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The Almost Queen

Chapter 2

They didn't tell her, in the beginning. She thought it was just an unusually abundant moon blood dragged earlier than expected by the shock and the hard ride. She ascribed her exhaustion and lack of appetite to those – and the betrayal.

In the first few days, she did not receive anyone. Not that there were many who wanted to call upon her. Those who loved her had stayed behind at Dragonstone. She did not wish to see her aunt Alyssa, by now no doubt the new Princess of Dragonstone. Viserys had come a few times but she had nothing to tell him, giving listless answers and claiming fatigue, hoping that he'd get the hint. He did.

When her grandmother came, they would not talk about what had transpired. Or her father. Or anything, actually. Really, what was there to say? The Queen did not force her to say anything and did not offer awkward comfort. She just held her hand.

Rhaenys could pinpoint the day the news of her disinheritance spread all over the Red Keep – three days after that terrible scene in the throne room, five days after her father's death. That was quick, she thought bitterly. Even if it was not official yet, it was still quick. She feared the day she'd see her uncle Baelon at the third step of the dais where her father had once stood, at her father's place at the evening feasts. A prince had gone, a prince had come. Just like this. In a few years, few would even remember her father's name and this was the way of the world, yet she had not expected of her grandfather to repay the son who had died defending his throne like this so quickly, so easily. And that made this strange weariness even more pronounced.

But she could not stay in her rooms forever. Finally, at the seventh day, she summoned her maids and ordered a bath, taking extra care with her appearance. She would not give anyone the pleasure to see her heartbreak, so she was resplendent when she entered her grandmother's chambers after an endless walk through a palace that no longer knew how to treat her, so she only received scared greetings and averted eyes.

The Queen was not there, though, and Rhaenys thought she'd sit down and wait for her, just a little. But the moment she touched the back of the couch, her head went to her chest and she went back to sleep, to only be awoken from her grandmother's voice from the next chamber. "They say the reason for the loss is the fall, Viserys, the trauma. And she rode very hard indeed. But she's young and healthy, and her body is not damaged. There is no reason to think that she would not have other children."

For a moment, Rhaenys did not know who they were talking about and when she did, she wanted to scream. Now she remembered that her moon blood had not come last month but she had not paid attention. She had thought that there might be a child on the way but she had dismissed this thought because she had thought it was still too early into the marriage. The feeling of guilt and loss was overwhelming.

"I know she will," Viserys was saying. "She was always strong, Rhaenys. But it won't be the same. Nothing will be the same. Even though I did not know about the babe." He paused. "I think she did not know about the babe either."

The court was waiting, filling the yard before the White Sword Tower to the brim. The pyre was as tall that from the window Rhaenys was standing at, it seemed to reach the apartments of the Lord Commander. From the Dragonpits, there were roars and howls more regular than usually, as if the dragons were mourning with them. "They say Sharyn had flown back to Dragonstone," Alyssa spoke absent-mindedly. "And that she won't be contained. She's mourning him. I can believe this. I remember when Jocelyn died, I…" She cut herself off. "It doesn't matter now, does it?"

No, Rhaenys thought and the world became a little grimmer yet. At this moment, she loved the dragon more than anything. Sharyn had fought for his rider more faithfully than any of those gathered here, save for his mother. Even she, Rhaenys, had accepted the decision without saying a word.

"Shall we go now?" she asked, proud by the collected sound of her own voice. Not for the world would she show her pain to her family. Her enemies. "It's getting late."

She was the first one to head for the door, the others filing out behind her when they suddenly realized that there was one who had not moved at all. "We shouldn't," the King said in a dull voice. His face was open as if by a lash now and Rhaenys felt uncomfortable looking at him, so undisguised were his emotions. "There was no body to return to us. A funeral without a corpse. What are we going to bury?"

"It's purely symbolic," Alysanne said. "We're honouring him."

But he only shook his head.

"We can't go back now," Rhaenys said briskly because this was getting too overwhelming. She could not believe that she was now feeling pity for her grandfather and she wanted this over with, so she could retreat to her chamber and weep in private. "It's too late. We've gathered everyone of importance within three hundred miles. We cannot cancel it."

Alyssa looked at her as if Rhaenys was the one showing disrespect! Not that Rhaenys cared about her opinion but still! She had no doubt that this was one of the arguments made against her by those who had counseled her grandfather to take the stand he had. Too harsh. Lacking the gentleness fitting her sex. Yes, she could almost hear them.

Perhaps at this moment, Jaehaerys I the Conciliator showed the first signs of the decline that would overtake his life some years later. He shook his head again. There was no thought behind his empty eyes and when it returned, his words were rambling and scared. "What if we anger the Seven? What if they take it on him, now that he is with them?"

Rhaenys gaped, horror grasping her. She stared at the old man in front of her and wondered who he was. It occurred to her that he was now trying to delay his clash with reality but how was it possible when he had been acting in view of it all this time? She looked at her grandmother but Alysanne looked as startled as her.

Just a heartbeat later, the King shook his head again. "You're right, of course," he said with his usual voice. "I don't know what had gotten into me. Let's go, it's getting late."

So they went to the pyre that was lit and burned without a body on it, and despite her resolve, Rhaenys wept, proving those who had expressed doubts in a woman's ability to lead due to her susceptibility to emotions right. Viserys reached for her hand and she left it in his. Out of need of comfort? No, her fist remained clenched all the time. It was because she was a Targaryen also, as double-faced as the rest of them and dastardly taking into consideration that every person of meaning in the Seven Kingdoms was watching her. They'd only malign her further if her discord with her lord husband became a matter of common knowledge.

There was no discord, of course. He would never have the courage to confront her openly. He felt guilty for being given leverage over her and no matter how much she repeated to herself that she wasn't fair, that it wasn't his fault, she could not find it in her heart to feel it. Everything reminded her of how much he would have now, how much had been taken from her in his and his father's favour – the splendid ceremony of declaring Baelon the new heir, the way people now sought her aunt's favour over hers, the hush in conversations when people still spoke to her as if they addressed the future ruler before checking themselves… It was too much.

She was a fair woman, though, and she could never blame him for the estrangement. He did what he could to mend things – he was quick to read her thoughts, do small things for her instead of her retinue even if it was unbecoming a Prince. Every night, he came to her solar, suffered through the small, meaningless talk and waited for a sign, a single look.

Without avail.