I'm really sorry that this chapter is so late.

Silver Tears of the Moon

A World of Grey

"How did you come to this place, of all castles in the land?" Baelor asked as soon as he and his queen were left alone, almost immediately after his arrival. Behind their closed door, arguments flared, weeping could be heard, and someone had taken it upon themselves to explain what a punishment high treason merited.

"The storm brought me here. I had no idea that there was treason brewing here," Astrea said impatiently. "I already told you this. I was not asking for trouble."

He did not take his suspicious look away. He had no doubt that she was telling the truth and this was exactly was troubled him. It was his duty to protect his lady wife and he always would but he could now see that his chivalric impulses that had been one of the reasons to choose her in the first play might turn out to be satisfied more often than he had, in fact, expected. There were people who somehow ended up having danger in a merry dance all around them through no fault of their own and his queen was one of them, it seemed. She did not look for trouble but trouble somehow always found her. Baelor wanted to wring her neck anyway, now that she was safe. Her way of rescuing, or almost rescuing herself felt like an insult and Astrea stiffened, feeling it. "What did Ser Ronnel tell you?" she demanded, pouring some wine for him and herself.

"That you refused to leave when you had the chance."

Astrea huffed. "I didn't," she said. "I just couldn't leave without my people. I was the one who brought them here; I would be the one responsible when…"

"Each one of them knows that giving their lives for you is part of their duty," Baelor said angrily, refusing the wine.

"Oh? Is this why you almost died in defence of a mere hedge knight? Because you were so focused on what people owed you, instead of what you owed them?"

Baelor waved an irritable hand. The grey day offered little light and even less warmth. Astrea shifted closer to the fireplace but he refused to follow, although he could feel the chill unpleasantly. "This was different," he said. "Astrea, you're the person who is closest to me," he added, surprised to hear the words and even more surprised to realize that they were true. "To me, you're more important than all retainers in the world. Take that as an order: you should not put yourself in the path of danger. Ever."

She was silent. She was no liar. Baelor suddenly remembered that even Jena, the most traditional lady wife ever, had refused to obey him at times, although she had done her thing and let him find out much later, when he could not stop her. And Flora who had shaped her life around his expectations had finally confronted him with the truth that she wanted more than he could give her. A family. But the memory no longer hurt this much. Somehow, along the way, he, Astrea and the girls had started turning into a family, kind of. How many of the women that had mattered in his life had been unfailingly obedient? He could not think of one. "Just be more careful," he said tiredly, suddenly recognizing one of the reasons that had helped him feel her close. Like him, Astrea still held on some ideals, as foolish as they might seem. Like cutting her expenses so much as to actually end the year with a gain. "Are you still cold?" he asked, taking her hands in his own. He could feel that he was proud of her already, his courageous, idealistic little wife.

She let him take her hands in his and smiled. "Now, I'm not."

Whitewalls waited them to emerge with bated breath or as Maekar put it, half of the people thought Baelor would beat his wayward queen and the other half betted that she would have him forgive her in the way women had been using since the beginning of time. It felt strange to be the subject of such assumptions and it made him once again feel how much work there was before Dorne was fully accepted into the realm as one of the kingdoms and not the other. No one would have thought Jena one prone to female wiles, although she had been far more influential with him than Astrea.

"It was about time!" Maekar said by the way of greeting. Baelor raised an eyebrow, wondering what had managed to sour his brother's temper in such a short period of time. Aegon was an option but the boy was nowhere near… wait! His nephew was just approaching Astrea and they started an animated conversation, their heads close together – Astrea did not need to lean this much for this. Baelor immediately felt uneasy.

"Don't worry," Maekar said gruffly. "I don't think they're going to try something. You may want to give Ser Roland some time to rest, though. He's had enough of Daynes for the time being… and yes, I do include my son in this, sadly."

Baelor was astounded at his brother's complete lack of self-awareness. In the beginning of Ser Roland's time in the Kingsguard, he had been watching young Maekar as distrustfully as he did Aegon now. Did Maekar not remember, or had he tried to forget? The second option saddened Baelor but there was no time for this.

"You've been waiting for me?" he asked.

