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Silver Tears of the Moon
At the Rising of the Sun
It was already late afternoon when Astrea made her way to the quarters she knew she'd find Ser Duncan. Ultor was with her, of course – anything else would be indecent. Her niece had asked to be allowed to come along as well and after some initial hesitation, Ultor had agreed. When one day Aurelia became the Lady of Starfall, she'd better have all the experience she could gain, and this so unusual hedge knight could prove a valuable one. Even now, she looked more at ease in the wooden barracks housing the retinues of Lord Tully – or rather, Lady Tully''s guests – than Astrea. Of course, Astrea had had some experience with the lives of the men-at-arms at Starfall but never this big – she had been born too late, with next to none perspectives of ever inheriting that Aurelia and her brothers' births had diminished further, so she had not had any major contacts with them and their abodes, other than those of a future lady of a House in training which included overseeing their maintenance. She didn't even notice that something was missing in this mix of shouted conversations, running feet, and opening and closing of doors mingled with the sweat of many bodies. But Aurelia paused and looked at her father, uncertain. "They don't have any swords with them?" she asked and it was only then that Astrea realized the absence of the typical echo and glint of steel.
"No weapons at all," Ultor confirmed. "Not with so many men here from all over the realm, not with the King present. Every coming group had to surrender all of their arms but knives upon gaining admittance."
No wonder that entering Riverrun had proved such an arduous affair! Ultor looked at his daughter, silver brows locked. "You didn't even realize that we did?" he asked and she flushed.
"I am sorry, Father."
"You should pay attention," was all Ultor said as they went their way.
To their surprise, Ser Duncan was nowhere to be found. Elfric told them that he had chosen to sleep in his sailcloth tent on the ground near the old wall guarding against invasions from the mainland. He had, in fact, erected the simple, worn out structure quite apart from the others – to help his squire in coming and going without attracting too much notice, Astrea supposed.
The tall knight was sitting alone at the opening of the tent. Upon hearing their approach, he looked up and his eyes became round. He squinted and then looked down, clearly realizing that he was gaping quite indecently, though he was hardly the first man to do so. Aurelia was seventeen year old and besides being tantalizingly lovely, she was quite the unusual blend of the Dayne fair hair – pale golden in her case, with some streaks where the sun had bleached it silver – and violet eyes and the olive complexion and lashes of her mother's Essosi ancestors. On her, it looked like a layer of gold powder had been sprinkled all over her skin. Her exquisite features, the high cheekbones and rounded chin could rival Astrea's own, and Dyanna's as well, but she was even more attention-catching because of the contrasts.
Ser Duncan rose. "My lady," he said, looking at Astrea and then her companions.
"Ser Duncan," she said. "I'd like to introduce my brother, Lord Dayne, and my niece, Lady Aurelia."
"It's an honour for me, my lord, my lady," he said but without any simpering. Astrea glanced at Ultor and saw that he was pleased. He respected people who kept their dignity at all times. "Would you like to enter?"
Astrea wouldn't mind but Aurelia clearly didn't want to lose the soft caress of the sun, so new to someone who came from the hot Dorne and even hotter Essos where she had been visiting her mother's kin. "I'd like to stay here," she said and Ultor nodded.
"My sister has been telling me that your help has been invaluable," he told the huge young man. "I am very obliged to you, Ser, truly."
"I couldn't have made it without my squire, my lord," Ser Duncan replied. "He was the one who came up with the idea of scaring them off by making them think our horses were an army."
Ultor smiled. "That's a deceit his mother would have enjoyed tremendously," he said. "She could have easily come up with something like this herself. This girl knew no fear."
That sounded much like Egg all right. Dunk found himself nodding as the pale-haired lord went on, "My sister's circumstances has changed. Now that I'm here, she no longer needs any additional protection. I'll take her to Starfall myself."
Dunk had expected this, ever since the boy had told him that the uncle he hadn't ever met had arrived. He wasn't this dim-witted. And it wouldn't be the first time he found himself out of employment. "I understand, my lord."
