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A Queen To Be

Chapter 5

"Jaehaerys," Aegon said. "Sit down. Or would you rather go up and rest?"

"You can share my room," Duncan readily intervened. "I think the bed is made already…"

The thought of a soft bed was so appealing. Still, Jaehaerys shook his head and went to the table where he sat next to his uncle. Ser Duncan looked at Aegon inquiringly; the Prince nodded and the huge knight joined him for a few hasty words.

Duncan joined his brother and uncle and pushed a goblet toward Jaehaerys. The younger boy gave him a suspicious look. For a while, Duncan had been saying that it was about time for his brother to get drunk for a first time… It was just clear water, though, and it was not until Jaehaerys drank deeply that he realized how dry his mouth was.

Aegon looked at the newcomers once more. "Well, my lords," he said. "It seems that you've just rewritten the code for knightly values. Is this what you consider fulfilling your vow to protect the innocent – attacking my young son and the Hand's son who's even younger when you outnumbered them – what? Fifty to one? Or was it a hundred? Was it the way you thought you could force my hand into doing… what exactly? I am still unaware as to that. Would you like to have this done to your sons when they are at their most vulnerable? Come on! Speak! Tell me what explanation you have for your misdeeds that I shall see you punished for!"

The rebels pushed Lord White Thorn forward. "Speak! Tell him what you should!"

The man looked less than happy being placed into the heart of the situation. He coughed and tried to put his thoughts together. He had talked, cursed, accused, and incited his fellow malcontents that he had never stopped to think just how they would present their claims to those who had authority to make changes. "Well, Your Grace, we want to know…" he started hoarsely. "We want to know whether you'd finally remove the bastard from the Small Council and stop the abysmal privileges given to foreigners, restoring the customs from the first Daeron's time…"

Aegon's face was stony. From the shadows surrounding the door a slender silhouette appeared. A few people hissed and one even cursed at recognizing the olive face and lank hair of the very man they had chased, the hated Dornishman whom a woman's love had raised so high, making him one of the greatest lords in Westeros despite being bastard-born.

Alor Gargalen stopped a little behind the Prince. A small smile came to his lips. Was this disdain or amusement? "I imagine you mean me," he spoke, his Dornish accent suddenly more pronounced.

Some of the men gave him dark stares. Others stepped back. "That's right," Lord White Thorn snarled and turned back to Aegon. "Your Grace," he said. "I beg you not to tolerate any more the effrontery of a foreign bastard even if he is wed to your lady sister. It isn't Dorne here. We will not stand for it."

Aegon's smile was suddenly mischievous, that of a child knowing something that the others did not know. "He is wed to my sister," he agreed. The rebels were clearly reminded that Alor Gargalen's interests were Princess Daella's interests, too, and so they were a family obligation to the Prince. They got the hint and stopped with the disparaging etiquettes. "We are against appointing foreigners to the Small Council," Lord White Thorn said, more mildly this time.

Prince Aegon raised an eyebrow. "Appointing the members of the Small Council has always been a prerogative of the King's," he said. "Alor Gargalen was appointed by His Grace my late father."

Aegon was a good and just man but he was not a stranger to the famous Targaryen pride when he felt offended or his hand being forced. Aemon opened his mouth to smooth the tension but the much maligned Dornish bastard beat him to it. "In all my deeds, I have always been guided by the thought of the good of Westeros," he declared. "My office was given to me by the King of the Seven Kingdoms and, of course, it is his to take away."

The brazenness of his words actually made a few jaws drop but of course, he was right. The only way they could get rid of him and have his office given to someone of their choosing, someone who knew how things in Westeros should be dome would be to appeal to the King… when there came to be one, that was it. And out of the two men who were most likely to end up in power at the end of all that, neither was too sympathetic to their plea.

Taking the Targaryen boy captive had been a big mistake. Bringing him here, to his father, had been even a bigger one.

Aemon Targaryen rose calmly and joined his brother and goodbrother. The candlelight made his hair fairer and his maester's robe darker. He did not cut an imposing figure, by any means, yet when he spoke, everyone fell silent.

"So, my lords," he spoke. "You've come here discontented. Ah well, so are we. We are also discontented," he said again and gave them a mild, yet firm look. No doubt his discontent included his nephew being dragged about as a war trophy and valuable hostage. "And if we all turn obstinate, there is no way for any of us to win. Only people who can't think resort to violence… And we'd rather avoid it if we can."

Why are they so silent, Jaehaerys wondered. What was it in his plain, softly spoken uncle that evoked such reverence? They had been ready to tear his father apart if they could but to Aemon, they listened. Why was that?

"If my brother wished to punish you for your wrongdoings, he might do it very easily," Aemon went on. "Lord White Thorn, would you have a look at the window? Tell me what you see. Do you see any opportunity for you to escape?"

Jaehaerys almost rose to have a look as well but his brother caught his eye and shook his head. "They cannot escape," Duncan mouthed.

By the cries that erupted, the malcontents obviously thought the same. Aemon waited for the noise to abate, then shook his head. "There's no need for such worry," he said. "I told you, we want to avoid any violence, so I plead with my brother not to draw weapon against you. Right, Aegon?"

Aegon nodded silently.

It's his soft voice, Jaehaerys suddenly realized. His uncle's voice would not carry well if he lifted it. But Aemon didn't even try to lift it. He kept it low and even, thus making everyone to strain to hear what he was saying. And that, naturally, prevented them from talking and raging. Besides, the fast switch from courtesies to threats and back confused them, made them more uncertain. Jaehaerys looked at Aemon with admiration.

