Huge thanks to ariel2me for inspiring me to finally come around to working on this story.

Choosing Pride

Betrayal

She was sitting in the bottom of the blue chamber, near the window, immaculately attired and supremely elegant as ever. Her finely chiseled profile shone white against the green that could be seen out the window, the crimson and yellow flowers of a spring that had finally brought renewal after indulging itself in death for so long.

"Why have you hidden yourself here, of all places?"

The new Queen left her embroidery aside and rose to curtsey. "It's the only place I can find some peace," she explained. The smallest room in the bottom of her chambers was the only place where she could be almost isolated from the noise of her attires and belongings being moved to Maegor's Holdfast. "It's light and aired here," she went on, smiling a little. "What is there not to like?"

"May I take a seat?" he asked and she shrugged.

"This is your castle, Your Grace, and I live here by your benevolence."

The words were even but Aerys felt the barb. It reminded him uncomfortably of the time when they were first married, when she had expected a real marital life and he hadn't been willing to give that to her. In her anger, she had turned to irony and sarcastic politeness. Now, she had made a few attempts once again to attract him to her bed, clearly expecting that he'd go around fathering an heir. Once she had realized it wouldn't happen, she had returned to the behavior that made him go out of his way to avoid her. That mocking subservience made him jump out of his skin, a fact that seemed to please Aelinor to no end. Definitely one of the bad things of marrying someone you've known your entire life, Aerys thought. They know how to make your blood boil.

But he had no wish to quarrel with her. He took a seat and breathed in the fresh air that everyone appreciated after the Great Spring Sickness.

"When are your chambers going to be ready?" he asked.

Aelinor took the embroidery back in her lap. "In two days, I suppose," she answered guardedly. Why this interest in her accommodations all of a sudden? He certainly wouldn't suggest that she share the King's chamber with him until her own became ready.

Out in the garden, children's voices rose. Aelinor recognized her niece Rhae's voice and smiled. A careful look showed her a great activity around a chestnut-tree. Rhae wielded a knife – a sight that made Aelinor shiver in fear – and cut the decaying branches away while her sister Daella was picking up the fallen leaves. They were laughing and talking animatedly, their young age letting them get over the devastation of the sickness faster than those who were fully grown up could.

Aerys had come to see what was going on; now, he looked at her, his surprise clear. "They look so happy and healthy," he said. "I could never say that Daella had survived the sickness by looking at her."

Aelinor examined him carefully. He's right, she realized. Aerys and Rhaegel had both lived through the disease that had taken their royal father and they still bore the traces of it – the paleness, that terrifying gauntness, the inability to stand in the sun for long, for their eyes stung. Daella looked just as she always had, her black hair shone, although it had yet to grow after they had cut it off while she had been laying with fever, her indigo eyes as wide and curious as ever. She had all her energy back and even gained a little more. She's celebrating the fact that she's alive, Aelinor thought. "Maybe children recover more easily," she said. I want to have a child like her, she went on, silently. Like Rhae. With anyone else, I could have been a grandmother already.

She had no idea that her feelings were writ so plainly on her face. Aerys looked aside, guilt and anger rising. "Why are they on their own?" he asked. "Where is their septa? Why doesn't Maekar take better care of his children?"

Aelinor looked at him as if he was asking whether the sun rose in the east. "Their septa died," she explained. "As did most of their friends here. The rest of them aren't allowed outside their chambers, there's still this fear that the sickness might not be fully gone."

Aerys sighed. "So much has changed, hasn't it?"

"Indeed," she said coolly. Not you, though. Prince or King, you're still the same.

He turned his back to the window and returned to his seat. "I have made up my mind," he said. "About the Small Council, I mean… well, I have started choosing the people. Brynden will be my Hand…"

Aelinor drew a breath, sharply. So, that was why he had come to her. Aerys hated all kinds of confrontations. He'd rather hide from them behind his books… but someone had to take the storm. "You want me to tell Maekar, don't you?" she asked bluntly.

