Lyanna stood with her cloak pulled tight and watched Dragonstone empty itself.
Yesterday the sea had been beautiful and placid, but today it was stirring. The water inside Dragonstone's harbor slapped at the piers, and beyond the mountain of black rock clouds were stirring over the narrow sea. Even Winter seemed to feel it, the mare stomping and tossing her head in the dockyard.
Queen Rhaella's orders moved through the harbor in the clipped, practiced rhythm of men who understood ships and knew the difference between panic and haste. Ships too large for the cove were being sent out. Smaller craft were hauled farther in beneath the lee of the rock. Sailors shouted, ropes hissed through wet hands, and gulls wheeled overhead like scraps of torn cloth.
The protected nook below the castle walls could not hold everything. Most of the fleet had to go.
Monford Velaryon stood on the gangplank of his galley with the wind snapping his sea-green cloak behind him. He still looked painfully young to be leading a navy of any kind, but he had been growing close with young Viserys in the short time since their arrival.
Rhaella faced him at the waterline, black skirts whipping around her ankles, one hand pressed unconsciously to the great curve of her belly. The pregnancy was heavier now, in its last month. Lyanna knew the Queen did not have much longer to live.
"My house remains yours," Monford said, voice stronger than it had any right to be. "Velaryon ships, Velaryon men. Whenever House Targaryen has need, they need only call."
Rhaella inclined her head. "You do your father honor."
The boy's jaw tightened at that, and for a heartbeat his age showed plain as daylight. Then he mastered himself again and went down the gangplank with the old sailors closing around him like a wall of salt and scars.
Aurane Waters, all sharp eyes and restless limbs, looked back once before boarding. He gave Rhaella a solemn little bow that was half child, half courtier, and then vanished into the belly of the ship.
The next farewell was harder.
Serin of the Greenblood stood at the rail of the vessel Rhaella had granted him, one hand on the wet wood as if measuring it. It was a lean warship, narrow enough to move fast, but broad enough to carry two princesses safely south in relative comfort.
Elia had wrapped herself in several layers of dark wool to block the wind. She looked stronger than when they had first reached Dragonstone, but not by much. Rhaenys stood close at her side with Balerion in her arms, the black kitten giving everyone around a fierce glare.
Lyanna knelt so she was level with the girl. "You take good care of that cat," she said, touching one finger lightly to Balerion's head.
Rhaenys nodded solemnly. "I will."
"And your mother."
Another nod, more serious still. Then the child's face crumpled in that brave way children had when they were trying not to cry. "Will you come visit someday?"
The question struck deeper than Lyanna expected. She thought of Dorne, of seas and deserts and all the years that might lie between this dock and the next time they met. Then she thought of promises made to children and how badly the world liked to break them.
"I will," Lyanna said anyway.
Rhaenys searched her face, as if measuring the strength of the vow, then stepped forward and threw one arm around her neck. Lyanna hugged her carefully, feeling the small ribs beneath the layers, the kitten squirming indignantly between them.
When she stood again, Elia was watching her with that same thoughtful, tired gaze she had worn since the hall. "You have given us more than I can repay," Elia said quietly.
Lyanna shook her head. "Just keep breathing."
A faint smile touched Elia's mouth. "I will try."
The gangplank went up. Sailors moved. Lines were cast off. Serin lifted two fingers in a last salute, then turned his attention to the sea with the expression of a man arguing with an old rival. Lyanna watched until the ship had cleared the harbor mouth and turned south beneath a sky that stirred with trouble.
When she looked back, Rhaella had drawn Ser Willem Darry aside. The old knight stood stiff in his red and black plate, broad and battered and still somehow dependable-looking despite the chaos of the last weeks. Viserys hovered close to him, wrapped in a massive bear pelt, his face pinched with confusion and offense. Lyanna knew he was still upset about Monford's leaving.
Lyanna would have turned away, but Rhaella beckoned her over. She obeyed at once.
The queen did not waste words. She had the look of a woman who had counted her time and found it shorter than she liked. "In the event that I die bringing this child forth," Rhaella said, as plainly as if discussing household accounts, "my daughter is to be placed in Lady Lyanna Stark's care."
Lyanna stared. She could think of nothing to say, frozen in shock as she was.
Ser Willem said it for her. "Your Grace," he began carefully, "a child of House Targaryen in the hands of a rebel house—"
"A child in the hands of a mother," Rhaella interrupted. "That is what she would need."
Darry's mouth worked. "There are still loyal houses in Westeros. Perhaps Lady Celtigar could raise her, or someone in Dorne."
"House Targaryen is not entirely without friends," Rhaella agreed. "But I trust no one else to put her welfare first. Lady Lyanna has made plain how important she thinks this child will be. And Robert Baratheon may think twice before sending knives near his Stark maid."
Dacey nodded in agreement with the Queen, to Lyanna's distress. "Lyanna would guard her fiercely."
Even Dijkstra joined in from his perch, cawing, "Safe! Safe!"
That nearly undid Lyanna altogether.
Rhaella turned her eyes to Lyanna, and for the first time since their meeting there was something like warmth in them. Tired warmth, but real.
"I have seen you with Rhaenys," the Queen said. "I know what I am asking."
Viserys grabbed his mother's skirt in distress. "And me? I don't want to leave you Muna!"
Rhaella reached for him and smoothed windblown silver hair back from his brow. "You will go with Ser Willem," she said. "Across the Narrow Sea, if need be."
The seven nameday child tried to put on a brave face. "Because I am King now."
"Yes," Rhaella said. "You are the rightful King. As long as you live, the Usurper's throne will never be secure." Her hand lingered at his cheek. "And because Ser Willem is a good man. He will teach you what kingship ought to be, if the gods are kind."
Darry lowered his head. "I will do my best, Your Grace."
"See that you do," she said, softer. "Teach him duty without cruelty. Strength without tyranny. Mercy, if he can bear it."
Viserys looked between them, trying very hard not to look frightened. That effort made Lyanna ache for him a little.
Then Rhaella looked back to Lyanna. "You are shocked."
"Yes," Lyanna admitted. "I never thought I would have children. You are more brave then I could ever be." An unwelcome image of herself in a pool of blood rose up in her mind.
Rhaella's own mouth softened, though the weariness beneath it remained. "You will do well," she said. "I know it because I watched you with another woman's child when no one commanded you to care."
Lyanna glanced out at the sea, where Elia's ship had become only another shape among many. She had never thought herself suited to caring for anything except perhaps a horse through bad country. Yet she was being trusted with a Princess, and Lyanna didn't hate the idea.
Queen Rhaella stood beside her in silence, staring out over the water as the last of the royal navy disappeared from view.