Prince Aegon Targaryen
The hasty decision about a new marriage could in itself be considered ambiguous, but the daughter of Otto Hightower as the royal bride complicated everything significantly, and over the past two months the situation had not improved.
The problem lay not only in Daemon, who flew from the Red Keep that very hour; on the contrary, this was expected. However, when Princess Rhaenyra did not emerge for supper from her chambers, and Lord Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Harrold Westerling counted Ser Criston Cole missing, the court became anxious. All possible theories were considered, starting from the desertion of the guardsman who abducted the King's daughter, to theories of their joint flight across the Narrow Sea. Viserys ordered the Master of Dragons to strengthen the guard of the Pit, but the order was belated: scarce bad the messenger from the Red Keep climbed Rhaenys's Hill when Syrax flew out of the gates of yet another creation of Maegor with a furious roar, on whose back along with her rider sat Ser Criston. The dragoness circled over Blackwater Bay, and flew north.
The King wanted to send for his daughter, but waved his hand—he had had enough of the hysteria that had already occurred, and he did not wish for a new quarrel in the eyes of all Seven Kingdoms.
"She will return herself," he told the Small Council then, calming not so much them as himself. "She will rage and return. In the end, Ser Criston is with her. Let Lady Jeyne only send a raven that all is well and they arrived."
However, Lady Arryn's answer did not bring the desired calm: Syrax never arrived at the Eyrie, nor did she arrive at the Smoky Valley. Already seriously worried, Viserys ordered Mellos to send letters to lords, demanding to report if they had seen the fugitive Princess. But even before the Grand Maester took up his quill, a raven arrived from Dragonstone, bringing a message from the Commander of the Dragonwatch—he inquired of the Master of Dragons in which place it was better to settle Syrax. The King, in response to this news, only sighed and announced his betrothal to the court.
"I did not ask their consent, and they will change their opinion," he told Aegon.
Aegon, whose consent was also not asked, and opinion not taken into account, only sighed at this and rolled his eyes. In response to the message about the King's upcoming marriage, no new curses and accusations followed from Dragonstone; however, Viserys received no congratulations either. Driftmark joined the undeclared boycott of King's Landing, and the letter from Claw Isle turned out so dry and short that there was no doubt whom the third Valyrian House of Westeros supported.
"The Codfish Lord should be shown his place!" Lord Massey, on whom fell the cares of organizing the royal wedding, was indignant in the Chamber of the Small Council. At the same time, he prudently "forgot" the fact that Massey was called the same behind his back.
"It was hard to expect otherwise from Lord Celtigar if he married the Sea Snake's niece," remarked Aegon. Bartimos Celtigar, having inherited his uncle Auran's lordship half a year ago, decided to mend relations with old rivals, taking the daughter of one of Lord Corlys's younger brothers, Lady Larissa, as wife, and sent part of his ships to the Stepstones together with the Velaryons. "Lord Bartimos is no fool—now he is indignant together with the Velaryons, but for the wedding he will present Lady Alicent a ruby brooch with a crab."
The emergence of the "Island Opposition" to the marriage of Viserys and Lady Alicent worried the Hand considerably, and there were all grounds for that. Albeit it could not field a large army, on their side was a fleet, five ridden dragons out of six, as well as the main nesting ground with all wild dragons, young, and eggs. At the same time, the King had only Aegon with Vermithor at hand, but the latter instantly swept aside all base hints:
"I shall not lead Vermithor against other dragons and shall not raise a hand against kin, My Lord."
At first, they thought Rhaenyra would quickly come to her senses, but she did not return either in a day, or in three. By the end of the first week, Viserys sent a raven, inquiring about her health, well-being, and asking when she intended to fly to King's Landing. No answer to the letter followed.
"Let her pout if she wants to so much," cast the King with a sorrowful look.
A week later he sent his daughter another letter of similar content, and another to Daemon, in which he assured that he did not intend to disinherit him, and asked to compel Rhaenyra to answer him. No raven arrived from Dragonstone this time either, nor the next, nor the one after; the tone of the letters became increasingly official, displeased, and demanding, but the addressees were silent.
And meanwhile, numerous guests for the royal wedding began to flock to the capital, and the closer the date approached, the more nervous the future father-in-law became. The silence of Dragonstone and Driftmark turned in his eyes from proud resentment into a poorly concealed threat, promising at least a scandal, if not open rebellion, which, given the overwhelming superiority in dragons, could end very badly. Viserys tormented himself too, doubting more and more as the date approached whether it was worth holding a wedding that most of his kin would ignore. Finally, on the eve of Holy Week of the year 109, the King asked Aegon to go personally and persuade his daughter and brother to return.
"You understand," said Viserys to the Prince. "I cannot calmly give vows knowing that Rhaenyra is so offended and Daemon so angry that they decided not to participate in this at all. Speak with them. You can promise them what you want. Anything."
"Even Otto Hightower's head?" clarified Aegon.
"That is not funny, my brother."
"And I am not joking."
Viserys stared at him as if at a madman, but then sighed and shook his head.