"I'd like you to accompany us to Dorne, as you and Astrea agreed."
Now, that was a surprise. For a while, Dunk stood staring at the Dornishman but his pride won out over the prospect of an empty belly. "I have made some other plans, m'lord. Thank you," he added belatedly.
"Are you going to leave your squire here?" Ultor asked. "I think some time away from his father might do him some good."
The undisguised hostility in his voice gave Dunk a pause. Prince Maekar was not well-liked. Why, there were those who even claimed that he had tried to kill his brother at Ashford. But that was the first time Dunk heard such an enmity. "You do not approve of the Hand?" he asked, lowering his voice just in case.
Ultor Dayne shrugged. "He'll make a good Hand," he said indifferently. "Just and capable. It's the man I do not approve of. The man who sat by and watched as his wife, my sister, was slowly dying and didn't lift a finger to prevent it."
The bitterness was such that Dunk gaped. He now remembered the rumours at King's Landing at the time, the ones saying that the Princess of Summerhall had turned into a creature repellent to the eye, scarier-looking than any dragon. That Maekar Targaryen had been lucky that the Stranger had saved him from her clutches and the embarrassment that the onetime great beauty had become. Even as a child, he had known better than pay much attention to those. Perhaps he should have, in this case?
A gasping sound coming from one of the two women made him look up. Maekar himself was standing close now, staring at them. He had clearly heard. The man with him, with hair of silver and gold and as rich attire as his, looked appalled.
"What?" Maekar asked calmly, noticing the brief look of consternation on Ultor's face. "You have said it before, and to my face at that. Don't tell me that you've developed some sense of embarrassment over the years?"
He hadn't denied it. And then, something terrible happened. Behind them, the flapping of the tent moved and Dunk's squire appeared, staring at his father. "Is it true?" he asked.
Maekar didn't hesitate for a moment. "It is."
Egg's eyes went dark as his horror intensified. Without saying anything, he ran, not even looking at them. The man with Maekar glared at him. "You're such a fool," he snapped. "You and your stupid honesty! Do you realize how that sounded?"
"Aegon!" Maekar yelled after his son but the boy didn't turn back.
Ultor Dayne looked stricken. "I… I didn't mean…"
"Oh that's exactly what you meant," Maekar said icily and strode in the direction his son had disappeared in.
"That was Dyanna's son?" Astrea asked, as if she was hoping for someone to deny the obvious. Which, of course, no one did.
It was with some surprise that Astrea received the summons to present herself to His Grace once again. She had truly expected that she'd never see him again, except in passing, by chance.
"He wants to apologize to you," Aurelia said with certainty that surprised Astrea. She was quickly realizing that the girl was living in her head more than even Dyanna had. He hasn't slept at all out of concern for the injustice he did you. He surely needs to come clean with his conscience. Yes, that was what Dyanna would have said as well. Astrea knew better. Why would he? That instinctive revulsion, a mirror image of what she felt toward herself, was the only emotion she could expect. Unjust, so unjust. But what did justice matter in the face of such a loss? That night, she went to sleep fearing that he might have changed his mind and take her guardianship of Elsbet back.
The summons read "at sunrise", so she was about to leave her chamber, when a knock at the door sent a shocked Malena to tell her that the King was here, asking to be admitted. It was only then that Astrea paid notice to the wording of the note: he hadn't, in fact, ordered her to go to him. He had just expressed hope that they'd be able to talk to each other at sunrise.
He took her to the lady of the castle's solar that, of course, had been given up to his mother, and seated her in a high chair. There were a few goblets and bowls of fruit waiting for them. Astrea didn't give them a second look.
The sun was rising up in the huge window, filling it with the glints of white luminescence sewn with a shower of pearls from the river beyond, turning it into a field of hope and exposing all signs of the toll grief and aging had taken from him: the sickly yellow pallor of his dark skin, the sharply incised cheekbones, the thick shadows that threatened to swallow his very eyes, the white in his hair that had grown so much over the course of only a few months if rumour could be trusted. Astrea didn't lie to herself, she didn't look seducing either, aged and worn out, with that constant suspicion in her eyes that she couldn't push away and those faint lines about her eyes and mouth that had first settled there about ten years before expected. Sudden, violent grief could change a man and so could long-drawn unhappiness and self-resentment. It was about equally unlovely.
