The Almost Queen

"I will not marry a child!" Rhaenys seethed.

"I am sorry but you will," her father said calmly. Rhaenys waited for him to remind her once again that Viserys was just three years her junior, that in the day of their wedding he'd be a man grown but Prince Aemon Targaryen seemed weary of this repeated conversation. He just reached for his goblet and drank as if she were not here at all.

"He will never be a man in my eyes!" Rhaenys said again, almost stomping her foot.

Her father did not react. Instead, he reached for the missive that had arrived from King's Landing and broke the seal. "I'll have ladies who know what suits one to choose the fabric and design for your wedding gown," he said. "I'm afraid this isn't of my competence."

Yes, Rhaenys thought. Divesting them of their attire is. Since her lady mother's death, Dragonstone had become a home to a line of whores – oh highborn ones, no doubt – who stayed for a while and then left. But as angry as she was, she did not say it. That was no way to win her lord father's over.

"I'd rather throw myself in the sea…" she tried again.

"From Meleys' back, or a ship?" Aemon Targaryen asked, mildly interested. And then, in a lower voice to Boremund Baratheon, "Rhaenys got it all wrong. I will not scold her. I will not give her any reason to start bawling."

Rhaenys flushed but made one last attempt. "I cannot bear it anymore…"

How could she convince her father if he would not talk to her?

Why had things taken such a terrible turn? Just a month ago, she had been sure that she'd be happy in just two years or three. Everyone knew that Mirana Velaryon was ill… that she could barely reach her solar… that in a year, two at most, she'd be dead…

Lady Mirana is still alive, a voice in her head reminded her.

But she wouldn't be alive for long! her heart replied. In just a few years, the older woman would be dead but it would be too late… She'd be wed to Viserys by then.

It was Corlys Velaryon that she wanted, he has been the only one she had set her eyes upon ever since she had started acquiring curves. It wasn't that she wished ill upon Lady Mirana and by the Seven, she had never wished for his son to die – but he had and Lady Mirana would. Rhaenys was enough of a dragon to take what she wanted without false regrets and pangs of conscience over her thoughts. It's actions what we leave behind, her mother's voice spoke in her mind. "It's him that I want," she whispered as Meleys flew her to the clouds, with the sea turning into a broken grey mirror low beneath and men and women undoubtedly pointing at the familiar sight of her from the island, although she could not see them.

This time, even her uncle was not on her side – and he usually indulged her in all things. He would not hear of it this time, though. "It's your father's call to make," he had said often enough for her not to try and win him to her side now.

"And you like it?"

"No, I don't. But I believe it has its merits."

No, Rhaenys did not wish to have this conversation again.

"Are you sure about this?" Lord Boremund asked late at night, when the castle slept, the sea roared dully and mournfully, the Dragonmount hissed a breath of dark spiral against the sky, and he and the Prince of Dragonstone seemed to be the only souls awake at the dragon island.

"No," Aemon replied, examining the figures engraved on his silver goblet. "But I am even less sure of what would happen one day, after my death. You know as well as I do that many a lord will never accept a woman ruling in her own right. Not without support. And Viserys can be this support. No matter his flaws, he can win people over. People will accept him because he isn't one of them but one who has risen above all others. And he has Balerion."

"A very persuasive means if there was ever one!" Lord Boremund agreed and his laughter boomed. "So you think they have the chance of repeating the success of our current King and Queen, long live they?" he asked, serious again now. "But with Rhaenys in the lead?"

Aemon shrugged. "Even if fools think Viserys is the one controlling his Queen, we know they'll be wrong. And I don't think Rhaenys will be terribly miserable with him."

Terribly miserable? You bet, Rhaenys thought from her place behind the wall of shelves. She didn't know her cousin very well and what she knew of him, she liked… mostly. But he was not a strong boy and he was not likely to grow into a strong man and Rhaenys detested weakness. No one could please everyone. Viserys was clever enough to know this but he still tried. And he was a boy.

