Light the Way

CHAPTER 17. tears of the moon

RHONDA

Lady Rhonda had always prided herself on being pragmatic. The world was hard, and she had long since learned that to survive it, one must be harder still. She had not wept when she left her family behind in Goldengrove to marry Baelor, nor had she let her emotions cloud her judgement when managing their household, or their children, for that matter. It was with the same old precision that she had handled the crisis over the years. She had never been a sentimental woman - sentiment, she knew, was a luxury for people who didn't have responsibilities as heavy as hers.

The morning sun streamed through the wide windows of the solar as she stood beside Baelor, her fingers drumming on the armrest of her chair. Her husband was seated at his desk, the letter clutched in his hand, his brow furrowed deeply. Rhonda's eyes were sharp, fixed on him as she waited for his response. She already knew what it said - she always knew what was coming before anyone else did. That was her talent, her curse, perhaps, but she had learnt to use it to her advantage.

Baelor looked up, his expression grave. "She's pregnant," he said, his voice soft, almost disbelieving.

Rhonda sighed, her lips pressed into a thin line. "Of course she is," she replied, her voice brisk, devoid of surprise. "We both knew this was a possibility."

Baelor, dear Baelor, always took news like this as if it were a personal slight. His hand tightened around the letter, crumpling the edges. He looked down at the parchment again, as if reading it a second time might change the words. "This complicates things," he murmured.

Rhonda clicked her tongue against her teeth. "Complicates things?" she repeated, her tone dry. "This is a disaster, Baelor. A child - Robb Stark's child, no less. And you know what that means."

Baelor's shoulders sagged. He looked tired, and in that moment, older than his years. "It means every Lannister from Casterly Rock to King's Landing will be after her."

"Not just the Lannisters," Rhonda corrected. "The Freys, the Boltons... anyone who benefited from the Red Wedding. If they catch even a whisper that Alina carries Stark blood, let alone a potential heir to the North, they'll come for her. And they won't stop until she and the babe are dead."

The room fell into a heavy silence, and Rhonda let it hang there, twisting the knife. She was not a cruel woman by nature, but she believed in facing reality head-on. Sentiment, she reminded herself, had no place in decisions like this. Alina had been a fool - a young fool, Rhonda corrected herself - falling for that wolf pup in the North. She had warned her daughter about the dangers of marrying into a war, into rebellion, but Alina had not listened.

"She's not safe here," Baelor said at last, rubbing a hand over his face. His tone was resigned, but his eyes were clouded with uncertainty.

Rhonda turned to face him fully, planting her hands on the back of his chair. "She's never been safe, Baelor. We should have never let her marry him in the first place. You and your dreams of uniting Oldtown with the Starks," she said, the sharpness of her words cutting through the air. "I warned you this would happen."

Baelor looked up at her, his face pale. "You think I don't know that?" His voice was heavy with frustration. "I tried to save her from herself. But what could we do? You know how stubborn she is."

Rhonda inhaled deeply, her nostrils flaring ever so slightly. "Stubbornness runs in our blood," she said coldly, "but I would not have risked my life or the lives of my children for love. Not for something as fleeting as that."

She folded her arms across her chest, her mind already turning to solutions. They had made mistakes - she had made mistakes - but now was not the time for regret. Now was the time for action. "We need to move quickly. Sending her to Lys was the right decision," she said, her tone firm. "She'll be hidden there, far away from the Lannisters' reach. And Miya and your sister will know how to keep her safe."