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Silver Tears of the Moon

Silver Tears, Touch of Hope

Mariah only nodded, a faint smile playing about her mouth as she heard the news. "I think she'll make a good Queen," she only said. "And a good wife, most likely."

It was clear which one she valued more and Baelor grinned, remembering his uncle Maron around the time Baelor had visited Dorne a little before his wedding to Jena. "If she makes a great queen, that's great," the Prince of Dorne had said. "But just in case, I'd advise you to choose wisely when you make friendships. When the time comes to have a companion, that's the pool you'd be choosing from, more likely than not." Even a lifetime of a happy marriage hadn't squashed that same practical streak in Mariah.

And then, his smile slowly faded. Maron had turned out to be right, after all. When the time had come to choose himself, he had chosen a woman he had come to know as wise and sensible, not someone he had fallen in love with the moment he first saw her, like a knight from a stupid song. And it hadn't lasted either.

"Most likely," he agreed and paused. "She's had it hard, Mother. She might need some help with this whole settling thing."

Now, her smile went away as well. She stared at him. "It was this bad?"

He hesitated. It wouldn't stay a secret for long – once Astrea became his queen, the true story behind her love match would come out, as well as her babe's death. But it felt disloyal to share it with his mother before he absolutely had to. Like spreading a rumour, although a true one. "Yes," he finally said. "It was."

Mariah nodded. "I see," she said. Her smile did not come back but there was warmth and caress in her eyes when she looked at him. "I do think she might make you a perfect wife."

That surprised him. "Why?"

"You need to protect people," she said. "Make things right."

Baelor was about to protest but as he thought his words over, he wondered if his mother wasn't right. Could Astrea's misery be the very thing that stirred his deepest instincts? He had long ago eschewed his dreams to be a perfect knight – he knew that no such thing existed outside the imagination of an impressionable child. Like, say, Aegon. And once, he would have taken insult at the thought that he was drawn to unhappiness like… like a vulture… but perhaps Mariah did have a point. His first true desire to wed Astrea had come after he had treated her cruelly and realized that the world had done so years ago, paining her beyond imagination, adding to her own self-recriminations.

"You never minded giving more than what you received," Mariah went on. Still, she's like it if he received as much as he would give. "And yes, I will help her, of course. Thank you for letting me know."

We aren't this different, you and I, Mother, Baelor thought, amused all of a sudden. Although Mariah had started undertaking some of her old duties, like holding court since she was still the highest ranking woman in the Seven Kingdoms, she did it with diligence and very little enthusiasm. But the chance of helping an actual person that she knew, the daughter of people she had once known well, perhaps – that was different. There was now energy to her stance and interest in her eyes.

Perhaps he hadn't lost all of his childish ideals after all. And perhaps it wasn't such a bad thing. Perhaps trying to chase the grief and disbelief off Astrea's eyes could give some meaning to the emptiness that was his life once his duties for the days were over and he was again just Baelor. Baelor who had all and yet nothing.

In Baelor's temporary study, Maekar didn't look surprised. "Very well," he said and that took Baelor aback. He had expected that his brother would show the same dislike towards Astrea that she clearly felt towards him.

"You do think the decision a good one?"

Maekar raised a pale eyebrow. "Why, yes. She's healthy and of proven fertility. And she's no fool which, let's be honest here, is one of the things that matter to us. It would have been a waste to not use a clever lady who fits all the other requirements. I can only think of one person who might keep you in their constant distrust and that's your future goodmother. But you won't be seeing her this often, after all. And you might be able to win her over. You do have charm… and you aren't silver-haired," he added, matter-of-factly.

And here Baelor had thought that Lady Elsbet's reserves were due to his brother's morose nature alone.

"You didn't tell me anything about the brother," he said.

Again, Maekar didn't rise to the bait. "Ultor is a good and fine man," he only replied. "It we're going into such details, won't you be asking about the girl as well? Aurelia?"

"If I need to, I'll ask Daeron," Baelor said. "They seem to be spending much time together."

He immediately regretted that he had ever said it. Maekar's face darkened. "They won't be from now on," he answered darkly. "The girl is said to be so disappointed at waiting for a child groom to grow up that she'd be better kept away from those of age with her. Even if they're like my son. One never knows."

For the first time in so long, Baelor felt the unpleasant touch of a cold hand at Maekar's easy dismissal of Daeron. He looked unable to see past the boy's faults and see his loyalty, his compassion, the sharp mind engaged whenever Daeron felt like engaging it. But he had long ago stopped trying to make Maekar realize this.

