Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
Alicent and Rhaenyra searched through the halls in search of their respective sons; word soon reached them of the recent prank their children had pulled on Prince Aemond and was quick to begin the search before any of the queen's henchmen could find them. If one of the Caltrops catches one of them, neither mother could imagine the kind of punishment that Beatrice would recommend for Aegon the Younger, Viserys, Daeron, Jacaerys, or Lucerys if she got her claws on them. With their maternal instincts shifting into overdrive, Alicent and Rhaenyra were escorted by some of the castle's soldiers.
"Why do I get the feeling those three going to be the death of me?" Alicent grumbled.
"It's bad enough that the boys had to stir things up again," Rhaenyra murmured, "but out of all people, they're old enough to understand how relations between them and the queen are."
"They should not have gotten involved in the first place."
"Agreed. Whether they're children or not, there are lines we simply shouldn't cross."
"Then we'd best hope to find them before Her Grace, or her ilk do."
Searching room to room, hall through the hall, there were many places for the children to hide. Mischievous pranksters the lot of them; individually, each of them was a mere headache; but when they work cooperatively, the consequences of their actions could be insurmountable if one of their 'fun time activities' went a little too far. This, as it turns out, was one of them. As the search party continued, Alicent and Rhaenyra faintly heard the distinctive sounds of rapid footsteps, indicating a small group of people was running.
"Hey, you! Stop!"
"Wait!"
Alicent and Rhaenyra picked up their pace to see Aegon, Viserys, Daeron, Jacaerys, and Lucerys giggling like madmen while fleeing from a pursuing Jaehaerys and Aemma. The young prince was closing in on them, but they somehow kept persisting in making last-minute turns to throw him off their trail. Deciding this was going nowhere, Jaehaerys quickly picked up enough momentum to leap on the side of the walls, running alongside them before performing an aerial cartwheel and landing directly in front of his younger brothers and cousins to block their path with Aemma finally catching up from behind.
"I said enough!" Jaehaerys said firmly. Upon catching his breath, he composed himself. "Do any of you have the slightest inclination of what you've just done?" he panted between breaths.
"Come on, Jay, you got to admit it was a little funny," Jacaerys jested.
"Nothing about it was funny, Jace."
"Why not?" Lucerys asked.
"Because now the queen knows what you all did to Aemond," Aemma pointed out.
Daeron rolled his eyes. "Pffft! What's she going to do to us?" he dared. "Grandpa will protect us. He always does."
"Beatrice is still the queen," Jaehaerys pointed out. "The structure in the social hierarchy goes up, not down." His eyes caught the slightest glance of Alicent and Rhaenyra. "Oh, mother. Aunt Rhaenyra," he acknowledged.
"M-Mother?"
"A-Aunt Rhaenyra?"
Aegon, Viserys, Daeron, Jacaerys, and Lucerys all turned to face their mothers who by that point had arrived.
"Jace, Luke, what have you done?" Rhaenyra scolded.
"Five times now," Alicent reprimanded her sons. "This is the fifth time in less than a week you've been up to mischief. Every day, I get new complaints about you. Just when I thought you were all on your best behavior, we find out you did it again."
"B-But mother―" Aegon the Younger tried to protest.
"NO BUTS! Aegon, Viserys, Daeron… you three are more than old enough to understand the difference between right and wrong."
"Same thing applies to you two as well," Rhaenyra stated to her sons. "Whether you find these pranks of yours to be funny or not, tensions are already running high between us and the queen. Because your grandfather is king, that doesn't always mean that he'll always be around to shield you all from danger for long."
"Auntie's right," Aemma nodded. "Hard as it is to say it out loud like that, grandpa's sick and has enough on his mind already! He doesn't deserve to have more stress put on him."
Aegon, Viserys, Daeron, Jacaerys, and Lucerys started to feel bad now. But all that soon changed when Beatrice finally arrived, accompanied by Ser Criston and Ser Arryk Cargyll.
"There you lot are!" Beatrice spotted them. "I know what you did to my son. 'The Pink Dread.' Really? A pig?! You thought it was funny to gang up on and bully my son?"
Instinctively, the children huddled behind their mothers. Alicent and Rhaenyra – driven by maternal instincts – shielded their offspring from the queen. "We're already taking the necessary measurements to ensure this does not happen again, Your Grace," Rhaenyra implied.
