[center][color=plum][h3]Dawn Before The Storm[/h3][/color][/center]
[center][color=plum]2 Weeks Before the Tourney
At Summerhall - Dyanna[/color][/center]

The sun beat down, tempered just barely by a cool breeze. It was blessedly quiet, a few moments of peace before the entire realm would descend on Summerhall; not unlike locusts to a field of wheat. A tourney was a fine thing, yet it would bring with it the crushing reality of the chaotic world outside their walls. She’d need to see fit to act as was only expected of a Targaryen’s wife. There would be no escaping having to sit with the other ladies of the realm, listen to their woes, sidestep the favors that would be sought. At least she would keep the tradition of competing in the archery contest. There had been no denying her, and Maekar’s support had been enough to quickly dissuade their advisers from pushing otherwise. 

Dyanna tried to not take for granted the years of happiness she had been given at Summerhall. They had built this place to be their own. They had crafted pieces of Dorne throughout the Stormlands castle. Pools and heady gardens, even a vineyard grown from cuttings from House Dayne. It was not producing yet, but seemed primed to within a few more years. And now they would open it to the realm. Yet something seemed different, a vague and amorphous dark cloud that hung over their preparations. In the weeks leading up to their tourney, news had filtered in through missives and hushed tones. There was an unease, discontent even. Her own family had sent notice that only her father, Eldon, and Arron would be in attendance. Her eldest brother and heir to the Starfall would stay home, undoubtedly sulking. 

And so the Lady of Summerhall escaped from the palace’s halls and fled to fields to center herself. Without thinking, she guided herself to her secret sanctuary on the outskirts where open fields would give way to ancient groves. There was a giant tree with a large hollow, large enough for even a grown man to stand in. Dyanna crawled in, spreading her skirts beneath her and  leaned back, her roughly plaited hair further mussed by the roughness of the tree. She just needed some time to think, and closed her lavender eyes in contemplation. She had wanted nothing more than to seek out her husband, yet with so much left to accomplish, she knew that his mind would be elsewhere. Better to be alone with her thoughts than to be just another item requiring his attention. Sharing, at least as far as Maekar was concerned, was not her strong suit, she thought with a smirk. 

Besides, she did not know for certain that she had news to share with him. She would not know, did not want to know, until the tourney had ended. Sweet precocious Daeron, and bright little Aerion, sweet summer children both; lost in thought of her children, her hands wandered over her torso, resting atop her stomach, seeking the signs she had felt the other day. Dyanna’s mind wandered, and in the utter quiet, she drifted off to wild dreams. 

“By the Seven, Dyanna, wake up!” 

A gruff voice stirred her, she slowly blinked open to afternoon sun cast around the figure that now blocked the entrance to her cove. She knew that voice all too well. “Ser Ryon?” She was just half-awake, startled that she had ever been asleep. “Something wrong?” Her senses returned to her, Dyanna rose and dramatically stretched with a long yawn. She returned her poor cousin’s worried gaze with innocent, inquisitive eyes. 

“My lady…you…” Ser Ryon sighed, shaking his head he turned sideways to allow her to pass him back into the field. “How many times have I asked that you not wander off alone like this?” He put up a hand as if to stop an argument before it could form on Dyanna’s pressed lips. “Your dagger does not count as a companion, not that it does you much good when you slumber so heavily.” He passed a rough hand over his face, as if to scrub away the fear that had enveloped him. “Perhaps you should aim to actually get rest at night - instead of whatever it is that keeps you up?” His chastising tone cracked, just for a moment. 

Dyanna stood with her hands pressed to her hips, a look of feigned shock plastered on. “Ser Ryon, I think you forget yourself!” She hung her head as a throaty chuckle bubbled over. “But as is often the case, you are not wrong - at least about my sleeping habits. Do the servants still whisper or has it at last become old gossip?” She slid her arm through her knight’s gesturing forward with her free hand. The last bit of sleep dispelled, and with it gone, the worry and anxiety that she had fled began to creep back in. Still, Ryon provided a welcome distraction and she would prod for the gossip that her ladies refused to share with her anymore. 

“They always seem to have some new tidbit, my lady, but it is good for their morale I think, to have something so scintillating to discuss. I’m afraid, though, that it leaves them with conflicting views on their Prince.” Ser Ryon patted her hand, leading them both back to his horse and hers - Moonlight. “Come, we must get back to the castle, your presence is needed.”

Dyanna laughed again, eyes crinkling in delight. “Oh, Seven knows that it bothers my Prince, but I think that is just an act to maintain his reputation.” She patted the silver beast beneath her, earning her a soft neigh. Moonlight had been another gift from her husband, bred from a line of royal Dornish sandsteeds and the Targaryen’s own equine stock. She was not so fast as the horses Dyanna had always favored, but she was a hardy - and stubborn - beast. A kindred soul in some ways. 

She glanced at her cousin atop his horse as they made a slow walk towards the castle path. Ser Ryon had played many roles in her life, a father in her youth, but now that she was wed and a mother he had become her protector, a confidant - even a friend. Truthfully, she did not know what she would do without him. She missed him dearly whenever he was forced to return to Starfall. And it seemed so did her husband, the two had formed a rather unexpected friendship as far as Dyanna was concerned. Ryon had been protective at first, but perhaps that is what allowed the men to bond. Summerhall had also offered new conquests for her cousin. Though he was a soft spoken man, reclusive at times, he did love freely. 

“And how about you, it’s been some time since your last lover departed. He wed, did he not? If you’ve recovered from this  heartache, perhaps this celebration will bring you fresh love…or maybe you have grown too old for such trifles?” She goaded him but gave him no opportunity to respond as she urged her horse to a cantor and then a gallup - an unfair start to an unannounced race back to Summerhall. For a short time longer, she was free of duty, and free to have the wind whip at her face with joyful abandon. 

[hider=TL;DR]
While finishing up preparations for the tourney, Dyanna runs away for some peace of mind and quiet. She thinks she's pregnant with baby dragon #3. 
Her cousin - Ryon, the Dayne Sword of the Morning, finds her and chastises her for just wondering off alone and then falling asleep. 
They poke fun at each other and head back to Summerhall.
[/hider]