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Silver Tears of the Moon
A New Beginning
Usually, the girls broke their fast with them but they were eager to finish it because an hour afterward was the afforded time to do whatever they liked before they went to their septa. They would often take a bite or two before going off to Maekar's chambers because Daella, Rhae, and Aelora had the same regimen. An hour or two before the evening feast were their mother's time with them and while it was certainly shorter than what they had been used to before, Baelor had never heard his new queen complain. In fact, sometimes the children came back even later, too busy to explore the Red Keep from top to bottom. But at least he could recognize them from other children now, and not only because of Alyssa's eerie resemblance to the late Dyanna.
"Bets are down, about who Aurelia's husband will be," Astrea said while leafing through parchments old and new. She seemed to be arranging them in some order only known to her. It wasn't by petitions and private letters, or missives from the Reach as opposed to the North. As far as Baelor could say, it wasn't even by topic. "Lord Tyrell seems to be the leading candidate."
"What have you and my Masters of Whisperers have been whispering about?" Baelor asked, surprised that Brynden would spare time for such trivialities, such expected things. "Of course there are whispers. It was the same when Dyanna brought you to court, remember?"
A bitter smile twisted the young Queen's lips. "I do remember," she said. "We used to laugh about it. I came here already knowing that I'd wed into the other side of the Marches. I had accepted it, so all those husbands people kept ascribing to me provided a good entertainment."
Baelor looked up from the dagger he was inspecting, surprised by the sad anger in her voice. Too late, he realized that young Aurelia's position was different from young Astrea's. She received special treatment as was expected for the relative of the Queen but unlike her aunt, she didn't have a marriage to young and virile man expecting her. She had to wait for a child to grow up. All those rumours must be incredibly upsetting for her because she knew that she had to fix Astrea's own mistake. Lord Tyrell would not become her husband. None of the suggested candidates would.
"What are you doing?" he asked, to better deflect his lady wife's attention from the guilty reflections of her part in this. "How are you arranging those anyway?"
She shrugged. "By the Queen's and your mother's charities," she said and at first, Baelor couldn't make the difference.
"My mother started an asylum for unwed mothers when she first came to King's Landing," he said a moment later. "Of course, that only served to confirm the perception of Dornish people as lewd."
"One Dornish whore taking care of others," Astrea said bluntly and Baelor choked on his wine. No one had ever put it this blatantly before. She was likely well informed that this moniker was being applied to her as well. She rose and came close to pound him on the back with a hand that not at all frail and ladylike. "She started another charities as well," she went on. "I am trying to discern her own projects from those bequeathed to queens since Alysanne. It wouldn't be right for me to appropriate her own charities. I'll have my own."
There was more certainty in her voice than ever in the two moons after their wedding when this matter had ever been raised. Baelor placed the dagger away entirely and gave her a look of faint curiosity. "You have something in mind?"
"I do," she confirmed. "A home for children who were born deaf and mute, for a start. It'll be located in one of the manors you gave me, Green Hill. I was told the climate there is best suited for those with frail health. I will find men and women ready to teach them how to carve wood or make embroideries, so when they leave, they'll be ready to earn their living and not begging their bread by the side of the road."
"And how are you going to finance it, Astrea?" Baelor asked reluctantly. All the money for his own spending had been planned to pour into the huge empty spots that the Spring Sickness had left within the ranks of those who worked the land, ground the wheat, transported goods of great necessity as well as those of lavish luxury. The work in all the regions that had felt the breath of the Stranger was still paralyzed, almost it had started stirring. The great tourney thrown to celebrate his new wedding had been the final nail in the coffin of his spendings. "I do like the idea, don't get me wrong. The Seven will love you for that but for now, it simply isn't sustainable."
She looked undeterred. "You established a few grants for me, did you not?"
Baelor only stared. "But they are small, Astrea. You won't even be able to live in true splendour. In a few years, when the realm has recovered somewhat, you'll get more, and more suitable for your station but for now, you only get less than two thirds of what my mother received when she was queen. At the time my father ascended to the Iron Throne, my lady grandmother had been long dead but I now have to provide for both you and her and…"
"Did Maekar tell you to give me those platitudes?" she cut in, eyes blazing. "Is that his idea, that splendour is so very important to me and there is no way I can control my spending?"