"Oh? And how so? Because from the way I see it, Rhaenyra, your boys are out of control."
"The same could be said of Aegon."
"What?! Hey!" Aegon the Younger protested.
"Not you," Rhaenyra turned to her nephew. "Your uncle, Aegon."
"Oh."
Beatrice shook her head. "Whoever started it is irrelevant," she said angrily. "The fact of the matter is that all your boys mistreated my son. I demand punishment to be meted out as compensation for their insolence."
"That's not for you to decide," another voice called out.
Alicent, Beatrice, Criston, and Rhaenyra recognized that voice. The children did too. Emerging from the shadows, accompanied by five Lykirī Mēre agents and two Kingsguard – Ser Steffon and Ser Erryk Cargyll – was Aeonar; donning his black assassin attire, the room felt eerily cold suddenly.
"F-Father?!" Aegon, Viserys, and Daeron's faces paled.
"U-Uncle," Jacaerys and Lucerys acknowledged nervously.
"Aeonar," Rhaenyra saw her brother.
"Husband," Alicent noticed.
Aeonar's eyes scanned the children, his wife and sister, plus the queen and her escort. "My, my. What unprincely behavior," he said coolly. Judging by the look in his eyes and the frown on his face, the Young Dragon had learned what had happened at the Dragonpit. "As if you haven't done more than you already have."
"W-W-We're s-sorry, father!" Aegon exclaimed.
"I-It was supposed to be funny!" Jacaerys said.
"Nothing that you did was funny!" Beatrice shouted. "Aemond's been sulking about in his room since he came back with you from the Dragonpit. How you made makeshift wings and a tail and strapped them to a pig before passing it off as a dragon." She huffed. "This is going nowhere. I want them punished."
"Mother!" the children turned to Alicent and Rhaenyra.
"And what of your son? Was Aegon not a willing participant as well?" Aeonar pointed out.
Beatrice froze. "I've no idea where he is," she stated.
"Then you'll find him in his rooms… and punish him accordingly."
"Those boys of yours still need to learn the proper meaning of―"
"Enough! You tell me what they did, I'll take care of it. You don't do anything." Just because your desire to demand justice for what happened to Aemond is warranted, doesn't give you the right to carry out the punishment yourself. If you even lay so much as a finger on any of my children's heads, then I'll make certain you disappear for good. Aeonar warned before turning to his sister. "Rhaenyra, see to it that your boys are disciplined. Alicent and I will do the same with ours." He turned to Beatrice. "Same applies to you. Don't think the other Aegon is off the hook that easily."
Rhaenyra sighed with relief. "Gladly, brother," she conceded. Aeonar's timely intervention spared her and her sons the ire of the queen for a time. But she knew she can't always rely on her older brother forever. The princess would need to deal with their stepmother herself at some point. Motioning her children, Rhaenyra escorted her sons to her room to deal with them.
Alicent did the same, calling for all five of her children to follow her.
Aeonar and Beatrice continued staring at one another before the queen begrudgingly left as well. The Young Dragon then turned around to follow Alicent to their room. "What little brats…" he muttered under his breath irritatingly.
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Standing near the edge of the castle window, Aegon the Elder stood naked masturbating without a care in the world. Going through the process of puberty, the adolescent prince's hormones were driving him wild. Having discovered a way to relieve sexual tension, Aegon jerked his cock repeatedly, panting and grunting at the new sensation he was experiencing. Almost there, he felt his loins tensing up for release quickly approaching…
"Whose idea was it?!"
Aegon, startled at his mother walking in on him, dives back into his bed. "Oh! Ah! M-Mother! I, u-uhh, ahhh…" he stammered.
Beatrice stared at her son. "Repulsive. Have you no decency? Nor shame?" she scolded him.
"I-I don't know what you're talking about…"
"The pig. Was it your plot?"
"N-No! No, it-it was Jace, the other Aegon, and… it was the five of them. I couldn't be sure."
What a horrid liar you become when you're nervous. "Aemond is your younger brother, Aegon," Beatrice reminded harshly. "The fact that you knowingly took part in a devious plot speaks volumes."
