The Red Keep, already notified of the death of the Cannibal, met the King's younger brothers as conquerors. Courtiers praised their courage, dexterity, bravery, wits, and resourcefulness in every way—in short, they were not stingy with praise. Daemon was honored most of all, and it seemed that the Prince of Dragonstone had never had so many supporters before. Viserys threw a feast in their honor and, seating his brothers on either hand, was the first to raise a cup to them; after another toast and ovations addressed to Daemon, the King leaned toward Aegon and in an already noticeably tipsy voice spoke:
"Do you know what is funniest? They all," he swept the cup over those gathered, "understand not a damn thing of what happened."
"They are Andals, my brother," said the Prince conciliatorily.
Andals, First Men, and the few Valyrians drank and sang, and Aegon kept furtively seeking the lopsided figure of Larys Strong in the crowd of courtiers. Dennis had managed to find out that he had grown in rank and become Lord Confessor, and therefore his presence at the feast was obliged not only by kinship with the Master of Laws, but also by his own position. What was the cause of such a rapid career—Pentoshi gold, father's connections, or his personal merits—remained an open question for the Prince.
Likely a little of everything, decided Aegon for himself, sipping wine. Below they were already dancing, so there was nothing for lame people to do there, but Daemon with his buddies from the City Watch was having fun with might and main. Watching Harwin Strong laugh merrily, clutching Cousin Jaegaer's shoulder so as not to lose balance, the Prince could not fail to note the deep irony: Clubfoot, for all his physical defects, became a Lord earlier than his Breakbones brother, the spitting image of a hero of knightly romances.
Finally, the Lord Confessor was found among the courtiers; Larys sat at a neighboring table, a level lower than where the royal family and members of the Small Council sat; Aegon clicked his tongue, annoyed with himself—one had to have talent not to notice one's victim right under one's nose. The youngest of the Strongs evidently felt someone's attention and raised his head, meeting the Prince's gaze. Aegon forced himself to smile as sincerely as possible and saluted Lord Larys with his goblet; the other answered in kind.
Shortly after this, the Prince imperceptibly left the celebration and went up to his chambers. To be in the same room with one whom he had already sentenced to death was difficult, and wine could loosen his tongue too much—it would be just what was needed for Larys to suspect something. But the night brought Aegon no peace either: he did not want to read, even less to systematize notes on the Cannibal. Having tossed in bed until the hour of the owl, the Prince moved from the bed to an armchair and took up his old lute, which the minstrel Rolland of Felwood had given him, who taught him music when he could barely walk after the ill-fated fall.
Stupidly plucking strings, he sat by the window until morning, producing neither song, nor ballad, nor psalm. Scarce had the sun risen when he summoned Dennis.
"I need to fly to the Smoky Valley. Are you ready?"
"Of course, My Prince."
On the Dragonmont there was no one to overhear them, but in the Red Keep Aegon decided to be cautious. To realize that he could not trust the walls of the castle in which he was born was bitter. Fortunately, his sworn shield understood everything perfectly and withdrew, allegedly to prepare for departure.
When Aegon was already leaving his chambers, Rhaenyra flew at him like a whirlwind, demanding to be told all the details of the victory over the bloodthirsty monster.
"But we have already told everything, riña (child)," the Prince detached his niece from himself with difficulty.
"You and Uncle Daemon told everything to Father and the courtiers! But I want you to tell me! Surely that was not all... Kostilus, kepa! (Please, Uncle!)"
"It was not I who was the sword in this battle, riña, but Daemon. Ask him."
"He is fussing with Alyssa now," grumbled Rhaenyra disappointedly.
"Do not pout, you are not the only girl in his life now," chuckled Aegon good-naturedly. "But if you ask, I do not think he will refuse you. Go on, try."