Baelor could only shake his head. This was the first time he even heard about such an idea. Astrea sighed. "I intend to end the year with a balance in hand," she proclaimed and Baelor quickly looked away, truly amused for the first time in a very long time. He was a little proud of her, his energetic, determined, well-intentioned queen, and he wouldn't reproach her when she inevitably ended up with a deficit. "And I will start as soon as I return from Golden Stream."
The silence stretched between them. In the public recognition, obligation, and celebrations of their wedding, they had barely had the time to see each other. Certainly not talked about anything serious.
"I'll just put things there in order," Astrea promised. "I'll be back immediately."
The more time they spent together, the greater chance for her to get with child. But when he spoke, it wasn't this concern that moved him, at least not entirely. "Do you want me to come with you?"
She quickly shook her head. "No, no. As if I am afraid and you're coming to keep me safe. I'll do it on my own. Just Ultor and I. I won't even take the girls."
She knew that the danger of a forced wedding should be non-existing now but she couldn't be entirely sure. Better not risk it. And of course, her late husband's cousin couldn't try to make up for Elsbet's absence by wedding her, the heiress' mother. Astrea would feel quite safe traveling around on her own.
She didn't say anything more but Baelor realized that dealing with her daughter's inheritance and rights on her own was important to her, to prove to herself that she could do it, so he wasn't about to stop her, even if that delayed the getting an heir part for a month or two.
Of course, it didn't turn out this way. Astrea lost a fortnight at the Eyrie as Donnel Arryn's cherished guest, the one all hastily assembled Valemen and women came to see. Some stepped in with curiosity, others with joy, others yet with fear, all with desire to make impression. She knew many of them, had suffered the rejection of some, formed ties with others. Her entire life since she had fled with the Valeman she had been in love with passed before her eyes as she sat in the high box for the quickly organized tourney, the queen of the festivities as she was the queen of the Seven Kingdoms, or as she slept in the Moon Tower that Lord and Lady Arryn had given up to her.
It was another world, the Vale. An undamaged one, and she said so to Lord Donnel and Lady Diadra. "You did well to seal the Vale off, my lord. My travels outside only proved just how greatly you served your people."
"We've heard all kind of horrible tales about King's Landing," Lady Arryn said. "We were so scared…"
"It's all over now, as terrible as it was," Astrea replied and started telling them about their grandchildren. The woman's face brightened and even Lord Arryn smiled.
Her visit at Golden Stream didn't pass nearly this well. As soon as the gates opened and the shoes of their horses echoed around the stone-paved bailey, a surge of the familiar fear and hatred made her breath catch. How many a night had she been weeping herself to sleep in the Square Tower where the lord's – the lady's, now, Elsbet's – chambers lay? How many times had she cursed her hot blood, her treacherous heart that had led her here? How many times had she stood at the window, wishing to jump and leave it all behind? Only, she had been unable to. Leaving her girls with her husband and his mother whose disapproval of her had turned to hatred after she had smothered her babe and eventually, at the mercy of Perren's new wife? That had never been an option.
In the great hall, Lady Emala curtsied to her. Astrea looked from her to the black cloth of mourning still swathing everything and felt that she was suffocating. "Welcome," the older woman said. "Your Grace."
How many times had Astrea dreamed to see her humbled and humiliated? Now, she only wanted to have the matters dealt with and leave the castle that sapped her lifeblood as it once had.
"Is Ser Polander here?" she asked, taking a seat.
A flash of hatred crossed Lady Emala's eyes. "He was quick to leave when he learned you had wed the King," she said. "Very quick."
"That's good," Astrea replied. "He will have no place here as long as I hold Golden Stream for Elsbet."
This calm claim of power made the older woman glare at her but she recognized the truth in it. "That's good to hear," she said.
"Ser Aron will rule in Elsbet's name, with my blessing," Astrea went on, looking at the steward who had stepped in from the shadows and was now standing behind her, as he always had before. She also named a few men and women she knew and trusted from before. "You, of course, can stay, my lady," she finished magnanimously, as if she weren't tugging out of Emala's hands the power she had regained for so shortly after Polander's escape. But it was not her obligation to provide Emala with power and reasons to live her days. Not at Elsbet's expense. And she didn't trust her.
"Are the children going to come back?" her goodmother finally asked and despite everything, Astrea felt an unwanted surge of pity.
"No," she said. "My girls will stay with me. They will come from time to time but they will not be taken from me."