"Well, he's a twat," Aegon replied uncaringly.
"He is your family as long as all of you are my children! You may cuff him about as you wish at home, but in the real world, we must defend our own against who'd dare challenge us."
"It was funny."
"Do you think Rhaenyra's sons will be your playthings forever? Or Aeonar's? Do you not feel at all slighted for having been pushed further down the line of succession behind them when you should have been placed more at the top?"
"So?"
"Ugh! You are thirteen years old; nearly a man-grown! How is it that you can be so shortsighted?! We've been over this before many times, Aegon, and how many times must you be reminded of the fact that if Aeonar comes into power… your very life could be forfeit. Aemond's as well. And Helaena's. Do you still not realize that Aeonar that could remove any challenge to the throne?"
"But I told you I don't want it. I won't challenge―"
Beatrice grabs her son's face. "You are the challenge! You are the challenge, Aegon!" she shouted. Forcibly releasing her grip, the queen stood up. "Get dressed."
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One by one, standing side-by-side, Jaehaerys, Aegon the Younger, Viserys, Aemma, and Daeron stood before their father and mother. Apart from the two, the other three who appeared closer to the front had no choice but to be reprimanded by their parents. Having to be disciplined by Alicent was bad enough, however, for their father to be included as well as like hell on earth.
"Why must the gods torment me with such behavior from reckless, irresponsible, infantile sons?" Aeonar had his back turned toward them.
"F-Father, I―" Viserys tried to speak.
Aeonar held up a hand, demanding silence. "What the three of you did at the Dragonpit was stupid. Targaryens don't act like fools. We are the blood of Old Valyria," he said sternly. "For more than 100 years, our house has ruled the Seven Kingdoms since Aegon the Conqueror invaded Westeros. The Old King Jaehaerys ushered in a golden age after Maegor the Cruel nearly brought it to ruin; an era of peace lasting eighty-three years that continues to thrive under your grandfather. And yet, somehow, your only thought is to amuse yourselves by mocking the family name with your juvenile pranks! Have your mother and I taught you nothing about responsibility?"
Jaehaerys was nervous. His father wasn't the kind of man who would raise his voice at his children, but listening attentively to the undertone of his voice, the young prince could tell that he was extremely disappointed – a feeling regarded as worse than being yelled at. Aemma held her brother's hand, to which he reciprocated by giving a gentle squeeze.
"Our patience has been tested more times as of late," Alicent stated. She was more composed this time. "The way you goad each other into that little stunt of yours will end up doing more harm than good in the long run. Even your grandfather, the king, can only do so much to lessen the blow."
"Do you think that is fair to him? Or to our family? Our house? Our forebearers?"
Aegon the Younger hung his head low. "N-No…" he slowly shook his head with shame.
"When you hear whispers and rumors calling you little brats behind your backs, does it bother you?" Alicent inquired.
Daeron gritted his teeth. "Yes," he admitted.
"Then stop acting like one," Aeonar pressed. "The more you keep up with your jokes, the less our name commands respect. If another house perceives us as weak, we are no longer a house to be neither feared nor respected." He eyed his children. "Before long, your grandfather will be gone. As will I and your mother. We won't be here to hold your hands so you must learn to stand on your own, uphold our ancient traditions, and be the pillars that make the House of the Dragon strong. But before we get there, you'll need to improve and rid yourselves of such weakness." He pointed towards the door. "You have my leave to go."
"Father―" Viserys chimed.
Alicent raised her hand, subtly warning her son to not push his luck any further. With that, all the children turned to leave – giving them a moment's respite.
"I swear, those boys…" Aeonar shook his head.
Alicent hugged her husband from behind. "It's always something else when one of them gets up to mischief… again," she sighed. "Sometimes I think Rhaenyra encourages them when we're not looking."
"I think so too… even if she says otherwise." Yet that would be a baseless accusation. "But I don't think she's entirely blameless either."
"So, you know it too."
"Who wouldn't? The proof is right there."
Alicent knew who or what Aeonar was referring to. Since their birth, a familiar pattern was made aware before being made evident that Rhaenyra's sons – Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey – were not of Velaryon descent, but bastards born out of wedlock. Neither of them had the traditional Valyrian features nor shared the resemblance of their legal father, Ser Laenor. No, they all had brown hair, brown eyes, and a pug nose.
