The Last of a Dynasty

Two: Eight years later

Queen Jaehaera was six and ten, a woman grown by all accounts, yet it was said that she looked scarcely older than thirteen. She was small of height and slim of build, with little to none of the curves of womanhood. Her first blood had come only about a year before now, and that had seemed to solidify the belief that the girl lacked in health as much as she did in brains.
That seemed to be their excuse.
For the past two years especially, even though the matter had long been an object of discussion, the lords of the court had been preoccupied with the matter of succession.
They discussed over who should be named heir to the throne... until the king sired a son. Lately, there'd been more questions than ever. Were there any signs that Her Grace might be with child?
Their wives were less subtle. They paraded themselves and their daughters in their richest gowns, and every time Aegon was made to hold court he could count at least a pair of women approach only to speak of the most futile things, making a point of puffing out their bosoms as they curtsied.
He barely even paid attention when such petitioners came.
The councilmen were a harder matter. He could not simply ignore them, and they did not simply bow their heads when he suggested his sister Baela should be his heir.
"She is but a woman, Your Grace," they argued. "It has been proven that the realm will not bow to a queen. You need a son. And if the queen cannot provide one..."
He'd heard the story a million times. They'd never budged.
He hadn't, either.
They only needed him to have a chance to put their blood on the throne. And he was beginning to grow bored of old, ambitious men using him as a pawn in their games.
"My wife has only recently celebrated her sixteenth nameday," he said then, rising from his seat. "Unless my lords somehow foresee my imminent death, I do not see why I should not have time to sire a son to succeed me."
One of the men, black haired and tall, rose in turn. He wore a leather vest blazoned with the three black towers on orange of his House. "Your Grace, you will surely understand..."
"What I understand, Lord Peake, is that you are insulting both the queen and I by implying she cannot produce an heir."
Aegon knew Unwin Peake well, and disliked him just as well.
It had been six years since he'd come at court, installed by the rest of his regents after Ser Tyland Lannister's death. Six years that he'd been a thorn at his side, insisting for balls and feasts and royal progresses, pushing his family into positions of power until Aegon himself had been of an age to stop him.
The only reason he had not yet removed him was that he held his office well, and the realm seemed to prosper. Any other Hand he could name in in his place could have tried to advance his position the same as he, only he could not know if he would be as capable at fulfilling his duties. Peake knew, at least, when it was unwise to argue.
"Your Grace." He bowed his head.
Aegon nodded. It would not be the last time he heard of this issue, but until then... "This meeting is ended." Finally.
The lords were quick to leave. Almost all of them, at least.
The young king looked at the silver haired man who'd remained, and sunk back into his chair.
"It won't ever get easier, will it?"
He did not need to keep up appearances with him, did not need to appear always wise and sure. Corlys had been around for so long that he'd begun to see him almost as a grandfather. And, as a grandfather should, he knew him thoroughly.
"Perhaps not. A ruler always faces challenges, Aegon," the Lord of Driftmark answered, laying a hand on his shoulder. "But a good ruler knows how to overcome them, and he knows when to accept counsel."
"You do not mean I should do as Peake suggests?"
He had not spoken it outright, but the intent was evident.
"No," replied Corlys. "But I do wish you may listen to me. There is one thing you might do to silence Peake, him and the rest."
"The only thing that would put a stop to the rumors would be if had a son."
The older man nodded. "You must consummate your marriage. The sooner your queen is with child, the sooner all those pests will realize their efforts are useless."
Aegon felt his stomach turn into a knot. He knew it, had known for years now. Yet, the thought scared him all the same.
Corlys had to have seen the uneasy look on his face, for he began to advise him: "You cannot set her aside, or factions loyal to your uncle may yet rise in her favor..."
But he stopped suddenly, shaking his head, a sliver of a smile on his lips. "Ah, but why do I say it? You never would do it."
"She doesn't deserve it. Our families have hurt each other enough. And I know my duty."
Aegon sighed. "But I don't want..." To endanger her health, to risk losing one of the few friends he had, to possibly be forced to see both her and his unborn child die.
"I don't want her to die," he finally found the courage to say.
"Of course." Corlys nodded. "But it will have to be done, someday, regardless."
"I cannot."
"She will understand."
"She might. She might even forgive me, if something came to pass. I still would never forgive myself."
For too long he'd lived with death as his constant companion. Still, it haunted him, and the memories of battle and blood had never truly left. He still saw his mother in his nightmares, and he saw the Triarchy's men boarding the ship he'd been on, and how he'd taken his dragon and escaped and left Viserys behind. His brother was dead, too, because he hadn't been able to save him. As was his mother.
No more. The grief and guilt tormented his heart and mind. They always would. He couldn't survive more.
I will not allow her to die as well. He promised himself that. He had to. Had to do better now than before. Now that he was a man grown, a king, he could protect his family. He could make amends for the helplessness of his past that had cost him his family.
"I will not force Jaehaera to go through the dangers of pregnancy and childbirth. Not until I am certain she can bear it."
The Lord of Driftmark merely nodded, but he said: "You will understand eventually, Aegon. You promise the lords an heir, and you must keep with your promise. The realm needs stability."
There was wisdom in his words, a wisdom Aegon could recognize.
And yet how could there be stability, how could there be peace and prosperity in Westeros, when its own king's heart was still so shattered?
"I will do what is right." It was all he could promise. The only promise he was certain he could keep. And that he would.

