersed and left by this route only a week prior to return to guard the marches. Not that Arianne blamed them. Stannis had all but won, with the armies of her husband having been shattered in three days of battle. He still lay in slumber within the Red Keep, neither living nor dead. The Queen felt no small amount of guilt in having abandoned him, even though she loved him not. Aegon had been her dream of being a Queen, a drunken dream of power and revenge that had melted away like snow in spring. His child grew in her belly, a prince that was promised with no throne to sit on.
And it hurt. Their progress had slowed, with Lord Dayne and his knights having the good grace to subtly alter their pace so as not to humiliate her. That very morning she had thrown up in the bushes of some roadside, and they were forced to stop for a few hours that afternoon after one of the wheels on the bottom of her litter had given way. She felt filthy and unwashed, cared for in her undignified state by the quiet and dutiful Lady Jordayne, whom she had posed as during her escape. The child was not due, not yet, and she worried that the exertions of travel would prompt a miscarriage. Every morning the physician made her swallow some foul concoction of leaves and liquids, to strengthen her son. It was surely a son, or so the portents had foretold; she had paid good money for a foretelling from two soothsayers. They had ended up hanged by Poor Fellows before the week was out, their bodies hanging from the Gate of the Gods as the gnats flocked to steal what little food and money they had on their person.
Once more, she retched, and the ladies squabbled over her ceaselessly. Many of her own had been smuggled out with her, save for a few that had been brave enough to stay in the capital and preserve the illusion the Queen had not abandoned her people.
“We must stop. Tell Daemon.”
The Queen commanded. Her forehead was roasting to the touch, and her delicate hands had grown cold and damp. Lady Jordayne shouted for her husband and Ser Sand.
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jul 14, 2020 12:14:10 GMT -5
It had been a rather hard times since departing the capital. There was still a relatively unlawlessness in regions voided of the means to defend themselves. His knights were vigilant to pursers and possible bandits. If they could get the Red Mountains, they could get to friendly lands of either House Yronwood or House Fowler to the south. They stopped numerous times, for the sake of Arianne's condition. The morning she threw up, Edric knew they needed help. He sent several riders, lighter horsemen, ahead of them towards Yronwood's lands. If they could get aid to help them towards Dorne, things would be smoother.
His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his wife, calling for him and Ser Sand. Lord Dayne gallops from the front to the middle part of their entourage.
Lady Arianne?
Edric dismounts and quickly runs over. His wife looks at him.
She has a fever, husband. Her hands are growing cold... she needs proper shelter.
Lord Dayne looks up and around where they were.
I wonder if the ruins of Summerhall are nearby or some place for us to get her warm.
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Post by oznerol on Jul 14, 2020 17:31:02 GMT -5
The road had been bumpy, for sure, but they were progressing south, albeit very slowly. Who knew what was transpiring in the capital as they rode? Certainly, it didn't fare well for Aegon, false or authentic dragon he was going to be speared by a stag. Only a miracle could save the Targaryen now, that much he knew. Then, he heard Arianne's summons and he arrived in the earnest, again wearing the splendid white garments of his station.
"My Queen, what's thy bidding?"
He looked at Dayne, who seemingly had suggested taking shelter in Summerhall.
"That's a ruin of grief, seven times cursed, powerful witchery took place within its ruined walls"
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Post by Gandalf on Jul 14, 2020 17:59:19 GMT -5
”We must stop... it’s so hot, where are we?”
Beads of sweat were forming on Arriane’s forehead, and her hairline was damp from the heat. She looked pale and wan, eyes darting around like a frightened animal. A lady in waiting was fanning her furiously, but it was making little difference.
”She needs water. The baby is kicking, it will soon be time.”
Nymeria hissed, under her breath and out of the Queen’s hearing. Tyene had somehow snuck her way into the party, still in her septa’s garb, the white robes making her look half an angel. She had a hand on Arianne’s stomach, the other gripping the Queen’s own.
”We should find shelter, at least. Get her somewhere warm.”
She looked at the others, a hint of worry in her widened eyes.
