章節 19: Acknowledgement
I let my eyes linger on the parchments Dalabhar had most kindly prepared for me, double than triple checking the figures.
The ball was a success. People danced, people sang and most, I assume, had a good time. We made a few new allies and while Viserys' speech was nothing to write home about, it had nudged a few prominent Essosi into supporting the Targaryen cause. At least he thought it was down to himself. If Maar was to be believed, an increasingly number wanted the Golden Company to sod off across the Narrow Sea. No doubt the change of opinions was due to extra tribute levied to rebuild our forces. Those greedy bastards.
Despite all the gold flowing into the Company's chests, our financial forecasts weren't looking good. With all the reforms, the army had nearly bankrupted itself and that was no thanks to Illyrio tightening his wallet. Yet as I looked at the incomes, I couldn't be too displeased. If I hadn't been planning to invade an empire and leaving nothing to chance, I would be a very rich young man indeed.
Pentos was now in the early stages of an agricultural revolution. After many hurdles, the seed drills and threshers were proving themselves financially successful and had improved the quantity of grain. Not only had Illyrio been selling my inventions (if without my consent), he'd also been aggressively buying up land. The Flatlands around Pentos were, like the Disputed Lands, extremely fertile and had proven the largest market. Where war had discouraged investment in the Disputed Lands, the peace allowed it to flourish. Long abandoned settlements were being repopulated and the fields were once again being properly tended. Trade flourished and it was Westeros that got the short end of the stick thanks to the Triarchy becoming increasingly self-sufficiency and needing to import less grain despite recent waves of immigration.
That wasn't the only expanding market. We had increased the number of printing presses and business involving them were steadily increasing after much refinement. The Essosi market was much greater than Westeros with its wide range of libraries, book sellers and universities, but even with their business we were barely making an actual profit thanks to the time and resources sank into creating those bloody things. I wasn't foolish enough to expect to be swimming in gold and even expected a loss for some time. Was sadly proven correct on both accounts. Illyrio had complained more than his fair share, but I knew the true value was the speed they could be used to create propaganda. While Stannis and others would need maesters to write messages by hand, we should easily mass produce information without near as much human error.
The benefits of both would serve a great help with the Golden Company's future operations in Westeros which I had titled Operation Kairos. Said future campaign required phenomenal amounts of resources to keep the Company at full capacity and properly supplied. One should never ignore logistics and I was fast gaining sympathy for Homeless Harry Strickland. At least food wasn't much of a problem. Pentos and the Triarchy had a vast surplus of grain ready for the war effort. Unlike Westeros that would suffer from farms being destroyed, we should hold the logistical advantage provided we control the Narrow Sea. The battle of wheat is just as important, if not more so, than those at the front. Not only would grain supply the army, it could also be used to sway lords to our side and build-up support among the smallfolk.
It wasn't easy sailing and we were facing a few problems within the army thanks to rapid expansion. Many men were green as summer grass and plenty of the newly appointed officers were inexperienced. That wasn't helped by the multi-ethnic nature of the organisation making it harder for the men to operate as a cohesive unit without rising tensions between them. I only hoped fighting the Dothraki had separated the wheat from the chaff. Hopefully these problems can be ironed out when we finally land.
Clicking my tongue, I shuffled the papers around and ran a hand through my hair. Looking up, I eyed Lyra leaning on the back of her chair, using a knife to dig the gunk beneath her fingernails. The fact she was humming loudly made it certain she was trying to annoy me on purpose. "Can you stop that?"
She looked up, her neatly trimmed eyebrows furrowing. "Pray forgive me, but I do find watching you read awfully dull. Why am I even here?"
"You have plenty of expenses." I straightened the parchment listing the budget for Lyra's studies, an interesting and head scratching assortment of things she claimed were absolutely required. "A high-quality rug imported from Myr?"
"The rug in my cell had a horrible stain when the frog exploded."
