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After the Dragons Danced (A Rhaena Targaryen SI) -- 08. Diplomatic Negotiations
🕑 Added 2024-09-24 09:00:00 +0000 UTC9th Day, Ninth Moon, 131 AC | The Red Keep - King’s Landing
CORLYS VELARYON
As was the custom engrained by his grandfather since he was but a boy, Corlys arrived at the small council chambers earlier than the meeting was set to begin. His granddaughters were with him. Both were dressed in black garb with accents of red, Rhaena in a gown, and Baela with an overcoat with breeches and a shirt underneath. Every day, they reminded Corlys more and more of their formidable grandmother and their lovely mother. He struggled not to think about them.
The council room was empty, as expected. The table in the council chambers had been changed from the traditional square one that had been there since the time of the Conciliator, to a circular one. Huh! That was strange. Still, the seats designated for the different councillors remained as they had always been. He took the seat assigned the Hand of the King, a position his granddaughters had secured him. Schemers were lying in the dark, Rhaena had said, and they required someone loyal to head the council until they came of age. That they still trusted him enough with such a responsibility warmed his heart. He would not disappoint them. All he did now, he did for his grandchildren. His days trying to build his own legacy were dead and gone. The time for his grandchildren, on the other hand, had just begun.
Rhaena sat quietly in the seat to his right, resuming her writing. She had been doing that a lot since the war had come to an end and she had returned from the Vale. He had asked what she spent so many hours putting down, and her response was always incredibly cryptic, boiling down to ‘plans and ideas’. The twins seemed to have much of those of late.
Few in the realm might have caught on, but Baela and Rhaena were an ascending power. They were the most senior members of the royal house, not counting Saera, Vaegon and Rhaella, whom the realm hard largely forgotten. They held great influence over their kingly brother, more than Jaehaera could ever hope to have from what he had seen. Save for the occasion of royal wedding two days past, the twins were the only Targaryens the commonfolk ever saw. Baela apparently spent time with the reformed City Watch in taverns, winesinks and sometimes during their patrols, while Rhaena visited many orphanages, which had swollen in size and number due to her patronage, and gave alms to the poor wherever she encountered them while in the city. But above all, the two of them were the only remaining dragonlords in the world.
Baela had claimed Silverwing from a far flung corner of the realm, where she had nested for a year as a wild dragon. That action alone had massively tilted the balance of power to their side. If there were any remaining lords who still called themselves greens, they would definitely rethink the foolishness of rebelling. Rhaena had a dragon too; Morning, a remarkably fast-growing hatchling that seemed to double in size every moon. When she had first returned to King’s Landing, the little dragon was the size of a newborn pup, coiled about Rhaena like a stole, but now she was the size of an adult wolf. It would not be long until Rhaena flew her, Corlys knew from his knowledge on dragons, and when she did, their power would be solidified further.
A lesson that had served him well since he had been a boy, aspiring for adventure and riches for House Velaryon, was that one would only benefit by making themselves indispensable to those in power. Through his rise as the intrepid adventurer he was known as now, he always courted the favour of rulers in order to get what he desired. Be it emperor of Yiti to get exclusive trading rights for their goods, or the magisters of the Free Cities to get favourable terms for the Velaryon fleet, and even the dragon kings of Westeros, the principle worked the same.
He had wished to gain tax reductions, favourable tolls and charters for Spicetown and Hull, so he had made his fleet indispensable to the Conciliator. He had desired for his descendants to have dragonblood and become kings, so he had used his charm on Rhaenys and she had fallen hard. Now, he had one more desire, before the Stranger sentenced his soul to eternal damnation in the seven hells.
Corlys desired for his grandchild, his Velaryon grandchild, Alyn, to inherit Driftmark. It was only recently that the realisation came to him of how dangerously close to the brink House Velaryon was. Many of the minor branches, the descendants of his grandfather’s and great-grandfather’s brothers, had turned against him during the war, many of them dying by dragonflame and the rest leaving Westeros altogether, becoming outlaws and pirates of the high seas. Such a drastic culling of their family branches had not happened since the Winter Shivers of 59 AC. In truth, only him, his grandson Alyn, his distant cousin Monford, and his grand-nephews Daeron and Daemion, remained as true Velaryons.
There was a very real possibility that Corlys would be the last Velaryon Lord of Driftmark. Alyn might be the only remaining true son of his heir, but he had been born outside the bonds of marriage, and therefore had to be legitimised by the bitch queen in order to be recognised as such. Baela however, faced no such impediment. If Alyn had remained Alyn of Hull, Baela would be the rightful ruling Lady of Driftmark. Even now, Alyn’s legitimacy was paper-thin compared to Baela’s. Some even alleged that Alyn was his bastard son. He laughed every time he heard that baseless rumour. Meleys would have surely enjoyed him as a snack had he dared stray from his wife’s bed.