"I don't think she will be either," Boremund agreed. "Not that she can see it right now. She wants to be happy and she can't see that with him, that's all."

Aemon's goblet clang against the table. "Happy? It's a fine dream, for sure, but a dream anyway. I don't want my daughter to be unhappy, of course, but I will not tolerate ramblings like personal happiness to stand in the way of her future. Happiness! No doubt she thinks it connected with love," he huffed. "Didn't we all?" He paused. "Jocelyn loved Cedric Celtigar and he loved her back. This did not bring them happiness."

Rhaenys gasped, her hand flying at her mouth.

"Leave the dead to rest," Boremund said after a while.

"I will," Aemon replied. "I need to think of the living now."

So Rhaenys and Viserys were betrothed.

She wept all night long before the wedding and she expected she'd look terrible but her looking-glass told another story. Tears had made her eyes brighter and bigger and their radiance could be seen under the fine veil. And with the silver lustre of her hair, her pale cheeks only looked fitting.

Viserys took her hand, wrapped her in the cloak, said all the right words. And all the time, Rhaenys thought how ludicrous it was. Everyone knew that one day, she'd be the Queen, so what protection could he offer her? Could he ever be her lord? Did he even have the makings of one, let alone hers? She watched each of the guests cautiously, trying to judge which ones had come for her and which ones had come to witness the Seven-divined order of things restored to its natural place, the future heiress' expectations reined in under a man of her own blood's strong hand. Would Viserys try it?

Corlys was in attendance, of course, with Lady Mirana, and after the royal family, they were the first ones who lined in to offer their congratulations. Rhaenys felt a chill. The hand of her love-never-come-to-be was strong and very warm while Lady Mirana's was as cold as the Stranger's, the poor lady. Rhaenys had not seen her in years and for the first time, she felt guilt over the casual cruelty of her past expectations.

Viserys didn't look at her once.

There was talk of pirates, of terrible encroaching upon the shores of Westeros even before the wedding – and they had used the very occasion that had gathered the greatest of lords in King's Landing to launch a new series of attack. Rhaenys was furious. How dared they use her wedding for their vile schemes? She was ready to turn Meleys on them but her grandparents insisted on trying mild means first. Viserys agreed with them. Naturally!

"Does anyone believe that they act without the tacit consent of Myr?" she seethed but everyone insisted that they exhaust every other means.

Meanwhile, her marriage was proving not to be as terrible as she had expected. Viserys was far cleverer than she had ever given him credit for and behind the easy way he found himself in other people's sway, there was an earnest desire to make everyone happy. Rhaenys could appreciate it. She simply disagreed with his ways. And despite his inexperience, he had been very gentle with her. She appreciated the fact that he had taken care to get to know what to do, so he wouldn't be left fumbling, with her trying equally clumsily. Despite her longing to be taught the ways of flesh by a certain man she had imagined as her husband, learning together with Viserys was not unpleasant. And he never refused her a joint fly, something that she had not enjoyed since her mother died and her father stopped finding time for such activities. Her certainty that he would not try to take power from her grew daily. Everything was turning out better than she had expected in the days of her betrothal.

Until it suddenly stopped.

She had seen many a raven find their way across the dark sea, to the dragon castle, only briefly deviating in fear when a roar came from the dragon lodgings, and never thought much of it. But last night, she had dreamed of dark and shining eyes on faces without flesh, a ship lurching over great waves without anyone at the helm, and as soon as she saw the bird, she knew.

The journey to King's Landing was the fastest Rhaenys remembered and when she finally dismounted, she felt as hot as Meleys. The pain in her heart had been a constant since she had read the dark words but the ride would clearly cause her moon blood to arrive earlier, so she went to her chambers, saying that she'd see the King later.

When she woke up, darkness was already swallowing the whole city in. Reluctantly, she dragged herself down the halls, everyone bowing and looking away. She hated pity, she did not want sympathy.

In the throne room, the servants were already lighting the candles, starting with the space around the Iron Throne. The rest of the hall was black and Rhaenys dully wondered how her lady grandmother had let this – she would not tolerate slack performance of duty in anyone.