Only by betraying his brother completely could Aegon break away from the capital that had become uncomfortable, to land Vermithor in the Smoky Valley by the new nesting ground by evening. During his absence, the terrain here had transformed: an architect, a dozen masons, and almost a hundred artisans and laborers had been added to the twenty Dragonkeepers. Waxley, faithfully fulfilling their obligations, drove a not-small flock of sheep, helped with people and materials, and now on the shore of the bubbling lake rose a square three-story tower, betraying nothing of the Valyrian style Aegon had demanded. Sensing that the august guest was displeased, architect Eggerio Haratis, a skinny black-haired Pentoshi hired by Viserys to implement his numerous projects, scattered apologies:
"Forgive me, My Prince, I humbly beg forgiveness, but it was necessary to build the tower. We could not allow Your Highness to sleep in a cave on a stone floor or in an open field, therefore we had to erect this ugly thing. It is a stain on my reputation, but I could not allow you to live in improper conditions. I assure you, this is a temporary structure, as soon as at least one tower of the castle is ready, we shall dismantle it, dismantle it in one night, My Prince, you shall see, but for now, please, do not disdain..."
It was disgusting to listen to the fawning; surely Haratis erected the tower exclusively for his own convenience, to live and work in comparatively decent conditions. Aegon managed to learn this type of people—they were met in King's Landing, and in Pentos, and in Volantis; being of base origin themselves, they used any opportunity to climb up and for this walked forward over others' heads, and having obtained the very minimum of power, mercilessly asserted themselves at the expense of subordinates.
"Should this be considered your gift to the Royal House?" inquired Aegon coldly; he did not want to pay for such ugliness, and temporary at that.
"Naturally, My Prince, of course!" nodded Haratis. "A gift to Your Highness and His Grace, from a pure heart as a sign of my deepest loyalty to the mighty House Targaryen!"
His Highness nodded, and hastened to hide from the cold mountain wind inside the gift. It was worth admitting, despite the not too handsome appearance, the rooms in the tower turned out dry, clean, and warm, and, reluctantly, Aegon admitted that the tower could be left, and Haratis would have to be paid.
In the morning he entered the cave and found the main jewel of the entire Smoky Valley. The clutch covered by him was in perfect order: sand and stone crumbs poured on top were hot, and from the eggs, scarce had he taken them in hands, emanated their own heat. Exhaling in relief, Aegon offered praise to Meraxes and laid the eggs back. Since the cave can support life in them, it means dragonlings will hatch from them in their time.
The following days were occupied with construction cares. The Master of Dragons critically rechecked and recounted Haratis's bills, together with the architect and masons walked length and breadth of the cave surroundings and the entrance to the valley itself, examining the site of the future construction, made adjustments to projects, restraining the flight of Pentoshi thought accustomed to excessive luxury. He even had to fly to Wicks for a few days to discuss the peculiarities of further neighborhood with Lord Waxley. All this time Aegon diligently drove away thoughts of Larys Strong and Dennis; in the end, the distance Vermithor covered in a daylight day, a lonely traveler overcame in a couple or three weeks, so a delay was inevitable.
The sworn shield caught up with his liege on the last day of the eighth month of the year 109 astride a mule. Warned sentries immediately escorted him to the tower, which everyone now called the Ugly Thing without any embarrassment. Greeting the knight with restraint in public, Aegon sent extra ears out.
"Well?"
"He is dead," Dennis went straight to the main point.
"So," Aegon convulsively rubbed his face with his hands; the smell of blood was not felt on them, and the color had not changed. It was simply hard to believe that this order of his was executed. "Tell."
"As you ordered, My Prince, everything happened quickly, and there was no noise. An accident," shrugged Dennis, it seems, having managed to get used to the role of executioner.
"Well, speak! Do I have to pull everything out of you?!"
"Well, our Lord Confessor stumbled. On the stairs," grinned the sworn shield. "Got tangled in his crooked-clubfooted legs, and that cane too... In general, crashed from the very top and broke his neck."
"And what stairs?"
"Why, the very same from which Princess Calla fell."
"Rigged it, scoundrel?"
"It happened by itself, My Prince!" Dennis was offended, but Aegon understood that, yes, he rigged it. He did not judge him for such a symbolic and, it must be admitted, beautiful gesture.
"Further."
"Screams, of course, rose, but frankly speaking, no one shed tears for him, except his Lord Father, and Ser Harwin. It was he who took him to Harrenhal, to ancestors in the crypt. I waited a week, and galloped to you."
"And what, nothing?"