Jaehaera liked to sit in her rooms in silence.
She had ladies in waiting, sisters and daughters of the lords of the court. They were meant to be her friends and companions, she'd been told, and yet she rarely craved their company. Or anybody's company, for the matter.
They thought she was slow, mad too. They thought she hadn't noticed how they looked at her. But she did not care. She knew the truth. They could think as they wished. She only wished for them to leave her be.
She liked the little orange cat that sometimes visited her rooms, though. He was soft and calm, and he purred when she scratched him, sitting on the carpet by his side. He sat on her lap. Her dragon had done that too, when he'd been small. Before he'd been killed.
Morghul. Death.
"Dark words, dark omens," she murmured, her eyes fixed on the ruins of the Dragonpit that appeared outside her window. "No more, no more, no more."
An unexpected knock on the door made her startle to the point of gasping.
The cat on her lap too, scared by her sudden flinch, jumped up with a hiss.
Then Aegon's face, framed by strands of straight silver hair that reached almost to his shoulders, appeared through the crack of the door.
"May I?" he asked, his voice almost a whisper.
Jaehaera's heart settled at the sight. Aegon. Only Aegon. She nodded.
Aegon was fine. Better than the others. He understood her need for silence. Maybe he needed it just as much, even if he tried not to show it anymore.
He came to sit beside her on the floor.
That was odd, for a king. Her father had never sat on the floor with her mother, when she'd played with her bug friends... or ever spent much time with her and them, really.
They sat quietly for a while, shoulder against shoulder as they'd oft done since they'd come to know each other. She did not mind him.
Then Aegon let out a breath. "You don't look... well."
There was nothing she had to say. Never well. Never whole. It was both their destinies.
It was as if he could read right through her. "I know." He sighed. And he did not need to add anything more. She knew he understood.
"Jaehaera?" he tried then, still not looking her in the eye.
"I... I have a question." His cheeks were crimson red. He looked weird. "A question for you," he specified. "I don't think the time will ever be truly right, and so..."
The young queen titled her head toward him.
"Well, have you... a desire for children?"
Oh. She'd never thought of it, she realized. It had been made obvious to her that the answer had to be yes. For the kingdom. Whatever her husband wanted, it had to be yes. That was what she'd been taught.
"D-do you?" she stammered then. Speaking came hard to her, sometimes.
"I... know I must." His gaze was fixed on the floor.
She turned her head and stared at him. "But?"
There was more. She saw it.
Aegon slouched by her side. "But I can't be a father. I'm barely able to hold myself together. Sometimes, I cannot even do that. How am I meant to raise a child? To teach him to rule, when I still do not know what to do?"
"You do."
She'd seen it. Even if he might not have known she payed attention. He was present, he did his best. It was more than what could be said for her father.
But Aegon was difficult when he brooded. He did not hear reason.
"I don't," he said, staring into the void as if his mind were somewhere else. "Not enough. Most of the time I'm... angry. I'm sad. I don't know. I loathe to hold court. They think I'm weak, a puppet for their plots. They want to use me like they once did my mother."
The vision came suddenly, flashing before her eyes like a falling star. She grabbed onto Aegon's arm before she could realize what she was doing. "There is a beast within the walls."
Now he snapped back to reality, eyes slightly widened. "What do you mean?"
But now, the moment had passed, and Jaehaera found no words with which to explain. It was never clear, what she saw, like a message encrypted. And any sound she tried to make stuck in her throat and refused to come out. She shook her head.
Aegon nodded. He'd never once smiled, not one time that she knew of, in all the years that she'd known him. Yet his gaze was kind. It made her believe him when he promised: "It does not matter. Don't you worry. About anything. I may not know how yet, but I'll take care of it all. I must."
Jaehaera could only think she needed her mother. She would have known what to do, about everything. She would have helped Aegon, too, for she had been good and kind. But that was before all the loss and the grief had struck.
It was too late now. Her mother was long gone. Jaehaerys and Maelor, too. Her grandmother was confined to Maegor's holdfast.
Jaehaera had gone to visit her once, after her wedding, but Alicent was not the woman she'd once been. She'd stared at her with glassy eyes, and called her Helaena as she wept. Then she'd grabbed her by the arm, pulled her so close their noses almost touched. "Kill him. Kill the whore's son. Slit his throat," she'd hissed.
The young girl had been scared, and she'd never gone back again.
The war had broken her grandmother, too, just as it had broken her and Aegon.
Maybe, her children would not be as sad as they were.