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Blood of Dragons, Grass of Red

The Black Queen

The day was already dying when the dark waves of the warriors came in view. The gates were immediately opened, without the tiniest bit of resistance. Silviana was not surprised. From the moment she had heard of their defeat, she had witnessed how the people in the great castle had started planning to stay alive, at any cost. She did not care either way. Resistance would only bring more deaths and destruction. Why resist now? Daemon was dead. Her oldest sons were dead, too, and the others were running away. Silviana prayed to the Mother to keep them safe. Why resist, indeed? For her sake? Without Daemon, without her children she wasn't worth anything to anyone. And her grief was too great to allow for angry defiance just for the sake of defiance.

"Your Grace," Yolinta started. "Would you want me to…"

Silviana shook her head. No, she didn't want her shawl, or a headdress, or whatever Yolinta wanted to bring her. What did looks matter now? "And call me my lady, Yolinta. Just my lady. My queenship ended before it even started."

"But you should look presentable for the Prince…" the girl insisted and then blushed, realizing exactly how she had sounded.

Vaguely amused, Silviana smiled to show her that she was not offended. Once , she had been a renown beauty with dark-auburn hair and sparkling green eyes; thirteen years and ten pregnancies later, she could not impress a shepherd, let alone a prince even if she wanted to. She looked around and saw that the rugs were carpeted with tufts of hair – her own that she had thorn in despair…

She met Baelor Targaryen in this same solar a little later. The day was cold, so her servants had recently refreshed the fire. It was unbearably hot in the room but nothing in this world could get Silviana warm again.

With faint surprise, she realized that Daemon had been right – the man did not look like a Targaryen, save for his deep indigo eyes. In them, she saw compassion that shook her to the core, for she had not been prepared for it.

"My lady," the young man said. "I am sorry for your loss."

She only nodded, for she feared that if she opened her mouth, she would start weeping anew. How strange that such a small thing, such an insignificant detail as the enemy's compassion might break her.

"I'll see that you're taken care of," he promised.

It doesn't matter anymore, she thought. She had lost her children, she had lost her place in the world and her own House, Reyne, had to save whatever it could. All the care in the world could not make it better.

"Are you going to take me to King's Landing?" she finally asked without much interest. Her voice came out hoarse, cracked. He went to a nearby table and poured her a goblet of wine. Silviana drank and only when she drank did she realize how thirsty she was.

"I'm afraid we have to." He sounded apologetic. It struck her that he was the first man in as many as two years who showed respect to her that looked genuine. He. The enemy. For a moment of madness, she tried to imagine how different her life might have been if she had married him and not Daemon. He was as gallant as her husband but unlike Daemon, he looked like a man who could control his feelings. She was sure that no matter how undesirable he had come to find her – and how many beautiful silver-haired princesses there were around – he would have never let it show. At the end, Daemon had not quite managed it, although he had tried.

It lasted only for a moment; in the next one, reality came surging back. She could see the victorious host passing through King's Landing and up Aegon's Hill, the flowers for the returning men, the cheering faces and septons and septas praising the Seven… and herself, being paraded in shame, perhaps forced to walk behind Baelor's horse, chained and barefooted.

Only when she felt the strong arms holding her did Silviana realize that she had swayed precariously. Baelor rested her in the nearest chair and called out for her attendants. "You have nothing to fear of, my lady," he assured her. No doubt , he thought that the wetness against her bodice was sweat of fear.

"She isn't scared," a new voice cut in. A face appeared in front of her and Silviana barely suppressed her cry. Silver hair, violet eyes – for a mad moment of hope, she thought it was Daemon who was not dead, no matter what everyone said.

It was not him, of course. And the newcomer did not even look like him. He could be no one else but Maekar Targaryen, a man Daemon had held in special dislike. "Come on," he told his brother. "Leave her to her attendants."

"I want to make sure…"

"You're not helping her," Maekar interrupted. "Let's go."

Silviana closed her eyes so she did not have to look at him. He had seen. She was entirely humiliated. Maekar Targaryen knew that Bittersteel had not considered her worthy enough to spare time and come here to take her with them even in her condition. He had only ridden to the castle where her children were kept. Daemon had placed them in different locations for safety, should need arise, he had added, laughing. He had not believed that he might lose. It had simply never been an option. Silviana felt such a fury that she was stunned. It was not bad enough that the entire realm knew her husband desired another woman and had presumably started a war over her. You don't really believe them, do you, Daemon had asked. He had never wanted to see how humiliating it was for her. Of course she knew there were many more reasons than his passion for that pale-haired sister of his! But the world didn't. And the fact was, Silviana had known very well who Daemon's preferred wife would be. He had loved Daenerys. Once, he had desired Silviana but she had little to offer him now. Her beauty was ruined. Compared to the Princess, she would have always looked like the lesser wife.

It was not enough that he had taken their eldest boys to battle, although she had begged him not to.

It was not enough that she had lost them. Now, her other children were lost to her, too, and she was left here to live in mourning and worry, her milk still flowing for a babe that was hundreds of miles away.

All Silviana had to expect now was what the part that the victors would allot her.