"Who needs him, this Lord Larys?" waved the sworn shield off. "Rumors circulate various, some even I started myself. Saying that the Lord Confessor was sentenced by his freedmen so he would not pull their strings. They believe, it seems."
"Let us pray that it remains so," concluded Aegon, folding his arms on his chest and leaning back on the back of the rough chair. "And what else is new?"
"Prince Daemon deigned to fly to Dragonstone with Princess Alyssa."
"Well, would you look at that. Has he decided to get busy with business?"
"Gods know, My Prince. But as he flew away, rumors began to circulate..."
"What kind?"
"That the King can marry again."
Aegon laughed briefly. Viserys in a new marriage looked ridiculous; he loved his Aemma too much, and even more his memory of her, to marry again. As far as the Prince knew, his crowned brother satisfied his male needs through maids, but was, perhaps, too kind-hearted and cautious to start a permanent favorite for the same purposes. Furthermore, he promised the Iron Throne to Daemon.
"And who is predicted as the new Queen?" clarified Aegon mockingly, feeling agitation and anxiety gradually leaving him.
"Princess Rhaenys, the Grand Maester, and Lord Massey stand for Lady Laena."
"Why, reasonable," chuckled Aegon. "Corlys will satisfy his exorbitant ambitions. By the by, where is he? I did not see him at the last feast."
"At sea, My Prince. They say it is restless on the Stepstones again and the Velaryons led their entire fleet to sea, and dragons to the sky."
"Let him just try to ruin even one for me," grumbled the Prince. "Shitty seahorse."
Day went after day again, dragging into routine. By day Aegon hung over the rabbit soul of Eggerio Haratis like a dragon, supervising his work, and in the evenings engaged in systematizing and rewriting his notes on the Cannibal. Drawings of the future fortress, named Smoky Tower with Viserys's blessing, turned out beautiful; the castle was to be erected in the image and likeness of Valyrian outposts, the ruins of which Aegon saw in Essos. A round five-story donjon was to be surrounded by five semi-towers adjoining it, each of which would rise above it and be crowned with a dragon statue. The donjon was to be enclosed by a fortress wall with four towers; recalculating the estimate of upcoming expenses, naturally, very approximate, the Prince sighed and ordered the architect to improve the Ugly Thing and make it one of these four.
Sometimes the thought came to Aegon's mind that one could spit on construction, and fly to the Eyrie, distract oneself from work and visit Lady Jeyne, if only out of politeness. However, every time her somewhat disappointed face, which he saw the morning after their intimacy, rose before his eyes, and the desire to spend the night in a warm bed, and with a woman by his side besides, retreated before the Prince's wounded ambition.
Through Uncle Vaegon he managed to agree that the Citadel appoint a Maester to the future castle. Aegon, of course, would have liked it to be someone of his old scholar friends, but Marlon got carried away with studying medicine and, as Uncle wrote, had some chances to receive a mask of silver when it is removed from Archmaester Cadhwil, and Adrian still served Lord Casper Wylde of Rain House. However, calming his nephew, the Archmaester of Mathematics wrote that he tried to choose "not a complete mediocrity" for the Smoky Tower—Maester Donnel, one of the younger sons of the late Lord Frey and "the smartest of them," was sent to the Smoky Tower. Before his arrival, Aegon and Dennis shared the duties of Maester: to watch over six ravens (three of them flew to the Red Keep, the rest—to Dragonstone, the Eyrie, and Wicks) was not difficult, and with injuries inevitable in construction, they coped quite successfully, for between the two of them they had six silver links.
When in the evening of the third day of the tenth month of the year 109 another raven arrived from King's Landing, Aegon, as was his custom, sat over papers, examining a drawing of the multi-chambered dragon heart extracted by them from the Cannibal. Dennis entered without knocking and handed the letter to his liege.
"The bird is painfully tired, My Prince," remarked the knight.
"No wonder," chuckled Aegon. "Night, mountains, wind..."
"It seemed to me as if he hurried to reach us. And the seal..."
A large blob of red sealing wax flaunted on the paper, and on it—a three-headed dragon. Unlike the Great Royal Seal, which was used for official messages and signing laws, there were no monograms or signatures here. With this "simple" seal Viserys sealed only personal messages. Somewhere behind the sternum a pulling knot of bad premonition tied, but Aegon stubbornly broke the seal and unfolded the paper.
