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Heart's Blood

Blooming in the Wind

Larra couldn't say if this war because of the babe, or was it warranted but she found increasingly little tolerance in herself for her brothers. She wouldn't mind it if Moredo got a place in the Kingsguard but did he really expect that he'd get it mere months after they had arrived at court? Lysaro, on the other hand, was too outspoken in his convictions that people assembled from all over the Seven Kingdoms to serve as regents to the young King could hardly be expected to refrain from serving themselves first and foremost. They were quickly turning many against themselves and Larra liked it not, no better than she liked being in the centre of the busy life in a palace with rules that she was not accustomed to. Each time she thought she had started navigating her way, something happened to show how wrong she was. Alliances changed, promised rewards got higher and in less than half a year, she had already arrived at the conclusion that the only ones she could truly trust were Viserys' kin – at least the three of them she knew. Perhaps. Because even the Kingsguard could not be trusted. Obviously.

"Did Ser Marvyn murder Queen Jaehaera?" Larra asked one day as she and Baela sat in Baela's solar, kept inside by the melting of the great snows that had gathered through the five years of winter.

Baela took the question so easily that she didn't even look up from her figures on the new board game that Larra had brought from Essos. "Yes," she said. "He did. I cannot prove it, of course, but he did it. And they might say poor Gaemon's death was because of poison meant for Aegon, but I know it was Daenaera who was the target."

Larra felt very sorry for the little queen, a child of all but seven and already marked for death at least once. At least she had been a woman when her father had thrown her lot in with this barbaric kingdom – well, kingdoms. One day, Viserys would grow into a man who could win everyone over while she doubted that would be the case for Aegon. If they survived this long. With the very men guarding the King's door as he slept being murderers on someone else's pay, who could say what would happen?

Baela rose and went for another cover that she wrapped around Larra. "You should have told something if you were cold," she scolded. "Think about the babe!"

Larra did think about him all the time. That child would be the fulfilling of her obligations. Her hope. Something that would be hers in a world that she did not know. She didn't tell Baella that it didn't matter. Once she was reasonably well-swathed, a cover or two would not bring her the warmth and glorious health she had enjoyed when she lived in a land hotter and far more inviting.

Her son's birth was the first time she felt truly happy. He was so lovely. Such a good babe. Lusty cries, good suck, although Larra was stunned when the midwives handed him to her expecting that she'd put him at her own breast like a slave girl or a cow! But despite the constant pain whenever he took suck, she reasoned out that she had been spared the pains and inflammations of the ladies who tightened their breasts in cloths to stop their milk.

"You're a good mother," Viserys said about two weeks after the birth and she gave him a long look. He spoke as if he were surprised. Could he be noticing more than she gave him credit from? Could he have realized how little she wanted him – how little she wanted any of this? Except for her son. Her Aegon. But she couldn't ask.

"I fear for his future," she said slowly, realizing that this was the truth. "This court is a dangerous place, Viserys."

"What do you suggest?" he asked not angrily but definitely in a colder tone. "Return to your Lys? Because it's so safe there?"

To this, Larra could not say anything. To her, Lys was home but to him, it was a place from his nightmares. "I don't know. The Hand of the King seems like a good and honest man but can we even trust him, let alone the rest of the regents?"

"Of course not," Viserys said immediately. "If you think I trust them, you're wrong. But that's the only way to keep the peace for now. Soon, Aegon will be of age. One year isn't this long."

"More like almost two," Larra corrected. "The only ones I feel we can trust are my brothers and your sister. And her husband, of course. Isn't there a way to put this in action?"

Aegon stirred in her arms and Viserys took him before he could start crying. Pacing the bedchamber with him, Viserys replied, "I've thought of this. But there are limits to what can be done. There is no way the lords will accept Alyn as head of the regency or Hand of the King. They didn't even let him become a regent."

