Hey - this is a translation of my fic, originally written in French : La chambre du roi. As English is not my mother's tongue there may be some mistakes. My deepest apologies.
I - Barba
1.
She is in the gallery when they come looking for her
Bethany, Bethany they call, but she doesn't turn round. Come Aegor, let's run, she seizes the child by the hand and he laughs as she drags him on the stairs. Bethany! and she reaches the sacred wood behind the yard, laughing too, dishevelled, red with sweat. She already knows the news.
The Bracken's sacred wood is clear and well maintained, more like a pleasure garden, probably to mark the difference with the dark wood which serves as a place of worship for the neighbouring Blackwood. They sacrifice children to their Tree, she remembers, at dusk when the crows crash (it's only a woman tale, she knows it, but she likes the idea).
One day, she asks her sister what will happen to Missy and her children, once she has taken her place, and her sister answers, half laughing, well, they can always use the kids to feed their Tree. She adds perfidiously, it seems that the son of the bitch is of the same color as their piece of wood, we would find there a certain usefulness, I'm sure Aegon wouldn't be against the idea. Barba is very proud to know that all Missy has managed to give to the king, as children, are two girls and some kind of degenerated runt when, her own son is already tall, strong and beautiful.
The king comes to Stone Hedge, she tells him in the silent garden. Behind them, the heart tree laughs at her.
2.
Maybe Barba loves her bastard, as a memory of Aegon, as the proof by her eyes that she was loved, that she was queen (almost). She asks herself whether she fails, will Barba still cherish him, or will he become a painful memory, of failure and of shame. An embarrassing element in the scenery. She thinks of her own children, of her bastards to come. What are they going to do with them? Sometimes she hugs tightly little Aegor against her until he chokes, imagining that he's her own son. What will they do with me when the king is tired?
3.
The bitch has played well, explains Barba. Aegon loves change, whore or prude, noble or commoner, he takes them all. But to play the frightened maiden, she has found herself allies on the right side, she sniffs. They must be glad that they have placed their creature in the king's bed.
("They" are their enemies, the milk blood, the dornishmen, the maesters, the Blackwood, and the whole queens and prince's Daeron clique, my enemies, she remembers.) Barba has made her a thousand times the portrait of the prince: limp, weak, submissive to women, (his mother, and his foreign wife). She maintains for him, the queen and her knight, a particular hatred. It was they who had her place and her reputation. Almost her head, she sneers. The prince is the worst, he hides his game well. A hypocrite-born, the very opposite of his father, to wonder who has actually begotten him, she entrusts her once. Beware Bethany, Aegon can love you, and he will love you, but he will never be yours, not totally. A real dragon won't be tamed.
Bethany wonders if Barba still loves him, despite the time, despite the distances and wounds, as she once loved him, when she wrote him, he is my sun, he is my joy, he's the only thing I need and if I were to lose him, I'd die of grief. She knows that her sister suffers from seeing him thus corrupted and aged, when she had for her the young knight, the soldier of Dorne's conquest. (She knows that she holds Melissa Nerbosc responsible for that too.) She castrated him with her prayers, her charities, her false piety, she and her clique of hypocrite. They castrated him better to rule behind his back. They wanted to split his claws, but they did not realize that he is the real dragon, all those bloodmilk, those dornish dogs, and he is going to show them. (She looks at her seriously), you are going to show them!
4.
Her children shall be her downfall proclaims Barba. The cow likes to procreate, and Aegon is always proud of his bastards, but he is quickly jealous too. She clings to it, it seems she is crazy. He gets tired of it. If he comes it means he is already tired, she adds.
Her father tells her: The Lothston wants to make her daughter the next mistress, she does not have an inch of your own beauty, we must bar her the way. But she is the Aegon's daughter, she thinks, scared. Is that what awaits my children? She prays harder for a little boy. The king will not take any interest in Jeyne Lothston, says her sister, he likes to play his little game between us.
We, the Bracken and the Blackwood, a family in themselves, laughs Bethany. They live together, never seeing each other, their presences haunting every single of their gestures. All kings have their own cruel games. She wonders if Missy has got a little sister trained to please Aegon. Maybe it will be the role of one of her daughters.
Bethany also wonders where is the limit between the truth of Barba's memories, and the myth she has made of her former lover, on nights when she cries to find her sleep. Those when she drinks one glass too many. (This is unworthy of Lord Bracken's eldest daughter, but in the eyes of the Riverlords she is already lost.)
5.
Soon you may have cousins whom to play with, she says distractedly, would you like that Aegor?
He gives her a serious look of his purple eyes, before nodding solemnly, that would be splendid. She laughs and ruffles his black mop of hair. Your father rides to see you.
Actually, he comes to see you, Barba corrects, her eyes fixed on her neck, and Bethany feels a shiver running down her spine. Or would it be for you, big sister?