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A Veil of Prophecy

Chapter 14

A day later…

Aelinor of House Targaryen went to the flames in a pyre that did not want to burn and then suddenly burned so bright that it turned the night into a shining day. The cold wind bit at her cheeks, stirred the magnificent gown in red and black that had recently been repaired many times to fit her ever emaciating frame. For a first time, cold did not harm her. Dead could not feel cold.

From her place near the pyre, Rhae wept silently. Aegon had his arm about her shoulders, for once not caring whether the court would think them weak. Since they were very young children, Aelinor had been the dominant female figure in their lives, always good and attentive to them.

A few steps away from their parents, Duncan, Jaehaerys, and Rhaelle stood, holding hands, their eyes in different shades of purple wide and brimming with tears. The youngest one had been left home with his nursemaid. All three of them were still trying to absorb what was happening. That was the first time they lost someone close to them.

Princess Daella was trying to imagine what her uncle Aerys' funeral must have been like. These thoughts were mixed with the memory of her most recent encounter with Aelinor just a few days ago when they had been talking about Daella's children and making plans. Just a few days ago. It already felt like a lifetime. She bit her lip to keep the sobs from bursting out and sought her husband's hand silently.

For once, the courtiers did not dare whisper among themselves, lest they attracted the King's notice. The steward of the Red Keep, a man who had been serving the Targaryens faithfully for thirty years, had just been dismissed – harshly – for saying that it should have been expected, that it was a miracle the Queen had survived so far when everyone knew that she barely ate. Maekar had been heard raising his voice even to Princess Rhaelle – something that had never happened before. No, it was wise to stay as hushed as possible. Which did not mean that rumours had not started circulating. More than one of them was linked to the silver-haired girl who now stood at the rear end of the crowd, her eyes still disbelieving and full of something that some interpreted as grief and others as remorse. After all, Aelinor had been a frail woman, barely able to control what was happening a few steps away from her and Alaenys was a Blackfyre.

The flames were now reaching for the night sky, hiding the stars behind their dark glowing. Maekar stood silently, his eyes fixed on the veil of fire that at one moment revealed the face of the woman on the pyre and at another hid it, engulfing her like a caress. He stood and felt how these flames sucked the very life out of him, the will, the ability to think clear. There had never been a moment in his life when Aelinor hadn't been there, they had always been together. He's your present, Daeron the Good had told his daughter the day Maekar had been born, which coincidentally had been Aelinor's second nameday. Aelinor had taken these words very seriously, announcing that Maekar was hers to everyone who would listen. In the beginning, he had been another plaything for her, a much more interesting one because he reacted to her caresses and nudges. Later, when he'd reached an age that allowed him a sensible interaction, they had become inseparable. Even in the moments when they had hated each other, the bond had always been there, the love, the attraction – and the helpless longing that it wasn't. Now, the bond was severed all of a sudden, something Maekar hadn't been prepared for despite Aelinor's rapid decline. His mind simply rejected the idea of a world without Aelinor in it. It was unacceptable to him.

Still staring at the pyre, he didn't feel the flow of time. He didn't register the courtiers leaving one by one. Finally, Aegon came near, albeit hesitantly. "Aren't you going to go back inside?" he asked.

Maekar startled and realized that he was surrounded by purple eyes and silver heads, the only exception being the dark hair of Daella and her husband. "Why are you still here?" he snapped. "The last thing we need is for anyone to get sick. Gods, Rhaelle is as pale as ghost… and don't get me started about Jaehaerys. Go inside. All of you."

Aegon hesitated and looked at Rhae, which only angered Maekar further. He was not the one who needed looking after. Those two would get their children ill in their misconception that Maekar needed help. He was perfectly fine.

Before the King could do something truly incongruous, like lashing out in front of Aelinor's pyre that was still burning, Ser Galend quickly intervened. "Don't worry," he said in low voice. "I'll stay here."

Again, they were not convinced. But then Daella, by far the most intuitive out of all of them, sighed and said softly, "I'm going back inside."

One by one, the others followed. Maekar stayed where he was and once again stared at the flames. Just once, he turned to Ser Galend and said, "If you are cold, go inside."

"I am not," Ser Galend said.

So they stayed silent, until the pyre burned itself out, until all that was left of Aelinor was ash and memories.

Five days later…

"Are you ill?"

"No," Maekar said. "Don't worry. I'll be all right."

Aegon wasn't convinced in the least. He had not expected his father to attend the meeting of the Small Council for a few days and Maekar hadn't. However, the young man hadn't expected to see his father in such a state, either: pale and obviously sleep-deprived, Maekar sat in a chair in his bedchamber, leaning his head against the back. He was always a man of action, yet now he couldn't be bothered even to look at Aegon while he was pacing the spacious room. Even more disturbing was the state of the bedchamber: at every table available, there were platters of food, most of them untouched and if Aegon wasn't wrong, some of them hadn't been exactly brought this morning. Maekar was meticulous regarding order and the only things out of place around him had been random items belonging to his children and things that Aelinor couldn't be bothered to remove. That had been a common theme of their petty fights: he always cleared things away and she always got angry when she couldn't find what she was looking for… but it was all in the past now. Even the great bed was not made, showing that Maekar still slept in half of it, instead of spreading over. It was still too early, yet Aegon couldn't help but be alarmed. He had never seen his father like this. Starting with the fact that Maekar had sent an innocent man in the black cells. If anyone was to blame for Aelinor's death, it was the Queen herself, as much as it pained Aegon to admit it. Maybe if they had taken better care of her… but how were they to foresee this?