"That would save time," he admitted. "You've always been able to deal with him better than I have."

"Oh yes," she mocked. "Wonder why that is. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that you're just as good as dealing with people as he is. Which is to say, no good at all."

He did not rise to the bait. "It will be easier on him if he hears it from you," he said instead. "You're remarkable at making him see reason. He'll be raised to…"

Aerys, you fool, she thought without bothering to listen. Maekar would not be raised to anything… because he wouldn't accept anything less than what he would be denied. There was no way for that to be easy on him. He did want this position… and to lose it to Brynden, of all people, would make it harder. As proud and hard as he was, he only wanted what he felt was his by right or merit. After that terrible tourney, that trait of his had only gone stronger. He'd never dream of reaching for anything that was not meant for him… but he wouldn't take lightly being deprived of something he truly wanted and felt he deserved either. His view of the world had only become coloured in deeper black and white and Aerys still hoped Aelinor would be able to lead him to the grey. Once, she might have. But not anymore. Maekar would never see reason. Not about this.

"The decision was not mine," she snapped. "I see no reason to take the heat for you."

"Not for me, do it for Maekar."

Right now, Aelinor would gladly throw both of them under the hooves of the first horse she saw. They were bad at dealing with people and rarely even tried anymore exactly because they knew she was there to do it for them!

"Fine," she spat. Of course, she had to shoulder the unpleasant conversation. At this moment, the kingdom could ill afford discord and breaking relations between various members of the royal family and that was exactly what would happen if she let the two men settle the matter. Not that she put much faith in her own ability to make Maekar see reason, especially when she could see no reason why he wouldn't be made Hand of the King but there was at least a slim chance of avoiding the disaster. "I'll do it. Now, would you please leave me alone so I can address the task?"

Surprised and clearly relieved, he took himself off with speed that made a sarcastic smile play over her lips. A mockery their marriage might be but there was something very real to it: she was turning into a veritable shrew. But then, she had seen thirty seven namedays already and she faced the perspective of spending the next thirty seven into this sham, with the entire realm watching. No, by the gods, if she was going to suffer, than it was only just to make Aerys' life a little harsher, as well!

"What are they doing?"

Aelinor blinked, snapped from her thoughts. She had not even noticed Maekar's arrival. He was standing next to her, staring at his daughters through the window. Aelinor took a look and smiled at seeing what the girls were playing at in the bright sun. Having taken care of the tree, they had now changed themselves into gowns that trailed far behind them and billowed around their tiny frames. Their necks were adorned with whatever jewels they had. They had even painted their faces – quite successfully, at that, their lack of experience accounted.

"I suppose that's a way of making some use of your old gowns," Maekar said practically. "They are yours, aren't they?"

Despite her fearful anticipation of the upcoming conversation, Aelinor felt a little warmth spreading through her. She wished she could delay the moment of truth and simply enjoy the moment. For all his sternness and demands that he had of his sons, Maekar indulged his daughters to no end. And since the girls were too young to remember their mother properly, it was easy for Aelinor to let herself pretend that they were hers… as well as he.

"Daenerys and I used to play with Grandmother's gowns like this," she said.

"I remember." There was a slight hint of a smile on Maekar's lips as he stared at the girls. "But I think you never looked this ridiculous."

"Or maybe you just never noticed," Aelinor mused.

He considered this. "That might be it."

Yes, despite the specifics of their prolonged staying here, broken only by short intervals meant to show goodwill and disguise the fact that they had been King Aegon's hostages for their father's good behavior, they had been children, finding joy through children's eyes.

He took a seat – the same one Aerys had taken earlier, she noticed – and had a brief look at her embroidery. Without him saying anything, Aelinor felt what he was thinking. He had never seen her with a needle if she could avoid it. Probably wondered whether she even knew how to sew.

"We need to talk," she said quickly, suddenly wishing for this conversation to be over. "Aerys has made his choice about who would sit in the Small Council," she went on.

He looked at her and she groaned inwardly – in fact, quite outwardly – because she could already say that the conversation wouldn't be as unpleasant as she expected. It would be more unpleasant.