What mad science are you doing in there? I had no desire to press the issue. Lyra had moved her operations to Illyrio's dungeons so no one would be troubled by Khal Drogo's screams. Despite growing desensitised by much of what was going on around me, I didn't want to know. Instead, I continued like nothing was amiss. "Buying yourself a library's worth of books about dark magic. Some imported from Asshai and others from the Black Walls of Volantis, including the Jade Compendium and the Grimoire of Starry Wisdom."
"All are required," she said with a tired sigh. "Aegon, you of all people should know how rare magic is and books about the subject are just as much. The Red Temple holds many in its vaults, available only to those who swear before the Red God. Some of the coin was spent bribing a corrupt red priest so he would steal them for me. Books from Asshai are reputedly the best but are costly. The Black Walls are only thanks to Vaquo. His aunt was quite the mystic and tried hatching herself some dragons eggs alongside some Myrish wizards. Seeing as I don't see dragons flying around, I would conclude she failed, but she did keep records."
"The Church of Starry Wisdom?" I asked cautiously. Isn't that Lovecraft or something?
"The church does carry with it a sinister reputation around the world and is a secretive group, but they do hold some good leads and seem to know what they are talking about even if I disagree about worshipping some black stone falling from the sky."
"Have you learned anything useful?"
"A little. After the Freehold collapsed much knowledge about dragons was lost. Don't know about Westeros, but I heard Baelor the Blessed wasn't a fan of the high arts."
"He burnt any books he believed held dark origins," I grunted. "Dragons, Wyrms, and Wyverns: their Unnatural History by Septon Barth was mostly destroyed, though some fragments remain here and there. I know little of the contents myself, but it examined the origins of dragons and how they come to be controlled by the Freehold. Speculation includes bloodmages using wyverns as stock to create dragons and that they're neither male nor female, but changeable as flame."
"Why tempt me so with talk of this book?" Lyra pouted. "I have some foundation, I like to believe, but seeing as dragons are long since dead, I do believe you will only to end in failure."
"Is this your latest attempt to dissuade me?" She had tried a few times and even threatened to leave before I convinced her about the potential of dragons bringing back magic to the world.
"I tried and failed, and you are remarkably stubborn. I wash my hands of dissuading you, though I will enjoy the look on your face when the eggs will remain eggs."
And I'll enjoy the look on your face when they hatch. I was safe from assuming she would purposely fail. Lyra's pride would ensure she wouldn't self-sabotage. "You hope they remain as such?"
"A part of me does," she admitted, "but another part of me does desire to gaze upon them. I hate dragons as much as I am intrigued by them. They were the beasts that destroyed my ancestors land, but should I follow that same logic, I would say horses should all be eradicated because Dothraki mount them."
"It was the Freehold that destroyed the Rhoynar. They commanded the dragons, just as they commanded horses and elephants against Garlan the Great. Dragons were merely tools controlled by their masters."
"Indeed." She paused and leaned back into her chair, fiddling with her knife. "Pray forgive me, but . . ." She took a breath and looked at me with an expression I didn't think she was capable of – uncertainty. "Dragons produce magic, if what you claim is true, that they concentrate it akin to anchors but far greater. You claim magic will grow stronger at the birth of dragons and that's why I'm doing it. Yet . . . I do feel like I'm betraying my ancestors and everything they stood for. When I die and stand in the Palace of Paradise with the Mother Rhoyne looking upon me, will she and all her court gaze at me fondly after I bring back the monsters that hurt her?"
"Armies razed countless cities and holdings and will continue to do so far into the future. Dragons aren't inherently good nor evil. They are only animals. You know I don't desire Essos. When all is done and your service with me is at its end, you may return to the Rhoyne with the support of a thankful ruler. Rebuild the Rhoynish princedoms if that is your desire. Use magic, and hell, use dragons to push the Volantenes and Qohor and Pentoshi out. Picking at old wounds won't do anything."
