Curiosity piqued.
"Let me make this clear: You mustn't be angry." Aemon rolled his eyes and scooted back in his chair.
"Why should I be angry?" Viserys chuckled. Glancing at his daughter, he noticed her composure and concluded that it wasn't a serious matter.
"Very well, then." Aemon summoned his courage and spoke rapidly. "Alexandra of Sunspear is Prince Qoren's only daughter and heir."
A hush fell as he finished. Viserys's face froze, and the wine glass he had just raised to his lips paused mid-air. Rhaenyra glanced at Aemon. This hadn't been discussed beforehand!
"Uncle, listen to my explanation first." Seeing that the situation was getting worse, Aemon hurriedly laid out the whole story. He explained why they had invaded Sunspear, negotiated trade and marriage, and so on. Viserys's expression gradually brightened as he drank the wine brought to his lips. Fortunately, his nephew wasn't crazy. Big promises and empty promises—all meant to buy time.
"What do you think?" Aemon asked tentatively.
Viserys shook his head gravely and said, "There's no way the Iron Throne will reconcile with Dorne, let alone agree to a marriage." Aemon understood. The hatred between the two sides ran deep. Even if the Iron Throne wanted peace, its bannermen wouldn't agree.
"One more thing," Viserys said to Rhaenyra with a sour expression. "Aegon and the others are your brothers and sisters. I've given you all I could. Show some generosity, as a brother or sister should."
Rhaenyra was stunned, her beautiful eyes widening. It wasn't her!
Aemon: "... Who is Uncle picking? He didn't say."
"Hmph!" Viserys snorted, ignoring his daughter's disapproval. He had devoted the first half of his life to having a son. After Aemma's death, however, he came to his senses. He devoted most of his affection to his eldest daughter and nephew. Of his other children, only his eldest son, Aegon, received much attention, while the others were left in Alicent's care. Aegon was the eldest son in the kingdom and a member of the royal family. Marrying a Martell would bring him the stigma of the Seven Kingdoms and deny him the Iron Throne completely. Regardless of whose idea it was, he didn't want to go that far.
A moment's silence followed. Viserys glared at his nephew and said unhappily, "Are you courting the Dornish with the tiger's skin just to satisfy your ambition to attack Myr?"
"The Dornish, as the motto of House Martell says, are unyielding. Conquering them by force would be less effective than a policy of appeasement that subtly changes their prejudices," Aemon said sincerely.
"Perverse logic," Viserys disagreed, arguing, "Prejudices of the heart are like mountains."
"If you disagree, forget it," Aemon said helplessly. The Dornish, influenced by Rhoynar tradition, were the toughest nut to crack. The gains from military conquest far outweighed the losses of war. Abandoning them was a pity, but conquering them was a chore. Without a policy of appeasement, only a fool would rush in.
Unconcerned, Viserys warned, "The Narrow Sea is already in chaos, and the Dornish are untrustworthy. Do not start another war." He was referring to a war against Myr.
Aemon's face fell; he was utterly unwilling. "Uncle, Myr is easy to conquer. We can conquer it with a single blow."
"Do you think you're a reincarnated conqueror? Can you conquer a Free City just by saying so?" Viserys's eyes widened.
"Uncle, am I any less of a conqueror at heart?" Aemon remained unmoved, feigning sadness to elicit sympathy. With an uncle so sentimental, a soft approach is better than a hard one. All that "good nephew" routine of begging for loyalty must have already dazzled his uncle.
"This..." As expected, Viserys felt guilty. To be fair, his nephew's military record was impressive. At eight years old, he tamed Vermithor, the "Bronze Fury." By the age of twelve, he had built a city, conquered the pirates of the Triarchy, and fought in the Battle of Pentos. By the age of 14, he had unified the Vale. By 15, he had occupied the Stepstones and successively liberated New Ghis and Astapor. He is still a minor, under the age of 16. In the history books, that is an explosive existence indeed.
However, we must look beyond the surface. All of the nephew's actions are for himself. A brilliant record is not an achievement. In his heart, Aemon the Dragon Slayer is not Aegon the Conqueror, the founder of the country.
"There is no love, is there?" Seeing his uncle hesitate, Aemon glared at him with dead eyes.
"Don't talk nonsense. The Conqueror hadn't tamed Balerion by the time he was your age." Viserys hurried to comfort him. He couldn't hurt his nephew's heart.
Aemon knew the time was right and spoke seriously. "Uncle, the attack on Myr is imperative."
Viserys frowned immediately.
