Chapter Text
“My Lady,” Aegon’s voice startled you as you opened the door to your chambers. A delicate hand came to your chest to bring you back to your senses, or what little you had left.
“My Prince,” Your voice cracked from endless tears and misuse over the last nine months. Prince Aegon stood just opposite of your chamber door with Ser Duncan standing to his right. The hedge knight’s eyes fell to the floor when yours made contact, shame crossing his features just as it had every time you’ve crossed paths since the Ashford Tournament. You’d never been cross with Ser Duncan, never uttered a foul word in his direction, but he felt blame rested heavily upon his shoulders for the loss you’ve suffered all the same.
“I’ve come to escort you, my Lady.” Aegon spoke up, holding his hands behind his straight back properly.
“Escort me?” You swallowed thickly. His wide eyes gleamed up at you seriously. You bit your bottom lip out of habit. The already thin, chapped skin burned, but it was a familiar feeling you became comfortable with.
“You go to the sept every day at this time. I’d like to go with you, if you’ll have me. And if you wish for solitude, I’d like to escort you at the very least.” Duncan glanced at you while your attention was on the little prince and he wished he didn’t look at all. Misery had painted your once glowing features. Your eyes were bloodshot, circled in heavy bags. Your once glowing skin and hair now dull from lack of proper upkeep. Your dress hung on your withering frame. He should’ve begged Egg to not do this.
You looked down at Aegon for a moment before nodding. He offered his arm and a frown overtook his features when he felt your hand shake out of weakness and sadness.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven candles were lit one by one with a name whispered over each.
“What do you pray for?” Aegon’s voice was a whisper as you settled next to him. Ser Duncan kept still by the door, giving you both privacy.
“I pray to the Stranger-” Your voiced choked up, “-that they’ve found peace. That Valarr, Matarys and Naeron have been reunited with Baelor.” You took a deep, shaking breath, looking up at the statue of the Mother. “And I pray to the Mother, every day, for one act of mercy. I beg her for it.” Aegon turned to look up at you, the orange glow of candlelight flickering in his wide eyes.
“Do they ever answer?” He asked earnestly. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you gently wiped a tear than had fallen free down your right cheek.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But it brings me comfort to believe they are listening.”
“I understand.” He spoke gently. “I light a candle for my mother when I pray. I often wonder if she hears me. I like to think she does and if she’s listening to me, then Uncle Baelor is listening to you too.” You smiled sadly down to the boy before turning back to the Mother. “Who are the other two candles for? You lit them for my grandfather, my uncle, and my three cousins, but I counted seven.” He listed off on his fingers.
“My mother and my sister, both lost to their birthing beds. My mother perished during the birth of my sister, and my sister, tragically perished along with her babe six springs ago. A curse passed down from mother to daughter, tied together forever it would seem.” An old wound that slowly began to heal, though it was still tender to the touch.
“I am sorry, my Lady. You’ve experienced much loss.” Aegon spoke so genuinely, it was enough to shake you sometimes. He held his hand out for you to take and you accepted it.
“As have you, my Prince.” You squeezed gently, extending comfort to him in return.
The remainder of your time in the sept was spent in silent prayer. Aegon, though so young, observed respectfully until you were finished. He rose with you, giving his arm to assist you up.
“Shall I escort you to the crypts, my Lady?” You stopped in your movement and stared down at him.
“Though I appreciate your diligence, that won’t be necessary, my Prince.” You spoke gently.
“It is no trouble, I assure you. Perhaps it is merely company you need.”
“Wise beyond your years and just as observant.” The smile you gave him didn’t reach your eyes, not even close, but it was something to Egg. “I would, however, like a word with your knight if I may?”
“Of course, my Lady. I will give you a moment.” Aegon waved Ser Duncan over and made for the door before stepping through it and closing it behind him. Your own knight was waiting on the other side to keep an eye on the young Prince as he waited patiently.
“My Lady?” Duncan stepped forward cautiously.
“My husband saw something in you, something he felt was worth putting himself in harms way for.”
“My Lady, I-” you held a hand up, silencing him instantly.
