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The Queen Who Was

Chapter 4

After the long winter that had ended briefly after Corlys' death, the spring was expected to last equally long, yet no one could predict how fierce would the spring rains be. Water sloshed and splashed everywhere and the Kingsroad was practically invisible under the flood. The sea seemed to have swollen and a few ships had barely made it to the harbour in various stages of dilapidation and lack of numerous enough crew. A few men had also swum to the shore which, in Rhaenys' mind, was even more impressive. But what troubled her most was not the sea or even the impassability of the roads. She was concerned with what lay under all this water that showed no intention to drop: just a few more rains like this, and the crops of the year would fail. And there would be such rains. If the ravens that had stopped coming and the occasional rider that made it to the city gates could be any indication, the flood was affecting most of the crownslands, a big part of the Reach and almost all of the riverlands.

"Is there any way to make the water drain?" Rhaenys asked in the Small Council where she had promised she would just listen, and the men looked at her as if she had grown a second head. She paid them no mind. "We cannot just wait for it to drop and dry over. Not if we want to save something of the crops."

A ripple went through the men as they looked at her as one. No one said anything but the Master of Laws was the one who answered without missing a heartbeat, "I don't think any of us here is competent to say either way, Your Grace. We're men of law, ships, arms, and books here. Perhaps there is but…"

"Knowing your incompetence may mark the start of true competence," Rhaenys and Viserys said at the same time and while most of the Small Council sat blinking at the sudden harmony between the royal couple reaching this far, the Master of Law smiled.

"Yes," he said. "That's what Barth the Hand always said."

Was it? Rhaenys wondered. She was sure that it was her grandmother that she had used to hear it from. She made a note to herself to ask Viserys what he remembered about this later.

The current Hand of the King shifted uncomfortably. Rhaenys supposed it was not pleasant to be reminded of how big shoes one needed to fill but no one deserved to be Hand of the King if he would not strive to contend with the best of men. Or women, she reminded herself. Her grandmother would have made a Hand no worse than Barth – she was sure.

Viserys raised a hand – something that, to Rhaenys' discontent, he made so seldom that sometimes a whole meeting might pass without him taking a stand. Hearing what people wanted to tell you was a good thing but not when it deprived you of mind of your own. "So it's decided," he said. "Summon the architects. Summon the builders. The carpenters. I want to know what they can think of, together, to force the water drop and save the crops."

He paused, aware of the discontent in his Hand's eyes. The Master of Coin was hardly any more pleased as he knew that this would cost. Does he expect that we'll take the money from his own pocket, Rhaenys wondered.

Viserys kept his silence and Rhaenys did her best not to look at him, as aware as he was that all the eyes were on them, that everyone expected him to speak with her words, as anxious to please her as he was to please them – but while the former could be taken as a mark of a generous and open-handed king, the second would speak of uxorious man, the greatest sin in the eyes of Westeros. So she looked at the table, not letting her eyes go on him even once. Say it, she silently encouraged. Say it, whatever it is. Do not the silence draw. Don't let them hound you with their disapproval. Who are they to approve of you?

"I expect the first results to be reported to me in no more than two weeks," Viserys said. "Sooner, if possible."

"But Your Grace!" Ser Otto protested. "This time is too short, it won't suffice to even find the men we need…"

"I said two weeks," Viserys said mildly. "I didn't mention that you should be the one to do it. If you find it such a burden, I am sure the Queen will be ready to deal with this task."

Laughter bubbled inside Rhaenys. She did not dare look at him because if she did, they would both dissolve into giggles. For all his meekness, Viserys could be unexpectedly stubborn when he chose so – and very industrious about it as well. She was not surprised when Ser Otto assured him that there would be no need – and when she felt the man's eyes on her telling her that the party of those thinking that she had won the throne after all had just increased by one.

It wasn't bad for just a month of marriage and mere weeks after the ends of the celebrations. When a little later they were finally alone, she and Viserys, the last ones who stayed in the room of the Council, she went around the table and pressed a kiss on the top of his head, wondering if he could feel the gratitude and elation pouring out of her. He drew her hands to his chest and she was somewhat surprised when she felt the rapid beating of his heart, as if he was coming out of a battle.

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

Rhaenys shook her head no, staring at her son in the practice yard. Behind her, Viserys did take a seat and she realized that he had started getting tired too easily. Still, there was concern in this passing thought that surprised her. Only a few months ago, she would not have rejoiced but she would not have cared this much either. Could two months of marriage that she had never wanted push away the resentment of a decade and a half? She looked down at him. "Are you feeling fine?" she asked in a low voice, feeling his forehead. He laced his fingers with her immediately.