"Has the king heard of the rumors about them?" Alicent asked.
Aeonar huffed. "Father is aware of them; he simply refuses to accept that Jace, Luke, and Joffrey are bastards no matter what anyone else says despite all evidence to the contrary," he replied.
"You imply that these rumors will continue to spread."
"They will – though none would dare say it to the king's face. Not yet anyway." But they will. Eventually, someone will.
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"They made wings for it, apparently, and a tail," Beatrice complained.
"The lad shouldn't have been so credulous," Viserys replied.
"He's a child."
"He thought they'd happened upon some wild unnamed dragon and lured it to the Dragonpit?"
Regarding the incident at the Dragonpit, Beatrice took the matter straight to the king himself while Viserys continued sculpting with his assistant, Eddard. His model of Valyria's capital city, which after a decade, had expanded to cover much of the large room it is in.
Beatrice, meanwhile, remained adamant. "Your grandsons are a menace," she said.
"They're more children than he is," Viserys countered. "At least Jaehaerys and Aemma are well-behaved these days."
"You're missing the point, Viserys. They're savages. Though it's not surprising."
"Are you sure it wasn't our Aegon who put Aemond up to it?"
"I asked and he says that Jace, Luke, the twins Aegon and Viserys, and Daeron, all put him up to it. I broached the matter of disciplining their sons, but they turned me away."
"As they should. They're Aeonar's and Rhaenyra's children to raise and discipline, not ours." Viserys noticed the way his second wife was staring at him. "What is it now?" he asked.
"You know the problem, Viserys."
"No, I'm afraid I don't."
"Don't!" Beatrice raised her voice slightly.
Viserys knew something was amiss. "We shall continue this afternoon, Eddard," he told his assistant.
Eddard nodded in acknowledgment. Putting down the model sculpture of a dragon back on the table, he stood up and turned to leave the king's private chamber. Now, it was Beatrice and Viserys all alone again.
"You are aware of the rumors," Beatrice broached the subject again.
Viserys looked at his second wife with a raised brow, when he spoke his voice was calm and patient. "This is King's Landing, Beatrice. There are more rumors here than rats. You will have been more specific," he said.
"I have raised this matter before and you forbade me to speak of it, so I held my tongue. For your daughter to have one child like that is a mistake, but to have three is an insult. To the throne, to you, to House Velaryon, and the match you battled so hard to make for her. Not to mention decency itself."
"Bah! I pay no attention to baseless nonsense," Viserys interrupted waving his hand dismissively. "You know, my great-grandmother – Lady Alyssa – was a Velaryon, yet grandfather was born pale-skinned and fine of hair. When Rogar Baratheon married her, you wouldn't tell Lord Boremund was half-Velaryon himself by looking at him. My father once told me that when Princess Rhaenys was born, her hair was as black as a raven's wings but when she reached adolescence, it started turning silver-white," he gave a scoff. "Which reminds me of another story… I had a black mare once when I was younger. Black like a raven. One day, she escaped her pasture, and the neighboring stallion sired a foal on her. The stallion was as silver as the moon on a winter's night and the foal, when it was born, was chestnut. Just the most unremarkable brown horse you ever saw. The nature of inheritance can be a strange thing. Powerful, yet mysterious all at once."
Beatrice scoffed. "And how would you know?" she pressed. "The silver stallion you speak of. How do you know for sure it was him? Did you witness the act itself or were these the words someone else whispered into your ear one day?"
Viserys smacked the desk with annoyance. "The consequences of an allegation like the one you toy at would be dire. Do not speak of this ever again," he warned. "Now come… let's go. We have a small council meeting to attend."
Viserys…!
Red Keep ― Small Council chambers…
Aeonar tapped his fingers on the council table, glancing to his right to see Rhaenyra holding her chest in slight discomfort. Rhaenyra, in turn, noticed her brother and reassured him she was fine. The Targaryen siblings turned away and redirected their attention toward more pressing matters in today's small council meeting. Seated at the other end of the table, Jaehaerys was being introduced to the realm's politicking and decision-making firsthand as the court's royal page. Tasked with writing down notes for the council, the young prince was assigned by his grandfather to his father to one day prepare him to rule. For Jaehaerys, it was a responsibility he was determined not to shirk and paid close attention to detail.