Lady Emala looked down. "Of course," she said evenly.
"I thought it would be such a great moment," Astrea said softly, days after they had left the castle, the stream that shone like true gold, and the pain of her past. "I thought I would gloat, that I'd feel like flying… But it isn't like that at all."
"That's the difference between you and her," Ultor replied. "In your place, she would have felt all those things."
It was then that she realized he had come to know all the hurts of her past. It was no wonder since he and Elfred had taken a great liking to each other immediately.
"I'll make amends," she said, her voice suddenly fierce. "To you, to Aurelia… I will find a way, you'll see."
The look he gave her was anything but grateful. "For a queen, it's dangerous to indulge such illusions," he only said and looked ahead.
"Is it going to rain?" Astrea asked, looking up at the clothes, as dark and dangerous as the ashes between her and Ultor, ashes that turned to living embers ever so often.
Ultor looked up as well. "A storm, I think,"
Astrea bit her lip. "Which is the nearest inn or castle?" she asked, surprising her brother. They had both survived countless storms in the Red Mountains. In the very heart of them. "The Maidenpool?"
"It's Whitewalls, Your Grace," Elfred said because as usual, he went wherever she did.
She nodded. "To Whitewalls we go, then."
Four months. They had been wed in less than five moons but he already felt her absence. It had been nice to have someone to return to at the evening and listen to her plans of setting up charities and reviving merchant caravans. Her beauty wasn't a bad thing, either. Just a week after her leaving, Baelor could hardly wait for her to come back even as he tried to figure out a way to avoid a loan from the Iron Bank. If they could get through the next two years without any major losses, he'd consider them as having successfully escaped the total collapse.
Except for those who had not escaped the Stranger, of course…
Still, his wedding to Astrea had invigorated King's Landing even in her absence. There were presents and envoys from all over Essos coming to see the new Queen. Traders of fabrics and women trained to prepare beautifying ointments and potions flourished in their trades. Poets and singers turned the beautiful new Queen in a subject of songs and praises that filled their hats with coin in the street. And of course, her daughters could be seen exploring the Red Keep often when they weren't schooled by their septa, and watching them with her own granddaughters, Mariah even smiled which made Baelor happy.
"Have you heard from Astrea?" she asked him in the late afternoon, about a month after Astrea's leaving. "The girls were asking me when she was coming back."
"She's on her way," Baelor replied, noticing with some surprise the mass of papers on the table before her. She and Maekar's mistress were leafing through it. "I thought most petitions came to her already?"
His mother laughed softly. "Do not remind me. It's temporary and I'm glad Saryl is here to help me, although Maekar isn't pleased that I'm keeping her for so long. He thinks taking care of the girls is exhausting enough."
Baelor shook his head. "So, should I be prepared for another day of glaring each time Astrea's name comes along?" he asked, although he couldn't fault Maekar for wanting Saryl close when he returned from his day of duties. He wanted Astrea close and he didn't even love her. "Can you explain me that enmity of theirs anyway?" he asked. "They seem to have no meager respect for each other but at the same time, they can't stand being together in a hall."
"Ah, this," Saryl said instantly, still reading through a parchment. "It's very easy. I can explain it to you right now if you have the time, Your Grace."
She said it so casually that he looked at her with rapt attention for the very first time in his life, for all that she had shared Maekar's for more than five years and unlike many, he had never ignored her when they happened to meet. It hadn't been hard – she was nowhere as striking as Dyanna and about as half as lively and captivating. "Do tell."
Saryl smiled and Baelor abruptly realized what his brother must have seen in her. When she smiled, she almost became a beauty. It was as if there was warmth flowing from her and he wondered why she hadn't done it more often when young. "It's very simple," she said but what was so simple, Baelor didn't quite get to know because one of his mother's handmaidens came in and spoke to her in a low voice.
"Let him in," Mariah said. "Brynden," she said in reply to Baelor's questioning look.
The Master of Whisperers entered and bowed. Mariah looked at him, frowning. "A sleepless night again?" she asked. "Do take some rest from time to time, Brynden! The realm won't go to ruins if you leave your reports waiting for a while."
"I'm afraid that right now, it might, Your Grace." Even his voice was scratchy from the lack of rest. He looked at Baelor. "We were right. Daemon's eldest surviving son has made it to Westeros and his first moves against your throne."