"My knees ache a bit," he replied and both of them watched as Laenor left his sword and took a spear instead. "He's quite good." There was surprise in Viserys' voice and Rhaenys shook her head, concern shooting through her again at this confirmation of her fears: her son was good at arms. He was simply content with being good – because being excellent required some effort…

When Laenor's practice was over, he left the spear and headed towards them. Viserys was about to congratulate him but Rhaenys preempted him. "One more practice," she said. "Now."

Viserys stared at her, jaw down, but Laenor was not surprised. He simply turned and started everything again. Viserys sought Rhaenys' eye. "Why, by the Seven? He did everything the master at arms wanted of him."

"He let it show that he was eager for it to be over," Rhaenys said curtly. "Such a display is unbecoming a lord. What is he going to do one day when he rules Driftmark on his own? Show his councilors that he can't wait for their meeting to be over? Made the suppliants feel like fleas taking up his precious time?"

With the corner of her eye, she noticed that Rhaenyra who had come out to watch despite being supposed to be in her chambers having a lesson was now headed back rather quickly, and she smiled. The girl was not stupid. She had clearly seen herself taking double lessons today… which Rhaenys would have done. Not today, it was still too early. But Rhaenyra would no longer be allowed to command the maesters as she willed and she seemed to have grasped it.

"He did everything demanded of him," Viserys said again. His face was closed and for the first time in years, Rhaenys found herself in this same practice yard again, with a boy who always struggled to do what the seasoned tutors at arms demanded, a boy whose arms were weak and his legs not quick enough, a boy always compared unfavourably to his younger brother. Prince Baelon had never hid his disappointment with his eldest and while Alyssa had never been demanding, it had not been enough. For a moment, doubt came upon her and retreated. It was not the same thing at all. Viserys had tried to do what was expected of him and couldn't. Laenor simply did not care enough. She had never made her disapproval clear to people but anyway, Laenor was too charming for his own good. Lots of charm and no willingness to try anything seriously – this was a combination Rhaenys despised in women and particularly in men. If she had to play the evil stepmother to beat it out of Laenor, so be it.

And still… She had thought that she could never like a man who was clearly unable of self-control, as indicated by softness, flesh that was too excessive, and yet while this was undoubtedly true of Viserys, he was not repellent to her. She had come to find out that his body was much warmer than Corlys', that there was something endearing in his fear that he'd do something that would turn her away from him, the way Aemma had. She still wept for Corlys and felt guilty for sharing another man's bed but she found herself waking up snuggled up to Viserys more and more often. Sometimes, she woke up at night and sought him in the darkness because he was nice to the touch. Especially after yet another day after he had openly cherished her opinions in the Small Council. Tonight, he looked more subdued than usual, more distant and Rhaenys was somewhat surprised that it upset her, although it was nothing that lovemaking and staying silent in each other's arms afterwards couldn't fix. Aemma had been a proud soul, not afraid to be outspoken with those she cared about – was this why Viserys had looked elsewhere? Because she had been unable to offer the mending of a pure physical gesture? Was this how Alicent Hightower had gotten him? Rhaenys tried not to think about either of them. They were as unwelcome ghosts in her new bedchamber, much like Corlys was.

Tonight, a new ghost entered her dreams and woke her up all of a sudden. Barth the Hand! Septon Barth! Viserys stirred and looked at her with bleary eyes in the candlelight. Sometime at night as she slept, he had woken up and had fallen asleep reading. Papers were spilling everywhere over their covers and on the floor at his side. "What?" he asked drowsily.

"It's nothing," Rhaenys said. "Go to sleep," she added, leaning over to blow the candle out.

He might be too eager to please and not possessed of Corlys' steel but he was doing his best to fulfill his duties, be a good king. Rhaenys stroked his forehead in the newly descended darkness and went to sleep.

Three days later, the Hand of the King presented her with the old parchments he had insisted were not in his tower, his face dark with mortification. "I will present this… feature to the men tomorrow, Your Grace," he said. "They will determine if it is of any use."

"It will be," Rhaenys said with full confidence. "Barth's inventions always do."

It was clear that he did not like this new development at all but really, who was to blame that he had lived close to this discovery for four years and never found it? He was probably one of the men who thought Barth unworthy of his high office, although he was too smart to let it on. What could this peasant teach a son of House Hightower's? He knows all about Essos and battles of old but Barth knew the pains of peasants, Rhaenys thought, remembering that many years ago, Barth and her grandmother had talked about such invention. But there had been such a flood once after Barth's death already! Had the invention been inefficient, or had her grandfather simply forgotten about the existence of the plans? He had forgotten so many things. In his last days, he had talked to Rhaenys as if she was still a young girl who would be Queen one day.

