Prince Aegon Targaryen
Naturally, Aegon flew to his uncle not only and not so much to boast of his Essosi adventures. Of course, he wished to visit his teacher simply so, and he himself was glad to see him (though he carefully concealed this), but the Prince needed advice from him. After Daemon's careless, yet no less unforgivable words, they began to say at court that the middle brother was not only the Rogue Prince, but also an unworthy heir; Viserys too no longer spoke of the impossibility of choosing between a brother and a daughter, but he had not yet announced the name of the new Prince of Dragonstone.
Aegon understood him fully: Daemon's words had deeply insulted Viserys and, potentially, could lead to a complete rupture—the Prince himself hoped that his brothers had something else in their heads besides bitter tears and dragon dung—but the King was hindered from directly appointing Rhaenyra as heir by the statutes of the Great Council and their living embodiment in the person of Cousin Rhaenys. He did not dare simply reject the foundation thanks to which he ascended the Iron Throne at all—Viserys was not so blind and foolish as to undermine his own power.
The Small Council seemed to embody the discord that reigned in the soul of the Spring King: no one disputed Daemon's rights to the Iron Throne, but neither did anyone defend them openly. The Master of Ships, out of frank vengefulness, stood for the strict execution of the Great Council's decision; the Master of Laws allowed that appointing Rhaenyra heir would cause a schism among the lords due to the contradiction with the decision of the year 101; the Master of Coin, the Grand Maester, and the Lord Chamberlain proposed gathering a new Great Council; the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard maintained neutrality; the Lord Hand threatened a repetition of the horrors of Maegor's reign. There remained, of course, the Master of Dragons, but he knew not how to act.
When Aegon asked advice of Uncle Vaegon, the latter curled his thin lips in a smirk and said:
"Do you remember how we rode to King's Landing after your father's death?"
"I remember," nodded the Prince.
"I have nothing to add to what I told you then. Whomever they choose—the offended and discontented will begin to gather around the loser. Nothing has changed, only the faces. Herein lies the whole essence of dynastic conflict: the actors remain the same, only their masks change."
In the end, Aegon returned to King's Landing on the twenty-seventh day of the sixth month of the year 107, three months after the death of Aemma and Baelon, having no solution. On the one hand, one could take one's time, since the King refused to decide anything before the official seven-month mourning ended. On the other, any delay played into the hands not of the royal family itself, but of those who tried to take advantage of the tragedy and rise on the wave of another's grief. Certain Houses were already saying that the King was still young and could fully well marry a second time: mayhaps a new wife would bring him if not family happiness, then at least a healthy son.
The Red Keep, clad again in mourning, was sullen, grey, and quiet. No one dared disturb the Sovereign's grief, who scarce emerged from his chambers—a couple of times the Small Council had to gather for sessions in one of the King's rooms, and not in their own chamber. The meetings of councilors were routine and boring; no one dared raise the main question—the question of succession—anymore, but everyone felt its presence; it sat at the same table as the King and his eight councilors, and patiently awaited its hour.
Once, after another meeting, Corlys Velaryon lingered contrary to custom, in no hurry to leave.
"My Sovereign, I would like to discuss one more matter," he announced.
"Then why did you not bring it up for general discussion?" asked Lord Otto suspiciously, immediately freezing behind the King's shoulder.
"Because it is a family matter, My Lord Hand. May I speak with my wife's cousins?"
"Naturally," agreed Viserys indifferently and dismissed Hightower with a nod. "You may go, Otto."
Aegon felt objections, suspicions, and prejudices bubbling in the frowning Hand, but he did not dare disobey a direct order. Scarce had the door closed behind him when the Lord of the Tides said:
"I would like to discuss the position of my family, Sovereign."
"Your family?" the King asked again sleepily.
"And its lawful hereditary rights."
"I already said that I shall make no decision until I mourn my wife and son."
"I meant not the Iron Throne, Sovereign, but dragons."
Well, naturally, dragons, grimaced Aegon. He had, of course, managed to curse himself seven times over with the foulest words for that careless and hasty promise thrown out at the Dragonpit before the tragedy struck. A simple promise was not enough for him, so he also swore by fire and blood: he did not scatter such oaths before, and now to break them was quite impossible—not after the Mantarys revelations. In fairness, Corlys showed nobility and did not demand the immediate fulfillment of the promise, but it is quite likely he was moved by sober calculation; it was foolish to count on the King's generosity after a funeral. And yet, now the Lord of Driftmark decided to raise the old question.
"And what is wrong with the dragons?" inquired Viserys. "Is Meleys unwell? Or has she laid eggs by Seasmoke?"
"Prince Aegon, My Sovereign, before... the past tourney promised me that Lady Laena would receive her dragon. He swore to me in this by fire and blood."
"Is this true, Aegon?"
"Yes, my brother," the Prince nodded guiltily, consciously discarding titles.
"My daughter turned fifteen last week, Sovereign," continued Corlys. "And throughout all fifteen years of her life, the Crown, first in the person of your grandfather, and then in your own, has consistently denied her the right to saddle a dragon. The fact that you allowed Laenor to receive Seasmoke seems an unjust infringement on Laena's lawful rights. There is as much Targaryen blood in her as in Laenor; she is blood of the blood of her mother, and Rhaenys is the rider of Meleys. The right to saddle a dragon is Laena's hereditary right, and the Crown's refusal to recognize and realize it is unjust."
And now, thought Aegon, the Sea Snake approached a dangerously thin line; there is nothing more wounding to the pride of any monarch calling himself the fount of grace than an indication that his decision is unjust. Undoubtedly, this is a conscious provocation, but will Viserys fall for it?
"Leave us with my brother, Lord Corlys," asked the King after a small pause. "We shall announce the decision to you a little later."
"Today?" clarified the Admiral just in case.
"If it pleases you so."
The Master of Ships and husband of their cousin rose, bowed briefly, and walked away.
"Will you scold me?" Aegon asked at once.
"No," Viserys spoke wearily, dropping his head into his hands. "I do not wish for quarrels with brothers to become a habit."
They fell silent. Aegon looked at the narrow strip of Blackwater Bay squeezed between the curtain wall of the Red Keep and the summery bright blue sky; to indulge in despondency in such weather is a sin, but his elder brother sinned stubbornly. Still not raising his head, the King asked:
"Why did you promise him this?"
"The Velaryons would not tolerate this forever. Corlys is right when he speaks of Laena's hereditary right to a dragon. Grandmother spoke of the same thing when I was just as dragonless. We cannot forbid the daughter of a dragonrider to saddle her own dragon. I, as Master of Dragons, cannot forbid this, else I shall be a hypocrite. Furthermore, judging by what I have heard of Lady Laena—she is capable of demanding Vhagar for herself. For some time now, I have felt distrust toward maidens striving to saddle old dragons."
"And what prevents Lady Laena from demanding Vhagar now?" inquired Viserys, raising his face. The King used to shave, but after Aemma's death, he was overgrown with whitish stubble that aged him noticeably. Perhaps it was for the best.
"I," answered Aegon simply.
"You will stand between the dragon of the Conquest and a wild maiden?"
"Almost. Trust me. In the end, not only Vhagar lives on the Dragonmont."
"Then act at your discretion," answered the King after thought and added noticeably more strictly. "But henceforth promise nothing to anyone without my knowledge. Perchance I no longer fly on a dragon, but I was the rider of Balerion, and I still stand at the head of this family and this realm. I do not wish for demands to be made of me. Did you understand me?"
"Yes, My Sovereign," Aegon nodded compliantly. What else could he say?
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