"Indeed. I came in this antechamber because no one in this castle seems to grasp that I have no authority to tell them what's going to happen to them. And the ones that beg me to put in a good word for them are the ones I'm least inclined to do it for," Maekar added.

Baelor listened to Lord Butterwell's bleating at the other side of the door and understood. So, Lord Ambrose has finally managed to put Maekar to flight, he thought, amused. Of course, now I'll have to take him instead. Now, this was not amusing at all.

"Let's go," he sighed.

The windows at the long side of the great hall let some dusky light in. The walls Baelor could see from his place at the dais did not look white but grey. A good day for passing judgment, he thought grimly. He was never eager for the experience but even so, when he saw the vast expanse that the servants had hastily stripped of all tables, benches, and tapestries to turn it into his courtroom, the memory of the sentences his father had passed in the throne room after Daemon's fall sprang to such vivid life that for the first time, he truly felt what he was dealing with. Not a token rebellion, no. Daemon's ghost had risen once again, starting an era of new disturbances, greed, and death…

"Summon the Queen," he told one of his men.

There would be no mercy. Not this time. They had tried it once and see where it had brought them! Let the world see what they had – a Dornish-looking king, a pure Dornishwoman for queen, and royal punishment when warranted. Anything less would be interpreted as bowing to the rumours and instigations the malcontents had started. It would be seen as acknowledging their reasons.

"What?" Maekar asked. "Aren't you coming?"

Baelor startled before realizing that this time, his brother was not addressing him. Ultor Dayne shook his head. "No."

"Why?" Baelor and Maekar asked simultaneously. "Don't tell me that you've started to care what they say about you?" Maekar went on but despite his derision, there was a gruff note of affection in his voice, after all those years.

"I care," Ultor replied and then he went on without mincing words, "The two of you might be keen of proving that Dorne will have a voice in important decisions no matter what but I have no interest to further the slanders against my compatriots even more. We have to live the consequences of the rumours, you know. Raids and trade, and other dull things."

Baelor felt ashamed because it was true, he had intended to push Dorne into everyone's eyes to teach them a lesson without giving a thought to anyone other than himself. He nodded that his goodbrother could leave and Ultor did so, immediately.

Astrea entered, trailed by two ladies. Aegon walked next to her, both trying not to shake. Like many castles, Whitewalls did not have plastered walls and with the stripping of the tapestries, draughts had started to invade. Baelor ordered a brazier for her and she extended her hands over it gratefully as he ordered to bring the first traitor before them.

"It was a conspiracy against me as much as it was against the Iron Thone!" Lord Butterwell started. It would have sounded better if his chin was not shaking so hard that the words came out twisted. "And Her Grace promised me her protection!"

Baelor looked at Astrea who nodded. "This was my promise before he agreed to open the gates," she said. "I beg you for mercy, my lord husband. This man is a traitor but his treachery was borne out of idleness and choosing the easy way, rather than true hatred for the Iron Throne and actual plotting. He will be no threat – he doesn't have the will to bright himself together and concoct a plan to do us true harm. I beg you to be merciful."

"I will be," Baelor said because he could not shame his new wife with such a huge disrespect as invalidating her word. "I'll be merciful for you, my lady, but I assure you, he won't be in position to do any harm from now on."

Easier said than done! What should he say now? How would Brynden have acted? In his mind's eye, Baelor saw the white face and the single glinting red eye. "One out of ten," he could almost hear Brynden Rivers say. "One out of ten."

I'll let him keep one tenth of his fortune, Baelor decided. Enough to live kind of decently but he'll never be a factor again and threaten me or mine. His intuition borne out of so many disappointments showed him the true meaning of Astrea's slight movements, the distant look that someone invaded her eyes, the hand she had placed on her belly before his mind could make the connection. Only much later, as moon in her bedchamber where he had been installed as well streamed silver behind her, crowning her head with a halo, she gave him the news that she now had the Fireball's alleged son, a boy from a brothel, in her household , adding that she needed to reiterate it to the new addition because it seemed not to have believed her the first time round, he realized what she was not telling him. Perhaps she was not sure yet. And he did not want to ask. He did not know which answer he feared more, that she was not with child or that she was. He had been through so much heartache and disappointment that he did not even know how he would feel at either case.