Redemption

Kingswood

They had travelled not too far from where the Northern Party lay camp, Brandon coming from his tent in the early morning and pulling Arianne from her imprisonment. He could not believe Rhaegar had agreed to his terms and acted as if here was an excited child on his name day.

Arianne was helped onto his horse, with Brandon jumping up and sitting behind her. He was much gentler than Roose – perhaps he was not becoming as violent as he let on. Before they left, she noticed men reading their swords and bodies for battle. Armour being tightened, chainmail held in the hands of squires, swords far too big for some to be carrying being seethed into their sides.

Now they waited by a flowing river that led from the Kingsroad, all the way down into the nearby villages.

Arianne felt herself grow nervous with anticipation.

What was taking Rhaegar so long?

If they had agreed to meet alone, then he would honour his words. He was never one to lie. But those around him might have suggested it. No, he wouldn't do that. Not Rhaegar.

She moved around the horses saddle uncomfortably, with her hands tied together, she couldn't move that much without being in even more discomfort.

Brandon waited patiently. His eyes darting from here to there under his wolf shaped helm as he awaited Rhaegar's arrival. He wore his armour of silver, adorned with the sigil of his house, with no fancy work on them.

The horse under them neighed, noticing another horse approaching them.

Rhaegar.

He his black armour with ruby dragons at its middle and a dark helm that had wings, like that of a baby dragon. As he neared them, he lifted his helm from his head. His hair was a dark silver as he had not washed it in many days, his skin was lightly tan, but his beauty never left him.

Arianne wanted to scream out to him, yell at him. She wanted to jump from Brandon's arms and run to him. But she could not.

Brandon tightened his grip around her waist, removing his own helm as Rhaegar neared them and came to a stop. "You came." Brandon called out, almost shocked that the dragon King was in front of him.

Rhaegar ignored Brandon's words, smiling softly to Arianne. "Has he hurt you?" He asked her, wanting so very much to jump from his horse, pull her down, and take her back home.

His wife shook her head. She looked tired but did not have any visible signs of abuse on her. Tell Rhaegar to refuse combat. Lyanna's words rung in her ears. "They are getting ready for battle!" Arianne called out to him. There would be time for professions of love later, when this was all over. "Refuse his call for combat." Brandon covered her mouth; he should've gagged her before they came.

Rhaegar raised a brow at Brandon, his horse sensing the tension that its rider held and moving back a little. "My wife is not a common woman Lord Stark. That is your Queen you gag." He said, angered by the man's movements.

"King Brandon Stark," Brandon corrected him. "Are we to fight, or are we to keep talking like a pair of fishers?"

Arianne shook her head at Rhaegar, Brandon's hand still on her mouth. "No!" Her words came out muffled.

"I will come back for you," Rhaegar nodded to Arianne, "today."

Brandon scoffed, riding closer to Rhaegar to give him a better look at Arianne. They stood close to each other atop their horses, with Rhaegar's eyes and delicate features reassuring Arianne. She trusted him, she trusted him enough. He let Brandon take a few turns around him, it was all for show, he did not mind it – his wife would be back in his hands before too long.

"Then I will see you in battle," Brandon said, sensing Rhaegar would not let up. He watched as their figures retreated back into the woods and waited for a while. He knew Arianne enough to heed her words, and so he quickly returned back to his camp.

When they returned to the campsite, Arianne felt a cramp in her stomach as she was set down from the horse. She considered telling Brandon, but his words of killing every single Targaryen had scared her, so she huffed and puffed from inside her cage uncomfortably. The party cleared out, leaving her alone in the campsite with all but one guard. Her hands still bound, and now her back throbbing with pain.

She knew those pains all too well to ignore them, so Arianne tried to untie herself by her teeth. But it was no use. The guard was no help either, she knew he'd either run to inform Brandon or try and kill the newborn himself. She stopped her movements when she heard the hooves of a horse coming towards the campsite. The chants had singing of the soldiers had already left ear shot, so who was it?

"Be gone," it was Ned. Arianne felt her eyes close in thanks, she could plead to him for help. Ned would see reason, as he always saw reason. The guard nodded and left them, and Ned came down from his horse.

"Ned," Arianne started, her words coming out in a pained moan. "My babe," she repeated those words until Ned had cut her from her binds and helped her from the cage.

"Go west," he said, handing her a leather pouch and a dagger. "As far west as west can go. Do you hear me?" Ned pulled her close, placing a soft kiss on her forehead. He had contemplated giving her a horse, but that would just mean trouble for her – and his absence in battle would not go missed for long.

"Is he still alive?" Arianne asked him before they parted. "Is Rhaegar still alive?"

He remembered watching Rhaegar in battle, "yes. Now go!"

She didn't need to be told twice. Arianne gathered her skirts and ran in the direction Ned had pointed her towards. Away from the wretched campsite she'd been held prisoner, away from the cries of battle – and eventually so far into the woods that all that could be heard was the chirping of birds and her own pained cries. So, she sat down by a tree and lifted her dress to her knees.

Breathe in, push, breathe out – she remembered the words of the woman who had helped her to deliver Visenya and Valerion. Though Baelor seemed much more interested in coming to the world quicker, as she felt his head tear her.

She cried out once more, mother, maiden, bring me this child in safety, Arianne placed her hands by Baelor's head, awaiting the babe's arrival. She did not want him to fall first onto the leafy ground beneath her. A few pushes later, he had arrived. Baelor. It was a boy, just as Maester Pycelle and Rhaegar had predicated. She took the dagger from beside her and cut the crying babes cord, washing his eyes out with a little water from the pouch Ned had given her. She couldn't even focus on her second birth, but rather, as if she had done it all her life, pulled the cord from inside her and felt a rush of blood and a sack leave her body.

Arianne sighed in joy and calm, hugging Baelor tightly to her chest. "Hello Warrior Prince," she smiled, feeling hot tears stream down her face. Baelor wailed back at her, his cries were loud and low-pitched. Now that she had gotten a better look at him, she noticed the babe's hair and dark eyes. He was her, only he had one strand of black hair, but his eyes were his mothers. The exact copy of her nose, the dimple chin, to add to his beauty he had two dimples, one for each cheek. Arianne smiled once more, feeding him his first feed to quieten him down. She knew he must have been cold, so she cut a sleeve from her arm and placed him inside. He fit snugly, moving around in the material as if it were made for him.

Baelor, born in battle.

"How many stories and songs will papa write about you, hmm?" She whispered, Baelor squirmed in response. He already hated songs just as his mother had.

...