Seeing this, Aemon pulled out his trump card. "The Sea Serpent has occupied Tyrosh, and Daemon is plotting against Lys too. The situation in the Narrow Sea is about to change." With the destruction of two of the three Daughter's, Daemon and the Sea Serpent's alliance is growing stronger. The royal family only holds the Stepstones, a powerless position that cannot influence the situation. Moreover, the Stepstones are barren and poorly fortified. If things go wrong, the Stepstones will become a coveted arena for fighting.
However, if the royal family seizes Myr, they can reverse their disadvantage. Together, Myr, Tarth, and the Stepstones could form an impenetrable defense.
Upon hearing this, Viserys's heart wavered. The Sea Serpent and Daemon had always been his greatest annoyances. Hearing that they had each captured a Free City hurt more than cutting his flesh.
Aemon leaned closer in his chair, his clear eyes filled with sincerity. "Uncle, even my great-grandfather didn't have the exploits of expanding territory."
"Gulp—" Viserys swallowed, his throat dry. He admitted he was tempted. Myr was not the barren, dangerous Stepstones. Conquering the Stepstones would be a pure investment with no return, a losing proposition. They might fall any day. Once Myr was conquered, however, both the Stepstones and Myr would be lucrative. Besides, what king wouldn't love expanding his territory? If New Ghis and Astapor weren't so far away, he would have wanted his nephew to occupy the two newly liberated city-states.
"Are you sure?" Viserys asked dryly.
"Ninety-eight percent sure." Aemon patted his chest.
"So high!?" Viserys was shocked.
Aemon smiled slightly but didn't explain. What's the difference between fighting a war without a ninety-eight percent chance of winning and committing suicide?
"Then..." Viserys was in a state of mental conflict. He gritted his teeth. "War is no small matter. I'll think about it again." He kept reminding himself. As the king, he couldn't act impulsively.
"All right, then we'll go down first." Aemon knew everything was mostly okay, which gave his uncle time to think about it.
"Yes." Viserys nodded.
Aemon stood up, took Rhaenyra's hand, and left. He didn't really need his uncle's support, but having it would prevent a lot of trouble. There was no reason to harm someone who had been good to him.
As he turned around, he heard his uncle's voice behind him: "Ser Borros Baratheon is at the Red Keep. His wife, Lady Ellyn, is pregnant. You can visit her when you have time."
Aemon's brow furrowed, then relaxed. The Baratheons had taken sides. The Sea Serpents had lost a major ally. Good news.
At noon.
After washing up, Aemon lay down on the couch in the princess's bedroom. Rhaenyra was away, having gone to visit the pregnant Lady Ellyn.
Sniffing the light, creamy scent of the soft pillow, Aemon rolled over, feeling a surge of heat in his heart. It wasn't worry about attacking Myr. Just like last time, it was all because of his uncle's political maneuvering. As king, he had developed a patriarchal mentality and held on to everything too tightly. Psychologically speaking, the tighter the family ties, the deeper the emotional gap.
Aemon was the good nephew, a man who knew how to play nice and please. His treatment vastly improved because of it. Even so, he could sense his uncle's wariness.
"Perhaps I was born into the wrong family. We're not destined to be father and son in this life," Aemon sighed softly. He and Daemon were father and son, but a father without love naturally leads to an unfilial son. He and his uncle weren't father and son, yet they got along well. Still, there was a gap.
"Read books. Books are a treasure trove of wisdom." Aemon did a sit-up and pulled the precious ancient tome out of his interspatial ring. When he was young, he disliked reading because he lacked the ability. Now, as a powerful force, he needed to read to nourish himself. Ordinary people who don't read will spend their lives wielding hoes. Your Highness, if you don't read, you'll never be king.
"Read!" Aemon's eyes were determined as he flipped through the pages of the ancient tome of House Belaerys, which chronicled the history of the Forty Dragon Kings and the Free Fortress Empire.
The ancient tome of House Belaerys chronicled the history of the Forty Dragon Lords and the Free Fortress Empire.
Reading history brings wisdom. One second, two seconds, three seconds...
"Hah!" Aemon yawned, feeling sleepy. A book can only be read once; reading it a second time would be blasphemous to the first reading.
"The Dragon Lord's governs the city-state, and the Council is jointly established..." Aemon rested his chin on one hand and read glumly. The ancient texts of House Belaerys were filled with valuable information. Looking back at history, it's clear that House Targaryen has reached a turning point. Without breaking free from its shackles, internal strife is inevitable. Change is the only way to achieve progress.
