This story takes place immediately after the end of A Veil of Prophecy.

A Queen To Be

Chapter 1

The King took a deep breath. Everyone leaned over the bed intently, listening.

Something like a smile crossed his lips and he took two more breaths, shallow. Then, he exhaled and the silence in the tent became heavier, harsher.

Maekar Targaryen was dead.

Outside, everyone was waiting – the battle commanders, the lords, the men at-arms. They needed to know and they would… soon. But for now, no one wanted to disturb the peaceful resignation of the tent with talks and official mourning, and games of thrones. They all stood and watched the body, the face that had lost its entire colour, the crushed chest that was no longer moving. It was next to impossible to believe that he had held his own again a man as skilled as him but some twenty years younger for so long.

"Close his eyes," Ser Galend whispered.

Prince Aegon inclined further over his father and hesitated before closing the violet eyes, as bright in death as they had ever been in life. For a moment, he almost thought that Maekar would snap, "How dare you think I am dead?" But he didn't.

Ser Galend looked at the body and for a while, stared unblinkingly. He had been the King's oldest and closest friend. Now, he saw Maekar as he had been through the course of his life – a bright and promising boy, a skilled warrior and commander, a sad and embittered man, one whose life was full of regrets and anger at others and himself, one who was unfailingly loyal to those he held dear, one who always strove to do the right thing and very often ended up looking cold and unsympathetic while he was going it. And that had not exactly endeared him to everyone. Some had loved him, many more had loathed him, almost everyone had whispered the word "Kinslayer" behind his back. But no one had been indifferent to Maekar Targaryen.

Very few would ever know what Ser Galend felt instinctively to be true – that Maekar had entered his last combat knowing that he wouldn't win it but ready to give his life to give them victory. And he had given them this last gift.

"Rest in peace, my brave lord," Ser Galend said softly. "All who loved you are waiting for you, and they have missed you sorely. Rest in peace."

Duncan Targaryen silently wiped off the tears streaming down on his cheeks. "I am glad Haegon is dead," he said fiercely.

"So am I," Aegon said. Still, he hoped he wouldn't have to take a second look at the Blackfyre pretender's severed head that by now had been tarred and all to be transported to King's Landing and exposed at the gate of the Red Keep. He had seen it once and had been chilled to realize that Haegon looked just like Maekar in Aegon's childhood memories.

"Rest in peace," he murmured, looking at his father, knowing that Maekar might have peace, finally, but peace was the last thing that the very near future held for any of them.

Three days later…

In this cold, dark night, Princess Rhae could not fall asleep. The brazier in her bedroom could not warm her sufficiently but there was something wrong with the chimney, so the smoke was choking her, the bed felt too great without Aegon in it. For a while, she stood at the window, straining her eyes to see a raven from the battlefield, from Aegon. All she knew from his brief message was that they had won and that their father had taken a serious wound. Serious, how serious? Is he going to recover? Is he going to stay alive at all? Maekar was no longer a young man and Rhae wasn't the little girl who had thought that her father was invincible and probably, immortal as well. She was desperate for news.

She shuddered, the cold suddenly freezing her to the bones. Am I becoming like Aunt Aelinor, she wondered, remembering the late Queen, always cold and sitting in front of a roaring fire, and for the last twelve years, always waiting for Maekar to come back from a battle. I don't want to spend my life waiting like this, Rhae thought but she knew it was not a matter of choice. I hope the gods curse the Blackfyres to the seven hells. She barely remembered the time when there hadn't been wars and rebellions, the time before her grandfather King Daeron died.

She wrapped a thick fur around her shoulders and left her chambers. There weren't any torches lit in the hallways but Rhae knew her way and moved confidently through the darkness.

Rhaelle stirred in her bed but she was always an active sleeper, not unlike Rhae herself. Sometimes, Aegon joked that he'd been wounded worse abed than at the battlefield. In his bedchamber, Jaehaerys was smiling in his sleep, his face very pale in the light of the candle-clock. Rhae wanted to go to him and feel his brow for one of the fevers he developed overnight but she knew he wouldn't appreciate it. Her son hated for anyone to pay attention to his ill health when he wasn't currently experiencing any symptoms. And anyway, he was twelve-year-old. Soon, his mother would have to learn to keep a certain distance, like she had done with Duncan.

Aemon opened his eyes briefly and murmured, "Mama" when she stood next to his bed. He was only four, young enough to want his mother nearby whenever she could stay. One day, he'd want to distance himself from her like Duncan had, like Jaehaerys had started to, and it would be only natural; but now, Rhae reached down and took him in her arms, carried him to the larger bed next to the opposite wall where she snuggled under the bedcovers. The warmth of the little body felt good. After a while, she fell asleep, holding the child to her.

