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Chapter Three, A New Queen
HALF A YEAR AND THE WOUND OF AEMMA'S DEATH HAD YET TO CLOSE.
Joyce felt herself wax and wane with her guilt and grief. One moment it would crash over her in strong and powerful waves. In others, she'd found herself too weak, unable to rise from her bed or leave her own chamber. Yet in her moments of assured strength, she'd often conduct her newly self-imposed duties of speaking with kitchen servants who knew the hidden passages of the Red Keep or listening to the whispers and discovering whose spies belonged to whom.
And on some very few mornings, she'd awaken forgetful and would begin to carry herself to the Queen's chambers, only for reality to wash over her and steal her breath away.
It had been one of those mornings, she'd arisen anew and had dressed herself in the palest of blues before making her way to the Queen's Solar. But as if awakening from the hazed world of a dream, the sealed doors before her jolted the lady back into reality.
Aemma was gone.
Those words repeated in her mind as she continued her day in a fugue state. As empty as the Queen's chambers, the thought rattled around her mind like an echo in an endless cavern.
Rhaenyra's voice was the first one to break through to her, the Lady Baratheon turning at the call of her voice.
She watched as the young princess bounded towards her, straying from her former sworn shield — now the new Lord Commander of the Kingsguard — Ser Harrold Westerling.
"Good morrow, Princess," the older woman greeted with a soft smile that, these days, seemed to only etch across her lips while in the presence of the Realm's Delight. Looking up from the teen girl, she glanced down the way they'd come to see the doors of the Small Council chamber were still closed. "Is the Council's session done for the day?" the woman asked curiously.
Rhaenyra's own face fell sour with disappointment. "I was given the duty of choosing the next Kingsguard."
Joyce could easily read between her words. She had been sent away.
"I see," she nodded, glancing up to the new Lord Commander, who also seemed rather privy to what had been left unspoken. "Congratulations on your ascension, Ser Harrold."
The balding knight gave her a sharp nod and replied with an even tone, "Thank you, my lady."
"And my condolences on the loss of your brother," she added.