Daeron and Daemion did not think Alyn legitimate in any sense of the word, after the unjust death of their father Vaemond under the tyranny of the bitch. But, their frustrations were utterly inconsequential compared to a dragonlord. There was truly nothing stopping Baela from claiming Driftmark now that she rode the largest dragon in the world. He would have to settle the matter, and soon. The Velaryon name had to live on. He could not let his island, his home, be taken away from his house.
The sound of the door opening once more and people walking in snapped him out of his musings. In walked the Grand Maester Munkun, a man of less than forty, who held himself with a gait that was common in one who was highborn. That he had been raised to Archmaester already spoke either to being favoured or his brilliance, Corlys did not know which. Following him was the same man that he had seen Rhaena speak with during the feast, Maegoro Paenymion if he recalled correctly. The lad held a marked resemblance to the Old King when he had been young. After him entered a tall man, with bright blue hair, pale skin and blue eyes with a clean-shaven face. Prince Reggio Narratys of Pentos.
The three of them took their seats. Rhaena shut the book she had been writing on and Baela shut the volume she had been reading. Corlys then pronounced the meeting to have begun, after observing the customary courtesies and greetings.
Rhaena spoke first, “Maegoro, Prince Reggio. You’ve two have been our family’s allies for longer than the two of us have been alive. I wish to assure you that the friendship our father established with your two families shall not be forgotten.”
“Thank you. You honour us princess.” they chorused.
“Our father united your two cities against the tyranny of the Triarchy,” Baela joined. “That is the purpose of our meeting between the three of us today. You both want to conquer the Disputed Lands and annex the cities of the fallen Triarchy into your own territories.”
Corlys could see a sudden stiffening of the two Essosi noblemen’s posture.
“The Iron Throne has interests of its own with those same cities,” Rhaena continued, “we desire retribution for their brazen attack of the Gullet during the war. Of course, we’ll give them a chance to pay reparations to the Iron Throne for this. Should they refuse, then Lys, Myr and Tyrosh will be sacked, their riches taken. We also plan to finish what our father began all those years ago by formally annexing the Stepstones into our realm.”
The two men opposite him of them stiffened some more.
“But, I wish to assure the both of you that mainland Essos shall be left alone. We only wish for the chain of islands in the Narrow Sea, and for the Three Whores to face vengeance for their attack and the death of one of our own. Is that something both of your cities can agree to?”
Both men nodded.
The next hour was spent defining the new borders of Volantis and Pentos once their conquests were done. Both of them agreed that their conquests would only begin once Baela and Rhaena had sacked Lys, Myr and Tyrosh. New tolls for passage of their ships through the Stepstones were agreed on too, tolls that would see neither party feel too disadvantaged. He helped in this regard where the twins’ knowledge fell short. Satisfied, the meeting came to an end once both of them appended their signatures onto the document Maester Munkun had drafted, which described all these terms. Rhaena sent the serving girl who had been acting as cupbearer for the meeting to call for Braavos’ representative.
“You should have told them that you intended to conquer the Island of Tyrosh too,” Corlys told his granddaughters, once the two men had left and the Maester had excused himself for a short while, “they may take such a conquest as an infringement upon their sovereignty and retaliate. Even though you have dragons, war against the Free Cities can be… inconvenient.”
“We said it though, didn’t we?” Baela replied, “the writ they signed specifies that we’re interested in the islands of the Narrow Sea. That includes Tyrosh.”
Corlys shook his head. Aye, it might be clever wording, but the Free Cities might take it as a slight too.
“Perhaps you should meet with the representatives of the other cities too and assuage their concerns that the sacking of Lys, Myr and Tyrosh might bring up. It’s always better to make your work as easy as possible. You might even find more allies among them.”
Rhaena looked thoughtful, “You make a good point Grandfather. We shall meet with the other Free Cities too. But we are hoping for them to go to war against each other as they always have. Volantis’ Tigers desire to subjugate the territory Old Valyria once ruled, as they always have. They will obviously go beyond the borders of the agreement we’ve reached today, and the other cities will push back. There could be an all-out war in Essos for years, years that we shall use to consolidate our hold on Tyrosh and the Stepstones.
“We might even use their wars to enrich our own coffers. Aegon the First joined an Essosi war on the side of the coalition of the other Free Cities against Volantis before he conquered Westeros. We do not plan on making the same mistake.”
Corlys replied, “You would be content with having another slaver empire rise in the East?”
Baela spoke this time, “A conquest of that magnitude is unlikely to be successful with armies alone. However, an attempt at such gives us a unique opportunity. Volantis surely remembers that the intervention of the Black Dread effectively ended their ambitions the last time. This time, we will threaten to join one side or the other, unless we are convinced not to.”
He was quick to understand Baela’s meaning. That was actually not a bad idea. They would profit from the chaos across the Narrow Sea, and use that profit to restore their house’s rule in their own realm.
The door opened once more, and the Kingsguard outside announced, “Lord Tormo Antaryon, son of Sealord Syrio Antaryon of Braavos.”
