Jaehaerys looked down at his castle from the sky. Construction had progressed since he left. Red bricks were stacked one on top of another in the towers and walls. Despite the winds of war, construction had not stopped at all. However, he did notice an increase in patrolling.
He flew until he was above the GodsEye. The docks were charred, with a thin layer of steam visible. The villagers kept away from the lake, as if it were cursed.
Jaehaerys wondered what Daenerys had done. As soon as Sansa told him that Victarion would attack Argentstone, he warged into his faithful eagle and sent her.
Sansa woke up two days ago. Her face was bruised, and she wore a veil to cover it, ashamed. Jaehaerys was a little glad he couldn't see it. It pained him to know that he had failed to protect her despite his promises.
"Have you said goodbye to your family yet, Sansa?" the prince asked gently.
They were both riding horses, Jaehaerys on his trusty black horse and Sansa on the brown steed that Garlan had given to Jaehaerys.
Although the war council focused on the ships, men were still needed to fill them. Eddard Stark would travel north to gather his bannermen. To do so, he would take the River Road to the Crossroads Inn, the shortest route other than by sea.
Jaehaerys would follow the Goldroad with the royal family, then branch off to go to Argentstone and gather his men. He would also see his wife. The safest way was to travel in a group. The Goldroad ended up reaching King's Landing, Aegon's final destination.
"I did it. Arya and Bran were difficult," said Sansa.
The young woman held her daughter in her arms. Jaehaerys rode beside her, partly out of fear that the little one would fall to the ground and hurt herself. He was ready to intervene if necessary.
"I'm sorry I took you away from your home," whispered the prince.
"My home is in my arms, Prince Jaehaerys," she said sweetly. "I hear there is a Weirwood in Argentstone."
"A huge one... a gift from the old gods," replied the prince.
"It will be lovely to see it, perhaps it will remind me of Winterfell," she said as they began their journey.
After those words, they rode in silence. During the journey, the prince had to move and stay quite close to the king; after all, he was his hand.
Many disagreed with the idea. Aegon was relatively young, and so was Jaehaerys. They claimed that they were not ready to rule the kingdom. Neither of them listened. Aegon had a good head on his shoulders, had served as Hand, and understood how the kingdom worked. Jaehaerys was the steward of his lands, and although he was lazy with other things besides science, he fulfilled his duties.
Jaehaerys returned with most of his men intact. Only Brandon rode in a carriage, much to the man's displeasure, as his grandfather was unable to ride at that time. The men greatly enjoyed telling him that he was "too fucked up to ride."
Every night, he looked into the eyes of his eagle and spied on Daenerys. She seemed different. More determined and tougher, she worked day and night. At first, she used Jaehaerys' desk, but then she had one made for herself. It was as if she was telling herself that she didn't want to be just the prince's wife, that she wanted to be something in her own right.
Jaehaerys liked to see her like this, although the reasons were not entirely pleasant.
Apparently, Victarion Greyjoy had gone as an "envoy" to Argentstone, seeking Daenerys' hand in marriage. He ended up charred by dragon fire, although Jaehaerys would have crushed his skull just as he had crushed Theon's.
He shook his head; he was now riding beside the young king.
"Winning the war is a matter of time," Aegon said stoically. "The Greyjoys don't have the numbers or supplies to sustain themselves in the long run," he added.
"That may be true. But I advise you not to think that way, nephew," said Jaehaerys. "You never know who might appear from the shadows," he explained. Aegon nodded, having already thought of that. "And... is not just this war. One arrow is enough to kill you." This time, the young king looked at him with a little fear. "After your death, who will be king? Daemon? Viserys? Rhaenys? Me?" Jaehaerys enunciated.
"Despite not being next in line, you are the best option," Aegon said.
"There will be those who think so... those who think Daemon is the best choice, perhaps Viserys. There will be those who seek Rhaenys's hand and set themselves up as kings," he explained. "War may seem easy, but being overconfident is not an option," Aegon nodded.
He understood the consequences of his death; it would not be simple to name a new king. He had no son of his own; despite his numerous attempts with Myrcella, the gods had not yet given them a child. The Greyjoy rebellion could ultimately escalate into an even greater war.
"Do you long for the throne, uncle?"
"I long for peace... I want to explore and see my lands grow," he replied.
"If you were king..." Aegon began hesitantly.
"I'd have to deal with every lord who wants a little more power. They chase power like it's the most beautiful maiden, but it's a cold, empty bitch," Jaehaerys interrupted him; they were alone.
"I know," Aegon whispered in a bitter voice. "Tell me... how much do you know about my father?" His eyes scanned Jaehaerys' face, searching for every reaction.
"Just say what you want to say," Jaehaerys said, without revealing his knowledge.
"R'hllor," Aegon said. "His followers are a plague on King's Landing. Every day, more people believe in the red god. It's subtle now, but it won't always be," Aegon continued. "My father opened the doors to them. He... he made mistakes. Mistakes that need to be corrected."
Jaehaerys remained silent.
If it were up to him, he would expel them from his lands, but he was already in a dispute with the red god. Aegon would turn a religion against him, and his nephew was not him. He could not guarantee that even by going against the red god, he could stay alive.
"You can kill them all. Subtly, of course. You cut off the big heads, the little ones start to get nervous and hide, they stop causing trouble. But that could cause the little heads to conspire while they hide," said Jaehaerys. "And the red god has many followers in Essos. Eliminating them that way is quite complicated," he said without answering.
"I know... I've been considering that, but... I've seen their atrocities."
"And you fear them," Jaehaerys nodded. He couldn't blame him. After believing his daughter was dead, he was terrified at the thought of her falling into the hands of the red god. "Favor the Seven. Let them bear the blame and expel the Red God from King's Landing," he offered advice. "Make sure you don't give them too much power. We don't want another Faith Militant." It was a risky bet, but it was the only thing Jaehaerys could think of that would serve Aegon.
"That... could cause problems for the faith," Aegon didn't seem so convinced.
"Aegon," Jaehaerys called him firmly. "You are king," the young man nodded. "Besides, the faith loves to punish infidels," he shrugged. "Even if they know you intend to use them, they will agree."
"I'll consider it, uncle," Aegon seemed thoughtful.
Jaehaerys was surprised by all the new things he discovered about his nephew. He understood the game. He had lived through his father's reign; he had seen the intrigues and betrayals. But he had a sweet heart. He always asked himself if his actions were the right ones, if they would ultimately hurt others.
He was a good man. Or an incredible actor.
But being a good man does not translate into being a good king. He has to learn that he cannot please everyone, that there will always be people who are hurt by his actions, whether he intends to or not.
Jaehaerys hoped his nephew could change that mindset. The boy was probably too traumatized by his father, so much so that he feared that the slightest sign of hurting someone would put him on the path to his father's madness. And he didn't blame him for that, not when every night he wished he could speed up time, make the armies march faster, make the winds blow the ships' sails faster.
He hid it well enough, but Jaehaerys really wanted war. He wants to kill more Ironborn; he wants to have Euron's neck in his hands and crush it. He wants Balon Greyjoy to lose every one of his sons. He wanted the Iron Islands to be so devastated that they would need centuries to recover. The memory of the crunch of Theon's skull under his fists brought him joy.
'Am I mad too?' he asked himself for the umpteenth time. Even though his daughter was still alive, his hands still sought the blood of others.
And Aegon... Aegon was a good man.
But, although it didn't seem that way to the other lords, Aegon hesitated too much.