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Queen of Ashes

Chapter 5

Mariah Martell did not like Dornish red.

Somehow, this little detail surprised Daena. In the Red Keep, Mariah was Dorne and Daena expected of her to go all Dornish in her chambers – silk robes that, admittedly, would not do in a climate this much colder, exotic fruit that were indeed in abundance. And Dornish red. Well, there was a carafe at the side table but only Daena and Daeron sipped at it while he poured Mariah a goblet of Arbor gold. Not that she touched it this often either. Her swarthy face was so white that Daena knew how exhausting the long feast had been for her. It had ended just an hour ago, well into the afternoon, and while most of the Red Keep was recovering – and making ready for the evening entertainment – Daena had decided that it was the perfect time to discuss some serious matters with Daeron and Mariah. But now, with the Dornishwoman looking so wan, sympathy took over. "I could come at another time," she offered and Mariah gave her a half-smile.

"Unless it's when the babe has already been born, it won't change much," she said.

"I gather it's going to happen soon?" Daena asked and wondered if she was supposed to know. After all, to the best of Daeron and Mariah's knowledge, she had sent them a letter discussion the very day she was now talking about. "Elaena wants to be here when the time comes," she added and they both smiled. Elaena was friends with them… unlike Daena.

"Baelor saw you with the babe," Daeron said and smiled again. "He thought it was Alysanne. He was very disappointed when I told him it was another child."

Daena found herself smiling back, although she didn't know if this was the truth, or simply a way to steer the conversation in a way they both desired. "I gave a long consideration to the situation in the kingdom," she started before she realized how lofty this sounded. And how ridiculous to someone who had known her as long as Daeron. "I think we can be of use to each other," she said, voice low now, for she knew it was her who needed him more. He was Aegon's heir, no matter their differences. He had held Viserys' trust and people knew it. She? She was just a whore made queen. She could give him far less than what he could provide for her… and yet, it was not to be scorned.

Daeron nodded. "Yes," he said. "I imagine that we can."

Still, none of them spoke of what they were both thinking about. Daena had expected that he would – after all, he had been betrothed in his childhood so it shouldn't bother him but it seemed he found talking about the marriage of a very young child to another child who was not yet two profoundly disturbing – when one of the children was his. Daena felt the same way and she found it strange that awkwardness was the first thing they discovered they had in common after knowing each other since his birth. The closes they veered to that was when Daena glanced at Mariah's belly, now clearly visible in her flowing dress, and asked how Mariah felt about the possible marriage of her children – if this one turned out to be a girl.

The other woman's green face told her the answer. Daeron was quick in snatching a cleverly disguised empty pot and pushing it before her, although Mariah somehow managed not to retch.

"Baelor won't marry one of his sisters if the gods decide to give him any," Daeron said calmly. "Or Daenerys, for that matter. I have other plans for him."

Daena nodded that she understood. But she didn't say the words either.

"Will you help me and my children?" she asked instead. "Your grandfather said that you would."

"I will," Daeron said simply. "If you stay at Driftmark, it'll be even easier for me to do so. It isn't far from Dragonstone and that's where we'll be going soon."

That was a surprise to Daena. Dragonstone wasn't this far from Driftmark but she felt the two islands were worlds apart. She admired the great dragon castle but Dragonstone, with its constant bad weather and glumness, was not a place she'd like to live at. She had once argued the point with Daeron who had felt that she was insulting their dragon heritage… The raised voices had drawn their mother's attention from two chambers down the hall.

Daena shook her head to chase the memories away. Why did this Daeron want to live there anyway? And Mariah who came from Dorne of the sun and heat?

"Does your lady wife know what Dragonstone is like?" Daena asked and shivered, as if the chill of the place was assaulting her once again. She could almost see the pale shimmer of the volcano sleeping lazily, knowing that it would wake and take its due whenever it decided, so there was no use to hurry. The damp salt that sometimes the wind left on her skin in spots of hardened skin…

"I've only been there once, and I was a child then," Mariah said lightly.

Daeron looked uneasy. "Perhaps I didn't think this through. It isn't very cheerful, Daena is right about this. Perhaps we should…"

"Stay here?" she finished for him. Her voice became low and fierce. "I don't care what Dragonstone is like. I'll make it better. Let's get out of here, Daeron. We'll never be able to make a home in the Red Keep, not now."

She held out a hand and he took it. Daena looked away, as uncomfortable as she had been when she had seen the look on Viserys' woman's face, the look saying that she loved him. She felt like an intruder on something very private.

Mariah looked at her. "When I make sure that Dragonstone is what I want it to be, I hope you and the children visit often. You'll always be welcome." Her smile was not quite happy but it was a smile nonetheless. Daena couldn't bring herself to look quite enthused either, so she could sympathize. And yet, Mariah was trying. Perhaps she wasn't this bad. Viserys had been genuinely fond of her and he had been a good judge of character. He judged Aegon correctly, eventually. Almost. Daena was quite surprised by the anger stirring within her breast: how had Viserys dared let Aegon best him, die on her and leave her like this, forming alliances that felt unnatural and demeaning?

