Thanks to everyone who reviewed and sorry for being so late. Perhaps I need to reconsider this writing on inspiration, no elaborate plans in advance thing but I really don't know how else I could write.

The Almost Queen

Chapter 7

"Dorne's law isn't this bad," Alyssa said thoughtfully and Rhaenys looked at her, trying to glimpse the thoughts under her aunt's still smooth forehead. Alyssa's smile was polite and non-revealing and Rhaenys tried to imagine a court under Queen regnant Alyssa. It was a vague but certainly appealing image.

Have you written me off, she wondered angrily in a moment. Do you believe I'll never conceive again and if I do, it's going to be a girl again? Do you prefer the Hightower girl who is said to embody everything a lady wife should be, the same as you? Does your son? Of course, she knew that Viserys likely did not even know the name of Ser Otto's daughter and still…

Competing with a girl was beneath her, yet Rhaenys could see where Alicent bested her. No matter how compassionate she felt towards her grandfather, she could not sit with him for hours and keep him company, keep the conversation jumping from one topic to another going and pretend that it made sense. She did not even have the time. And it pained her. She did not know if Alicent minded – she likely did, for what girl would like such a life? – but it truly did not matter. What mattered was the reputation of all feminine virtues the girl had being built around her.

"If I were you, I'd chase her around the Red Keep and take Meleys' whip to her," Aemma commented, not bothering to acknowledge Alicent's curtsey as the two of them left their grandfather's bedchamber.

Rhaenys gave her a sharp look, lifting her skirts a little higher to avoid them getting wet on the recently washed floors. "Why? Have you heard something?" Aemma had spent at King's Landing less than a week. Surely things could not have gotten this bad as to reach her ears so soon? "Has Viserys…"

"No," Aemma said immediately. "I haven't heard anything about this. But I can see her attempts to look even more caring and attentive to Grandfather when Viserys is near. I really can't understand your patience, Rhaenys. Does it matter whether he welcomes her attempts or no? It's still your husband that she's reaching for… and I daresay it isn't just the position of a mistress that she's aiming for."

"No," Rhaenys said bitterly, "I expect that you won't understand, my lady of the Vale."

The old wound had just reopened. She had started loving Viserys in a way that left no room for her onetime dreams of Corlys. The thought of losing his affections to another was enough to make her wish to release Meleys on someone! Like he would have been fully expected and applauded to do if someone had made a grab for her. Of course, it was different for men but one would have thought twice before thrusting their daughter on the Queen's consort!

She looked at Aemma with interest. "Do you drive Daemon's ladies away? I suppose he has his ladies?"

Aemma shrugged, looking more mature than her eighteen years. "Only the ones trying to seduce him. It would be unfair to punish the ones he pursues."

"I wouldn't have made the distinction," Rhaenys said, surprising herself. She had lost a crown to her husband. She would not give up on any part of this husband. She was done being deprived… or would have been if…

Outside the chambers of candles, whispers, illness, and troubled memory, a cold spring had summoned the first petals bloom. Rhaenys and Aemma looked at the moat and smiled when they saw the tiny white flowers winding their way between the rusty spears. No matter how meticulously the moat was cleared every year, the flowers always found a way to return.

The two young women went past the Kingsguard at the end of the drawbridge and Aemma smiled at him. Ser Steffon inclined his head, unable to bow while on duty. "He's in love with you," Aemma said. "He's been for years."

Rhaenys shook her head. "Nonsense," she said but she had the sudden feeling that her cousin might be right. Certain gestures and expressions made sense now. Steffon Darklyn had been squire to her father once and he had always been eager to do things for her, followed her around to the point of annoying her… much like she had followed Corlys, she supposed. Another man once close to her, whom she had never truly seen, too wrapped in her adoration for her secret idol.

She looked at her cousin, stunned. Just two years ago, Aemma had been a child who knew nothing of life. Now, she looked much more secure and knowledgeable.

Aemma looked around to make sure they were alone. "It seems to me that you have given up already," she said.

"I trust Viserys," Rhaenys said coolly.

Aemma was not deterred. "It's a good thing but can you trust Ser Otto Hightower?" she asked. "Or any of the men who think Viserys and Daemon would have done better job ruling the realm and the Vale just because they're men? Are you ready to take the risk of Alicent succeeding and Viserys fathering a son on her – a son who others might insist to wed your Alysanne?"

Even Aemma could not imagine the full extent of Rhaenys' fears – that Alicent was being prepared not for a mistress favoured over the queen but a second queen.

"It won't happen, child," Alyssa said calmly when Rhaenys finally confided this fear to her. "Not while Baelon and I live. Unfortunately, your grandfather seems too dependent on her right now, thinking that she's Saera, but rest assured. There will be no second queen. And Viserys isn't interested in a mistress."