All of a sudden, she was woken up by a maid. Seeing her concerned face and stuttered words, Rhae did not lose time asking questions – she just tucked Aemon in and put her robes on, along with the fur.

In the solar, two servants were fumbling with lighting a fire in the fireplace. Rhae immediately saw the tall silhouette near the window and recognized him – it was hard not to. She opened her mouth to start questioning him when Daella appeared, as disheveled and groggy as Rhae herself. Maybe even more – once again, she was with child. It seemed that she conceived in time with the rebellions. She was still early on and the child was drying her strength, so she was always tired.

As soon as Daella saw Ser Duncan, she woke up fully, just like Rhae had. He wouldn't look either of them in the eye.

"My father…?" said Rhae breathlessly.

He nodded. A sob cracked Daella's voice. Rhae looked down, feeling the tears stinging her eyes, leaving hot traces on her cheeks. The two of them clung to each other briefly, then got a grip over themselves and looked at Ser Duncan. "I was there when he died," he said softly. "Along with Aegon and Duncan. Ser Galend was also there, as well as your lord husband, Your Grace," he added to Daella. "He died peacefully. I could even say that whatever he saw in his last moments, it was something beautiful." He paused. "I traveled as fast as I could. There were all kinds of rumours where I passed but no one was certain of the King's demise. I certainly didn't tell the sentries or anyone here. But we must act quickly." He gave Rhae an intent look. "We must take you and your children to safety. Of course, the same is true for you, my lady," he told Daella and again turned to Rhae. "But you are the one who is in the greatest danger. With your father the King's death, your children are…"

"I know what my children are," Rhae interrupted. "We have a few hours, at best," she reasoned, trying to put grief aside, to concentrate on what was more important now. "There will be ravens, rumours. We can't stay here."

With her father's death in the middle of yet another rebellion, the succession was not a sure thing at all. There were too many powerful lords who'd try to use the situation to their own advantage. They might support Daeron's poor daughter or Aerion's infant son for the throne. There were even those who were still Blackfyre sympathizers. With Aegon and Daella's husband Alor Gargalen still at the battlefield, they were just two women, helpless to avoid what the lords had for them. Once Maekar's death was announced, the King's Hand would lose his authority and won't be able to offer them adequate protection. They still had the household knights and those who had been left to further ensure their safety but all that was very likely to be insufficient.

"Are we running away, Lady Mother?"

They all turned around. Jaehaerys stood in the doorframe, his slim frame shivering, for the fire still hadn't warmed the solar enough. His purple eyes were brimming with tears. His temper was the exact opposite of Maekar's but he had been spending much time with his grandfather. Maekar had even let him attend the meetings of the Small Council if he wished, as long as he was quiet. The two of them had gotten along quite fine, to everyone's surprise.

Next to him, Alaenys Blackfyre, the captive from the previous rebellion. She, too, was shaking, her face betraying both cold and fear. She must have been roused by the murmuring of the servants. Looking at her, Rhae briefly wondered whether she was pleased with Maekar's death. She might well be.

"No," she said. "No, we aren't. But we must leave the Red Keep, so no one could use us in the game of thrones against your father."

"So, we're running away," Jaehaerys concluded.

Rhae didn't have time to argue the point right now. "Go and pack up your things. Only the ones you'll need most. Tell Rhaelle to do the same. Alaenys, you too," she added. There was no way they were leaving a Blackfyre in the Red Keep, even one as young as Alaenys. They had to keep her at their side constantly.

She looked at Ser Duncan. "Where are Aegon and Alor sending us?"

He hesitated. "I am to accompany you to the Silent Sisters chapterhouse. They reasoned you'll be best protected there."

There was a glazed look in Rhae's eyes as she echoed, "The Silent Sisters," as if she had heard wrong.

Daella, though, realized the brilliance of the idea immediately. The Silent Sisters were universally feared. No one would dare touch them there. No lord would risk the Stranger's fury over an earthly matter like riches and a king's favor. The idea was pure genius, as frightening as it was to them.

"Is the chapterhouse far away from King's Landing, Lady Mother?" Jaehaerys asked.

Rhae shook her head. It was not far at all – just two days ride away. A lifetime away.

A/N. This story was not quite planned. It isn't the sequel to A Veil of Prophecy I had in mind. But rest assured I still have the sequel in mind. Meanwhile, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of a story I hope to keep short.