“I want to hate you. To blame you for what transpired. It is the easy thing to do…but it is also wrong and would be a great disservice to my late husband.” You glanced over to the Mother, then back at Duncan. “Baelor stood your side because you stood for what was right. You defended someone who could not stand for themself against a royal. You faced death without a second thought because it was the right thing to do, so I have to believe you are truly who Baelor believed you to be. That you are a true knight, oath taken with honor, not vanity. Am I mistaken Ser?” Duncan’s jaw hinged and unhinged itself for a moment before gathering his wits about him to answer.
“No, my Lady. You are not mistaken. To be held in any esteem regarding Prince Baelor is an honor.”
“I’m to assume you’ve taken your oath to the Prince, have you not?”
“I have, my Lady.” You nodded, stepping closer to him and lowering your voice. Duncan stood stock still, eyes wide at the close proximity you had to him, but leaned down to hear you speak.
“No matter what you hear on the morrow, you are to keep the Prince away from the courtyard. Am I understood? For his well being, I beg you obey.”
“My Lady, if there is danger-”
“There is not, none that will befall him in any way. You will understand in time, but you must heed what I am saying.” Duncan’s crysaline eyes held confusion as he tried to decipher what you were truly asking of him. “There are no tricks, Ser. No ruses. I just ask that you steer him clear of the courtyard. For his own good. Some goodbyes are not worth putting a child through.”
“You are leaving?” You nodded. “He’ll be devastated to not see you off.”
“That is why you’ll have him, Ser. He is in capable hands, I am sure of it.” Duncan blinked a few times, but nodded in acceptance. Lifting your skirts just enough to not let them go underfoot, you took your leave.
“You’ll write to him, surely?” Duncan called out as your hand touched the latch on the heavy door.
“Perhaps.”
Losing Baelor was misery beyond comprehension, but when Spring Sickness swept over King’s Landing and took Valarr, Matarys -your first born- and baby Naeron -who was only nine moons old at his time of passing- in its wake within weeks of each other in such a short period of time after Baelor’s passing, it destroyed whatever remnants of yourself that your husband left behind. Your mind and body withered to nothing, your soul desolate and voided. All that you were was gone.
“I do not wish to be disturbed.” Your voice was little more than a whisper as you spoke to the guard stationed outside of the door to the crypts beneath the Red Keep. The knight nodded and stood at attention, used to the nightly visit he escorted you on since Naeron’s small urn was brought down to his final resting place next to Matarys.
You lit each torch that lined the stone walls as you made your way down to the furthest wall in the near labyrinth. Half spent candles lined the alcove dedicated to Baelor’s line, near a hundred of them, and you took the time to light each one.
Four dragon urns, a single line of succession, all presented next to a statue of Baelor that did him no justice. Footsteps in the dirt could be heard coming in your direction. It was only a single set and they weren’t in a hurry so you continued with your task. Moments later, King Maekar’s voice broke the silence of the tomb.
“Aegon tells me this is where you spend your nights.” His tone wasn’t judgmental, but he wasn’t pleased.
“He’s been watching me, it seems.” You noted.
“His intentions are noble. The boy cares for you a great deal and he worries for you.”
“And I him, your Grace. He is a good boy, eager to find his place in the world.” He gave a hum in agreement. Maekar took slow steps towards you and stopped to your left.
“You cannot spend your days wasting away down here.” Maekar spoke gently as he placed a hand on his brother’s likeness. “This is no place for you.”
“I have nowhere else to go.” Your voice cracked as you responded, not breaking eye contact from Baelor’s stone pupils. “My husband is here. My sons are here. There is nothing for me above save the sept. Only reminders of what will be lost to time, soon to be forgotten in what seems like the blink of an eye.” It felt like a punch to Maekar’s stomach, one he would feel for the rest of his days. The regret ate away at him like a wasting disease that flared up every time he got a look at you. Heartbroken and devastated is how he’d describe your state, as it had been for the last nine moons.
“I’ve requested your presence at dinner.” Maekar did not speak to you as he spoke to his sons for their insolence, but you apologized all the same.
