As the Vale had suffered relatively little from the ravages of war, the lords and wealthy merchants of Gulltown laid out an extravagant feast for the queen and her retinue.
There were trout roasted whole and sealed in clay, roast swan glazed with mulberry sauce, quail bathed in cream, pumpkin stewed with fragrant spices, spit-roasted suckling pig, peacock roasted with its feathers still on, and great pike baked and sprinkled with crushed almonds.
The drinks were no less impressive: golden Arbor wine, dark purple vintages, pale ale, peppered beer, dry red from the Reach, honeyed milk, mint tea, and thick sugar syrup.
Bread was passed, aromas rising with it, food and wine in overwhelming abundance.
Rhaenyra, Aegon, and the others had fled King's Landing in disgrace, spending most of October hiding and running through the eastern lands. They had not seen such a lavish banquet in a long while. Even so, mindful of their noble status, they ate with some restraint. Still, fine food and good wine had a way of lifting the spirit.
It seems that after my strength increased, my appetite did too, Aegon thought. His body had grown stronger, and he could now eat and drink far more than before. He was fairly satisfied with his height and looks, Targaryen beauty was, after all, something inherited, but his build was still too slight. He needed to become tougher, stronger. The days ahead would be days of war. After the Dance of the Dragons, those cursed wars came one after another, endless and unrelenting. To eat well, drink well, and fight well, those were the virtues every warrior in Westeros admired.
"May I ask, my lords," Rhaenyra said at last, once everyone was full and wine-flushed, "when you intend to march with Lady Jeyne to answer the king's call, to crush the rebels in King's Landing and wipe out the Greens?"
That was her nature, direct, unable to keep such matters bottled up.
"Your Grace," Lord Grafton replied casually, "we fear we must wait until Lady Jeyne arrives in Gulltown, so that we may discuss matters with her." Lord Egen followed with a nod of agreement.
They're rich, all right, but slippery, Aegon thought. Merchants to the bone.
Grafton's explanation did not convince him. Gulltown had deep ties across the Narrow Sea, ships were not hard to find. There was no chance these lords and merchants could not spare a single vessel, they simply did not wish to help.
After the Storming of the Dragonpit, Queen Rhaenyra had fled King's Landing and taken refuge in Duskendale, sending ravens to Lady Jeyne Arryn for aid. Lady Jeyne had replied that if Rhaenyra could send transport ships to Gulltown, the Vale would dispatch troops. But Rhaenyra lacked both ships and gold. That was not Lady Jeyne's fault, it was the quiet calculation of Gulltown's lords, who offered neither coin nor strength.
"Your Grace," Lord Egen, the Golden Falcon, asked, "what of Lord Corlys? The Velaryon fleet still roams the seas. If we advance by ship from Gulltown, we may face them head-on."
"Corlys… he-" Rhaenyra's expression turned strange. She hesitated, words faltering. She could hardly admit that through her own missteps she had offended the Sea Snake and lost both his magnificent fleet and his fiercely loyal sailors. Had she truly understood the value of Ser Addam's loyalty, she might have treated Corlys with greater care. But war changed too quickly, and now regret came far too late.
"My lords," Aegon said firmly, his voice ringing out, "the Sea Snake will yet stand with us."
A Targaryen prince being precocious was nothing unusual. Even Rhaenyra herself had served as her father's cupbearer at seven, though her talents had never leaned toward politics. King Jaehaerys, too, had been a prodigy in his youth.
"The Greens are already at the end of their strength," Aegon continued. "King Aegon has no heir. My twin sister is Lord Corlys's great-granddaughter. By every measure, the Sea Snake will support our cause."
Corlys Velaryon was cautious, yes, but he still possessed a statesman's heart and a desire to heal the realm. Rhaenyra's slight, painful though it was, did not strike him as something worth destroying the kingdom over.
In the original story, he had even dared to propose young Aegon as king while he languished in chains. Corlys had always thought beyond personal grievance. And anyone with eyes could see it, the Greens were doomed. No dragons, no male heir, and their supporters scattered far away.
"The prince speaks wisely," someone said. Whether from sincerity or obedience, none could tell.
