After much deliberation, Aemond decided to petition for a holding in the Reach. He liked the environment of the Reach. And he liked the people there.
King's Landing.
Viserys, overwhelmed with a headache, called an impromptu meeting of the Small Council. Compared to the last one, this meeting was much more fully attended. Lord Corlys Velaryon, the Sea Snake, was present, as was Ser Tyland Lannister. Even the gravely wounded Otto Hightower had been carried in, attended to by Grand Maester Mellos.
"Is Lord Otto truly all right?" Lyonel Strong asked with a quizzical expression. It was truly remarkable how injuries seemed to plague House Hightower at the most convenient times.
"In service to the realm, Lord Lyonel," Otto rasped. He was wrapped like a mummy, one leg splinted, one arm in a sling across his chest. Tyland grimaced, fearing the man might suddenly die right there in the chamber.
"The battle between Highgarden and Oldtown is imminent. Discuss a solution," Viserys got straight to the point.
Everyone looked at each other, waiting to see who would speak first.
Lyonel began: "The Hightowers and the Tyrells are the great houses of the Reach. Rivals are by nature—"
"Lord Hobert has always been faithful to his duties and has never overstepped his bounds, Lord Lyonel," Otto interrupted.
Lyonel's face darkened. "That is just your one-sided account." He was the Hand of the King; being interrupted so rudely was humiliating.
Otto wisely kept his mouth shut, lest he arouse suspicion. A slight movement sent a piercing pain through his ribs, and he gritted his teeth.
"The fact is that old Lord Tyrell perished in a fire, and Lord Hobert was thrown from his horse. The combination of these two events is utterly bizarre," said Corlys Velaryon calmly, getting to the heart of the matter. "It could be a feud between the two houses, or it could be someone maliciously provoking a quarrel between them."
"Who?" Viserys demanded.
Corlys leaned back in his chair and waved a hand. "I am not in the Reach, Your Grace. How could I know?"
Viserys choked on a reply, but he could not deny the man's point. Lord Lyman's letter had mentioned that the fire at Highgarden was sudden, and that Hobert's fall was related to a horse gifted from Highgarden. One accident might be a coincidence, but two smelled of conspiracy.
"I think we should first resolve the impending conflict between the two families," Tyland said weakly.
Corlys glanced at him. "The key is that we have no reason to prevent it, and both families are already eager for war." Everyone knew preventing the war was paramount, but the two houses were determined to fight, not just over the recent tragedies, but to compete for supremacy in the Reach. Even a direct royal command might not be obeyed.
Lyonel pondered for a moment. "Unless the royal family sends a dragonrider to mediate," he said to the king.
Before Viserys could speak, Corlys pressed the matter. "Who?"
Lyonel was stuck. The royal dragonriders were all away, and Prince Aemon, who could handle such a situation, had effectively been exiled.
"Haha," Corlys sneered. His target was not Lyonel, but Viserys, who sat across from him with a sullen expression. Aemon was a scoundrel, but he was a capable one. Viserys seemed to believe that as his own sons grew, they could replace Aemon's importance. The Sea Snake despised such thinking.
Viserys's face flushed purple at the mockery. "First, send a raven to Lord Lyman," he gritted out. "Ask him to appease Ser Ormund and withdraw the troops stationed on the Mander."
"Should Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond be recalled?" Tyland asked, his question pointed.
Otto immediately intervened. "Aegon and Aemond were witnesses to this incident. If they withdraw now, they will be seen as cowards."
"And when they ride their dragons into battle, they will be praised for their bravery, I'm sure," the Sea Snake sneered. The crown had no place interfering in conflicts between its vassals. To throw two young, energetic dragonriders into such a powder keg was madness. Otto's motives were clear: he was afraid for his own family.
Viserys looked from side to side, pondering. In truth, he wanted to recall his two sons. Avoiding trouble had always been his way. But something Otto said had touched his heart. His sons could not always hide behind others, otherwise they would never grow up. The royal family needed a new generation of mature dragonriders.
"Your Majesty, I have a letter that arrived this morning," Grand Maester Mellos stood up and tremblingly took a letter from his sleeve. Viserys looked at the maester's half-paralyzed state, then at Otto lying next to him, and sighed.
"Allow me," Tyland said, taking the letter and reading it aloud. It was from Aemond.
Viserys was curious and couldn't help but perk up. His two sons had been in the Reach for many days and had not sent a single message. Perhaps this letter from Aemond contained some discovery?
He had thought too much. Tyland reported that Prince Aemond was in Goldengrove, loved the natural scenery of the Reach, and wished to petition the king for a charter to claim and cultivate new lands.
Viserys's face fell. I sent my son to marry a noble lady of the Reach, not to be abducted and settle down somewhere else!
Knock, knock, knock!
At that moment, a Kingsguard knight entered the hall. "Your Majesty, Princess Rhaenyra has returned."
"Have her come quickly," Viserys's eyes lit up.
Rhaenyra repeatedly ordered Syrax to stay in the godswood, then entered the Red Keep under the little dragon's reluctant gaze. She arrived at the council chamber.