No. She should stop thinking like this. Like it or not, she was no longer the Queen but the mother to a possible source of troubles to Aegon. Sure, Mariah still had to give her precedence but she was the Princess of Dragonstone now. Her children – the one Daena had glimpsed earlier trying to jump from a couch, clearly believing that he could fly and the one she was carrying now – were the future. Daena's were the past. If she wanted to give them future, she had to play her cards wisely.

"I will come," she said and drained her goblet because she suddenly needed some additional courage. "I will never take a stand against you, my lord prince. I'll do my best to ease and help you in any way possible against anyone who might wish harm to you and yours."

Daeron nodded and looked down but not quickly enough to hide his expression – horror. After all, Aegon was his father and to hear it all but stated that he might wish – and bring – harm on him, Mariah and Baelor, and even the unborn babe… like he had brought it on the grandfather Daeron had loved… it couldn't be easy on him, no matter what. Daena was painfully reminded the days she had been set aside, shut away, humiliated by her own brother – and she couldn't bring herself to disdain his weakness.

Mariah stirred and Daena had the acute feeling that she was forcing herself not to reach out and take her husband's hand. Envy shook her to the core.

"And I will do my best to help you and your children cope with the vastly changed circumstances," Daeron said. "They will have all the opportunities I can give them, I promise you."

Their eyes met. A queenship? Daena's asked. Yes, Daeron's answered. But again, none of them said the words.

It only occurred to her after many days that he might not have meant Daemon as one of those who would be given opportunities. Or he might have. After all, what harm could there be in giving a bastard the little they could aspire for?

"I'm sure Elaena will also be able to help," Mariah put in. "She was born a diplomat."

Surprise got a laugh out of Daena's throat because it was clear that Daeron's wife did not mean it like a jab. She wasn't angry. She was just showing that she knew about Elaena's attempt at diplomacy. For the first time, she realized why Viserys had considered Mariah amusing.

Back at Driftmark, she found her sister and mother basically arguing over Alysanne's head. Elaena's screeches could rival Alysanne's when hungry! But they were not what surprised Daena. She was shocked to see her mother shouting right back, her face red. She had never seen Daena losing her composure in such a vulgar manner, shrieking like a fisher woman! Suddenly, the question of how she had come across her own wild nature seemed like it might have just found its answer. After all, Daenaera had never been given the chance to try any form of wildness.

"You will stop this preposterous relationship right now!" she was saying.

"I won't!" Elaena vowed.

For the first time, Alysanne seemed to prefer her mother over both her grandmother and her aunt. She started crawling towards Daena as if she were begging to be rescued. Daena picked her up.

"What's going on?" she asked and they told her at the same time so she couldn't make out a word.

Later this night, Elaena came to her chamber after retiring. Daena who had been brushing her hair beckoned her sister near and started drawing the silver comb through her long tresses, just like she had used to do in the tower. Neither of them spoke.

"Is it truly this very confusing?" Elaena asked. "Me loving him?"

"Yes," Daena said honestly. "He is so old, Elaena. He was ten years older than Father!"

She wasn't sure about the exact number but she knew it was about that. "He's sixty, Elaena, and you are just twenty-two."

"But he's full of strength and vigour!" Elaena insisted. "We can have twenty years together if not more!"

Twenty years sounds like such a big number to someone who has only lived twenty years, Daena reasoned out but since she knew she would have not appreciated being told this under circumstances that resembled her sister's even distantly, she kept her mouth shut. Her astonishment grew at the fierce passion in Elaena's eyes. How could she desire a man who, as strong as he was, was this old? She still remembered her own visceral reaction to Viserys. Although she missed him in so many things, bed was not one of them.

"And he isn't sixty but only fifty-eight!" Elaena insisted, as if that made such a great difference. "He'll take me aboard his ships to see the world he already knows!" she went on and the attraction suddenly became clearer to Daena. Elaena wanted the world and she felt like the one who had seen and experienced it in the manner their uncle had could give it to her. "When we wed…" she went on and Daena stared.

"You can't mean to wed him!" she exclaimed. "He already has heirs. Our cousins, remember? What would such a marriage bring you?"

"Love," Elaena said without hesitation and this time, Daena wanted to grab and shake her, much like their mother had reportedly done. "It's going to be such a romance," she went on, her eyes shining. "Bards will sing of our love for each other…"

Daena tried not to hear her because the sheer ludicrousness of it made her want to tear her hair out. Elaena? Throwing her chances away like she had? In twenty years, she'd be left alone to shoulder the responsibilities of life and children, much like their mother had! And that was if events unfolded in the best way possible!

The worst part of it was that day after day, Daena became increasingly confident that the Oakenfist was not as in love in Elaena as she was with him. Sure, he was flattered by her infatuation. She invigorated him. But Daena never saw him look at her sister with the longing and strive, and anger that he had stared at Baela with when he thought no one saw him. He never looked at her for approval after making a drawn-out decision. Of course, Elaena couldn't see it. What an odd and mysterious thing human heart was!