"It is Lord Blackwood's contention," Jasper explained, "therefore, that the Brackens moved the boundary stones in the dead of the night and put their horses to graze in his field."
"Why was this issue not brought before Lord Grover?" Beatrice demanded. "Has he grown so feeble he cannot settle a quarrel over rocks?"
"I've heard tale that Lord Grover's son now rules Riverrun in all but name, Your Grace."
"On the contrary. That would be his grandson, Ser Elmo Tully. His father, Ser Vernan, passed only three weeks ago," Aeonar disagreed.
"How come we weren't informed of this?"
"Word travels fast, but it doesn't happen overnight. And each report needs to be verified to see if it's legitimate or not before such a report can be made. Would you prefer false information to reach the crown's ear instead?"
"Of course, not."
"Trust me, my lords. When I know, you'll know."
"Whatever the case," Alicent broached, "he is also a Tully, and this remains a Tully problem."
"I agree," Viserys nodded.
Tyland, in his capacity as Master of Ships, leaned in. "If we may move on, my lords―" he broached.
"And yet," Rhaenyra interrupted, "the Brackens and the Blackwoods will use any excuse to spill each other's blood. So this dispute bears looking into. There will be countryfolk who know where the lines have been drawn for generations."
"That's easier said than done," Alicent stated. "If we overextend ourselves, it may one day lead to future repercussions among the other noble houses."
"Easy enough," Lyonel agreed. Being the Hand of the King, he remains second-in-command to the king himself. And being a staunch supporter of King Viserys and Prince Aeonar, he had diligently advised and defended them.
Beatrice rolled her eyes. "Of course," she uttered under her breath.
"Ser Tyland," Lyonel spoke, "you mentioned you have something urgent you wished to discuss?"
Tyland nodded. "Indeed, my Lord Hand. Um, we should address the latest developments in the Stepstones, my lords."
"Will we ever cease listening of that blasted place?" Viserys groaned.
Aeonar turned to his father. "If you understand what this could mean in the long run, then no. Such an issue cannot afford to be ignored… again," he said. "My spies near the garrisons at Bloodstone informed me that the Triarchy remnants have made an incursion into the area. Our allies in Driftmark have again made the valiant attempt to repel them from ever setting foot into the Stepstones again. What's more, while Lord Corlys has requested the crown send additional aid to recuperate any losses sustained, we did hear back from our emissaries in Dorne."
"If you ask me, I think the Blackwoods have the upper hand," Lyman inquired. Being one of the three original members of the small council, Lord Beesbury still served in his capacity as Master of Coin though he had grown somewhat slowly in his old age.
"No," Rhaenyra replied.
Orwyle leaned close. "We've moved on to the Stepstones, Lord Beesbury," he mentioned.
"As the prince has mentioned," Tyland continued, "our envoys report that Prince Qoren Martell has decided to remain neutral."
"Really?" Viserys sounded surprised. "I was hoping for our negotiations with Sunspear would persuade them to see reason, but I hadn't expected Dorne to stay out of it. But can a Martell be trusted for long?"
"Not unless the Dornish feel threatened either by us or the Triarchy… what remains of them, anyway," Aeonar replied.
"Has there been any word from our Prince Daemon?" Lyonel asked.
"My contacts inform me he has taken up residence in Pentos ten years ago. Been there ever since with Lady Laena and their two daughters, Baela and Rhaena."
Viserys and Rhaenyra were equally surprised at the news of Daemon. Not only did the Rogue Prince marry Laena Velaryon, but to have children of his own as well… Why continue to hide out in a city-state in Essos for a decade and not say a word to anyone until recently?
"Or I suppose I should call him King, as he styled himself when he won a battle there… once," Jasper jested.
Rhaenyra frowned.
"Tell me, Lord Jasper," Aeonar noticed, "have you ever been in war once?"
"Not lately, my prince," Jasper shook his head.
"Then you needn't make jokes of one who decided to do something about the Triarchy's repeated incursion and eventual occupation of the Stepstones that threatened to cripple the economy of the Seven Kingdoms when Craghas Drahar led their armies. Those who survived that ordeal could assure you that it takes more than armies or clever strategies to win a battle there with little to no support."