"Why did you come back so suddenly, Rhaenyra?" Viserys asked, surprised, craning his neck to see if his nephew or grandson had returned with her.
"It is just me," Rhaenyra said, dressed in a slim, black dragon-riding suit. "I had urgent business to attend to, so Aemon sent me on my way."
"How is life at his new palace? Are you enjoying it?" Viserys asked.
Rhaenyra pursed her lips and teased, "It is not so bad. The lands are beautiful, and no one has turned their back on us yet."
Viserys had the grace to look embarrassed.
"Here," Rhaenyra said, pulling a piece of paper from her pocket and handing it to her father. "Aemond's letter. He sent it to Aemon first."
Viserys took it with a skeptical look, his face darkening as he read it. The letter from his second son stated that he had every intention of staying in the Reach and asked Aemon and Rhaenyra to persuade the king.
"He is as rebellious as Helaena!" Viserys said angrily. Helaena was now a fugitive princess, having been missing for two weeks. There were rumors of Dreamfyre being sighted at Harrenhal, but whenever he asked his nephew, he received a constant stream of "I don't know," "I am not sure," and "It is not my responsibility." He knew it was a conspiracy between his nephew, Alicent, and the others to resist his arranged marriage for Helaena.
"Is Aemond truly determined to stay in the Reach?" Lyonel asked, bewildered.
Otto's eyes were deep, and he lay half-dead on his litter, pretending to be unconscious. He couldn't decide if Aemond staying was a good or bad thing. A war between the Hightowers and the Tyrells was inevitable, and Aemond's presence would certainly serve as a deterrent to their enemies. Hightower equals the Greens, which equals Aemond.
"Aemond shows courage in wishing to expand his fiefdom," Corlys offered, a rare compliment.
"It is just childish nonsense," Viserys denied it instantly. His nephew Aemon was only twelve when he returned to the Vale to claim his inheritance. Aemond was only eleven; he knew nothing. Unconsciously, Viserys's desire for his son to succeed was warring with his feeling that his son was not ready. He was a knot of contradictions.
The conversation returned to the conflict. "Should we send an envoy to dissuade them, Your Grace?" Mellos asked slowly.
"Ravens are quicker," Viserys shook his head. "Persuade Ser Ormund to calm himself, and get Lord Garlan to consider the greater good." In other words, the royal family would remain neutral. Unconsciously, his thoughts were being drawn into Aemon's own plan. The war between the two great houses had already drawn in the powerful House Rowan. If the conflict escalated, and with his son Aemond already enfeoffed in the Reach, the royal family would have a natural way to intervene. Handled properly, it would be a low-cost, high-return investment, similar to how his grandfather Jaehaerys had arranged for Daemon to marry Lady Rhea and inherit Runestone. He didn't dare imagine Aemond annexing the Reach, but simply spreading Targaryen blood there would be a strategic success.
Rhaenyra's eyes flickered. She understood her father's deeper meaning. It was much as Aemon had anticipated. Add more fuel to the fire, and Aemond will get what he wants. Add more fuel to the fire, and my father will develop ideas for the Reach.
Oldtown.
Aegon held out his arms, allowing two squires to adjust his armor as he posed before a floor-length mirror. I am of the noble blood of the dragon. I am responsible for the security of the Reach.
Creak! Larys pushed open the door. "May I have a private moment with the prince?" he asked the squires. They looked at Aegon, who nodded in agreement. He had a certain fondness for this honest, flattering fellow.
"You look like the Conqueror reincarnated in that armor," Larys said with a smile after the others had left.
Aegon said proudly, "How does it compare to Aemon's 'warrior reincarnate'?"
"Uh…" Larys was stunned by the question. "They are both so heroic," he said without a shred of conscience, "it is hard to compare."
"I suppose so. A conqueror is no less capable than a warrior," Aegon gloated.
Larys coughed lightly. "Lord Hobert will not be able to hold on for much longer. Highgarden is gathering its forces." He let the words hang in the air.
Aegon, grasping the implication, immediately withered. "If fighting breaks out, do I have to return to King's Landing?"
"The king has not summoned you back," Larys reassured him.
"Then what shall I do?" Aegon fretted. "Two houses are at war, and my words are of no use." Others called him foolish, but he wasn't, not always. He knew that matters between nobles couldn't be resolved by reason.
"I cannot be the judge of this, but it brings some memories to mind," Larys whispered. "The fire at Highgarden was an accident, but Lord Hobert's fall from his horse was not. What do you think?"
Aegon lowered his head, listening intently for the first time. He stood on the side of justice. He supported his relatives, but he also supported those who were right. With this thought, his gaze gradually hardened. He looked up at the heroic, armored figure in the mirror.
In the Lord's bedchamber, an old maester, with trembling hands, covered the bed with a white cloth.
Not long after, the bells of Oldtown rang out, seven consecutive tolls signaling the death of the lord.
Ormund Hightower, now Lord Ormund, walked expressionlessly up the towering spire of the Hightower. He looked back down at the city. Then, a cluster of dazzling green bonfires was lit, their flames blazing from the top of the tower, a call to war visible for a hundred leagues.
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