The man was fairly short, dressed in a black doublet and breeches. His hair was the same colour as his eyes, a shining black that flowed down past his shoulders. This was certainly an improvement to the wastrel that his daughter had been bound to. A boy so pathetic that his own father exiled him immediately he had sired a younger son. That the Sealord of that time had foisted that fool onto to him, essentially breaking the teeth of their alliance to a house of dragonriders (at least at that time), testified to Braavos’ apathy to anything relating to Valyria.
He hoped that the Antaryon family, who had only recently taken up rule of Braavos after deposing and exterminating the family that Laena was once bound to, was more tractable than his predecessors. The issue Baela and Rhaena meant to raise with them was a much more contentious one, one that even the Conciliator could not solve.
“It is a pleasure to have the audience of the princesses of Westeros,” the man said, “my father hopes that the friendship between Braavos and Westeros will reach new heights. On behalf of our exalted city, I’d like to apologise for our predecessors’ horrid behaviour. Sending Faceless Men after you and your family once Lady Laena had her betrothed killed and ran away with your father was quite a short sighted thing to do.”
Subtlety seemed to be what he was going for. Extending the offer of friendship with one hand while reminding them that their city had a guild of assassins that could disguise themselves as anyone in the world with the other.
“Ah, we do not hold the sins of the past over the possibilities of the future. And our father thwarted that attack quite effectively if I recall correctly,” Rhaena replied, a practised smile on her face. Two could play that game.
Tormo Antaryon smiled a nervous smile too, “As a token of our friendship, I would like you to know that the part of the treasury that was entrusted to us by the usurper is on its way to King’s Landing. It should arrive before the end of today or the beginning of tomorrow.”
“Of course. Thank you Lord Tormo.” Baela replied, before getting straight to the point of why they had asked for the meeting in the first place, “House Targaryen desires the return of the three dragon’s eggs that Elissa Farman stole from Princess Rhaena more than half a century ago.”
“Oh,” the man replied, seemingly gobsmacked. He certainly had not planned on that issue being revisited.
Corlys himself had made the proposition of buying those eggs back from Braavos soon after he had married Rhaenys, to keep them for his children. Rhaenys had shut down that idea immediately, fearful of antagonising the Old King so soon after her inheritance had been stripped from her. The issue died soon after, for Meleys had gone on to lay three clutches of eggs, two of which hatched, one into Seasmoke, and the other into the deformed creature that Rhaena had been bound to before she hatched Morning. That egg had been Laena’s before she had claimed Vhagar. Rhaena had been so dejected after it had died only hours after it was born. The rest of those eggs had been destroyed during the sacking of High Tide.
“We’ll make it worth your while to be sure,” Rhaena continued. “Those eggs have not been useful to Braavos in any way thus far, only a monument to the arrogance of the Sealord of King Jaehaerys’ time. Gold would be more useful to you. Say, half a million dragons perhaps?”
Subtlety had all but vanished from Tormo’s face. Surprise was plain on Corlys’ too, although he struggled to hide it too. Half a million was an outrageous amount. Elissa Farman had certainly not gotten that when she sold the eggs to Braavos. Her payment had only been her ship, Sunchaser. A fine ship yes, but certainly not worth half a million golden dragons.
Tormo smiled, “I believe that would be fair amount.”
“Good,” Baela replied.
Maester Munkun finally returned and drafted the concordat detailing the agreement the twins would make with Braavos. It was agreed that the three eggs would be brought over with all haste from Braavos. The arrival to King’s Landing was estimated to be a fortnight at most. Once the eggs were brought over, the agreed amount for payment would be delivered to the Iron Bank of Braavos before the moon turned.
Another hour was spent negotiating and renegotiating trade agreements between King’s Landing and Braavos. Two hundred thousand more golden dragons would be entrusted into the care of the Iron Bank for two decades, the rates of interest on that investment were set quite favourably for Westeros; it would take only a decade for that amount to double. The twins’ intention of annexing the Stepstones and sacking the Triarchy was made clear to the Braavosi, who seemed even excited at that prospect. His only condition was for the Iron Throne to ensure that no slave ships would pass through those isles. That was easy enough for the princesses to agree to. The tolls that Braavos would pay for their ship to pass through the isles were also discussed and agreed upon.
The meeting came to an end and once Lord Tormo left with his copy of the document containing the agreements they had reached. The Grand Maester departed once more. Once the three of them were alone, Corlys had to say it, “Half a million golden dragons is way too much for three dragon eggs.”
“Don’t worry Grandfather. We will get millions more once we sack Lys, Myr and Tyrosh. And who says that Braavos will keep that gold?” Baela said menacingly. Gods she had so much of her father in her.
“But those are plans for much later on,” Rhaena added her voice to her sister’s, “For now they have no reason to target us, so we’ll let them be. But, we cannot let such a formidable order as the Faceless Men continue to exist. We’ll strike them down soon enough.”
