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The Revelation
Cole's arms trembled slightly as stormy waves of emotion rolled through his heart.
Maester Aemon's handwriting filled the letter with an old man's sincere teachings and love for his descendant.
"This letter?" he whispered.
"A letter from the Citadel. The Citadel typically sends correspondence to all corners of the Seven Kingdoms in this form. Turn it over and you'll see the towering ancient tower of House Hightower on the reverse." The prince seemed intimately familiar with such letters.
Cole thought of the letter Maester Aemon had given him at the Wall. The old man had mentioned leaving a gift for him in Oldtown, though this letter was clearly different from that letter of introduction.
On that cold winter night, they had left the Wall together, companions in the darkness.
Cole's purple-blue eyes filled with complex emotions. "I always believed I was merely a fortunate orphan, rescued from ice and snow by kind-hearted men of the Night's Watch."
He smiled bitterly, his expression tinged with sadness. "Robert Baratheon killed Rhaegar Targaryen, and the Lannisters killed..."
His sentence hung unfinished, a long pause stretching between them.
"Boy, a letter doesn't mean anything."
What could a letter from Varys possibly mean?
Having spent so many years with Maester Aemon, Cole naturally recognized his handwriting. The letter mentioned numerous details from his childhood, so in his heart he already believed its contents. But this Westerosi version of the prince's revelation was bizarre beyond measure.
Yet the hatching of Caesar and Balerion seemed to explain much.
He was the son of Rhaegar and a prince of House Targaryen—Aegon Targaryen.
He was also the nephew of Daenerys Targaryen.
Perhaps even Cole's half-brother.
He returned the letter to its envelope, a smile playing across his face. "You're right, Your Excellency. A letter means nothing."
Cole's mood had already shifted unconsciously. Aegon Targaryen? Had he known his identity in his youth, or even when his memories first awakened, he would likely have considered it his duty to restore the Targaryen dynasty.
He had never thought of himself as particularly wise, or brave, or even noble.
Cole thought of Young Griff, Viserys, and Cole, comparing himself to them.
Only then did he realize how fortunate and blessed he truly was. No one had placed heavy burdens on his shoulders since childhood. Maester Aemon had allowed him to follow his natural inclinations, and Lord Commander Mormont had only hoped he would grow stronger.
I don't know whether I am a cloth dragon or a true dragon.
"You don't seem surprised," the prince observed.
"So, Prince, would you prefer I react with anger, or perhaps with ecstasy?" He slowly closed the envelope, then approached the lamp, melted the sealing wax, and resealed the letter. "Whether I'm Aegon Targaryen or not changes nothing."
"That chair in the Red Keep is a fool's prize."
Cole shook his head slightly. "When Aegon the Conqueror forged the Iron Throne with a sharp sword, he intended that whoever sat upon it would never be too comfortable. But the seat from which Aegon the Conqueror ruled the Seven Kingdoms was not that chair—it was a dragon."
Martell remarked sarcastically, "Dragons could not conquer Dorne. Besides, they are extinct and cannot help you."
"Who knows?" Cole tilted his head and sat at the nearby table. "So it's not just you who has read this letter. Varys knows of it as well."
"I can send you to Dorne first, just in time to show Doran what I've brought back to him," Oberyn said.
"Your Highness, do you truly believe I am Aegon?"
The prince knew Cole was asking a question to which he already suspected the answer. "Boy, I knew you were Dornish from the moment I laid eyes on you."
He had indeed asked that when they first met.
Now Cole seemed to understand who had instigated the riot. The Lannisters must know of this.
"Your Highness, the Imp requests an audience downstairs," the Dornish guard announced from the doorway.
Speak of the Lannisters, and one appears the moment you think of them.
"Bring the women in first," the prince instructed the guard. "Tell the Lannister dwarf that the prince is conducting business."
Soon several courtesans were ushered into the room.
When Tyrion entered an hour later, he found the Prince of Dorne embracing a smooth-skinned blonde woman.
"Imp, do you understand the consequences of disturbing a prince?" The Red Viper's words carried a veiled threat.
"I had no intention to disturb, my lord. I merely heard you were injured and wished to assure myself of your well-being. I'm relieved to see you in good health," Tyrion said cautiously.
"Would a Lannister truly be so considerate?" The prince's eyes seemed to examine him closely. "A minor injury. Those archers were trampled to pieces by my horse."
He reclined, the courtesan's body covering him from the neck down. The Imp noticed the woman regarding him with interest.
The Gold Cloaks had informed Tyrion that Oberyn had left no one alive; at least a hundred civilians had died in the chaos, including several merchants and blacksmiths caught in the violence.
"You are remarkably brave," Tyrion complimented.
The prince merely smiled coldly.
A trickle of sweat formed on Tyrion's brow.
"Tyrion?" Cole emerged from another room.
Now he would have to face both of them simultaneously, though he had anticipated as much.
Lord Tywin had appointed him Minister of Foreign Affairs, tasked with placating these friends and foes alike, but the Imp knew they all came with purpose.
Martell demanded justice, while Cole sought the Stormlands.
"Cole." The Imp nodded in greeting.
"What's this? Newly married yet visiting a brothel?" Cole's smile suggested he had no intention of judging or questioning.
"As host, I must fulfill my duties," the Imp grinned.
"Oh? Does that mean House Lannister now considers itself master of King's Landing?" asked the Prince of Dorne.
"The master of King's Landing has always been the king, but the Hand acts in his stead until he comes of age."
"And when will the Hand fulfill his promise?"
Tyrion knew this question would come.
"My lord, as you're aware, the royal wedding approaches in mere days. Perhaps after the ceremony, my father will find time to provide the justice you seek."
"One can only hope."
They never mentioned the riots. From their conversation, the relationship between Prince Oberyn and Cole appeared remarkably cordial.
Tyrion navigated the situation with care.
Prince Oberyn described various fascinating aspects of Dorne to Cole, who displayed genuine interest.
After the Lannister departed, Cole appeared to have no plans to stay the night.
"What does Your Excellency intend to do now?" Cole asked him.
Oberyn Martell looked at him and said, "You should call me uncle."