Dark Light of Time
Chapter 1
Smallfolk called the manor the Castle of Solitude and sometimes even Viserys forgot and named it so. The house at the seaside of Rhaenys' Hill was built in grey stone the shade of smoke, rising sharply with its many floors. All turns and sharp angles, it reflected Baela's taste more than Rhaena's, although both of them dwelled here when visiting the capital and they had both had an input at building it. Today, as King's Landing swirled, roared, and demanded vengeance, the stairs leading to Baela's solar looked more numerous as ever. Or was it Viserys feeling like a very old man of seventy when he had yet to celebrate his thrity-ninth nameday?
"What are you going to do when you grow old?" he asked upon entering. "You cannot keep living on the fifth floor forever."
Rhaena, quite sensibly, had chosen chambers on the second floor. Much better.
Baela sat with a parchment in her lap but she didn't look as if she were reading. She rose and came to him, taking his hands. Her eyes were red. She had been crying. "It wasn't your fault," she said urgently. "You did all you could to keep him safe. But at the end, no one could protect him from himself."
Oh but he should have tried harder. He should have insisted for a regency. He should have talked to the boy more. He should have explained better. He should have…
"Keep him safe," Aegon's voice came to him, the echo of a voice that it had turned into in those last weeks of his brother's life. "Keep them all safe. Promise me." Eyes unnaturally bright staring at him urgently, imploringly. "I will," Viserys had promised. And failed.
"What are you going to do now?" Baela asked, leading him to the couch where they sat together, scarred fingers lacing through his.
"I've already started," he said. "The Dornish hostages are in the dungeon already. Almost all of them," he added. Then, he thought with faint disdain about Aegon's readiness to give him the Vaith girl for no greater crime that he had grown tired of her.
Baela nodded. "I thought so," she said. It was just now that Viserys took notice of the other inhabitants of the solar: Rhaena's companion from Oldtown, a youth and two girls – Rhaena's girl and two of Baela's children – and two others. He had seen them at court a few times but he had had no idea that they were friends with his own kin. Noticing his look, the boy drew an arm around the girl's shoulder protectively. They were no more than children, just a few years older than Daeron if this many. He squinted. "I thought we had taken only one hostage per House," he said, wondering which House had been spared by their lapse.
"Michael is of House Manwoody while Elsbet belongs to Toland," Baela said. "She's his stepsister, not sister."
"Good," Viserys said absent-mindedly and rubbed his forehead. The headache was terrible. "They'll have to go to the dungeons with the rest of them, you know," he said sternly, prepared to deal with any objection that she might voice, from reminding him of his mother's lapses with people at the taking of King's Landing to insisting that the two Dornish children be placed in her custody. Sometimes, Baela could be quite sentimental. But the hostages needed to be near at hand for him to make his decisions – and dungeons were also the place they'd be safest in, in case he chose to spare them.
She nodded. "Don't do anything rash," she only said. "We might still need them."
"I know," he said, watching her as she rose to order some refreshments. Now, with the candlelight washing over her and dancing over her face, he realized just how taut her burned side was. That was one of her bad days. When she was about to sit back with him, he waved her away. "Go to bed," he said sternly, "Have something to go to sleep. We'll talk again tomorrow."
The fact that she didn't protest told him just how badly she was faring. She reached out and he rose, holding her close, yet being careful not to touch her damaged skin. They both just needed the embrace. But then, Baela retreated, attended by the Reach lady, leaving him alone with a group of scared children following his every movement. He went to the door and nodded at the men of the City Watch who entered.
"Don't you dare touch her!" Michael Manwoody said bravely and the pair went past Viserys, the boy holding the girl's hand soothingly. Viserys followed the guards down the hall, making sure that all was as it should be but did not return to the solar where he'd no doubt be begged to be just and merciful. Instead, he went to a side-room because he could not bear going back to the noise and rage, and grief of the Red Keep a moment earlier than he should.
When he fell asleep in his big chair, the echo of those words came back to haunt him. "Keep him safe," Aegon said. "I can look after myself," Daeron claimed as he had when he had first decided to go to war with Dorne. "You can't," Viserys had wanted to roar and he hadn't because that would have only made his nephew's determination grow. He should have, he now thought as he drifted off to a dark land where Aegon's and Daeron's faces became one.
He woke up with a startle. By now, it was completely dark beyond the windows. The sea roared dully, mournfully. And at his side, a woman stood, offering him a goblet. Amara Hightower. He drank and nodded gratefully. He didn't need to ask what had happened but he was impressed with the lady's bravery. Few people would dare to let him know that they had seen him scared out of his mind in the clutches of a nightmare like a bloody child but this tiny woman had actually shaken him awake and stayed for the aftermath. Silently, she placed the carafe on a stool next to him, bowed and left. Viserys sighed, rose and stretched his numbed limbs before looking for a parchment and pen that had been also insightfully left close by. He might be haunted by his own failures to Aegon and Daeron but he was still the Hand of the King. He had a duty to the King. King Baelor. And this time, he would not fail.
Years later…
It was one of those days. The loveliest. The days sun turned the city of King's Landing into an abode of golden light, roofs and temples shining and the misery of the slums temporarily hidden, numbed. The River Row was brimming with life and the Street of Steel erupted smoke that made the Hand of the King think of Dragonstone and the smoke of the volcano, the smoke of the dragons there. All dead now.
It was also one of the days he dreaded most, for it would ruthlessly reveal to his unwilling eyes the truth of the madness reigning over them. In the hall of the Small Council, it was easier to pretend that the King was just eccentric. He was certainly well-minded. Even his ideas of giving loafs of bread to the poor every day came from a good place. But in that gilded tomb where three young women, one of them a mere child, watched life go past them he couldn't hide from the truth. Baelor was dangerous – and a murderer. He was murdering the girls' youth and very lives…
"Have you come to bring us freedom, Uncle?" Elaena asked eagerly. She always did and Viserys felt sick at replying that he hadn't. Then, he turned away, so he wouldn't have to watch hope going out of her eyes.
"Of course he hasn't," Daena snapped. "He never will. Unless we do something ourselves…"
But Elaena had already fled the room, sobs choking her. Rhaena looked at Daena with a mild reprieve on her face. "It wasn't nice of you, Daena," she said softly.
A look of guilt crossed Daena's eyes and was gone as quickly as a puff of wind. Daenaera had said that her daughter's suffering and defiance were growing stronger by the day and now Viserys could see what she had meant. This place was killing Daena and he could do nothing to help her.
"What isn't nice is letting her believe that one day, Baelor will just set us free," the girl said angrily but this time, Viserys was more concerned about Rhaena than her. She was way too serene. And she was dressed like a septa. She was getting used to her circumstances all too well. Not that Viserys wished her Daena's misery, of course, but the thought that she might become like Baelor…
No, not Baelor. Naerys. As strange as it was to Viserys, there were some women who just felt drawn to the gods and the life of septas. He had truly believed that with time, his daughter would come out of it but she hadn't. Even motherhood hadn't changed that.
"When is Daeron coming?" Elaena asked. Viserys hadn't noticed her return. There was no traces of tears on her face. She was smiling.
"Soon," he said, amazed at the child's tenacity. Elaena didn't look away even as the gilded doors closed between them, returning him to the world of life and sun and shutting her up in the abode of forced childhood, innocence, and shards of a world that Baelor's madness had condemned her to. I failed you as well, child, Viserys thought, the sun getting suddenly darker as Aegon's insistence that he kept them all safe was getting clearer and brighter in his mind, pressing him down with the weight of yet another failure.