Rhaenyra nodded. "My brother is the only one on this council who has fought the Triarchy on the battlefield before, my lords," she said. "Once the Crabfeeder and his men were defeated thirteen years ago, we worked to ensure that garrisons, fortifications, and watchtowers were constructed with Driftmark sending in ships to patrol the Narrow Sea should the Triarchy ever return. Plan Zero made them weaker so although they're not as powerful as they once were compared to last time, they're not the kind to be ignored for long."
"How can it be afforded? Surely the amount of gold didn't just poof out of thin air," Beatrice questioned.
Jaehaerys, having listened to the conversation, felt the need to speak. "Our coffers are great, aunt Rhaenyra, but not infinite. We must consider the cost to our subjects and the effect it could have on the realm's economic stability if continued spending were to be maintained," he mentioned.
"I agree," Lyman slowly nodded.
"The cost of war would be even greater if we did nothing," Rhaenyra replied.
"How so?" the queen asked again.
"Ōrvōrta," Aeonar stated.
"And what is that supposed to mean?"
"It's an old High Valyrian word for 'classified.' Surely you must know what that meant."
Beatrice fumed. "Let us be finished," she stood.
"Yes," Viserys sighed wearily.
"Wait. I wish to speak," Rhaenyra spoke up.
Aeonar turned to his sister. "Do you have something else to discuss, Rhaenyra?" he inquired.
"I have felt the… strife… between our families of late, my queen," Rhaenyra said to Beatrice. "And for any offense given by mine, my brother, or any of our sons, I apologize on behalf of our house." She tried the more diplomatic approach this time. "I propose a match between my son Jacaerys to your daughter, Helaena. Ally ourselves… once and for all."
"What?" Beatrice said almost incredulously.
Jaehaerys listened. "Grandfather," he turned to Viserys. "If such a match were to be accepted, it would not only unify House Targaryen and keep in line with our traditions and customs, but it would also demonstrate a genuine act of goodwill and good faith," he explained.
"A most judicious proposition," Viserys applauded.
"And how would you propose to do that?" Aeonar asked skeptically. I seriously doubt this will ever be met with approval.
"If Syrax brings forth another clutch of eggs," Rhaenyra explained, "Prince Aemond will have his choice of them, uh… a symbol of our goodwill."
"My dear…" Viserys said. "A dragon's egg is a handsome gift."
Beatrice stared at her stepson and stepdaughter. You're mocking me, aren't you? But she then noticed something else distracting most on the council.
"Um… aunt Rhaenyra?" Jaehaerys chimed.
"What?" Rhaenyra asked.
"Look down," Alicent motioned her eyes.
Confused, Rhaenyra looked down to see two small stains forming on her dress. Realizing she was leaking breastmilk, the princess instantly covered herself – her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. "Oh! Oh, uh, my apologies. Ah, Seven hells," she said.
"Perhaps we should discuss this another time."
"Indeed," Beatrice noted. "The king and I thank you for your offer and we will consider it duly." Not in a million lifetimes will I ever let my daughter marry any of your… plain-featured bastard sons. How sweetly the fox speaks when it's been cornered by the hounds when you stand with nothing to inherit.
Alicent noticed. No, Beatrice. You will not. "Jaehaerys," she turned to her son. "Help your grandfather to his room so he can rest."
"Oh no, no, no," Viserys tried dissuading. "I-I'm all right."
"Come on, grandfather," Jaehaerys moved toward him. "At least let me escort you to your room."
"Oh, well, I…"
"Just lean onto me and we'll go slowly so you won't have any discomfort."
"Wha…" Viserys groaned. What a good boy, Jay.
Aeonar and Alicent watched as their firstborn son helped his grandfather out of the small council chamber. Rhaenyra merely stared blankly at the table still embarrassed at her breastmilk leaking through her dress. The three of them knew that Beatrice would never agree to the proposal, but by doing it in front of the small council, the ball was in their court now. It just boiled down to what will come next. But that will wait another day.
For tomorrow…
…there was to be a sparring session in the courtyard.
All their sons would be active participants.
"Come on, Rhaenyra," Alicent motioned. "Let's get you cleaned up and dressed into something new."