"He's decided to make Brynden his Hand…" she started and paused.

His face was inscrutable. For a wild moment, she wondered whether he had heard her at all. But then he smiled, albeit tightly, and she realized that he had expected something like this. He had hoped, yes, but he had never truly believed that he'd be chosen. Then again, with Baelor's death he seemed to have lost a good deal of any hopes and beliefs . "Aelinor," he said. "I am not angry with you."

She hated herself for the relief that made her hands and feet melt. Had she sunken this low, let herself become so dependable on him? Was she so desperate to stay in his good graces? By the Mother, what a wretch she had become!

"I am glad to hear it," she said, hoping that the storm she had envisioned would not come to pass. "You'd be…"

"Don't," he interrupted and Aelinor noticed the pulse beating on his temple, his effort to keep his feelings in check. So much for hoping that it would be easier. "I don't want to hear it. I am not interested at all."

For a moment, they kept staring at each other, the situation clear to both of them. All of a sudden, Aelinor started shaking with cold and he looked around for a cover. She snuggled under the fox skin.

"What are you going to do?" she asked helplessly.

He looked away. "I will not stay here, that's for sure."

The horror shooting past her was so primal and fierce that for a moment, she could swear that her blood had frozen. She was never the one to lie to herself. The thought of him leaving King's Landing… leaving her… was more than she could bear, and not only because of her love for him. In fact, love was not even the bigger part of it. It was the fear of being alone, the stark realization that she was an aging woman with no chance to attract Aerys in the few years that she still had left to conceive. To her, Maekar had always been a mainstay, although he often made her fly into a rage. And now, he was just going to remove himself from the situation. She, though, she had no choice but stay… and he knew that. He just didn't care. Not enough, in any case. The renewed closeness they had discovered after Naeryn's death, the nightmare that had been Baelor's – none of that mattered when measured against his precious pride.

"What about the girls?" she asked and he looked surprised that she had.

"The girls? They will come with me, of course."

Of course. Aelinor felt another sarcastic smile fight his way to her lips, this one addressed at her own greed and wishes which had blinded her to reality. It was all good and right for Maekar to use her for giving maternal affection to Daella and Rhae. He probably realized that it was important to her, as well, so why not keep everyone happy? But at the end of it, she was not their mother. He was their father and he would take them away, as could be expected. And it wasn't even his fault. He had let her have her illusion but he certainly hadn't pushed her into it.

"Very well," she agreed and there was something in her voice that made him see past his own feelings of slight and offense. His eyes focused on her, thoughtful and narrowed, trying to understand her meaning. When he spoke, even his anger seemed to have abated.

"Aelinor. That has nothing to do with you. I just can't stay, that's all."

"Naturally," she conceded. "Naturally you can't stay."

She would never ask him to, never humble her pride like this… and risk the humiliation of a refusal on top of it. He knew what his leaving would mean to her because it would mean the same to him. In fact, Aelinor suspected that it would be even harder on him because she, at least, had other people in her life while he only had her. But he was ready to sacrifice her and himself, everything, on the altar of his bruised pride.

"Now, hear me out, dear brother of mine," she said softly, dangerously, feeling composure as cold as they said the winters at the Wall were. "If you do it, if you leave, you can as well never return. To me, I mean. You might mend your relation with Aerys but you leave this keep, you can forget about me. Because I am already tired of you."

She saw the moment his anger toward Aerys and Brynden turned against her, as well, and she welcomed it. She would love nothing more than a fight. But in the silence, the girls' voices came from somewhere nearer to them. They both looked out and then at each other with the same thought: if they continued this conversation, Rhae and Daella would find them in the middle of a full-scale row.

Maekar grinded his teeth and bowed to her. She waved a hand, dismissing him like a servant.

It's over, she thought when the door closed behind him with a final click. It's finally over. Thirty five years of love and anger, and support, and wounds, all gone. Over. Right now, not even the pain of this new betrayal could reach her heart and animate it.