Still, he was glad that compassion had returned. Ever since the Great Spring Sickness, he had wanted to grab Maekar and shake him hard whenever he heard any such words. Do you not realize how lucky you are that he's alive, he had wanted to yell. Now, he once again felt sympathy for both Daeron and Maekar. Another part of himself that he had thought lost had returned.

Life was going on and as painful as it was, it was… life. What scared Baelor most was how fine he had felt before. When he had been headed to be all but dead inside.

He wed Astrea Dayne – he could say that she'd never want to be called by her husband's name when not in order to impress the justice of her daughter's claim – in the sept of Riverrun seven days later. "Better make everyone to accept a deed done that explaining why this or that daughter, sister, or granddaughter won't be your Queen and Astrea will," Maekar had only said in his gruff, business-like manner and Baelor had agreed.

Among those attending, there was no doubt some who felt personally rejected. But they weren't this many. Once again, Baelor found himself missing his father. Daeron's generosity, the kindness that had come to him without any effort of the will now served the realm once again. Lady Tully, the regent of the young lord, had been born Mya Rivers. She had her station in life thanks to Daeron's decision to give her a splendid match and as a result, the Riverlands had been pretty aligned to the Iron Throne. Still were. Mya had gone out of her way to accommodate his new Queen's wishes, showing her support to everyone who wished to see and some who didn't. Alys seemed delighted by the prestige the match would bring the Vale. And the court, well-versed in flattery, couldn't look more delighted, albeit spreading their vile calumny already. It was better to go forth with the wedding and not give anyone the time to react. He had decided that they couldn't wait even for Astrea's mother to arrive.

He had been a little hesitant at how she'd react at the news but she had taken it with great aplomb. "My lady mother wed without anyone of her family present," she only said. "And at the morning of Dyanna's wedding, my grandmother actually offered her three thousand dragons if she changed her mind and just didn't say the words. My mother will just be happy to know that this time, I stayed and did get wed."

He had only stared at her, trying to decide if she was being serious or if she was spinning a Dyanna-like tale.

But now here she was, her hair sparkling with the light of tens of amethysts, her dress as violet as her eyes. She was as beautiful as the singers claimed but nonetheless Baelor was impressed with the tact that her niece Aurelia had displayed by choosing a gown that understated her looks to let the new Queen shine more brightly. Beauty was one thing but the years of tension and misery had left their mark. She couldn't compare to some of the highborn maidens attending the ceremony but Baelor didn't mind. He made an effort not to look at the only one he knew he'd compare her to. The only one – Flora…

In the sept and later, at the feast, Aegon stood with his sisters and cousins, avoiding the rest of the family which surprised Baelor. Hadn't Maekar spoken to his son, finally? But he didn't have the time to investigate. He had to go through a wedding that brought out painful memories of his first hopeful one, avoid the woman he had desired to make his second wife, and have two little girls that he hadn't spoken more than a few words to understand that he wasn't going to have them sent away from curt and their mother now that he had wed her… Baelor simply didn't have the time to get Aegon's false conviction straight. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice – everyone was still too shocked by the fact that Maekar's mistress was seated at the high table, much to Aelinor and Alys' disdain. There were already whispers about the loose morals that the new Queen had brought over and the old one clearly didn't mind since she and Astrea actually spoke to Saryl Lothston and the irony wasn't lost on Baelor as he stood before the bed, watching Astrea tremble worse than Jena had on their wedding night.

"I won't hurt you," he promised, feeling stupid for saying it to a mother of four. But she needed it. She was shaking so hard that the very bed seemed to vibrate. At that moment, she clearly regretted her decision to accept him.

"I know," she said but she couldn't stop trembling until it was over and he drew a tentative hand along her cheek to make sure that she was truly fine.

"I'm sorry," Astrea murmured. "I… I'll try harder next time. I will…"

"Don't," Baelor interrupted her. "You didn't do anything wrong. I know it's hard to believe me now but it will get better. I will never hurt you."

It felt obscene to ask about the man who had made her fear the act so. Not on their wedding night. He was sure that he was right. What he didn't know was the time when it would get better. He rose and went to close the windows that he had left wide open in the hope that the hum of the river might soothe her. He didn't draw the curtains close as he had always done. Tonight, it would feel like the constraints of a grave.

When he came back to bed, Astrea turned over to him, the moon casting her face and the tears on it silver, and took his hand, and somehow, it was better now. Less lonely. A little like the camaraderie that he had felt with those strangers who had sat with him the night before they all entered the fight that would bring forth the defeat of the Black Dragon and the triumph of the red one.