Lyra snorted a laugh. "You and your pretty little speeches. I don't want them hatched, but nor am I too blind to see the advantages for myself." She took in a deep breath, producing a sipping sound. "I agreed to help you hatch some monsters and I want to see if Vaquo's aunt is a fraud or as wise as he claims she is."
There are four eggs in need of hatching, and should they do so, we have three people that could hope to ride them: Viserys, a naïve child and myself. What could possibly go wrong?
...
After filling out the paperwork, I was called upon for my lessons with Haldon. While subjects like maths had diminished with importance, history and anything relating to politics were at the forefront now.
Entering, I found Daenerys sitting at the table. She smiled shyly. My tutor was dressed in a plain grey tunic, woollen trousers and sandals. His grey hair was tied back in a bun that emphasised the harsh lines of his face. Haldon did have the face of a teacher unwilling to take any lip from his students. "I see you've finally made it, Aegon. Fortunate you cared to join us."
"Someone needs to make sure you don't misinform the princess," was my glib reply. "Not everyone can be half a maester."
Daenerys failed to repress a laugh and Haldon eyed me with a look that said he was going to be particularly harsh on me this afternoon, just as I had hoped. I needed the challenge.
"Why are you only half of a maester?" Dany asked, intrigued. "I am aware you are not a full maester. But why only half?"
"Well, Princess Daenerys, if you must know, I decided to leave the Citadel in my youth. Sometimes when I'm with the lad I do question whether I made a foolish mistake, but that grave's been dug. Anyone can join the Citadel, be they highborn or low, rich or poor. Upon completing your chain, you must swear a maester's vow and put aside your past life. You swear vows to hold no lands nor titles, to serve the Citadel and remain celibate."
"Similar oaths to that of the Night's Watch and Kingsguard, or that of a septon," I commented. And just like them, maesters tend to break those oaths quite frequently.
"Correct. I went there because I desired to learn, because I desired to become a knight of the mind. Tis a shame I hadn't been fully aware what being a maester involved. I was a rebellious youth, you see. When one becomes a maester, you wear the chain around the neck. A collar to remind you of the realm you serve. I saw it as little more than slavery, and the chains proved that. Oh, they might be chains of all metal known to man, be it black iron, bronze, yellow gold or iron, but they are chains still. I never desired to be enslaved so I left and found my skills were very much in demand. Eventually I found myself in the Golden Company and then teaching Aegon."
"You must have fallen quite far to be teaching me," I said with false sympathy and laid a hand across my heart. Haldon rolled his eyes, then I said, "Mayhaps my eyes are getting worse, but I don't see Viserys Targaryen with us."
"King Viserys is with Magister Illyrio," Haldon informed me mildly. "They are both in his study, making plans for potential marriage alliances to Westerosi houses. Your father offered a few suggestions for Essosi wives, those with Valyrian features from Lys and Volantis, but your future good-brother was adamant to have a Westerosi wife."
I chuckled. "And who has His Grace selected for such an honour?"
"King Viserys desires to court Lady Margaery Tyrell, or the Princess Arianne Martell for fifty thousand Dornish spears."
Dorne doesn't have fifty thousand spears. I would put the numbers much lower, maybe twenty to thirty instead. Still a lot, mind you, and greater than what the Company processed, but it wasn't much compared to the other provinces that formed the Seven Kingdoms. If I was Viserys, I would have gone with the Reach but because I wasn't him, I didn't desire such a decision. Far from it. I needed to ensure he didn't marry someone too powerful. Viserys couldn't be given a power base independent from ours. "Then let's hope it'll be a fruitful and prosperous marriage. We need all the help we can get against the Usurper."
"Indeed." He slapped his cane on the table, making us flinch. "Enough talk. This is going to be a long day and I'd rather not waste time."