By the evening, he and the twins had met with the rest of the representatives of the Free Cities. All of them were glad to be rid of the threat of the Triarchy for good and all. The Free Cities did not yet know of Volantis’ and Pentos’ ambition of annexing the Disputed Lands. He hoped things would go as well on that front; that the Volantenes would get greedy and ignite a war with the rest of Essos. That would only be good for Westeros.
Supper that night was a lively affair. His granddaughters were conscripting their brother and his friend, the usurper’s bastard boy Gaemon Palehair, into a game apparently invented by Rhaena. The food was delicious too. There were fillets of spiced salmon, dripping with a glaze made of olive oil, parsley and lemon juice; baked in clay. Accompanying it was freshly baked oat bread, with wine to wash it down, although the twins, their brother and their cousin drank grape juice instead.
“Checkmate, Baela. I win!” the boy king shouted softly, as excited as Corlys had ever seen him since the war ended.
Rhaena, who had been playing with Gaemon, turned to inspect Baela and Aegon’s game, and he had indeed won. Rhaena and Gaemon proceeded to laugh uproariously at Baela, while Aegon joined with his own soft chuckles. Baela rolled her eyes at his sibling’s and cousin’s antics as she then proceeded to rearrange the board once more.
“Best of three. You shall not win again,” Baela promised.
“After we’ve had our supper,” Rhaena said, before turning to her brother, “some of us have not eaten for the entire day.”
The boy king shied away from her sister’s gaze.
Soon enough, animated chatter was heard around the circular dining table as the five of them ate. Even Corlys joined from time to time, listening keenly as Rhaena explained to him how this new game she had invented worked. It was actually not as complex as he had thought it would be. He would try it.
Dinner ended, the plates were cleared, and Baela challenged her brother to another round of chess. Gaemon set up his own board to play with Rhaena once more, but she announced her intention to leave.
“I have to meet with the High Septon,” Rhaena said.
“Now?” Aegon asked.
“Aye. His days are as busy as are hours. It’ll be better for the meeting to get done as soon as possible, before he returns to Oldtown,” Rhaena replied.
“Take a complement of guards with you,” Baela said. Rhaena nodded then shut the door behind her.
“Baela,” Corlys offered, “a game?”
“Sure, Grandfather,” Baela said as she changed seats to situate herself on the other side of the table, “you have first move. White always starts.” Gaemon moved to be seated opposite Aegon and they began a game of their own. Corlys moved the center pawn forward two steps.
“I wished to speak to you of an issue I think deserves your consideration,” he began.
Baela gave him a searching look before she replied, “Is this concerning the inheritance of Driftmark?” She moved her knight to the centre of the board.
“Aye.” He copied Baela’s action, moving his own knight to the centre of the board as well.
“Let me guess. You are afraid that I’ll easily take it from cousin Alyn since I ride a dragon and he does not. And you want to solve this by having me marry him.” Baela moved her right-most pawn forward two steps.
Huh. He hadn’t even considered such a match. All the same, it was unlikely to happen. He knew that both Baela and Rhaena would marry Aegon and make themselves Queens of the Seven Kingdoms once they did away with Jaehaera. Mayhaps it was why Rhaena was courting the favour of the High Septon. Corlys brought out his septon to attack her queen.
“You’re right concerning the first part. Both you and Rhaena are dragonlords, the only dragonlords left in the world. You are going to sack Lys, Myr and Tyrosh. If it’s ships you want, you can seize as many of theirs as you wish to. If it’s more lands you wish for, there is much of that in the realm that you can take.
“All I ask is that you let Driftmark pass to your cousin after my death. He is a Velaryon, and one of the last Velaryons at that. That island has been our home for generations. I ask, nay, plead with you, that you let it remain that way.” Her queen ate his septon. Argh! He had forgotten that queen had the most power in the game. She could move in all directions.
Aegon suddenly interjected in his soft voice, looking up from his game with Gaemon, “Alyn is your heir Lord Corlys, just as my mother decreed. Baela would not usurp him.”
“Tis not usurpation Aegon. It is a legitimate question of succession. Alyn was born a bastard, Rhaena and I were not.”
Aegon took a sip of his cup of grape juice before he replied in a voice that was soft but casual, “People said Jace was a bastard too. That did not mean that he was not Mother’s heir.”
Baela’s eyes were full of steel when Corlys turned to her once more. Her face was an impassive mask, but he knew that there was danger behind her eyes. He’d witnessed this same look on Daemon Targaryen’s face. Aegon shrivelled under her piercing gaze. Corlys sighed, frustration rising in his belly. The discussion concerning this matter was over for now, he knew. Aegon and his seemingly casual comment had made sure of it.
If there was one thing Corlys knew concerning his granddaughters, is that they would not suffer accusations of their late betrotheds being called bastards without the risk of retaliation. Even more so after they had died in the war. Whether it was because they genuinely thought that they were trueborn and were protecting them, or because they knew the truth and were irrational in the affection they held for them, he had never been sure.
“As you say, Your Grace,” Baela grit out the reply as she rose and left the room, her walk poised and deliberate, the game forgotten.