"Yes, hardly will Daemon settle for less, but I shall not become a kinslayer. But I understand that I shall have to yield in something, else the situation cannot be rectified," the King pulled his jagged crown from his head and fell silent for a long time, turning it in his hands. "Daemon will remain Prince of Dragonstone and my heir in any case, even if sons are born to me. I shall support Grandfather's tradition—he will become my Hand, as he wanted himself. He can take any wife he wants—I shall approve any marriage of his. I already promised Rhaenyra that she would marry for love, but now I swear by my crown and the Iron Throne that I shall accept any husband she wants to see beside her. In the end, I have no right to force them into marriages of convenience when I myself did everything to marry for love."
"You promised me no such thing," Aegon retorted sarcastically.
"You agreed to a marriage in the interests of our House yourself, remember?"
Aegon remembered and was already cursing himself for his long tongue. Moving away from the unwanted topic, he asked:
"What am I to tell them if your offer does not satisfy them? What if they do not agree? Or only one agrees?"
"Then may the gods help us. I know not what else to offer them. Think of something. Persuade them."
"As you say, lekia (brother)."
Already in the Dragonpit, Otto caught up with him and Dennis. The Dragonkeepers had already led Vermithor out of the depths of Rhaenys's Hill, freed him from chains, and were now rechecking the saddle fastenings. The Bronze Fury submissively allowed them to perform their manipulations while Aegon critically examined his maw, assessing the condition of his teeth. The Lord Hand appeared from the side of the royal box from which tourneys were watched; he walked slowly so as to be noticed in time, and so as not to anger the dragon.
"Do not fear, Lord Otto, Vermithor is not hungry," reassured Hightower the Prince, not tearing himself away from studying the crooked fangs.
"Quite reassuring," the other responded, trying not to show agitation, and stopped ten paces short of Aegon. "Only up close do you understand how... large and stern creatures these are."
"I assume you wanted to say 'terrifying,' but decided to show politeness," chuckled Aegon.
"That does not cancel the fact that I am impressed. May I ask what you are doing?"
"Cleaning his teeth. Dragons, you know, use neither knife nor fork and eat rather messily. Some small bone or chunk of meat gets stuck between fangs—do you see this palisade?—and rots and fries there to the state of a coal. If the bone is sharp besides... Like this one, for instance."
Aegon pointed to a fragment of a rib of some unfortunate beast that ended its days in dragonfire but managed to avenge itself and its kin: the shard stuck between teeth and now rubbed its broken edge against the gum, irritating and worrying Vermithor. Applying some effort, the Prince extracted the bone under the lizard's relieved exhale and threw it aside.
"Are you unwell, My Lord?"
"N-no," lied Hightower. "But I would be grateful if Vermithor closed his maw."
Aegon chuckled and patted the dragon on the jaw, which snapped shut immediately.
"I thank you, My Prince. I hoped to catch you before departure."
"You are lucky."
"I would like to speak with you. Alone."
The Prince measured the Hand with a gaze. In the twilight of the Pit, Otto's face, at least the part not hidden by the red beard, seemed a pale spot against the background of the dark doublet gleaming with gold embroidery. Not turning away, Aegon spoke:
"Dennis, tell the guards they may be free."
"Yes, My Prince," the curious bastard will surely puff over his ear the whole flight later, but now he bowed briefly to the Hand and withdrew.
"I thank you, My Prince," nodded Otto. "I would like to speak with you about your family."
"In a couple of weeks it will become your family too," answered Aegon coldly. "I suppose Viserys has already named the conditions of his reconciliation with Daemon to you?"
"Yes, My Prince. In the end, I am sure the King acts wisely. The good of the realm is above all."
"Naturally."
"It remains only to pray to the Crone that she shows the way to Prince Daemon, and brings him to reconciliation with the Iron Throne."
"Not only he will have to be reconciled with the Iron Throne," snorted the Prince, swallowing the phrase ready to slip from his tongue about where his brother had seen the Crone with her candle.
"Yes, of course," nodded the Hand again. "Princess Rhaenyra, undoubtedly, will have to get used to the new state of affairs, but they were always so friendly with Alicent that I doubt not they will reconcile. I do not recall a single case where they quarreled for longer than a day in childhood. But there are still the Velaryons..."
"They too have cause for offense, do you not find?"
"Princess Rhaenys truly offered the King to take Lady Laena as wife, but she was promised nothing. Her grievances, like her husband's grievances, are groundless and foolish."
"I was not present at the time this question was discussed," answered Aegon evasively. "But from what I was told, my brother listened to his cousin quite... favorably."
"His Grace was polite to a kinswoman—no more."
"But no less."
"No contract—no obligations," parried Otto, but immediately hastened to change the subject. "In any case, existing contradictions between the Royal House and House Velaryon are dangerous. Three adult dragons live on Driftmark..."
"Two and a half," corrected him Aegon mechanically. "Seasmoke is still rather young and, as I was reported, has not outgrown Syrax much."
"In any case, such an alignment presents a threat that cannot be ignored."