That seemed ridiculous to Larra who was accustomed to girls from pillow-houses wielding greater power than old Valyrian families if their beauty and mind surpassed their skills on the pillows convincingly enough. But if Viserys thought this had no chance to work, then it probably didn't. With time, she had come to realize that behind Viserys' engaging manners and infectious smile lay a mind sharper than Truth. And he was learning to apply it with speed that displeased her. Too fast for someone so young. With time, he'd turn into a force unto his own and she'd feel even more inadequate in comparison.

But that didn't mean that he didn't share her desires. All three of them – he, his brother, and Baela – burned to get rid of the patchwork of men who held their fate in their hands. When agitated enough, Aegon took leave of his melancholy and silence and turned into someone who scared Larra worse than anyone before. He spoke venom and dark wishes, and what he'd do to the remnants of the Greens and all she could think was that he'd go mad. No one could live with such hatred for long without losing their mind. And Baela wasn't much better. Viserys resisted it, for now, but sometimes shadows lay long and fearsome in their very bed.

"Do not think about this," she'd say sharply whenever that darkness threatened to escape. "Don't. It's over now. Be a man and face the future, instead of dwelling in the past!"

With time, he took her advice to heart and stopped even mentioning about the horrors and grimness of his past that shaped his presence, and Larra was happy. Too late did she realize that he had only locked them in his heart, behind a wall that rose between him and her as high as any of the other barriers.

Still, that darkness and hatred meant that it was time for another court to rise in the place of this old, breathing its last one. And Larra intended to play a major part in it. Who else could? The Queen was a child, there would be many years before she could step into her role. Baela, albeit wise, lacked something very important for a woman – good looks. And Westeros could certainly use some cultivation.

A new court. That sounded good. With time, Moredo could indeed take up the prestigious position of a Kingsguard and Lysaro could make alliances that would help him enrich Hose Rogare even more. In a generation or two, the Iron Bank would only turn into a fading memory.

"Be careful," Viserys often warned her but the only way to make sure that nothing that she said or did would be taken wrong would be to not interact with anyone, be they Green or Black.

The Greens now claimed that she was trying to turn the King and his brother against them, thus stopping the wounds from healing; the Blacks disliked her supposed honouring of Queen Alicent when all she had done had been to note upon the exquisite taste with which some halls were furnished and wandering in the back of the gardens before she even knew that the disgraced Queen was buried there. And still, one night she rose in bed, startled awake by Viserys very noisy arrival. "Dress up," he said tersely. "Something that won't take time to put on. Come on! We have to leave!"

"Why?" Larra asked as she tightened her belt. "What happened?"

"We're in danger. Marston Waters has arrested your brothers. He's coming for you."

Larra just stared at him in mute horror and mechanically started looking for her slippers. "Hurry up!" he snapped as he rushed into the adjacent chamber to return a heartbeat later with Aegon who was mewling and the wide-eyed nursemaid.

Larra and the girl grabbed as much covers and clothes as they could carry and followed him down the hall, past torches breathing their last and servants who rubbed at their eyes, staring after them.

Maegor's Holdfast was lit so brightly that it resembled a huge ball of light. Larra could see the glint of the pikes underneath as they crossed the drawing bridge, and her heart missed a beat. Her eyes flew to Viserys and Aegon and the certainty in Viserys' step helped her regain her own footing.

"But what happened?" the little Queen insisted when they were brought over to Aegon's solar. Larra was a little surprised to see her there but before she could ask, great clamour rose and they all rushed to the window, to the dozen or so men approaching the bridge that was slowly being lifted. A shout of rage broke the night and Larra saw how one of the men tried to jump on it in the very last moment and with a shriek, fell to what was his certain death.

"Are they coming to kill us?" Daenaera asked again, panic turning her melodious voice shrill.

Aegon looked at her. "No one is going to kill you," he promised. "As long as I draw breath."