"By the law, the only one who can strip a member of the Small Council from his office is the King," Aemon said. "So I suggest you wait until we have one and then address your grievances to him. Why do you feel the matter is so urgent? I wouldn't like to think that you'd use His Grace's death to bathe Westeros in blood."

They rushed to assure him that it was not the case and then Jaehaerys suddenly felt the fatigue claiming him so forcefully that the hall blurred before him. The voices grew in a loud mass of noise; he could barely keep his eyes open. The sound of the rebels leaving about an hour later almost made him jump and rose him somewhat; Duncan told him that their uncle had achieved as much as what could be reasonably expected and even more. "They agreed to wait until we have a King to plead their imaginary grievances in front of," he said. "And Father agreed not to raise any Dornishmen to higher ranks until the matter is settled. In exchange, they'll stop acting against our uncle Alor and the established court. Are you hungry?"

Jaehaerys shook his head. Aegon came near and looked at him with the entire concern he had had to conceal from the malcontents. "How are you, truly?" he asked.

The boy smiled. "I am fine," he said. "Truly."

Aegon nodded. "Good," he said and looked at his brother. "You saved us. I couldn't have been this patient."

"Oh yes, you could," Aemon snapped. For some reason, he seemed angry now. "It's just that you couldn't be bothered because you knew I wad here and I would be patient for you."

Aegon looked stung. Aemon went on. "All I did was win us a brief reprieve. The times of Daeron the First… They have already starting getting me bored with these times of Daeron… They make it sound as if Grandfather never lived. Each time there is a great king trying to steer us forward, there are always those who fight tooth and nail to push us back in the darkness. But I'm afraid worse is yet to come. The great Houses still hadn't thrown their support behind anyone. And we aren't sure whom we support."

"I heard that there is already a faction. The Blackwoods are trying to ingratiate themselves with the great Houses and the talk is that they're trying to assume important offices in the name of Prince Rhaegar," Ser Duncan said and heaved himself at the table. Now, when it was all over, he looked as tired as Jaehaerys felt.

"When did you hear this?" the boy asked. "Why didn't I hear?"

"You were busy with the Tyrell boy," Ser Duncan said and closed his eyes. "By the Seven, now I can almost see sense in your custom to marry brother to sister," he said, opened his eyes and stared at Aegon and Aemon. "Aerion is dead but he'll keep giving us hard time from wherever he is… Have you thought of supporting the girl?"

"No," Aegon said. "So, the Blackwoods will try to use the fact that Aerion's heir was born to one of theirs?" He looked at Alor. "What, has she even tried to see the boy after she left?"

Alor shook his head. "According to Daella, she was only too happy to leave Rhaegar in our care. Only the Seven know what your brother did to the poor girl to make her run like this as soon as she had the chance." And then he smiled. "A raven came just when Jaehaerys did. The Blackwoods indeed tried to gather support but they need coin. They are exhausting their reserves in bribes and payments, so they tried to be granted permission to take over the treasury… it seems that there are still two members of the Small Council at King's Landing."

"Well, what's so funny about that?" Aegon wondered. "Why are you laughing?"

"Because that's where our old friend Ser Galend stepped in. Remember that your lord father gave him some papers, duly signed and sealed but with nothing written in?"

Jaehaerys' was stunned. That was a major mistake he had never considered his grandfather capable of making. Alor went on, "So now Ser Galend holds the treasury, it seems. By your father's command, obviously. And he has vowed to burn it down, coins and jewels and all, if the Blackwoods dare set foot within twenty miles of King's Landing."

This time, Jaehaerys' jaw dropped. Aegon started laughing. "No wonder my father loved him well," he said. "And people dare call you brazen," he added and looked at his goodbrother. Then, he became serious. "It won't hold them back forever," he said. "But it will give us some time. Now, Jaehaerys, tell us about your mother and aunt and then go to sleep," he added. The boy grimaced, as always irritated when someone expressed care about his poor health. "The day was hard but tonight, I'll sleep better," Aegon added and set himself on listening.

Five weeks later…

"No."

Had it happened two months ago, Rhae and Daella would have been overjoyed. Rhaegar was almost two and it was about time that he started talking. But he kept shouting his first word over and over and the echo flung it against the dark walls and back, chasing them like nightmare.

Not that their life here was so bad. It was just… dark, and silent, and so, so different from anything they were used to. The fact that they needed to work was not so bad in itself but the fact that they needed to obey orders – that was something entirely else altogether. And Rhaelle's pride at actually succeeding in washing their linens almost as she should was quite frightening – it made them feel that they had started to get used to living here, that they could stay here indefinitely. It scared them – a chapterhouse was not a place for children with royal blood to grow up in. Rhae did not want to have a second Naerys on her hands. Not that Rhaelle was ever quite in this particular danger but still.

The lack of news was worst of all – worse than the aching back, the red and tingling hands, the close proximity of each other any hour of any day, the heavy silence engulfing them. They might be widows already without knowing it. The various rumours entering the sanctuary by routs only the Seven knew once had Aegon dead, another time turned into a real dragon… They could not be relied to in the least. And at night, the pain of loss still wrung tears out of their eyes, the tears they had to keep in during the day.

The children reacted in their own way. It was not easy on anybody and Rhae did not delude herself for a moment that it was easy on the silent sisters, as well.

"No," Rhaegar said. "No, no, no."

Sometimes, Rhae wished she could scream that too.