The lessons began, as always, with languages. Daenerys knew all the Essosi dialects fluently and was quick to prove herself superior to myself. I expected nothing less. She had been on the run throughout the Free Cities so it would have been strange for her to not be skilled with tongues. While she aced it, I was struggling so Dany did assist with the ones I was less confident about. Afterwards we moved to mathematics which Dany was having trouble with, as were ninety-nine percent of Westeros apparently. From what it seemed, anything more advanced than adding and subtraction was viewed as a form of dark magic that was used to summon Lovecraftian horrors for how looked down upon it was. No wonder Littlefinger could run rampart for so long thanks to the royal court being unable or unwilling to even examine his accounts. Perhaps because of this, my lessons were not much above standard secondary school level, so I allowed myself to kick back and relax. After some exercises, we moved onto geometry where we learned the magic that came in the form of circles and squares and other shapes. While more complicated than numbers, it was still easier than languages. It was all clearly new to Daenerys so she needed aid with the more advanced stuff. Repaying the minor debt, I helped her and explained how everything worked.
Moving away from maths and shapes, Haldon talked to us about moral and political philosophy which was taught throughout Essos to install civic virtue in their young elite. It was something I was learning more of and Haldon opened up the lesson with, "Can either of you tell me why they refer to kings as shepherds?"
To which my snide answer was, "Because they both lead herds of unruly bleating sheep of limited intellect?"
Haldon gave me a pointed look. "How droll. Interesting observation but no."
Then he went on a monologue on how kings are meant to rule. How they must tend to their herds and how a monarch was meant to achieve that. To aid us, Haldon provided both me and Daenerys treatises on what a ruler should inspire to be, how they should rule and conduct themselves. Most were for Essosi politicians but said skills could easily translate to feudal systems. I enjoyed the talks of politics with Haldon and we perhaps spent too much debating to the exclusion of Daenerys who took it as a slight until I begged forgiveness which she accepted with a gracious smile.
When we finally got to Westerosi history, Daenerys was growing restless. Not that I could blame her, we had been working nonstop for the last few hours. Even I was beginning to grow restive. It didn't help that the period Haldon decided was King Aerys the Second's reign. Daenerys had been delighted but I doubted it would end well.
"The last Targaryen king of the Seven Kingdoms ascended the Iron Throne upon the death of his father, King Jaehaerys Targaryen the Second of his Name, after little more than three years of rule," the Halfmaester began. "The newly crowned king was well loved during his early years. Reputed to be generous, he had fought gallantly in the Stepstones during the War of the Ninepenny kings."
"He was a warrior," Dany said happily. "Viserys told me stories of our father's skill in arms. That he was reputed throughout the realm and near as good as Ser Arthur Dayne or Ser Barristan Selmy in his prime. Pray, do tell me that he was as good a king as he was a knight, as chivalrous as he was noble."
Haldon looked at her for a moment than took a breath. "Your father, princess, was not a good king."
Her smile turned upside down. "What?"
"King Aerys was not the most diligent of princes, nor the wisest. He did have undeniable charm and wit that won him many friends during his time at court and made even more in the Stepstones. There he gained his closest friends in the newly lorded Ser Steffon Baratheon, a young Tywin Lannister, and many others. But while he was well liked, your father proved himself to be vain, proud and changeable. Those traits made him easy prey for flatters and lickspittles."
"Surely they were trying to deceive my father for their own ends. Surely?"
"I think that's why he means by flatters and lickspittles," I commented drily under my breath.
"Aegon is correct. Flatters can be found in every court in the known world," Haldon told her. "But your kingly father's court had many and more. The lords and advisers surrounding him were men who would agree with His Grace on every decree no matter how obscene. Still, the late king had no lack of ambition. Upon his coronation, your father declared he wished to be the greatest king in the history of the Seven Kingdoms and upon hearing that, many encouraged his actions, guessing he might one day be remembered as Aerys the Wise or Aerys the Great."
And instead became a mad tyrant. Daenerys remained silent, only glaring at the Halfmaester with an expression like stone.