"Especially when the capital is protected by only one dragon, and even then not always."
"Precisely, My Prince. I would like to propose to His Grace and the Small Council to consider the possibility of a new marriage with members of House Velaryon. This would lower tension, amuse the Sea Snake's ambitions, and reconcile the descendants of Prince Aemon and Prince Baelon once and for all. Lady Laena flowered long ago and saddled an adult dragon."
"Then we are lucky Daemon is a widower," remarked Aegon.
"That is precisely what presents a danger," objected Otto. "Now Prince Daemon and the Lord of the Tides have something in common—resentment against King Viserys, and this can become the basis for their rapprochement and even an alliance against the Iron Throne, and what can seal an alliance stronger than marriage? Alarming rumors reach me, My Prince. Driftmark and Dragonstone do not answer letters from the capital, but ravens fly between them almost every day. Some say Lord Corlys intends to offer Lady Laena's hand to your brother so he helps him in his foolish skirmish on the Stepstones, others—that it is Prince Daemon asking for Lady Laena's hand so the Sea Snake helps him usurp the throne. Agree, these are very dangerous rumors that cannot be ignored."
And this could also be someone's invention. Maybe even yours, thought Aegon.
"As I can judge while preliminary negotiations are underway, Meleys was seen near Dragonstone a couple of days ago. If we want to prevent civil war and usurpation, we need to hurry and be the first to make Lord Corlys an offer he cannot refuse."
"And what is this offer?"
"Marriage between you and Lady Laena. She is a noble lady of a Valyrian House, your cousin..."
"First cousin once removed," corrected the Prince.
"First cousin once removed," agreed Otto immediately. "Rider of Silverwing, faithful companion of your Bronze Fury. Was that not why you gave her Queen Alysanne's dragoness?"
"The reasons Lady Laena saddled Silverwing are no concern of yours," cut off Aegon coldly. "With the same success she could have saddled Vhagar or someone younger, but the gods were pleased to dispose so."
"Be that as it may, you are a good match for her too. She will become the wife of a Prince, second in line to the Iron Throne, your personal wealth, thanks to your travels, is so great that you are able to build your own castle where Lady Laena will be full mistress. Furthermore, Laenor Velaryon, as I heard, recently received knightly spurs, and he is only a year older than Princess Rhaenyra. They are both dragonriders, representatives of the new generation, heirs of Old Valyria, cousins besides. They may well find a common language."
Aegon seized on the last sentence to lead the conversation away from the question of his own marriage:
"Since you know you will have to resign, My Lord, you must also know that my brother swore that neither Rhaenyra nor Daemon will marry except for love."
"My Prince, you are an adult and intelligent man, moreover a not bad politician despite your years," praised him Otto. "Do you truly think the King will be able to keep this foolish promise? Do you truly not understand how dangerous it can be for the Iron Throne? If Prince Daemon can take someone of his choice as wife—naturally, this will be done 'for love'—then he will do it. He will go to any lengths to eliminate the threat to his position."
"A threat created by you, My Lord," but the Hand let the barb pass his ears.
"If he asks Lord Corlys for Lady Laena's hand, or the latter offers it himself, no refusal will follow. Three dragons, and half besides, as you say, will turn into inevitable rebellion for the Iron Throne! But all this can be prevented—it is enough to offer the Velaryons two marriages: with you and with Princess Rhaenyra. Your families have intermarried for two centuries, why not bind you again?"
Aegon looked at Vermithor and thoughtfully stroked his nose; the other clucked with pleasure—as if lava boiled in his throat.
"I confess, Lord Otto," began the Prince dryly. "It was pleasant for me to hear praise from you. Recognition of my abilities from the Lord Hand is worth much. But you forget one important circumstance."
"Which is?"
"You are so accustomed to being Hand that for you House Targaryen are the same pieces on a Cyvasse board as all other lords and ladies. There is no mistake in this: we all play thrones like Cyvasse, and Cyvasse like thrones. But you, Lord Otto, forget that we are not a dragon, not a trebuchet, and not an elephant. We are living people, leaving aside the Iron Throne, a family just like yours. Would it occur to you to be at enmity with your brother? How would you look if someone intentionally set you against each other?"
Lord Otto was silent, but did not avert his gaze either.
"To enter into marriage only so my brother cannot marry advantageously, I shall not. To engage in matchmaking for Rhaenyra's sake I shall not either. The King has already sworn oaths, expressed his will, and charged me to execute it. This is precisely what I intend to do—reconcile our family again. If you have nothing to say, My Lord, then farewell, it is time for me. Dennis!"
Aegon turned and, not looking back, went to the rope ladder descending from Vermithor's steep flank, where his sworn shield already awaited him.
"Well, what?" he asked in a whisper.
"Arrogant shit," grumbled Aegon, placing his right foot in the loop-rung. Since the gods took away the pain in the maimed limb, living turned out amazingly convenient: no need to be cautious when walking, stairs ceased to be main enemies, and the Prince himself began to think whether he could learn to dance. In the end, why not?
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