Watching the man in front of her, she already knew that he needed to go. Crops were the life of Westeros. Without crops, there was no life and he had shown no willingness to deal with such lowly matters. Which was worse, he had tried to thwart her attempts to gain access to his tower over this very matter. He placed his self-conceited pride over the good of the realm. Rhaenys had never liked him but she was now sure. He had to go.

Unfortunately, when she raised the matter to Viserys, he flushed and started talking of new chances and so on. After all, there were many who did not believe in Barth's inventions, right? Why should Ser Otto be any different? He was a great Hand in many aspects…

Like when he pushed for you over me? Rhaenys wanted to ask but didn't. There was something else that she asked and right now, that was the thing that mattered.

"I suppose it's because you're scared of how Lady Alicent will take it?"

Silence fell, dark and heavy. Viserys stared at her. "You… knew about Alicent? All the time?"

"Yes."

"You never said a thing."

"Why should I have? After Aemma died, you wished to take me as your wife, not her. You never promised me that I would be the only one."

He startled, swallowed, his face twitched. "Aemma? You think she-?"

He didn't dare finish and Rhaenys did not care to chase this particular subject. She did not want to see him hurt and she knew he'd never ask her directly if Aemma had known. Not now, not anytime soon. He'd only do it months and years later and he'd already know the answer by then.

"Fine," she said, putting the small clothing she was embroidering away. "Let's be clear. You had a relationship with this girl. You've had it for a long time. Somehow, I don't think you're keeping it up right now. I admit that I hoped it might be over. Actually, I thought it was… But perhaps I am wrong? Perhaps you're only keeping appearances and intend to go back to her when a few months pass? Or when I get with child? I'd really like to know what I am living in. Does my wish to have her father removed from office interfere with your plans with her? Are you afraid that you won't be welcome with her any more?"

"It isn't like this."

"Then what is it?"

"I have no intention to go back to her, ever. I… I needed someone. Do you remember what my father used to say about me? He was right, I depend on people. I wanted to have someone and Aemma was not it – I know it's my fault…"

You're damned right that it is. Still, Rhaenys did not understand. She would not be surprised if he had bedded Alicent on the eve of his wedding to her, needing the assurance that she would be there even if Rhaenys rejected him in all but bed. This did not upset her at all and he was clever enough to know it. So, what was it?

"So?"

"She was an innocent," he said softly. "She took care of Grandfather for years and let me tell you, it was no pleasant task…"

Had he truly fallen for this oldest trick on earth? Rhaenys wanted to shake him but she had to admit that she was curious about what explanation Viserys had found about Alicent's rumoured affair with Daemon to preserve the image of the caring girl who had accepted him when Aemma had become increasingly anxious and unpleasant to be around as she swelled up with this last child, in addition to her aversion to physical touch. But alas, that was not to be – and a moment later, her angry amazement was forgotten in the grave impact of what he told her.

"She's with child, Rhaenys. I ruined her and if I remove her father from office, it will be even worse. I harmed her unforgivably."

The words were said. Rhaenys could only stare as he could not decide what he was going to do now. He reached out for her, reconsidered, reached out again. She shook his hand away.

"Well, some things don't change," she said in a voice she barely recognized as her own. "And others do change indeed. I never thought I'd have to go through this again…"

He startled. "What? You mean – Velaryon?"

Rhaenys laughed, curtly and angry, and ugly. "Oh it wasn't the same. He didn't extoll her virtues to me…" Viserys flinched, as if he had not realized that he had done this. "And he didn't seek to have anyone else. He just didn't see any need to go without when I wasn't at Driftmark. And then the woman got with child and he was stupid enough to come and tell me. I suppose he felt better afterward. Honest. Honourable and so on. And it never occurred to him that I wouldn't feel better at all."

He was staring at her and then he started expanding that he would have never told her if she had not insisted on Ser Otto's removal, that he was just feeling guilt and nothing more… She cut him off. "Shut up!" she snapped, giving up on any attempts to control her voice. "Shut up and let me think! Because you know it isn't just about her at all and the gods see that you clearly can't think of a solution. Let me think a way to prevent this from interfering with our lives. And let's be clear: she cannot stay at King's Landing. I don't care that you won't go to her ever again. I am not having your bastard's mother here in the Red Keep, no more than I had Corlys'!"

He stopped trying to calm her down. She rose and started pacing, at which point the small piece of clothing came into his view and he bit his lip, flooding joy mixing with bitter regrets.