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Silver Tears of the Moon

The Drawn Blades

The panic caused by her sudden arrival quite amused Astrea. The last time she had arrived in a castle uninvited – well, perhaps the next to the last time – she had been forced to wait quite a long before being admitted and then wait some more before being allotted a chamber of her own; now, she was fussed over and offered tea and hot sweetened wine as the servant maids rushed on the floor above to move the bride's things from the best chamber in Whitewalls and make it available for the Queen's use. "I don't need this much…" she started but Ultor caught her eye and shook his head. Right. She might not need this much cossetting but this was one of the things she had implicitly agreed when she married Baelor. Lord Butterwell's next words confirmed it.

"It'll be a slight on my honour if I offer Her Grace anything but the best I have," he claimed. Still, he was not looking at her but Ultor; with mild irritation, she realized that he thought her brother was the one making the decisions for her. As a whole, people seemed to suppose she held greater sway over Baelor than she did in truth just because she was considerably younger and famously beautiful but of course, that did not indicate that her own family was not dictating her behavior. If only they knew!

"I appreciate it," she said, surprised by the dislike she had for her host. He was nothing but polite and even fawning. No different from hundreds of other men. Who had told her something about him? She had heard that he was cowardly.

She had no way to ask, of course, so that night, she sat at the dais with him, Lord Frey, and the bride who was even younger than she had been when she had eloped, smiled, and accepted the toasts to her and Baelor's health. She wiped the frown off her forehead the moment she felt it come. They were all too eager in their toasts. It was almost like… like… the thought escaped her again but a look at Ultor's stern face made her realize that there was something in the air that should not be so.

The wishes of fertility aimed at the new bride brought everyone's eyes to Astrea. They couldn't see her belly under the table, of course, and it was too soon after her wedding to expect a child on the way and certainly too early to expect her to show if such a child existed. This did not stop anyone from guessing, of course, and something deep within her told her that their guesses weren't quite well-meaning. Why was that? They should be eager for an heir!

Her eyes went over the hall and fell on the tallest man she had ever encountered. She recognized him immediately and was surprised by the sudden lurch of fear that was her first reaction. But her voice kept the conversation light and civil.

When the festivities were over, Astrea was dying to have some sleep but she could also not escape the fear rising in her. Her two Kingsguard walked at her sides, with Ultor leading the way and a few gold cloaks following, everyone's swords gleaming. Not in the scabbards. Not with their hands resting on the hilts. They walked around her with drawn blades in their hands. In a castle celebrating a wedding.

"Find him," Ultor told them as soon as they entered Astrea's bedchamber and made a few steps away from the door. "Find my nephew."

Ser Donnel and Ser Roland looked at Astrea and she nodded. Quicky, Ser Roland removed his distinctive white cloak and tousled his hair some to look more like a reveler before leaving. Over his shoulder, Astrea spotted the gleam of a gold cloak. Her door was heavily guarded.

"What?" she asked as soon as the door closed.

Ultor gave her a grim look. "That's a traitors' haunt," he said simply. "I saw a good deal of crests today. And faces. I saw most of those being tried after the Black Dragon fell. I fought against some of them at Redgrass Field and before."

Astrea gasped. Now she remembered where she had heard their host being called cowardly. Maekar, of course, Maekar had said with contempt to her and Dyanna how Lord Butterwell had sent a son at either side. She now realized that she had seen some of the men in the hall at court too – when she had been her sister's attendant, a girl with a bright future awaiting her while they had had no idea if they would have any. They had looked much different then! Scared. Unlike today. Now, it was her who felt fear but she could not say why.

"What else?" she asked, turning to her brother. She felt sure that there was something more. Now, Ultor's face confirmed it.

"We have a Blackfyre here, under this very roof," he said without trying to sweeten it. "This Fiddler boy."

Astrea gasped, and so did Roland Crakehall. "Are you sure?" she asked and Ultor laughed darkly.