"Don't worry," Maekar said again, still not looking at him. "I'll be all right at the end. It's just temporary. Go and calm all of them that I am not giving up just yet."

Aegon stopped pacing. "I can't," he said. "Not worrying, I mean. And neither can Rhae and Daella."

Maekar shrugged indifferently. "Go on, then. Worry all you want if you insist on doing it. But I'm telling you, there's no need."

Aegon was not in the least bit convinced. But Ser Galend said the same, in the antechamber. "He'll come out of it, eventually. He always does."

Aegon startled. "What do you mean, he always does? That such a thing has happened before?"

The older man shrugged and lowered his voice despite the fact that the only ones present were the Prince, his huge friend, and two Kingsguard. "He's been having such episodes since before I knew him. Something triggers them. Some shock. Or when a terrible crisis has been resolved and he's very tired. Then, it comes. Lethargy and despair. Lacking energy for leaving his room – actually, today it's the first day he rose from his bed. These last from a few days to a week. They are very rare, sometimes there are years between them but they do happen. Eventually, he always comes out of it."

Aegon was stunned. "I never knew."

"Very few know. We were always able to hide the truth about his condition. And it happens very rarely, truly."

Aegon wondered how many of these days his father had not left his bedchamber had been because he'd been in the state he had just seen him in. No one had thought about it twice – everyone had just waved it off with the explanation, "He's with the Queen." And he truly had been. Of course, the problem was that now he wasn't with the Queen.

Aegon already knew that he wouldn't tell Rhae or Daella anything about this.

A few weeks later…

"I've always looked for a combination of the Father and the Warrior," Aelinor said. Her arms were folded; her eyes were looking up, straight in his. "I thought you were it."

"I am sorry," Maekar replied. "I've never pretended to be the Father."

"Oh but you did." There was no anger in Aelinor's voice. "You always looked so… righteous. That's why your host is looking up to you, I think. You ooze confidence. Unlike me. I ooze… irresponsibility. But I am much more fun than you."

He touched her hair, the same pale silver as his own. "You have too much power over me," he said. "I have to pretend that it doesn't matter, that you don't matter. One day, it will become true. I'll make it true."

She laughed and didn't step back. "Yes, one day. You've been trying for how long, six years now? I wish you every success."

He shook her. He wanted to bite her cheek, viciously, and see the blood running down to her chin, until she felt the pain he felt. The pain he had caused her as well.

Behind them, a door opened. They immediately leapt apart, scared that they'd be caught. As always.

Maekar startled awake and instinctively reached for someone who was no longer there. A moment later, reality came back and he drew his hand back. He tried to remember when this conversation had taken place. It must have been sometime before Aelinor's accident, when her body was still obedient and her personality vibrant, when she still hoped she might finally, finally have some kind of a normal life with Aerys and he was trying his best to have this with Naeryne. It worked for a while – until he came to King's Landing and his eyes fell on Aelinor. Years of their lives had gone like this – in fighting, denial, guilt, and ever the fear that they'd be caught.

For a while, he lay awake, trying to go back to sleep, to dream of her again. Even the dreams of their fights were better than the reality in which she was no more. But sleep did not come to him again this night.

A few weeks later…

"The Iron Bank agreed to the delayed payment," the Master of Coin said and wiped the sweat off his brow.

All around the chamber, there were sighs of relief. Some actually wanted to read the letter that had just arrived via raven. "So we'll manage to scrape by without increasing taxation," the man went on.

"We couldn't have taken anything more," Aegon said. "We simply can't take what people do not have to give us."

A few of the older men shared a look. The Prince was a really weird one, with his affection for the smallfolk. It was a good thing to take care of those, surely, but he was talking as if he knew firsthand what their lives were like.

"We could use the money for some much needed renovations in the host," the King's Hand said.

"No way!" Alor Gargalen opposed. "Our first and foremost concern should be fortifying Lannisport once again. Without that, we're defenceless to anyone who decides to invade."

"There hasn't been any news of a planned invasion…"

"Which isn't the same as knowing that there isn't any invasion planned."

The two men kept arguing and soon, Aegon found himself too tired to pay attention to the arguments they kept throwing at each other. It had been a long day, the Council had been in session since early in the morning and it was already almost dark. They were all tired and thus more edgy than they should have been. No agreement would be reached today, yet no one dared suggest that they close the meeting. The King was as short-tempered as they had ever seen him. It was only now that everyone really appreciated what a calming influence Aelinor had been on him... achieving it by many different means, including shouting back at him. She had been the only one who had dared and strangely enough, he had not been so prone to losing it. Now, though, his weary indifference to anything was interrupted by unexpected outbursts of intolerance to any stupidity. Suddenly, Aegon wished he could be in his chambers and talk with Rhae about insignificant things over a goblet of wine. The few hours that he would have to wait suddenly seemed so very long. He wanted to see her, listen to her voice and remember that there was more to the world than war and taxes, and starvation.

Something in his father's haunted expression told him that Maekar had felt the same about Aelinor.

Maekar gave him a faint smile. "You'd better get used to this," he said. Not for a first time, he was implicitly referring to his youngest son's possible future of a ruler and as much as he did not fervently desire the crown, Aegon had gotten used to the idea that it might be his future one day.

"But not today," he said and wondered whether he should try to use his father's higher spirits and talk to him about Bloodraven again. No matter what, the man was still innocent. Only, their earlier attempts to make their father see reason had drawn blank. Maekar had spoke sharply even to his daughters - something that Aegon couldn't remember ever having happened before.

Too soon, it became clear that now, they had more pressing concerns. A raven. An urgent message about a new rebellion.

They were at war once again.