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jul 14, 2020 19:46:21 GMT -5
Lord Dayne moves away and waves his mounted knights over.
You lot.
He points to ten riders.
Ride and find some sort of shelter. Somewhere we can find warmth for the Queen. Now!
Edric orders as the knights snap their reins and fly off down the road, splitting off into groups of five. He then begins searching among his knights for fresh water. One had a waterskin that was still relatively full. Taking it off the knight, he returns, handing it to his wife so she could give it to Arianne.
One pair of riders returns rather quickly. It seemed there was an abandoned farmstead, mostly intact, just off the road to the south. With word of this, Edric comes over to Daemon.
The only shelter found is a farm with an intact barn. It's the best we can find besides a castle. Beyond that, there are Stormlord castles, but I doubt we would have a friendly welcome in these lands. I suggest we take her to intact shelter to the south. It's better than nothing.
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Post by Gandalf on Jul 16, 2020 19:30:03 GMT -5
They lay her down amongst the hay, Tyene and Nymeria making a makeshift bed for their cousin. It was hardly fitting for a knight's wife, let alone a Princess of Dorne and Queen on the Iron Throne, but in lack of all else it would suffice. A cold cloth was brought and lain gently on Arianne's glistening forehead, whilst the ladies-in-waiting swarmed around her like flies to honey. Her belly looked more pronounced than ever, the weeks of war having stretched out into months. Ironic that Aegon's reign would likely end in the time it took for his bride to bring an heir into the world.
Night came, and the Queen grew cold. They made a blanket of Daemon's cloak, and for a few hours she would restlessly sleep. In the darkness, she saw faces... Myrcella and Oakheart, Darkstar and her husband. Quentyn, alone, far away, as the sun set in the east behind his shadow. Her uncle, too, and the formless face of her long dead aunt. Dreams gave way to violent nightmare, and the Queen screamed in phantom pain.
"The waters..."
Tyene looked alert despite the late hour. Nymeria sat up, rubbing her heavy-lidded eyes.
"Wake the healer, if you can find him."
A lady scurried off. The others all woke, or had only been feigning sleep. They were prepared for the woman's battlefield, lending some comfort to their Princess in her hours of need. While the men slept, the Queen laboured through the night. But a nameless prince was born with the rising of the sun, a wispy tuft of blackened hair atop his tiny head.
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Post by Magnate Lucius on Jul 16, 2020 19:42:41 GMT -5
The night was long and quiet. Even though it was hardly suitable, it was the best shelter to be found. Dayne's knights took shifts in patrolling and keeping watch as the day drew on and the moon rose over the Stormlands. Edric awoke slightly when a lady began to go around, trying to find the healer. His wife, Myria, having only just fallen asleep, awoke and went to the Princess' aid as the labor began. The struggles caused some to awaken and rise, unable to rest knowing that the Lady Martell was going through such hard times.
Yet, when the sun rose, Edric turned his head at the sound of a child crying. The others, both knight and servant, reacted at the new sound. Lord Dayne rushed over to where Lady Martell was hidden, his wife coming out, her hands bloodied. She washed them with liquid from a waterskin before a knight offered his cloak to dry her hands.
Myria?
Edric inquires as she turns and smiles.
A healthy boy, Edric. A son of the Sun and the Dragon.
The Lord Dayne looks at where the sound of a child were heard. He exhales with relief.
Praise be the Seven.
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Post by oznerol on Jul 19, 2020 2:49:35 GMT -5
Daemon didn't know exactly what had to be done, the situation was beyond him, but he promptly unfastened his cloak and used to it accommodate Arianne with it. He could hardly sleep that night, either watchful of the queen's evolution standing guard or too nervous to do as much. But, then the waters broke and started what would be the least ceremonial of all the heirs of Dorne's birth. When dawn came a second sun was delivered, a boy with black hair and the silken skin of the Martells, no trace of the dragon blood was to be seen from head to toe, fitting, for he was no Targaryen, he was a son of Sunspear and he would rule the Princedom after his mother.
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