“That was ill done, Your Grace,” he told the king solemnly.
“I know, I know,” the boy king told him, “I’ll speak to her later, when her ire has cooled,”
Corlys only nodded. Why the boy king had sided with him instead of his own sister, he did not know. Perhaps he wished for his mother’s decree to be obeyed even after her death. Or he knew that Jacaerys was truly a bastard and felt some kind of sympathy for Alyn because of it. Either way, he would count himself fortunate and hope the king remained on his side.
The Castle Sept in the Red Keep - King’s Landing
HIS HIGH HOLINESS
The final hymn was being sung, signalling the end to the day’s prayers. The castle sept of the Red Keep was full to bursting. It made sense. The court was crowded with nobles from every corner of the realm, who had come to the capital to celebrate the wedding of the boy king and his new queen.
Looking over the congregation, he noticed that the king’s sister, Princess Rhaena Targaryen sitting in the front row. He was glad of it. The king and his two sisters had been attending the weekly services in the castle sept and the daily prayers most evenings, according to the faithful who served in the king’s court. Sometimes all three of them would come, other times two, and on rare occasions such as today, one of them would attend. The gods had shown them the way it seemed.
Oh, how times had changed. House Targaryen, the house that had warred against the Faith during Maegor’s day, now seemed to have become a house of devout worshippers. On the other hand, House Hightower, the house that had been their patrons for thousands of years, the house that had built the Starry Sept to honour the Gods, was now led by a godless heathen who lay with his own mother.
Disgust filled his throat at the thought. Even the Targaryens, the only ones allowed by the Seven to lay with close kin, did not go as far as having fathers bed their own daughters or mothers bed their own sons. It was abominable; the worst sin a man could commit, and any who did would surely be cursed for it. Fear filled him all a sudden. Mayhaps he may be cursed too due to living in the same city as such abominations. He sent a silent prayer to the Father to judge him justly. He was a righteous man, he reminded himself. As one with the rest of the faithful, he had denounced House Hightower and its scions for their grave sin.
The song came to an end, the last prayer was said by one of his sisters and the congregation left the modest castle sept. Princess Rhaena remained behind however, her head bowed in prayer for a few moments longer. He felt proud at the sight. If the rulers of these Seven Kingdoms were devout, then the realm would indeed be restored.
“Your Holiness,” the princess called out to him once he was finished with her prayer.
“Princess,” he replied, “Seven blessings.”
“Seven blessings to you too,” she replied as she walked to the pulpit where he was standing. Two knights of the Kingsguard were flanking her. “I hoped we might meet in a more private setting.”
“Of course. We can meet in the sept’s solar if that is suitable for you.”
“It is. Lead the way.” The princess said, motioning for him to do so.
“What matters did you wish to speak of, Princess?”
“Your Holiness. I couldn’t help but notice the coolness between you and your most valued patrons, the Hightowers. You arrived for the royal wedding celebrations three days after they did, having travelled with Lords Redwyne and Costayne and not them.”
His hands clenched instinctually, “Yes. The current Lord Hightower has proven himself to be a degenerate and a sinner. He will be struck down by the Gods for his sins.”
“May the Father justly judge him.” the princess said, “It is clear they have failed in their duty patrons of the Faith. And it perhaps explains my dreams these days.”
At his confused look, the princess continued, ”These past few nights, since the day you arrived for the royal wedding, I have had the same constant dream, which has rendered my nights sleepless.”
She then reached into a pocket of her coat, pulled out a piece of parchment and handed it to him. On it, there was a drawing, depicting a magnificent building at the top of Visenya’s Hill. It was a structure with a great dome and seven slender towers around it. Before the doors leading into the building, there was a raised pulpit where a member of the clergy would give a sermon to the entire city. Around the grand building there was a plaza, which he could tell was capable of holding thousands of people.
“I see it every day, clear as crystal. I see the faithful walking up the grand marble steps into the House of the Seven. I see hundreds of them standing on the polished floors, the depictions of the seven faces of God gleaming as heaven’s light streams through the bright dome made of leaded glass. I see the faithful worshipping at the feet of the Father and the Mother, their voices sweet as they sing the their songs.”
“You see this in your dreams?” he asked incredulously.
“Yes. I’ve never had a vision persist this much and be this vivid. I believe the Crone has imparted me with this dream. I believe he wishes us to make it into reality. I do not think my spirit will rest until this Great Sept is built, for us the faithful to find solace and be closer to the Seven Who Are One.”
Never before had he seen someone speak with this much conviction. The Gods had answered the prayers of the faithful through her, he concluded. If this Great Sept was to be built atop Visenya’s Hill, it would only be prudent for the Most Devout to move into it and escape the sinners and degenerates of Oldtown. The faithful would have a refuge here. His decision was made then. He would aid the princess in bringing this vision to life.
“I vow upon the Seven Who Are One, that this vision will come to life, Princess. The faithful will have a refuge once more, one that has not been tainted and corrupted by the lust of monsters and abominations. The Most Devout will stay in a city that knows and practices the tenets of the Faith, not one that is led by a man who has taken his own mother as his lover.”