"While his late father's court was made of older men, seasoned and knowledgeable and many who had served during the reign of King Aegon the Fifth, Aerys dismissed them all, replacing them with lords of his own generation, close friends and heirs of powerful houses. He retired the aged and cautious Lord Hand Edgar Sloane and named in his place Ser Tywin Lannister, the heir of Casterly Rock. At only twenty years of age, Ser Tywin was the youngest Hand in the history of the Seven Kingdoms and many maesters say that was the wisest decision your father had ever made."
"But Lord Tywin betrayed my father," Daenerys said defensively. "He was a traitor."
"He did indeed, princess. But before that, he had served faithfully for all his years as Hand of the King. The two of them had been close friends. Both served as royal pages and, with Lord Steffon Baratheon, the three became inseparable. When your father was to be knighted, it was Ser Tywin who had received the honour. When he was king, Aerys was lively and active in his early years. He loved music, dancing and masked balls. It was seen by many to be a cultural renaissance in Westeros. Painters and artisans were brought in from around the world and were granted generous patronages from the king and his courtiers. He wanted his court to be one of art and beauty, to be a king of culture and renown. That wasn't all he'd done, for His Grace had been full of grand schemes. Not long after he was crowned, King Aerys announced his intent to conquer the Stepstones and make them a part of the realm. Later he intended to the expand the realm by building a new Wall a hundred leagues north the existing one and claiming all the lands between. When offended by the stink of King's Landing, he spoke of building a white city entirely of marble on the south bank of the Blackwater Rush. After a dispute with the Iron Bank of Braavo regarding money borrowed by his father, King Aerys announced he would build the largest war fleet in the history of the world to bring the Titan of Braavos to its knees. Another and perhaps most foolish, was to build canals in Dorne by digging them beneath the mountains to make the Dornish deserts bloom."
Sounds like the kind of schemes an Insert would do, I thought uncharitably.
"Did any of these actually come to be?" Dany asked, her voice quiet and plastered across her comely face was the expression of one's entire world view beginning to fall apart in slow motion.
"None of them came to be, princess," Haldon said with a sympathetic look. "Your father was a man of great ambitions, but he lacked the motivation to see them through. Those claims made him well loved whenever he said them, no doubt by his court encouraging such actions with endless praise. Yet the ideas never lasted long. The second Wall would be impractical and costly. Conquering the Stepstones would invite war with Essos. Lord Tywin Lannister paid back the Iron Bank with his own coin from Casterly Rock. Your father grew bored of such ideas once he made plans to put them to work. Yet still, the Seven Kingdoms prospered."
"I . . . I don't want to hear anymore," Daenerys declared, sounding stronger but her voice hitched. "My father was a good man. A talented king who was betrayed by those he came to trust."
"Your father was not a good man, princess," Haldon told her. "There is a reason he was called the Mad King. Has no one ever told you?"
"He was called the Mad King by the Usurper and his dogs. They called him the Mad King to justify their actions and destroy father's reputation. It had not worked. The smallfolk love him."
She wasn't completely wrong with that. Some smallfolk may indeed be loyal to Mad King Aerys. Though I would put that down more to the fact they weren't victims of the tyrant's actions and when the smallfolk were believing that, the War of the Five Kings was in full force. With all the destruction, no doubt they were looking back to the more-or-less stable reign of the last Targaryen king with nostalgia goggles.
"If my father had done wrong . . . it isn't his fault. It's the fault of his advisers. They must have lied to him and done wrong by him in some way. Father trusted them but they grew too ambitious . . . power corrupted them—"
"Power doesn't corrupt. Power reveals. When you finally get enough power to do what you always wanted to do, you will experiment until you reach the limits of what you are capable of. When people say power corrupts, that is inaccurate for people are always corrupt and it simply gives them the opportunity to indulge in their fantasies, be they mild or extreme. It is not a corrupting force for how people use power depends on their own values."
