70: The Eve of Battle [Selene]

                                    

                                          
"A Raven from the maester of Bear Island," Davos alerted me as my bannermen were preparing to parlay with Ramsay Bolton, "Myrcella and Trystane arrived with Selyse and Shireen, and the children. They meant to write to you sooner but Myrcella began to give birth within hours of her arrival."
Arianne, who was walking besides me, and I froze when he said that. With much hesitation while remembering my own traumatic labor, I asked "Is she alright?"
"According to the Maester it was an easy birth, she is fairing extremely well," Davos relieved the both of us with a smile on his face. Overcome by joy I hugged him when he said it, and he held me just as tightly after the initial suprise. 
My sister was alright. 
Arianne had a grin from ear-to-ear at the news of the birth of our nephews. Davos continued, "She gave birth to healthy twins, boy and girl, whom she has named Myrcel and Eliandra." 
"Eliandra, after Elia Martell?" Arianne beamed excitedly, "Dorne will love her for it!"
The three of us noticed Jon Snow and Sansa Stark in the distance with their own bannermen, speaking to each other in distress. A terrible gut feeling washed over me when I saw them, the same feeling I had been experiencing for months on the trail across the North with the Starks: I wasn't fully convinced we were going to be able to win. 
I watched Sansa seemingly begging Jon to listen to her to no avail. Watching her be so distressed filled me with dread, for she had approached me as well a week or two ago with the same demands. She wanted us to wait, to not fight until we had enough men. I felt so horrible for her - because I knew she was right, and I knew how terrified she must have felt now that tomorrow was to be the day of the battle. Everything was at stake for her: Her freedom, her home, her deserved justice.
Sansa and I... We were not friends, per say. I still did not really forgive her, but these recent months of her trying to come back into my good graces has forced me to interact with her more. It made me realize how much I missed her. I had missed her laugh, her little mannerisms and the dimples that formed on her cheeks when she smiled. I'd known for a while I still loved her, I just couldn't...
There were still conflicting thoughts swallowing me whole. Thoughts about how I shouldn't even be speaking to her, and other thoughts begging me to have the decency to be just civil instead of cruel and cold to her. Others still begging me to be civil instead of falling to my knees in front of her and begging her to be my wife, for Karsi of the Free Folk said the First Men accepted marriages between same-sexes and Sansa was a descendant of the First Men. Marrying her could be argued to be her upholding her ancestral values, I thought to myself cheekily. It was clear Sansa Stark was my weakness, for after all that had happened I was willing to wage a whole campaign to gain back her home and kill her abuser even if I wasn't sure we'd win. But is she a burden I can bear, for my sake and hers? 
I didn't know. 
All I knew is that in a span of only a few months, I had agonized over Sansa more than I had in the whole year following her betrayal of me. Who was she to me? A foe? An ally? A lover? Neither or all? 
Clearing his throat, Davos told me, "I'll have the men ready your horse, Your Grace," before walking away. Arianne had been watching me as I glanced at Sansa longingly, a relieved smile forming on her face. 
"Have we made a mistake, Arianne?" I asked her, thinking of Sansa's pleas and Loras' moaning about our fate in the coming battle, "Am I leading all these men to slaughter?"
"The Martell men may not be as accustomed to the cold, but they are accustomed to killing," Arianne tried assuring me, "And if we win here, then banners from Dorne, the Stormlands and the Reach will flock to you."