"First, I want to apologize," the King said abruptly, with that directness that had been so awe-inspiring at Starfall when she had been a little girl struggling between trying to help her sister and protecting the secret Dyanna had trusted her with. "It was cruel of me."
That was indeed unexpected but Astrea managed to force out a smile. "You didn't need to, Your Grace. You aren't the first person to react like this and you won't be the last one. I am used to it. It doesn't bother me."
Yes, it did, yes, it did…
Baelor didn't believe her, she could tell. But he looked sad nonetheless. "People can be ruthless," he said. "Even when they don't mean to be. I didn't. You were failed, my lady, and then treated as if you were the one who failed."
She was surprised to no end. "Oh but I did fail," she said. "He was alive when she left. When they found us, he wasn't."
"And who were the wise people who chose to leave a new mother alone in bed with the babe?" he countered. "A newly delivered woman should never be allowed to go to sleep in the first hours for her own sake, let alone staying with the newborn in bed without someone watching."
To Astrea's mortification, her eyes welled up but with the sheer force of will that she had developed with years, she forced the tears back. That was what she had been telling herself for all those years, that had been the only thing helping her through those dark first months when she had been losing her mind. But she had never heard it from anyone else and it had sounded a lot like a contrived excuse. And in a way, it was. She should have known that something was wrong. She should have been able to rise and put him in his crib before she passed out.
"No," Baelor said sharply and she glanced at him, surprised by his perceptivity. "Think about it this way: most of us do things that place our children at risk at one moment. And most of the time, we're lucky enough to not have to suffer the consequences. I am so sorry that I made you think I thought anything else."
He believed what he was saying. The relief was so sweet that she would have swayed, had she not been seated. She turned her head and stared at the white river with the dissipating mist until she collected herself.
"Thank you, Your Grace," she said simply. Right now, elaborated phrases and long-winded gratitudes would not come to her, no matter how obligatory they were per etiquette.
"You are, you know," he said.
This time, she turned her head and looked at him. "What?"
"You are the woman I want to be the mother of my heirs. You made a mistake when young and still managed to make the best of it. Despite the stain of being a Dornishwoman in the Vale, you managed to win some supporters there. You survived the most terrible ordeal that can happen to a mother without going mad."
"I thought I was," she said quietly. "I… I might have done so, for a while."
He looked unfazed. "But you conquered it, even if it were madness. That's just the kind of mother I wish for the future King of the Seven Kingdoms. A resilient one." He paused, thoughts of Rhaegel, so kind and so frail, sitting the Iron Throne filling his mind with images. Terrible ones. "And I can see something else, my lady. You don't want to spend your life as a grieving widow. You don't want an empty bed or secret pleasures. You believe you can do better if given the chance. I also think so."
"But why?" she asked.
He smiled. "Because you sailed through court effortlessly. And you're quite resourceful. I first noticed it twenty years ago at Starfall when you were just a little girl of seven."
And he remembered it? Astrea would have thought that the Prince of Dragonstone, already twenty and with his own triumphs and trials, would have forgotten about that girl as soon as she was done playing her part.
"And you're ready to risk the Marches?" she asked.
Baelor had given the matter a serious thought. "The risk is very small," he said. "If it even exist. My marriage to Jena tied them to our side. They were amidst our greatest supporters when Daemon rebelled. They might have lost their royal ties now but House Caron and their allies are pleased with the match your brother promised them. And there is peace around the Marches and the Red Mountains now. Maekar has built it successfully."
Astrea flushed, guilt crashing over her once again. After she had broken House Dayne's word to House Caron, Aurelia had become the one to pay the price. The heiress of Starfall would be wed to Pearse Caron's younger son as soon as he was of age. That meant a few more years of waiting. And Aurelia was understandably not thrilled to wed a boy when she'd be a woman long grown. All my fault.
