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Naming Days

Rhae

"Did she see the child?"

This was the question Mariah had dreaded, expected, hoped she would not hear. Trying to think of an answer ever since the rhythm of the movements had changed and it had become clear that even the agony of pushing would not bring Dyanna out of the dark world of pain and delirium that the disease had hurled her in weeks ago and the labour had transformed into full oblivion . A few months ago, after it had become clear that the disease was back, Dyanna had refused the treatment that had saved her the first time because she had thought – no, she had known! – that cutting the vileness out of her already mutilated breast would cause her body such a shock that it would send her unborn child out into the world, all too soon.

Should she lie? She knew what her son needed to hear. A lie would be preferable, kinder… but Maekar had never thrived on false kindness. "No," Mariah replied. "She didn't. When she started pushing, she had already swooned with pain and exhaustion. She didn't wake up for a moment."

Maekar slowly raised a hand to his face and stared at it as if he had never seen it. Somehow, Mariah knew that he had not seen the newborn that the midwife had carried straight past him either.

The remainder of the day went on in a flurry of activity and fear, through which Dyanna remained unconscious. The afterbirth was taken out of the birthing chamber, burned, and buried, a process in which one of the servant maids doing it almost swooned, overwhelmed by the smell of rot, and Mariah summoned the maesters, the head midwife, and the Volantine woman who had cut the lump out of Dyanna's breast the first time round to listen what they had to say about the horror that had finally revealed its face in the birthing chamber after tormenting them for so long.

"The corroding disease often strikes more than one place," the maester said. "With Her Grace, it returned to her breast and it was evident but we had no way of knowing that it had arisen in her womb as well. The rotting afterbirth and cord were the first symptoms…"

He kept talking but Mariah no longer listened to him; Maekar, as pale as the Stranger, did not hear.

"Is the babe healthy?" Mariah asked but Maekar did not even look interested in this answer.

"What are you going to name her?" she asked after receiving their tentative reply that yes, the babe seemed to be unaffected.

Maekar looked at her as if he could not make sense of the words, and she realized that he did not care. Neither for the name nor for the babe.

"Monster," Aerion offered lightly but the expression he got when he spoke about his new sister was anything but. It was dark and full of hatred.

"Stop talking nonsense!" Daeron said angrily. "Just wait till Mother hears you…"

Aerion huffed. "Still with your head in the cloud of your wishes, aren't you? Mother won't hear me. She won't hear anything because she's going to die, die, die! Die because of this thing who'll likely turn out ill or feeble-minded – did you hear what they call her? Child of the Stranger! Another fitting name of you ask me!"

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!"

Both boys were shouting, ready to come at each other. Their uncle Ultor Dayne stepped in between them before they could fly at each other but Maekar did not move. In fact, Mariah had the feeling that given the choice, he'd easily accept one of the two names Aerion had yelled out in his anger. For herself, she wanted to slap Aerion because he had given voice to her darkest hidden fears. The child was just a few hours old but the wetnurse was already scared to touch her. And even if she turned out to be healthy, what kind of life would she have? Her mother would die soon and her father did not care about her at all. The darkness descending in a chamber where the servants dared not walk in to light the lamps seemed to be born out of the darkness rising in Mariah's own soul, the darkness that seemed to have a firm grasp over her son and grandsons already.

"Would you mind it if I stay?" Maekar asked. "Just for a little," he added as if she needed to be convinced.

"I'd love it if you do," Mariah replied softly. Five days after the funeral, he looked as if he had not slept for a moment. Rumours had it that he'd soon put a horse to death with the sheer ferocity and lengths of his rides. Indeed, she had not caught more than a few glimpses of him, a few instances of passing each other despite her increasingly desperate attempts to see him.

Out of sheer habit or again, the unwillingness to show his suffering, he chose a seat where his face remained in shadow. But he had come, as short as his staying would be. Some instinct warned her against offering foods or drinks, although she could see that he needed both desperately.

"How have you been?" he asked after a while.

"Fine," she replied cautiously.

"How have the children been?"

"Why don't you go and see for yourself?"

He shook his head. "They'd better not see me like this. It's hard enough for them as it is."

As painful as it was, Mariah knew he was right.

"Rhae is thriving," she said pointedly but when he looked at her, there was no hint of interest to hear it.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said indifferently and then, the meaning of her words slowly got to him. "Rhae? Is this what you named her?"

"Yes," the Queen replied, lifting her chin in defiance to everyone daring to wonder why she had chosen a diminutive, a sweet shortened name for her granddaughter. It was her defiance to nature, to those who whispered that the little girl would grow up unhealthy and loveless, to those who did call her Child of the Stranger. Rhae would grow up pretty, healthy, smart, evoking tenderness in everyone she met.

Not in her father, though. Not now. Maekar nodded, appreciating that she had relieved him of this duty, and looked at the nothingness again. Mariah had little doubt that came the morn, he would have forgotten what his daughter had been named.

The End