Queen of Ashes

"Your father," Daena spat, looking at the little boy crawling after a puppy, "is a swindler."

Rhaena gasped. "Daena! This isn't how one speaks!"

"This isn't what one does!" Daena fired back, grabbed the nearest pillow, and threw it against the wall. It rebounded, falling straight on Daemon who started crying. "Stop it, stop it!"

Her voice turned into a shrill scream that only made her son cry harder. Barba Bracken hurried to take him over before he had crawled out through the open door and Daena felt something dark and powerful ripping her chest, demanding to be released. "Get out," she snarled.

The girl turned and gave her a look of such confused innocence that Daena lost whatever slim grip of self-possession she still had. "I said, get out!" She rose, as if ready to lunge at her preferred companion and put her own words in force. "Get out! Out of my sight! If I ever lay eyes on you again, I'll rip you to pieces!"

Rhaena had jumped to her feet but looked unsure where to point her steps at. Barba had stopped dead in her tracks, the fear on her face filling Daena with some beastly delight. Daemon was whimpering softly. The two women looked as if they had understood what she said no better than the child but the meaning was clear on them. Details didn't matter. Daena couldn't believe the sounds coming from her mouth, let alone control them. She made a step forward and Barba fled, not even bothering to think of the shortest route leading out of Daena's new chambers. She only wanted to put as much distance between her mistress and herself as she could.

Daena's knees suddenly gave up and she groped for the nearest chair. Rhaena helped her get there, brought her some tea and hesitated with her hand over her sister's hair but eventually brought it down without touching the fair locks. Clever Rhaena.

"What was all this about?" her sister asked after a while.

"She's Aegon's mistress! She has been one for years!"

Rhaena looked confused. "Even so, what of it?"

Daena started pacing again, only stopping from time to time to check on Daemon and the puppy in the next hall. "The two of them set me for this, I'm sure," she said. "To make certain that I'd never be able to sit the Iron Throne. After all, who wants a whore for queen?"

There were some and for this, she was grateful. But they were so few. So very few. Despite what people thought about her, Daena was a responsible person. She'd never make trouble that she couldn't fix – and demanding her father's and brothers' throne would be such trouble, now that she was the mother of a bastard.

"Damn you, Aegon!" she whispered but it was her own cheeks that her nails scraped to blood. She should have known. She should have questioned this amazing occurrence of meeting him right after one of her escapes – an escape arranged with Barba's help.

She paced and raged, raged and paced. Behind the window, a red sun slowly went down the horizon. At least my windows aren't barred anymore, Daena tried to comfort herself.

"This isn't the end, Aegon," she vowed. "You will get your due, I swear it."

He would. She only didn't know how – yet.

Her uncle listened to her patiently. And incredulously. As Daena moved to the end of the prepared speech, his patience started wearing out. Daena wondered what his schedule for this part of the day was, what he was delaying right now because of her. An inspection of the City Watch? A meeting with this boring Master of Coin?

"Forget about it," he only said when she was over.

This much about her eloquence winning him over! "But why?" Daena asked. To her shock, his rejection stung. Why should it? He was a stern, tedious man and she didn't care if he desired her. She knew that he didn't. Gossip said that for the last ten years, he had only had one mistress, as old as him and not even very pretty. It was clear that he was unable to appreciate beauty. But to be rejected this blatantly stung her pride that had not recovered yet from the blow Aegon had dealt it. It's my turn now, Aegon. Her fists clenched and unclenched as she asked in a voice that she deemed admirably level, "May I know why?"

"Because you're a child."

"I have a child," she reminded him and then realized that perhaps it wasn't the best argument to offer a man who had become a father at thirteen.

"You're a young woman," Viserys insisted. "And I am no longer young. You want to take everything that life has kept from you until now…"

Life? Or Baelor? But asking this wouldn't exactly convince him that she was a woman who knew things.

"… and I want to take care of peace, profit, stability and other boring things. Where do you think our paths will cross?"

She didn't care if their paths would cross. She planned for the future…

"And I am not planning on dying anytime soon, you know."

Daena gaped at him, horrified that she might have spoken aloud. But her uncle didn't look angry. He was smiling at her almost… almost the way he smiled at Daeron's Dornish brat, with his peasant olive skin!

"I've seen four young women this far who married old men expecting to become rich widows soon. The husbands are all still alive, some twenty years later, and the wives are cursing their lot. This isn't what I want for you."

Startled laughter escaped her lips and she saw that he was fighting a smile as well. Yes, now she could see the man who had sometimes – sometimes – made her father laugh. She hadn't laughed in so long that it didn't matter the laugh was at her expense.

"I want to be Queen," she said bluntly. "I deserve to be Queen."

The fierceness in her voice made him pause. He gave her a long look. "And mother of kings, I suppose? Is this your way to get even with Aegon?"

She gasped, a new suspicion immediately taking place. "Did you put him to this?"