“Please accept my sincerest apologies, your Grace. I fear I am not pleasant company as of recent.” It broke Maekar to see just how lifeless and wilted you became compared to the young woman who came to the Red Keep to marry his brother years prior. Baelor spoke to him of your smile once, that he hoped your future children inherited it for he could never tire of gazing upon sunshine in human form. He teased his older brother relentlessly for it, but Maekar understood.
“And still, I request it.” It was not said in anger nor demand, but to let you know he was there. That you were not forgotten in the keep and that he understood your pain. “I’m also told you haven’t been accepting meals, not even in your chambers.” He eyed your frame carefully. “You are withering.”
“Tis a day of reflection, your Grace.” You tried to placate him, but he saw straight through you.
“Even still, one does not need to starve to reflect.” Maekar tried to coax.
“I do not starve, your Grace, though your concern is…noted.” Maekar spoke your name, the candles near him flickering as he turned to level you with a deep sadness that nearly mirrored your own.
“The formalities are unnecessary when it is just us, especially in this place. Please.” You nodded, eyes dropping to your chapped fingers. The dry cuticles around your once pristine nails were cracked and frayed from months of tugging, picking, ripping, and malnourishment. The skin of your fingertips was raw and painful, at times bloody when you had no other outlet but to rake your fingers over stone to feel something. Maekar spoke your name once more and your eyes snapped back to his.
“Your heart remains heavy.” He spoke, his hands covering your own to stop their fidgeting and his eyes going from urn to urn.
“Like the anchor of a war ship doomed to sink to the ocean’s depths, never to see the light of the sun again.” Biting at your bottom lip you winced as the skin tore there too.
“The burden is not yours alone to bear.” Maekar offered, extending a proverbial outlet to offload what you wanted to without judgment.
“Today would’ve been Naeron’s first name day. That wound has yet to begin healing.” Your glassy eyes turned to the candles that surrounded his much smaller urn, a grueling reminder of the many funeral pyres you’ve faced since Baelor’s brutal passing. “I pray you can understand why I do not have the stomach for a meal.” Maekar winced, his grasp firm in yours more for himself. “Nor company.”
“Forgive me.” He breathed out, shaking his head as shame coated his features once more. “The Spring Sickness took so many, most before their time.” His eyes went from Naeron to Matarys, then to Valarr with a heavy sigh. “I know not what a grieving mother feels, but my heart breaks all the same.”
You loosened your hands from his and stepped to the foot of Baelor’s monument. “Losing Baelor was…devastating. So much so that I did not think I could recover, but I had to -for his sons if no one else. They were living embodiments of him, mind and flesh -his legacy that I had to hold on to. Each one slipped through my fingers like sand, no matter how hard I tried to keep my grasp on them. Now they, like Baelor, are just a memory. Princes etched in stone, lines in history tomes. Ghosts in the halls. Every one of them.” You dropped your head. “I failed him.”
“You did no such thing.” Maekar’s voice grew an edge as he vehemently shook his head.
“His line is gone with him,” You spoke with finality. “and I’ve come to accept that.”
A silence neither comfortable nor uncomfortable grew between you as your words settled.
“I will escort you back.” It wasn’t a question and there was no room for argument. You simply followed as Maekar led you out of the crypts and back into the bustling keep with the Kingsguard behind you. Neither of you spoke as you climbed and climbed through the Red Keep. The guards were instructed to give the chambers space so the newly crowned King and you may finish your conversation with privacy -propriety be damned.
“When I was betrothed to Baelor I was absolutely terrified.” You spoke as Maekar closed the door. “I was to become the second wife of the crowned Prince who already had a son, an heir. I was stepping into a world I had no business in, as a pawn of goodwill between my house and yours. As it always is. I heard stories of him, exaggerated of course, but not so exaggerated that he seemed otherworldly.” You continued, “Baelor was kind. He was gentle. He was patient. In a Keep full of serpents, he was safety. Valarr opened his heart to me and our sons. Matarys looked upon him as if he was the brightest star in the sky. He accepted Matarys and Naeron as he accepted me. So why am I left when they are all gone?” Maekar looked upon you with sympathy flooding his features.
“I wish I had the answers, my Lady. Truly, I do. If I could alleviate this torment, I would without hesitation.”