They all looked at Prince Aegon, silver hair, violet eyes, dressed in symmetrical red-and-black velvet, radiant with confidence. Anyone would believe that true dragon blood ran in his veins. Rhaenyra watched her son speak so assuredly and felt a quiet stir in her heart. He was no longer her pale reflection, but a soul with courage of his own. Perhaps suffering had forced him to grow. His father, Prince Daemon, had been a warrior without equal.
She thought of her three dead sons, each brave, each lost. Aegon, she thought, is the fourth.
"Lord Rickard is already preparing to march south," Aegon went on. "The Winter Wolves have proven their ferocity, and we still have the loyal knights of the Riverlands and the Vale. In the end, our cause will prevail."
"But House Baratheon, House Hightower, and House Lannister still retain strength," Lord Grafton objected. "House Baratheon especially, they've suffered little loss. Once they pass through the kingswood, they'll be at King's Landing."
"They are strong, but so are we," Aegon replied smoothly. "The Vale and the North have lost little of their core strength. As for the Hightowers and the Lannisters, their losses have been heavy, and now they are ruled by widows and children. The Lords of the High Tower and the Rock are dead. And both houses must still guard against the Red Kraken's raids. Their reach is long, but their grasp is weak. Deal with the Baratheons, and victory will open its gates to us."
His words carried a subtle, dangerous allure. And indeed, history would unfold much as he described: Riverlords smashing the Baratheon forces, the war ending swiftly, only to give way to a broken age.
"The prince is gifted by nature. Now we see that true dragons are born, not made," someone murmured in awe.
Hearing such words from a child carried far more weight than from a grown man. Aegon showed no fear, no hesitation, his reasoning clear and sharp. If this was not genius, then what was?
When this war ends, Aegon thought, I will cleanse the rot.
What the Blacks won was nothing but a Pyrrhic victory, too costly, too hollow. Men like Unwin Peake would crawl out again, baring their fangs, the guilty spared while innocents filled the graves. Aegon would not allow such suffering. He would conquer the monstrous dragon, and shape the realm by his own will.
Night fell deep and quiet. At last safe, young Aegon was given his own chamber in Gulltown, with luxurious velvet bedding. For the first time in a long while, he slept soundly. A Queen's Guard stood watch outside his door.
After some time, the guard slipped inside, expression furtive.
"Prince, you have a visitor."
"Who?" Aegon asked, surprised. Already someone comes to stoke my fire? A rare kindness in hard times.
The visitor was Lord Grafton.
"Forgive my intrusion at this late hour," Grafton said humbly, presenting gifts, fine clothes, delicacies, things a boy of his age might enjoy.
"No matter," Aegon said with a smile. One did not strike at a smiling face. Let's see how you perform.
"Though I reside in Gulltown, my heart has always beat for the realm," Grafton said bluntly. "Alas, there are too many restraints here. That is why I could not march south to answer the call, nor bring Her Grace and the prince to Gulltown sooner."
Aegon understood at once. Grafton wished to dance upon two eggs at once, Licking Lord Egen's ass while also investing in him.
"In times of hunger and cold," Aegon replied warmly, "such a heart is more than enough. We are deeply grateful."
"Is Lord Egen the one causing trouble?" Aegon asked directly. This was Grafton's city, and his influence ran deeper than Egen's.
"Yes," Grafton answered, startled. So sharp-eyed, a true Targaryen. He betrayed Egen without the slightest hesitation.
Aegon did not bother to expose him. Egen may have represented the majority, but Grafton had surely opposed providing ships as well. Still, all were clever men, no need to press details.
"Kindness and malice alike, I remember them both," Aegon said calmly. "The past is past. For a better tomorrow, will you remain loyal to our friendship, my lord?"
"I will carry the prince's goodwill in my heart and never forget your sincerity," Grafton said, barely containing his joy. The balance between Black and Green was stabilizing. Prince Aegon would surely be king one day. With such favor, the future looked bright indeed.
"Then let us exchange goodwill," Aegon said with a smile.
A double agent for both the Golden Falcon and Prince Aegon, Lord Grafton. The Vale would one day see great war. If Grafton wished to swim between two rivers… why should he not?
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A/N:
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