"My territory is vast enough to establish a kingdom." Aemon tapped his cheek lightly with his finger. The Vale, Tarth, and the Stepstones. Among them, Riverrun has replaced the Eyrie and Gulltown as the political and trade center of the Vale. Gulltown could secede and become an independent city, generating significant revenue. Once Myr is conquered, Gulltown, Myr, and the Stepstones will form a coherent political system.
"How about a rebellion?" Aemon muttered quietly. He couldn't help but laugh. As regent and future king consort, the benefits of a rebellion were too low.
"We have to find a way to become independent." Aemon's eyes darted around. He was so eager to improve! He couldn't help but think of Dorne. It was an independent kingdom, equal to the Iron Throne.
"No, that would be a real rebellion," he said, shaking his head quickly. His uncle treated him well, and Rhaenyra was working hard to become queen. He couldn't betray her. The allure of the Iron Throne paled in comparison to the bond between family members who cared for each other.
Aemon fell into deep thought. Suddenly, he thought of the feudal system of his previous life. "A kingdom within a king." His thoughts wandered, and he couldn't help but mutter, "Establish a vassal state for fun?" That had been his initial idea when he seized power in the Vale. However, his uncle's conditions were too lenient. As long as he didn't publicly claim the throne, the Vale would obey his orders, but not his authority. More radical still, it wouldn't work.
"One Vale alone isn't enough to claim the throne, but Myr and the Stepstones surely are." Aemon was excited. The Sea Serpents had occupied Tyrosh, yet they still hadn't made their move on the Iron Throne. Daemon coveted Lys. Who knew if they'd capture him someday? These two old lamps were at odds. They wanted to be close to the Iron Throne but didn't want to rebel openly and sever all ties with the royal family. Tyrosh and Lys were independent city-states. The two certainly wouldn't want to submit to the Iron Throne; it would only end in chaos. It would be better to lure them into proposing the concept of a vassal city-state. His uncle would surely be furious. However, he could seize the opportunity to establish a vassal state and balance the two sides.
"It's doable!" Aemon calculated, pegging the success rate at 25%. With only a 25% chance of success, he'd be better off just holding on.
My uncle was a paper tiger anyway. The Sea Serpents and Daemon wanted it all, but he just wanted to quietly grow his fortune. Everyone got what they needed. His uncle expanded his territory, giving the Sea Serpents and Daemon a claim. He was truly independent.
Perhaps this was the beginning of a change in the family.
Aemon slammed the ancient tome shut and excitedly exclaimed, "Just do it!"
Creak!
Rhaenyra pushed the door open and asked, bewildered, "What for?"
Aemon opened his mouth, then closed it again. He swallowed the "you" that was on the tip of his tongue.
"Hm?" Rhaenyra narrowed her eyes, sensing the offense.
"It's a small matter. Please." Aemon had described the founding of an independent nation as a small matter.
Rhaenyra was skeptical and a little angry at Aemon for keeping it a secret. But the sight of his handsome face dispelled all her anger. As his sister, she needed to be more open-minded.
"Speak," she said. Rhaenyra pulled the hem of her skirt behind her hips and sat sideways on the bed.
"I need White Maggot to deliver some information," Aemon said. Johanna was on a mission, so it was too late to distract her. Misaria, the White Maggot, was idle anyway, so she might as well get some work done. For example, she could ask someone to give Sea Serpent and Daemon some advice.
This needed to be done quickly. Aemon would soon turn 16 and become an adult. Now was the time to seize the opportunity to go it alone, not to pick a fight with someone else. As Aegon and the others grew older, his importance to his uncle would decrease. While his uncle was still full of love for him, he should cut the Gordian knot. From now on, his uncle would still be his good nephew.
In the afternoon.
As the sun gradually set, a crimson glow spread across the sky. Viserys stood on the balcony and gazed at the majestic dome of the dragon's lair. As a king, he had little control over dragons. His daughter and his nephew both had dragons. Using his daughter to keep his nephew close would ensure the safety of the royal family.
Knock, knock! There was a knock on the door, which opened after receiving permission.
"Your Majesty."
"Your Majesty."
Prime Minister Lyonel and Otto saluted respectfully, one after the other.
"I have something to ask you, and you must answer frankly." Viserys was extremely serious.
"It's my duty," Lyonel whispered.
Otto nodded as well.
Viserys was anxious. He walked around the chair and held onto the back, but did not sit down. In front of his two trusted ministers, he slowly revealed his true feelings. The Sea Serpents had occupied Tyrosh and threatened the Iron Throne. Daemon was also secretly ready to make a move. Aemon proposed attacking Myr, taking control of the Disputed Lands, and checking these two ambitious people.
"Myr, do you want to fight or not?"
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