She could understand his reasoning. For all the hostility between Dorne and the rest of the Seven Kingdoms, the Blackfyre rebellion had been about Daemon Blackfyre. The hatred of Dorne and its new influence had been used as a pretext and fanned carefully more than it had been the main cause. And Baelor's popularity with both highborn and smallfolk alike would allow him more leeway now than twenty years ago. And still…
He must be desperate, she realized. He must be fearing the prospect of a new queen turning out barren more than he does the prospect of any new resentment.
"What happened at the tent yesterday?" he suddenly asked, changing topics, realizing that he should not press her too hard. He, too, was abruptly aware of just how primitive the situation was in its core. He wanted her womb, her resilience and her sharp mind. Oh, and her looks as well. It was this simple. Of course, those motives were hardly worse than those who had brought Jena to him. But at the time, he had been young and able to place a romantic cast on the situation. He had become genuinely infatuated with Jena in a way that could never be repeated now. Now, he knew more of life and he knew that this woman did as well. He could give her some time to ponder over this, at least.
Blush came to her cheeks once again. "It was terrible," she said simply and paused. "Is Aegon well?"
"No," Baelor replied. "No one has been able to find him. But what happened? Rhaegel only told me the basics and Maekar pretended not to hear when I asked him about it."
Typical of Maekar. Oh so typical! Astrea had been very fond of him once but it was so typical.
"My brother said Maekar did nothing to prevent Dyanna's death," she said. "And Maekar didn't deny it. Aegon heard."
She fell silent for a while, looking at the river and collecting her thoughts. At the time the return of Dyanna's illness had become public knowledge, she had just given birth to Elsbet. The displeasure by the arrival of a girl and not a male heir had only intensified at the news. And Astrea's own fear could not be driven away.
"It couldn't have been prevented, could it have?" she finally asked, turning to him.
"No," Baelor replied. "It couldn't. I wasn't there when she died but Jena was. She says Dyanna was dying even before the option of cutting the lesion out could be turned to deed. She would have died anyway." He paused. "I can't really blame either of them for not wanting to believe it, though," he finally said.
"But you still want to wed me? Aren't you… scared?"
He shook his head immediately. He had thought about that already. "Why should I be scared? There is an illness running in my family as well, yet Rhaegel is the kindest soul I know. And the other three of us are completely healthy. I was wed once to a woman with all prospects of giving me healthy children. They were hardly ever sick in their lives, indeed. And they still died."
It was terrifying, how the word had started to come to him so naturally and effortlessly. The pain was there, although not with the white scorching, searing pain from the first day. And then another emotion threatened to choke him. No matter what Astrea would decide, he was leaving his past behind. His sons. Jena. The future they had once dreamed of under those furs that prickled Jena's skin – for it was cold at Dragonstone. All ruined. All his for so short a time.
After a while, he looked at her. She had gone to the window and stood there, once again staring at the river, now burning in streaks of fiery red and gold. Dyanna had done it as well, with the sea at King's Landing. A memory long buried stirred to life. Something that his mother had told him as a child. Mother Rhoyne? The Essosi goddess? Was that it? Did those Dayne ladies draw strength and wisdom from the roiling waters? Were they asking them for advice?
"And if I say no?" Astrea finally asked. "If I decide that I prefer simple life after all, without a queen's trappings and everyone gossiping about my bedsheets every month? Will you change your mind about my plea for my daughter then, Your Grace?"
"Of course not," Baelor replied, choosing not to take offense. It would take him time until he taught her to trust people again. Was her vulnerability despite her strength one of the things that drew him to her? Her beauty certainly wasn't. Both Jena and Flora had been dark-haired and dark-eyed.
She nodded. "I'll do it," she said suddenly. "I will wed you and I will give you sons – although with me, you can get a number of daughters first."
He was about to shrug when he realized that she meant it as an honest warning. "I wouldn't mind," he only said and brought her to the table to give her a goblet because her pallor told him that she needed one. This time, he seated her at the head of the table, as if she were already his queen.