"I will wed him one day," Elaena vowed and Daena didn't even ask if she was sure he wanted to wed her. She remembered all too well her own certainty that an aging mistress could never contend with a young and beautiful wife - and how quickly Viserys had taught her otherwise. Likewise, Elaena was sure that she could make Alyn Velaryon forget his fondness for his late disfigured wife in his passion for her. Daena wondered... But his death in the sea made it all a moot point.

For herself, Daena intended to wed again but not again. Not so soon. There wasn't even a Great House with a lord or heir free to wed. But she was in no hurry. Taking a husband would mean getting with a new child and she did not cherish the prospect. She cherished the time she spent hunting, riding, entertaining the esteemed guests that paid her visits before or after their visits to Daeron and Mariah – increasingly often as the number of the people displeased with the corruption and whims of Aegon's court increased. I am doing it for the children, Daena repeated over and over as she sat through endless receptions when she could have gone riding. Alysanne's queenship, Aelyx' future gave her enough reasons to lend her support to Daeron in any way she could.

Taking a husband would certainly make her nightly entertainments harder to achieve. She loved revealing herself to her lovers – all young and built like the Warrior himself – in nothing but the pendant her father had left her.

From time to time, she traveled to Dragonstone, the isolation at Driftmark doing wonders for helping her forget Mariah's Dornishness. She couldn't say she had truly befriended the woman but she certainly viewed her with more affection now and each visit there made her feel more welcome. She could understand why Elaena loved Mariah and Daeron both. And when she heard of Aegon's plan to wage war on Dorne again, she met the idea with far less pleasure than twenty years ago, when she had first heard it from the other Daeron, the one who had forever stayed eighteen.

It was Daemon who told her, at one of her annual visits at court. He grew more and more distant from her as his life went on without her in it but his charm laid a nice coverage on this reality that still saddened Daena – him, not this much. His bubbling excitement and glorious contentment with life and his own person always made her smile. But when he rattled out the news of teaching Dorne her place, her smile froze. Somehow, it felt improper for a child who had no idea of war and whose place was what to glory in such news. And why did he even know? Who had taken upon themselves the task to tell him?

"We won't suffer Dorne any longer," Daemon claimed proudly. "It's a shame that Prince Baelor should resemble them so."

Who?

Well, he.

The realization that Aegon showed no signs of forgetting about her six-year-old son chilled her to the bone. Daemon was surrounded by attendants and tutors who carefully fanned casual, child's, meaningless hatred towards Dorne, Daeron, Baelor… and by extention, Alysanne. Alysanne who would be Baelor's queen.

Why was that? Aegon did not need to pay any particular attention to the child, he only used him as a leverage against Daena, refusing her plea to let her take him with her once again.

"I agree it's sad that he doesn't know his brother and sister this much," he said, "but that's just how it is."

With a sinking heart, Daena once again remembered that Aelyx and Alysanne felt better with Daeron's sons than they did with Daemon.

"I might send him to you after we celebrate our victory," Aegon went on. Daena did not believe him, of course. She just stared at him, purple eyes sinking deeply in the midst of all the flesh he had acquired quite unsightly, and wondered how she could have ever forgotten what he was like, how she could have ever found him attractive.

The victory never came. Instead, Aegon's ridiculous dragons got destroyed in the mountain passes… and Mariah's child arrived a month earlier, not the monstrosity Aegon and his lickspittles envisioned but a child so vigorous that everyone gaped. Daena felt a pang of shame when the rumour of Mariah's bad state reached her and her first thought was, I suppose Daeron won't take any risk now. There won't be any more children for them. Four sons and no daughter now or any time soon – she could see it in Daeron's drawn face, the way he tried to convince himself that in two weeks, Mariah would be fine.

A residual concern that had always huddled in the back of her mind melted away, making her free in ways she had never imagined.

Mariah did indeed recover. Not in two weeks but six. At least, six weeks later she was able to rise from her bed but the question of leaving her chambers could not even be broached. Naerys was bedridden again with one of her fevers so it was Daena who had to sit next to Aegon as he received the Dornishmen who had come to renew the treaty he had broken.

She couldn't deny that she quite enjoyed being the principal lady at court, as short-lived as it was. Her experience at Driftmark helped her plan magnificent entertainments – a tourney, a water display by the fleet, although Elaena murmured that it was downright wasteful of her. Daena never came to know if she meant the tourney or the water display. The latter, she supposed, because Elaena had never minded tourneys before.

It felt so strange to watch the preparations knowing that no dragon would take part in the joust. Aemon was forbidden by the King to do so. Daeron was unable to and Aegon's limitations were even greater than his son. His increasing girth would soon make him feeble if he didn't check himself – and Daena was sure he wouldn't. As she inspected the field, more than once her mind turned to the time of Daeron's reign, with his love for battle in all shapes, and she realized that despite all his failings, she still considered him the greatest king since Aegon's Conquest, greater than Aegon himself. Reason had nothing to do with this.

She shivered. She'd better stop thinking about the past. Daeron was dead. Viserys would not come back either, yet she felt as if they both walked with her as she went on with the inspection under the rain that started falling, having no idea that soon, a summer fever would take her to the bed that she'd only leave for the pyre claiming all Targaryens at the end.

The End