"Valonqar," Viserys rarely resorted to High Valyrian in everyday speech, and this made the Prince wary once again.
"Father always told me that he has three of us, that we are the three heads of the dragon from our sigil, that we must act together. Gods witness, I tried to follow his covenant always and in everything, but life does not always turn out as we want it to, and our actions sometimes contradict our desires. Any quarrel of ours lies as a heavy burden on my conscience, and the more I value your efforts to maintain peace in our family and restore good relations.
As you surely know, I loved Aemma more than life, and with her departure (I do not want to call this death) it began to seem to me that the sun itself dimmed for me, all colors of the world faded and nothing will ever be as before. I am certain, in the history of all kingdoms and all peoples there was no more inconsolable widower. I mourned my sweet Aemma days and nights, grieved for the time we spent together, and even more—for the time we shall never have. She will not see our daughter's wedding, will not take our grandchildren in her arms, we shall dance no more with her, shall not set off for Dragonstone... Every such thought was a Valyrian blade for me, cutting my heart into tiniest pieces time and again, and I thought these wounds would never heal in an age.
But I was wrong. Remember what the great Aeregor wrote? 'Elēdrar zgiēñas'. Aemma left, and I learned to live without her. To my own surprise. I have not forgotten her, no, and shall remember her and our children even on my deathbed. But I learned to see the colors of life again, sunlight, to smile, laugh, value others' company. Value women. It seems to me, valonqar, I learned to love again. I speak not of carnal attraction (I shall make no secret of this, in this sense all is well), but precisely of feeling, the desire to see another person beside oneself, when you are glad already that someone simply is, without any other conditions.
Probably, you will think I write some senseless amorous nonsense, and you will be right. Yes, I am in love. Not as with Aemma, this is... different. Not sure I can explain this in words. It is simply different. I know not when I realized this. She has been at court a long time, but I paid attention to her only recently and was amazed by her beauty, her intelligence, her grace, her nobility, her modesty... How could one not notice such a thing?
Forgive me, I have not yet named her name. I speak of Lady Alicent Hightower. I thought she would make an ideal Queen, and intend to make her a proposal. This matter is decided. I decided this a couple of months ago already, but waited until the mourning for poor Calla ended.
I know you and Daemon are rather skeptical regarding her Lord Father, and, I confess, your disagreements sadden me, but surely I intend to marry not him, but his daughter. Valonqar, I want people loving me to surround me: I doubt not your brotherly love, dare hope Lady Alicent is not indifferent to me either, therefore I ask you to set aside your prejudices and support me. Rhaenyra will manage to understand me, in the end, they are very friendly with Lady Alicent, know each other from childhood. I think this will help her endure changes easier, and we shall be able to live together, as one family.
Along with this I understand that Daemon's nature is such that he may interpret my actions as a personal insult, as an infringement of his lawful rights and interests. I assure you, I do not want this and have no other goal but to be happy. Without peace and accord in the family, this is impossible.
In connection with this I am forced to ask you for help again, not as King and Sovereign, but as a brother. I am not certain I can explain the whole situation to Daemon in correct expressions, and even less certain he will understand me correctly and listen. Once you managed to find the necessary words and explain the true state of affairs to him, preserve the unity of our House, not allow one head of the dragon to separate from the others. Valonqar, I ask you to take upon yourself the role of peacemaker and mediator again, for in all Seven Kingdoms only you alone can dissuade him. Tell him of everything, explain that nothing will change for him, that he still remains my brother and my heir, as established by traditions.
I have no one else to rely on.
I shall undertake nothing until your answer.
Your loving and relying on you brother,
Viserys.
Red Keep,
3rd day of the tenth month of the year 109 After the Conquest."
Finishing reading, Aegon sighed heavily and rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. Truly, having solved a problem one should not rejoice ahead of time, for the gods will not delay to throw up another one, which may be no smaller.
"Tell me, Dennis, why am I the only one with brains in this family?"
"To tell the truth, My Prince," the knight pronounced ingratiatingly, "if one recalls some of your deeds, I am ready to doubt that you have them either."
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