That seemed to soothe her but it wasn't enough for Larra. As she rocked and hushed her crying son, her mind desperately tried to find out a way to escape in case Aegon's determinedness betrayed him. Those eighteen days had no end…

As soon as the ordeal was over, her brothers left. Despite being proclaimed innocent – despite being innocent in trying to use Westeros for their own game – it was clear that no one could guarantee their security. Larra, though, Larra had to stay and as she stood and watched the brightly painted ship leave, she felt lonelier than ever before. Aegon and the child that she suspected was growing in her womb already were tying her even harder to a land that was foreign and unlikeable to her, to a family spun of darkness. But Viserys was turning into a man already. Perhaps with him, she could be happy. Perhaps she'd stop dreaming of Sangralo Giarani night after night after night…

She never did. Because while Viserys loved her and she was happy with him, he was not there more often than he was. He was Aegon's closest confidant and he showed uncanny ability for ruling. Which meant that Larra spent much of her time alone or trying to entertain women who despised her and she despised them in turn, yet they all smiled at each other as if trading gossips and inklings for ruling a household was what they dreamed of. Of course, Larra had no idea how to rule a Westerosi household and everyone was too eager to notice her mistakes.

Broken promises to come back in time to sup with her on their own. More and more new gowns unnoticed. Lack of inclination to discuss with her anything that mattered to him because they had both realized that for now, it would be better if she didn't meddle in politics and she had closed her path to reaching any of the pains and joys in his heart not related to her. For years.

It was in such a night when he still hadn't come back and she waited for him when she felt the first pangs of childbirth. Two weeks earlier. In the beginning, Larra wasn't too afraid. A fortnight wasn't this long and she had two easy childbirths under her belt, as slim as she was. But as the pains became sharper and sharper, driving her to madness without the babe moving downwards, she realized that something was wrong. And when, after two agonizing nights and one day, the maesters reached elbow-deep into her to snatch her child out, she only wanted to die.

She didn't. Slowly and painfully, she recovered, only to find out that everyone waited for her babe to die. She couldn't blame them – the poor thing was so tiny and gaunt, not like her robust sons at all. She had troubles taking suck, so finally Larra had to tighten her flowing breast in swaths because this abundance could easily kill Naerys. Each time she took her daughter in his arms, she felt the beating of her heart, so slow, so quiet, and she experienced a moment of horror that it would happen now. Two times, Naerys stopped breathing and Larra thought that her child had just died in her arms. Nothing that she had ever experienced could have prepared her for such primal horror. Other times, she sat by the cradle, watched her daughter breathe ever so slightly, wondered how long those slight breaths would keep stirring the tiny chest and only wanted to escape, run far away.

Now, Aegon had been taken to the practice yard with a small wooden sword in his arm and Aemon, as curious as ever, followed, trying to turn everything he came upon into sword of his own. The expectations of boys of high birth that were not this much different here from Essos took them away from her. Now, she truly had nothing. Just this little girl who would die soon and who Larra kept forbidding herself to love.

When Naerys ran a fever that kept her in its clutches for three days straight and robbed her of her hardly learned ability to sit and rise on her own, Larra knew that she had to leave if she wanted to survive.

"You don't mean it," Viserys said when she informed him of her decision. "No."

"I do mean it," she replied, feeling the pounding of her heart. "I cannot stay here, Viserys. I am not running from you. You were always kind and tender to me. But there is only one life for any of us and I won't spend mine waiting for you to come back, in a country that repulse me and is repulsed by me in turn. I thought the children would change how I felt but I realized it wasn't enough."

She paused and her eyes became softer. "Those children! I love them so much yet sometimes I wish to bite at them straight in the forehead like a viper…"

She hadn't mean to say it. She had been disgusted with herself when those thoughts came upon her, usually after a particularly disappointing and bitter day. But that turned out to be the thing that effectively cut off any attempts Viserys might have made to persuade her to change her mind.

"Have you gone this far?" he asked after a while. His voice was even but something in his eyes had died. "Very well, then," he said. "I'll make the arrangements. You can leave as soon as they're completed."

Larra felt a rush of joy that pierced her to the very bones. And something else. Something dull and insidious but she'd realize what it was only later. Something like disappointment.