The princess smiled, and he swore it was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, “It shall be a hard road Your Holiness. It will take years, mayhaps decades to complete, but I know that with the Iron Throne and the Faith working together, we shall see this dream become a reality.”
“We shall. Tis the will of the Gods.”
17th Day, Seventh Moon, 131 AC | The Red Keep - King’s Landing
AEGON
The roars of a dragon resounded in his ears. They were loud, screeching, deafening. And with the roars, came the fire. Foul-smelling flames, that were golden like the sun. Suddenly there was screaming, so loud, so harsh, and the blue daylight sky was suddenly torn apart, revealing the darkness underneath.
Aegon shot out of his bed, immediately heading to the privy chambers and emptying the contents of his stomach into the chamberpot. There were tears in his eyes. He let them fall. When it got too much he rushed out of his chambers towards his sisters’, the Kingsguard guarding his door falling behind him.
The White Sword guarding Baela’s and Rhaena’s chambers immediately let him in. Instinctively, he rushed into Rhaena’s waiting arms, who was seated at her writing desk, dozens of candles lit in front of her.
“Bad dreams again?” Rhaena said as she embraced him. Aegon only nodded into her shoulder.
“What did you see?” Rhaena asked.
“The dragon burning mother,” Aegon answered weakly, as a fresh bout of tears overwhelmed him. His shoulders shook as he sobbed once more.
Rhaena said nothing more as he ran her hands up and down his back and in a languid pace that comforted him. Finally, the tears and the sniffling stopped. He looked up to face her, his eyes red and raw, and his face stained with tear tracks.
“It’s okay,” Rhaena said as she handed him a cloth to wipe his face, “you’re safe now.”
He left her embrace after a long moment, “You couldn’t sleep too?”
“I slept just after sunset, which is quite early these days because of winter. I woke up two hours ago and I’ve been here since.”
“What are you always writing?” Aegon asked curiously. Almost every free moment she had since she returned from the Vale was spent writing in the massive tomes that Father had gifted her. So far, she had already filled up one of them and was already mid-way through the second.
She gave him a contemplative look, before she spoke once more, “Tis just plans, ideas, and thoughts I have.”
“Concerning what?” Aegon asked.
“See for yourself,” replied Rhaena.
The filled-up tome was taken out of a shelf next to the desk and given to him. Aegon opened it and curiously went through the pages. On one of the pages, there were designs for what Aegon could tell was a Dragonpit. The structure of this design was quite different to the original one however.
“Is this the Dragonpit?” Aegon asked.
“Yes, a newer, better version of it. For one, there’ll be a fort surrounding it, with men stationed atop its battlements to prevent another scenario like the Storming. There’ll also be a massive vault, dug deep into the hill, that shall be used to store dragon eggs. That way, if another Storming somehow does happen, the eggs would remain safe. The vault will also help in controlling the number of dragons. This new pit will have more lairs too; sixty, by my estimation, instead of the forty it had before, since the large arena that the first Dragonpit had will not be in this one. It was pointless.”
“And where will major occasions of the realm be held?”
Rhaena turned a page and upon it was a design of another structure. It looked to be larger, grander and much more ostentatious than any building he’d ever seen.
“This is a grand sept that shall be built on Visenya’s hill. It’ll be able to seat thirty thousand people. The High Septon has agreed to provide some funding for it and move the entirety of the Faith’s clergy there once it’s complete. If there are any large events, they’ll be held there.”
Aegon was astounded. He knew his histories. Maegor had fought a war with the Faith for the entirety of his reign. Jaehaerys had further curtailed their rights and privileges. They should hold no love for his family, “How did you accomplish that?”
“Lord Hightower married his father’s widow. The High Septon thinks that to be incest. Thus the ties between the Faith and the Hightowers have frayed. All I did was show the High Septon that there was a better option. It’s why I’ve been forcing all of you to attend the weekly services and the evening prayers in the sept. The man took the bait after I promised to build a Grand Sept in King’s Landing. The Faith will soon be under the crown’s control.”
“Brilliant!” Aegon couldn’t help but exclaim.
“Why, thank you Your Grace,” she said in a teasing tone.
Aegon shook his head and continued to flip through the pages. He came across a map of the lands around Harrenhal. This was where Father had died, killing the kinslayer and avenging Lucerys’ death. Vhagar and Caraxes had drowned in the God’s Eye Lake.
“What do you intend to do with Harrenhal?” Aegon asked his sister.
“Add it to our demesne,” Rhaena said, “House Strong is extinct. I know our ancestors chose to give Harrenhal to a new house whenever its former lords died out but we shall not do the same. Those lands are fertile and quite large, there’s no reason not to add them to the Crownlands.” She then turned the page, “These are the basic drawings of the new castle that will be built there once Silverwing burns Castle Harrenhal.”