"No," Viserys replied calmly. "In fact, I didn't even know for before you told me right now."

What a fool she was! But he, he was no one's fool. He could see her as she was – her passion, her vengefulness. They didn't seem to bother him but… "I'll find you a husband," he said.

"Someone lowly enough to never make waves?" Daena asked bitterly. He didn't even answer.

"Someone young and vigorous," he finally said. "Someone who can give you your heart's desire… when you wake up to it."

Heart's desire? Did he still think her a child? Did he think her unworthy of being taken seriously because he thought she'd like to build her life on the foundation of her heart's desire? He had treated his own children with more respect when they had been ten years younger than she was now!

"You do look vigorous enough," she said with the same maddeningly reasonable voice that he used.

Viserys shook his head. "That I can still wear the attires I did in my twenties is different from actually being twenty. I am an aging man who won't get any younger and you have a lifetime ahead of you."

Somewhere in her mind, a warning bell sounded but Daena ignored it. Aegon would not have his way after outwitting her. "Take me to wife," she said again. "I can deal with ruling the court. I can shoulder the festive part that you disdain. I can be of use."

"You will never be a mother of kings, Daena," the current King replied but Daena felt that a shift had taken place. For a reason of his own, he wasn't as reticent about the idea as he had been mere moments ago. "And I will not give her up."

We'll see, Daena thought. About both.

The helpless fury on Aegon's face made it all worthwhile. And when she entered the throne room, a real queen for the first time, and everyone bowed to her as deeply as they once had to her mother, Daena felt thoroughly happy. The small shivers of contentment when she made the Dornish witch do small things for her instead of her attendants were very satisfying… until Viserys caught her doing it.

"You're very good at it, Mariah," he said. "But I don't want you to do any such thing ever again. Daena has enough servants."

His eyes sent Daena the clear message that she'd better not contradict him. She didn't look down but followed his wish… in fact, she found herself following his wishes more often than she'd like! She dreamed of a magnificent court but one of the first things he did was reorganizing the royal household, erasing offices and cutting expenses.

At least he had never mentioned of sending Daemon away and for this, Daena was grateful. But it was clear that he wasn't interested in the boy, not the way he was in Baelor's growing up and activities. Sometimes, to her shame, she thought of settling Daemon comfortably away. She was so tired of the whispers, so tired of being defiant…

Months went by and Daena's world grew increasingly narrow. Viserys hadn't forbidden her to carry arms, not with those words, but she was painfully aware that it was unbefitting a queen, especially such a scandalous one as her. And honestly, who had the time? With accepting applicants and organizing festivities in honour of this or that arrival, she considered herself lucky when she found the time for an hour or two for a ride. Before she got with child.

Now, Aegon's face turned unpleasantly red when he saw her. He wasn't handsome. Daena couldn't fathom why she had once considered him so. It was clear that he'd like nothing more than have her flogged. Or wallop her. Or both. His helpless fury amused her as the child grew and she knew that she'd give Viserys a son, a son who'd be more royal than Aegon. A son who would one day be king.

At night, though… Her uncle had turned out to be right. She didn't want someone twice her age. She wanted to host great receptions every night and dance until dawn while he rarely stayed even until midnight – after which it was, of course, indecent for a queen to stay and celebrate on her own. Especially the Whore Queen! And when she left, it sometimes happened that he didn't even visit her chambers! Daena knew where he was – with his harlot at Rhaenys' Hill… Very well, she thought angrily. Let her deal with his moroseness and unwillingness to do anything else but sit around. Let her have his back pains and insomnia! I have my jewels, I have my place, and I can always return to the reception… but of course, she never did.

When he did come to her, Daena was happy. He was attentive. He was careful to pleasure her, something that Aegon, in their brief fling, had never done and yet immediately after, his thoughts drifted away. Daena hated opening her eyes because then she'd see his indifference – and his looks. It turned out that she didn't want to see sagging skin, protruding veins and all other changes age wrought. She wanted what she saw between Daeron and his Dornish snake – shared smiles, strolls in the gardens, little touches when they thought no one was watching, adoring looks. And when she thought about it, she was quick to scold herself. This was for lesser people. Not dragons. Not queens.

And still, time went on and as her body changed with the new child, she knew that she wasn't getting anywhere with his attempts to convince Viserys of just how unsuitable heir Aegon was – although sometimes she thought he knew it better than her, he waited for some unknown reason, he was doing something that she had no idea of – or sway him from the aging woman he was so ridiculously devoted to. It was beyond the pale: he preferred a plain woman of age to his beautiful young queen. Soon, Daena would become the laughingstock of Westeros! But still, there was this hope swelling inside her. The promise for the future. Her triumph.

When the maester lifted the newborn in the air and announced, "It's a girl, Your Grace, a lovely girl!", it took all of Daena's willpower not to howl. A girl! A girl! All her dreams lost. All her hopes burn.

Why? Why? Why?!