“I say all of this not to reminisce, Maekar, but to let you know that Baelor understood the risks. You know this, deep in your heart.” Maekar nodded reluctantly. “There is blame to be had, surely, but it is not your burden to carry -not entirely. Perhaps your burden is the weight of your son’s actions -their consequences, or it is simply the crown that’s been placed upon your head. The gods work mysteriously, and often with great hubris.” You poured a goblet of wine and handed it to him.
“My sons, all of them, are a testament to that.” Maekar drank the glass in one go.
“But they are yours and you love them fiercely, as a father should.” He nodded, refilling his own goblet before chasing it down once more.
“I do.” Speaking of his own relationships with his sons was hitting too close for him on top of the talks of Baelor, and Maekar did what he did in any truly uncomfortable situation -he moved to bid you a good night.
“I…hope you’ve found some solace from your grief, my Lady, if only for a moment at a time.” You leaned on the back of a chair, watching Maekar step towards the door, but not following after him.
“Your presence is always welcome, your Grace.” He nodded, stopping mere steps from the door when you called out to him once more.
“I know the pain you carry is cumbersome, the love you had for Baelor ran just as deep. There was never a question of it’s authenticity. Please know that I’ve never blamed you, Maekar.” The tears built a wall over his eyes as he turned over his shoulder to face you, the torrent ready to be unleashed at any moment at your words. “I blame your wretched son.” What could Maekar say to that? Aerion may have been a Devil incarnate, but he was his son. Still, Maekar harbored his own shame within his heart at not only allowing his son to act out to that point, but that it was Maekar’s mace that took his brother’s life. “Regardless of what is said, I know in my heart that what happened was never done with purpose.” Maekar swallowed thickly and licked his lips before answering. “I felt it important that you needed to hear that.”
“It does not lessen the ever bearing weight pulling down on my soul, but it is a relief to hear from you.” You nodded solemnly.
“I am leaving on the morrow at first light to be with my family.” Maekar’s silver brows furrowed before nodding.
“If that is what you wish. I shall have a carriage and guard prepared for you for first light. Anything you need, I will be honored to oblige, my Lady.”
“Thank you, your Grace, but I have made the arrangements myself. This is goodbye, your Grace. Please give my deepest apologies to Prince Aegon for leaving with such haste.” Maekar nodded before he took quick steps back towards you, gathering you in his arms in a display never seen between the two of you. To be understood by the one person who had the power to hold nothing but malice towards him and chose not to wield it was a gift, and Maekar recognized that.
“He will understand.” He whispered into your ear before he let go. “I need not say it, but I will anyway -You will always have an audience with me, my Lady.”
“Thank you, your Grace.”
Holding Baelor’s quill for the last time was as if you were holding a weight. The scratching of the quill against parchment was reminiscent of the late nights Baelor sat at this very desk in your shared chambers, working into the hours of the night before you dragged him back to the comforts of the featherbed at his back.
Rays of orange, pink and lilac caught your eye as you glanced towards the window. The morning sun had yet to rise, but it was vastly approaching. In that moment, you felt lighter than you had in a long time. Peace, some might say. Regardless of what it was, you signed your name to the bottom of the parchment and stood as you placed the quill back into its stand. The jiggle of the door latch knocked you out of your thoughts. The key was fastened into the lock, jamming it from the inside.
“My Lady?” Your chambermaid called out, alerted by the uncharacteristically locked door. No doubt she had been told to have your things ready, though it would not be necessary. “My Lady, can you hear me?” The door continued shaking in alarm until something hit it -presumably the guard stationed outside.
There was no carriage. There was no journey -not in the way it was assumed, at any rate.
Without a second thought, you moved over to the window and opened it. The sun was just peaking over the edge of the eastern horizon through a clear sky and a gentle breeze lulled you up onto the ledge. Your nightgown billowed behind you, lapping at your legs as you stood for but a moment. Your bare feet felt cool against the rough, red stone, and with one more mindless step forward -you were gone.
I care not what happens to my body
Only that my soul remain free
I beg the Mother have mercy for what I’ve done
I beg the Stranger to guide me to those I long for
For I am all that’s left in the wake of grief
And I only wish to be with my family again
Your name was signed at the bottom in carefully dragged ink.