He nodded his head. He flipped some pages volume once more, before he came upon the drawing of what looked like a ship, but of a kind that he had never seen. They were expert drawings too, one a shipwright could have made.
“You intend to have ships built too?”
“Aye, for the crown’s navy. Curious that our house has never had one. We’ve depended on the Velaryon fleet since the conquest, and it’s high time that changed. These are designs for a new kind of ship I’ve been thinking of, one that’s faster than the types of ships we have at present. It’ll give us a large advantage over the rest of the world for a time at least, before they catch up.”
“Oh,” Aegon replied. What else was there to say. His sister was a visionary it seemed.
They spent the rest of the night discussed most of what Rhaena had detailed in those volumes. There were designs for strange devices he had never seen, such as one that could tell time using numbers, or another that could be used for navigation during sailing. The preparations for a conquest and annexation of the island of Tyrosh had been detailed, which he was surprised to find out was going to take place once Viserys was found and brought home next moon. In the far future, they would conquer Dorne as well.
Another account spoke of some organisation cleverly named the ‘League of Shadows’. Rhaena’s explanation of its inner workings made no sense to him at all, but from the basic understanding he had gained, it was a spy organisation, used to learn what all their potential enemies were upto, and to prevent their house from being targeted from the shadows. Sort of what Larys ‘the Clubfoot’ had built, Rhaena told him, but on a much larger scale and running much more efficiently.
There was much, much more. And it was all very wondrous and astounding.
“Why do all this, Rhaena? Why dedicate your life to this?”
“Because we need to. The conquerors, for all we revere and venerate them, actually did a very shoddy job in their subjugation of Westeros. The kings after them did even less. Even now, a century and a half later, this continent has no true hegemon. We might call ourselves kings and queens, but our rule depends entirely on the oaths the seven great lords swear to us. Oaths that we’ve seen can easily be broken.
“All the kingdoms that held power before the conquest still do. Lannister, Stark, Arryn, and Martell were rulers before the dragons came here. They are kings in all but name still; the only difference being that they pay taxes to the Iron Throne. The same case applies to Tully, Baratheon, Tyrell and Greyjoy, whom the first Aegon lifted into power.
“It’s because of this power that the war we’ve endured these past two years even happened in the first place. Otto and his daughter were able to seize the throne out from under us because they had the support of three great lords.
“Now imagine if the dragons all died. Imagine if someone managed to unite these great lords against us. We’d not be able to stop them. We have the smallest demesne and the least number of men to call upon. Even two or three of these kingdoms could easily finish us off.”
Aegon pondered what his sister was saying. The memories flashed in his mind. The blade that had penetrated his mother’s breast. The maimed and foul-smelling dragon stalking forward. Golden flames bellowing out of the dragon’s maw and consuming her. Oh, no, no, no, no, no! No! This could not be happening.
“Aegon! Aegon! Aegon, are you well?” Rhaena called out frantically as she held his shoulders in place. He was shaking, he realised. He was shaking, and he could not stop it.
“Breathe… Aegon… Breathe… Breathe…” his sister tried to calm him, “In through your nose, out through your mouth.”
He did as she asked. It took a long while before he was calm again.
“You’re safe, you’re safe. Nothing will harm you,” Rhaena told him as her hands combed his hair while they were locked in an embrace.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” Aegon apologised, embarrassed.
“No need to apologise brother. I’m here. I’m here and you’re here too. And I shall do everything in my power to make sure it stays that way.”
“What can I do?” Aegon asked, “what can I do to help you make these plans come true? I don’t… I don’t want what happened to our family to happen again. I don’t know if I can bear it.”
“For now, study and learn. History, swordplay, warfare, sums; everything and anything that a king requires to have learned. I’ll involve you in all the plans we shall make, I promise you that; but if you in turn promise to make sure they stay secret between us.”
“I promise.”
“Very well. Also, make sure to attend all the council meetings held. You are the king, you should make sure that you have an understanding of the matters that go on in your realm. Let your presence be known. Let your voice be heard. If there’s anything that you don’t understand, ask me, Baela or our grandfather. For now, they’re the only people we can trust.”
A vigorous nod of his head was all the reply needed.
“Now go. Dawn is breaking and the time for your training nears. I’m sure Ser Corwyn is already waiting for you. I need to bathe and dress as well before I meet with the Dragonkeepers in the stables to train Morning. If I get time before the council meeting begins, I might join you in the yard.”
There was a smile on her face when she spoke next, “Don’t worry, I won’t beat you too badly.” She then went into her bedchamber.
The council meeting began later into the morning after he had done his training, bathed, dressed and broken his fast with his sisters. Rhaena had managed to come to the yard, and she had indeed beaten him. Aegon had stifled a laugh when Baela had in turn battered Rhaena into the ground. Even he had gotten a win over Gaemon, who had followed him into the yard even though he was yet to officially start his training on account of his age. Ser Corwyn, the wielder of Lady Forlorn, was a patient teacher. Aegon’s skill would grow under his tutelage.
