The Journal of Ashara Dayne- everything she didn’t say

As I have grown to appreciate, dawn has a way of bringing about second chances. The wedge that Rhagar has driven between Ned and I has not dissolved, and perhaps it never will, but it has proven insufficient in preventing us from finding a few quiet moments together. While worn down by the tragedies of the past months, he is still the same man I danced with at Harrenhall. The same man who looked at me and made me feel genuinely seen, which remains the most disarming thing about him. I am still painfully aware that nothing between us is possible. Knowing and accepting a thing, however, are not the same task, and I have been finding that gap considerably wider than I would like. 

The news that would close it came as such news does, when I was not prepared for it. I had known he would have to marry someone else, but that did not make it any less painful. 

I overheard him telling someone else of his betrothal to Lady Barbery Dustin. As if he heard the exact moment it landed, he turned to speak to me once his well-wishers had moved on. All I could manage was a strained smile, and averted eyes. I congratulated him and excused myself in the same breath. I know with certainty that if I had stayed a moment longer, I would say something I could not take back.

My plan to remain at the Dornish camp and stew on the matter while the rest of court enjoyed the melee was interrupted by Lady Melony Greyjoy. She was kind and well meaning, and gave me no reasonable means of escape. I made my excuses, took considerable time filling my glass with wine, and found her still waiting when I emerged. So I walked to the melee. 

Ned was there, with his newly betrothed. He would not be participating in any of the tourney events, and as I result, all I could do was watch him and Lady Dustin receive congratulations, smiling, and being happy in their news. All the while, Lady Greyjoy spoke to me at length of the virtues of her step-son, Aeron. I heard little of what she said, offered half-hearted responses, nursed my glass of wine, and let the weight in my chest settle where it intended to live.

Jon rescued me eventually, or rather I rescued myself using Jon as the instrument. He had taken a knock to his knee in the melee. Jon finished my glass of wine off for me, and I used that opportunity to leave. It was of no use however. I returned to camp to be waylaid by more Ladies and Lords, all with various proposals and offers. Lord Walder Frey offered up a son, Lady Alerie Hightower offered up Willas, and so on. I found myself bounced between many a Lord and Lady who would never be able to offer me what I truly desired. 

Ser Courtney Penrose approached me himself during this barrage. His nervousness was not unusual, many a young lord have behaved similarly and I have grown accustomed to it, and weary of what tends to follow. His words were kind though. Soft and earnest in a way that made them harder to dismiss. I knew from his first stumbling words what was to come of this conversation. He said he loved me, and of course he believes that he does. I have become well acquainted with men who are certain they are in love on the basis of my looks and a few witty remarks and laughs. I have grown tired of it in ways I do not always have the patience to be gracious about.

And yet, had I not pursued Jon Connington on much the same basis? A marriage between Dorne and the Stormlands may do some good for the aims of peace in the realm. Penrose is a Stormlander, and I found the logic of it not entirely without merit even if the feeling is not there. 

Then he asked if my heart lay with another, and my breath caught before I could stop it. I could see his hopes deflate as he noticed. It mattered not where my heart would be buried though. I reminded him that Dornish affections were not singular, and reassured him that where my heart lay mattered not, for it was not an option open to me.

Still, I could not find the strength to say yes yet, not while I was still grieving an impossible future. I told him I would consider it in council with Prince Doran as I owed him that as my Lord Paramount. 

Areon Greyjoy stopped me on my way to Jon’s tent where I hoped to find refuge. He stumbled though an offer, and nearly lost his constitution entirely. I thanked him with more grace than I felt and told him I would speak with Prince Doran. To my relief, I made it to Jon’s tent with no further ambush, which felt like a significant achievement.

Jon gave me refuge and gallows humor in equal measure, both of which I needed badly. We were interrupted three times by servants and ladies bidding I attend the women’s council. On the third interruption, I accepted the inevitable and went to face my lions den.

While I escaped being spoken to of further engagement options, I did find the only seat left was next to Lady Dustin. She seemed sweet enough, but I felt the hot grip of envy within me, tempered only by a deeper feeling of loss. When she shared the news of her and Ned’s engagement, I offered up congratulations that I hope sounded less hollow than they were. When the question of Neds intentions were raised and she could offer only insights into Roose Bolton’s thoughts, something reckless in me took over. I shared what I knew of Ned, with more familiarity than I would normally have shown. I felt her tense beside me. I am not sorry. A part of me wanted her to know that he would have chosen me if fate had allowed. I am not proud of the impulse, but I will not apologize for it either.

Later, after I had come to the conclusion with Prince Doran that Ser Penrose was the most suitable match of my many offers, I found a chance for another quiet moment with Ned.

I told him of my intention to accept Ser Penrose’s proposal, and watched my own regret from that morning reflected back at me. We moved onto  more wistful conversations. Of Harrenhall and dances and what could have been if fate had been kinder. I told him I thought he would have been happy at Starfall and he laughed softly and said he thought he might have been. A glimpse of the man from before all of this. It was enough. I think it was enough.

When I told Ser Penrose I would accept he seemed surprised, then pleased. He is clearly a romantic, and I found a smile for him and played the part of a girl in love while something in me quietly finished closing a door I had been foolish enough to leave open. He deserves better than a performance. I intend to give him better than that in time. But today, it was a performance and I am the only one who needs to know that.