"It's the same thing, Alysanne," her grandfather said as she came close. "Surely you can see the reason behind it. If it did not exist, there would have been no need of the marriage. Rhaenys would have been queen without anyone disputing her ability. You agreed to it."

"Yes, when it was Rhaenys' queenship that was supported. Do you really think I will stand for her being stripped of her rights just because she had the bad luck of losing her father when she was too young? Or have you forgotten that for years, our own lady mother was considered just a conniving woman without great power of mind? It took our father's death for people to see her for who she was! Who else must die for Rhaenys to be given the chance to prove herself? Wasn't our son enough?"

"That's enough, Alysanne!" There was cold fury in her grandfather's voice that Rhaenys had never heard before. "I will not tolerate such words, even from you!"

"Really, Your Grace?" she mocked. "And what are you going to do, if I may ask? Are you going to take my crown as you intend to take Rhaenys' inheritance? Or remove me from your sight? If so, don't bother – I will leave you the moment this monstrosity takes place!"

Rhaenys' breath caught, as if someone had pounded her in the belly. Take away her inheritance? Take it away? Hadn't the whole reason for her wedding been to prevent this?

"Do you not remember the horror we grew up amidst?" Jaehaerys Targaryen demanded and in the now brighter light Rhaenys saw that his face was twisted with rage. "I will not have it repeated when a way can be found without anyone being wronged!"

"Rhaenys isn't anyone," Viserys said for the first time. Until now, Rhaenys had not seen him move at all in his place at the foot of the throne.

For a moment, Jaehaerys hesitated – at least Rhaenys thought it was hesitation but from this far, it could only be her hope speaking. But then, he shook his head. "It will be better for her this way, too," he said. "She's going to be too young and inexperienced in situation demanding a strong man's hand. She's going to live more peacefully. And she will still have the chance to be as influential queen as you," he added looking at his wife.

"She will be even more influential, I think." Her uncle Baelon's voice was ice. Lately, Rhaenys had started disliking him increasingly as she had started liking Viserys increasingly.

"I didn't ask you what you think," his mother said equally coldly. "Your father did, it seems… and kept it a secret from me. Could it be because you both knew what I would say?"

Finally, the King has had enough. "I will hear no more of it," he said angrily. "And I warn both of you, you'd better not go over it at Aemon's funeral because I'll have anyone showing such disrespect being escorted out!"

He was so respectful… while taking her rights away. But Father died to defend this throne. It isn't fair, Rhaenys thought childishly.

"And you will let Rhaenys know of our decision…"

"Is this the royal we I am hearing?" her grandmother cut in. "Because if it is we, as in Jaehaerys and Alysanne, I insist the Alysanne part be taken out!"

"… well before the funeral so she can have the chance to get reconciled with it," Jaehaerys went on, pretending that he had not heard.

"I cannot tell Rhaenys such a thing," Viserys said with determination that Rhaenys had not known he possessed, and it made Rhaenys laugh bitterly when she realized that the King and his warrior of son who was supposed to have the strong man's hand that she lacked were not brave enough to tell to her face how they were going to rob her. At the end, it would fell to Queen Alysanne, it seemed… if not for a servant turning to the direction her laughter had sounded from in the darkness and gasping.

The rest of them were too far away to hear her laughter but they saw him recoil. A torch came near followed by a gasp.

"Rhaenys," her uncle said urgently, "come here. You do not understand…"

"I understand more than you think," she spat and as she turned back so fast that she lost her balance and her head hit the floor, she briefly wondered if someone would at least rush to her, try to prevent her fall. She was now an obstacle. Someone whose death might be welcome. Without her father, she was nothing.

"Rhaenys," Viserys said, fear in his voice as he reached to help her rise. She pushed his hands away, hating him as much as she did his father and their grandfather as unknowingly to them, the blood that had meant to be their first child flowed and fell on the carpet on the path leading to the Iron Throne.