The council table was full when he entered, his sisters flanking him. All those inside stood up in respect, and Aegon had to fight the urge of wilting under their expectant gazes. He was the king now, he had to remind himself. All these lords were here at his behest. This was his council. Baela had told him so. The supporting hand of his sister on his shoulder filled him with a determination uncommon in him.
He took his seat at the head of the table, with Baela sat on his right, and Rhaena his left. Gaemon, acting as the cupbearer, poured drinks for all the lords. Wine for the councillors and juice for him, Baela and Rhaena.
On Baela’s right, sat Lord Corlys, the Hand of the King. Next to him was Ser Torrhen Manderly, the Master of Laws. He was followed by Lord Manfryd Mooton, the Master of Coin; Ser Tyland Lannister, the Master of Ships; Grand Maester Munkun of the Citadel, Lord Roland Westerling of the Crag, Ser Corwyn Corbray, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; Lord Olyver Caron of Nightsong and Lady Jeyne Arryn of the Vale, who was on Rhaena’s left.
For now until Baela and Rhaena came of age, all nine of them had the power of a regent. That meant that no decision of his held any weight unless it was ratified by a majority of them. Normally, it was a notion that would have made him uneasy, but he had two dragonriders for sisters and he was therefore not too torn up about it. To add to that, it was an arrangement that would last less than a year.
Many matters were brought forward to be discussed by the council. Lord Manfryd confirmed the return of the crown’s gold by the Lannisters, Hightowers and the Braavosi, although he complained that half a million golden dragons were missing from the sum that Braavos had returned. Baela informed him that she had used that sum to purchase the three dragon’s eggs that Elissa Farman had stolen from King Jaehaerys, and that those eggs were currently in incubation on Dragonstone.
If he recalled correctly, Baela had flown to the island with six dragon’s eggs, two days ago. One egg was apparently collected from Bitterbridge, two others were ones that Mother had given Rhaena when Jacaerys had sent her to the Vale, meaning the other three had to be the ones returned from Braavos. Ser Torrhen complained quite loudly at Baela, berating her for being irresponsible with the crown’s gold. Rhaena unsuccessfully tried to cool the flaring tempers, but the council chamber was rendered completely silent when they heard the angry roar of a dragon. Rhaena’s hand was immediately on Aegon’s shoulder to calm him. The councillors turned to the open windows to see Silverwing’s massive head peering into the room, growling angrily.
Rhaena’s calming voice resounded in his ear, “Breathe Aegon… Breathe. You’re safe. You’re here, and I am too.” He managed to calm himself.
Ser Torrhen said nothing for the rest of the meeting even after the dragon departed. Aegon could swear he could smell urine in the room, although he dismissed that notion. There were no babes here.
It took around four hours for the meeting to come to an end. Aegon and his sisters went to have luncheon, with Rhaena forcing him to eat more than he had planned to. Lord Corlys joined them.
“Grandfather,” Baela said to Corlys, “I’ve given more thought to the matter you raised, concerning inheritance of Driftmark and I’ve come to a decision. You’ve always given good counsel, you’ve been loyal to us since the war began, and you are our beloved grandfather. I’ll therefore honour your proposal. Alyn will inherit Driftmark after your death but, on several conditions.”
Lord Corlys smiled blindingly.
Baela laid out her terms. First, all ships seized from the Triarchy would belong to the Royal Fleet exclusively, abandoning the previous arrangement of indemnifying House Velaryon's fleet and returning it to its strength before the war. Second, all possessions that had belonged to her grandmother were to be returned to her and where those possessions had been lost, a monetary payment of an equivalent amount was to be made. Third, the charters granted to Hull and Spicetown would be renegotiated should those two towns be rebuilt.
Lord Corlys’ smile remained blinding, “Thank you Baela. I’ll have the agreement written and signed. I’m sure you’ll give a copy of it to Alyn once you leave for your campaign.”
His sister only nodded in response. Alyn had left for Driftmark as soon as the wedding ended.
“Grandfather,” Rhaena asked, “Why not admit that Alyn is your son?”
The Sea Snake laughed uproariously. “You have fallen for these lies too!” he said once his mirth subsided.
“Alyn is truly Laenor’s son. I would have been fed to Meleys had I strayed from your grandmother’s bed. You can be sure that.”
Surprise was plain on all their faces, “But I thought… I thought uncle Laenor could not… endure bedding a woman.”
The Master of Driftmark’s eyes turned sad, “It was difficult to be sure, but not impossible.”
“How?” Baela asked.
Lord Corlys sighed, and began his confession.
Comments
Neyra
I'm glad you thought so. I thought readers would see it as idiotic.
Neyra
Stay tuned for that. It'd deffo an interesting scenario due to Aemma being an Arryn
omasan harriman
Aegon is aemma Arryn grandson
omasan harriman
I wonder what happens in the vale succession
omasan harriman
Great stuff giving corlys his wish makes him happy and also by taking the fleet of the triachy they can create a née fleet