Rhaenys wished she could believe this but the more the pressure on Viserys increased, the more distant he became. His constant striving to please everyone was tiring because there were so many more people to be pleased every day! Especially now, when the great tournament marking their grandfather's fifty-third anniversary at the Iron Throne appeared. Could it be that he needed someone less intense, someone so close to being his equal, someone who had not been brought up as his superior? She could not say that the strange fire between Aemma and Daemon appealed to her but being like Alyssa, looking the other way when her husband sought his pleasures on the side was not an option either.

"This is good because he won't have one," she said determinedly but how she was going to achieve it, she had no idea. Preventing one's husband from taking a mistress was not something that her septa had taught her, to Rhaenys' regret because she thought it belonged to the womanly arts.

Her moon blood came the night before the festivities began and for the first time, she wept over her failure. In a few days, everyone would see her failure. Her daughters, as pretty as any girl could be, with no brother standing next to them. She wept again when she saw her grandfather being carried out of his litter and into the royal box where he sat, blinking in confusion at the field, the cheering crowd, the many banners. He had no idea where he was.

"What an interesting choice of tapestries," Baelon said softly and Rhaenys looked around, anger flaring quick and fierce when she recognized the old images she had only seen in old rooms underground. Aegon the Conqueror and his two wives. Rhaenys could not remember anyone saying Queen Visenya's name in any official capacity. Everyone pretended that she and Maegor had never existed; if her grandfather had been in his might, no one would have dared bring this out. Rhaenys' eyes rested on Ser Otto who bowed with ostensible respect.

"Should we go to the royal box now?" Alyssa asked. "I think we've lingered long enough here."

With feeling of deep contentment, Rhaenys turned her back to the Small Council and their families and followed her goodmother, her hand in the crook of Viserys' arm. You'd better get used to it, Ser Otto and Lady Alicent, she thought. You'll only see things obscured by my back, forever.

"What was this?" Viserys murmured as he led Rhaenys up to the box. "What kind of fool would put such a thing on display?"

Rhaenys gave him a look of careful consideration. He returned it, slightly baffled. He truly did not know. Rhaenys smiled.

"A great fool indeed," Baelon said dryly.

"Who are you?" the King demanded. "Who let you in?"

At such moments, Rhaenys could see the remnants of a onetime steely will trying to make their escape through the shattered mind of the old man. These moments were even worse than the ones when he wandered about, as helpless as a child, and asked everyone he met where Alysanne was. Viserys gave her hand a squeeze. "When we get through this, there will be no need to bring him to the feast tonight," he said.

"I'll let him know of Daemon's win," Aemma put in and their grandfather smiled, as if he understood. Alyssa used the moment to clasp back the cloak with the three-headed dragon because he felt hot, despite the day being quite wintry. He did not notice.

Rhaenys gave Aemma a close look. There was proprietary pride in Aemma's voice – and no doubt at all that Daemon would win. So, today she liked him. Rhaenys could never understand their life of coming and withdrawing tides – her own handmaidens had whispered about a great marital scandal in their chambers last night and the rumour had it that two glasses had been broken and a silver goblet, dented. But she had quickly realized that Aemma had been born to rule and Daemon, to defy anyone ruling over him and when Daemon defeated Ser Ryam Redwyne, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, in the last tilt and rode towards the stands, all swagger and victorious smile, Rhaenys suddenly had the most terrible feeling.

He isn't going to crown her.

It was ridiculous, of course. Every man crowned his wife. And even if Daemon decided to follow his own judgment, Aemma was beautiful enough.

But they had quarreled last night.

A senile king, no male line beyond Baelon and Viserys himself, and Daemon determined to publicly deride all rules. Their House would become the laughingstock of the entire realm.

Daemon's reputation as an unthinking fool would be confirmed.

The pressure on them to produce a son would intensify, even more now when the difference between Viserys and his martial brother had been just marked again.

And if she failed this time as well…

All these thoughts raced through her head as her grandfather was expressing his approval and actually looking as if he knew who Daemon was, in rhythm with the thumping of her heart and the roar of the crowd applauding their victor. And hers was not the only head… Aemma had gone slightly white while Baelon's hands had balled in fists. "He wouldn't dare…" he started angrily, then got himself under control and fell silent.

Slowly, Daemon approached the royal box and with casual grace, rose in his stirrups, and placed the wreath of white roses on Aemma's bent head. His eyes were shining with mirth and Rhaenys realized that he was relishing his little moment of revenge.

What awaited them if she did not conceive soon? Even if Viserys kept faith with her, would it be worth it if they dwelled in the shadow of Daemon's whims?