"He's the spitting image of his father as he was when I met him," he said. "The self-important boy offered his services to Dyanna."

Astrea gasped. "Surely not…"

"He did," Ultor said. "It was an ill-advised decision however. But it was one of the reasons I knew I would not forget him. Ser Ronald, what says you?"

The Kingsguard hesitated. "I believe you might be right, my lord. Or… not."

"My brother is right, undoubtedly," Astrea snapped. Ultor never spoke without being sure of his words, unlike Dyanna who could say whatever fib had taken her fancy and believe it whoheheartedly.

The white knight sighed. "That's what I feared!"

Astrea felt sudden weakness. The two men looked uneasy as well but when she poured them some wine from the jug left on the table, they declined. She refrained as well, feeling acutely just how ridiculous that was. They had all eaten Lord Butterwell's bread and drunk his wine already. If he wanted to poison them, he wouldn't do it in the Queen's chamber. And why would he want such a thing, by the Seven?

Why would he host a traitors' tourney? With a son of Daemon Blackfyre, of all people? Astrea took a seat and Ultor and Ser Ronald remained standing, their blades still drawn and ready. Everyone felt relieved when the door opened and a huge shadow slipped in as silently as it was possible for someone this big. A second one followed, dwarfed by the size of the former.

"What are you playing at?" Ser Duncan the Tall asked angrily, his hand rushing to his own sword as he saw the blades in theirs.

"Do take those back in," Astrea said impatiently. "Now that we're all here, they're not needed."

She smiled at the sight of the tall youth's protectiveness. Aegon had found a good protector indeed. Then, slightly surprised, she noticed the book her nephew was carrying. He had been reading when they had found him? Now?

"Coats of arms," Ultor said. Being closer to Aegon, he had noticed this much. "Which means you understand what's going on, don't you?"

The boy nodded. "They're traitors, aren't they? All of them."

The hedge knight looked irritated – and quite drunk. "Don't start again, boy. It was all so long ago."

"Not this long," Ultor said sharply. "The Black Dragon might be dead, blessed be the Seven, but his beastling is here – and I don't think it's a friendly family visit that he's planning."

That made both of them startle. Aegon slowly shook his head. "You're talking like my father."

"He would have told you the same thing, had he been here," Ultor stated. "I want you both to leave Whitewalls by the first light of the sun. Whatever happens, I don't want you here for it. I am not sure what they're planning but I expect that should Astrea wish to leave, she'll be kindly delayed. But you can leave, as long as no one is aware who you are."

Aegon's face changed. "You want me to run and hide?" he exclaimed and at the same time, Ser Duncan said angrily, "That's too much! I can take it from the boy but not a man grown. I am taking part in the tourney and you shying at shadows won't stop me!"

Ultor and Astrea looked at each other, exasperated. "I'll give you all the money you hoped to win by jousting," he said impatiently and she saw how the young man's face became fury personified. The boy looked insulted as well.

"My pride is worth more than any dragons," Ser Duncan said haughtily.

More than Aegon's safety, Astrea wanted to ask but she could see that he did not believe this safety was threatened.

"Very well," she said. "If we're all going to stay here, we can put our time to some good use and stop them."

Four big men and a little sweaty one gave her looks of utter confusion. "Your Grace," Ser Donnel said. "We don't know what they're planning."

"Whatever it is, I am not planning on sitting there and waiting around until they become ready to show it!"

Aegon started nodding enthusiastically. Ultor gave her a long look. "I am not sure it's the safest thing for you." he said.

Was he going to try and start dissuading her? "Fortunately, I don't need your opinion on my decisions," Astrea stated. "I am the Queen. Now, I'm going to write a letter."

"Who to?" he asked.

"Baelor," she said and now even Ser Duncan looked anxious.

"Your Grace," he said. "If… if you're right about them, they will likely read your letter before it leaves."

Astrea sat at the table and smiled at him. "That's what I'm counting on!"