"Or, in another way, people corrupt power," was my response.
"Princess Daenerys Targaryen. I am a teacher and knowledgeable in history for that was what I most regularly studied at the Citadel and was there during your kingly father's reign. Why do you come here to learn, when you refuse to listen to truth? Why do you close your ears?"
"But it's not true." She sounded desperate. "You must be misinformed or lied to. Surely you are wise enough to see the truth."
Finally, I decided to step in. "Daenerys, do you know what happened in after Duskendale?"
She turned to me and shook her head.
It was Haldon who explained, "Duskendale is regularly seen as the catalyst for the downwards turn of your father's reign. Before that point, relations between your father and Lord Tywin had long soured. After hearing words of Lord Tywin being the true ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, your father grew increasingly distrustful of his Hand. When Lord Denys Darklyn asked for a new charter and autonomy for his town, he was denied, and his lordship refused to pay taxes. In a moment of arrogance and foolishness, your father approached Lord Daenys where he was captured and imprisoned. When it was done, and I'm sure you heard the story of Ser Barristan, the houses of Darklyn and Hollard were put to the sword. When His Grace returned to the court, your father was a changed man, believed to have come about by being locked up in the dungeons and tortured. The king would no longer allow anyone to touch him and, as a result, his hair and fingernails grew longer and longer. No blades were permitted near him other than those worn by the kingsguard and his judgements grew increasingly severe and crueller. The only time your father left the Red Keep was to attend the tourney of Harrenhal."
"Please stop. I don't want to hear it. Not now. Not now."
But Haldon didn't stop. "Do you know why the lords rose up in rebellion against him, Princess Daenerys? Are you aware that your father broke his feudal obligations as King of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm when he executed Lord Rickard Stark and his heir Brandon in cold blood? Are you also aware he demanded the heads of Eddard Stark and Lord Robert Baratheon from Lord Jon Arryn of the Vale despite them being innocents of any wrongdoing?"
"I-I . . ." I could swear there were tears in her eyes. Was Dany about to cry? "You are lying. You . . . this is not true. Viserys always said my father was a good king. A good man. That he . . . that he . . ." Daenerys Targaryen stood up and rushed out the room, red faced and red eyed.
Haldon only sighed. "I'm not paid enough to deal with crying princesses," his eyes seemed to say.
Class dismissed I suppose. "Thank you for the lesson, Haldon. I apologise on behalf of—"
"There is nothing to apologise for. You had done nothing. Daenerys walked away for she refuses to see her father be blamed for his own actions. Tis a shame it is so."
"She was told otherwise," I defended her cautiously. "You can't just expect one to change their world view and how they thought everything worked. Viserys had been teaching her King Aerys was the bestest king Westeros ever had."
"Bestest?" Haldon shook his head. "Might I ask you to stop making up words, Aegon. She might come to her senses in time. I do not doubt that and acknowledge she'll need to. She is a wise girl for her age, and a quick learner, but she needs to be refined. We'll have more lessons and hopefully Daenerys can be given a more favourable view of your house."
Propaganda? "I hope you don't. I understand the reasoning, but Daenerys should know the complete truth with no skipping of the details both good and bad. Myself as well."
"Just so, Young Griff."
...
I found Daenerys sitting alone beside the marble pool in the largest garden. The air was spicy from the surrounding trees and it shimmered in the heat. She was staring at her own reflection, watching ripples after running her hands through the cool water. "Are you ok, Daenerys?"
"Ok?" She asked, confused.
I smiled and sat down beside her. "Good to know you are, princess." I chuckled and she shook her head like I was speaking gibberish. "With what Haldon said, he—"
"He was lying. I know it," Dany said, voice breaking. "Viserys wouldn't have lied to me. He—your Halfmaester is wrong. Was he truly trained by the Citadel? If so, he would have known and not been kicked out."
"Haldon was never kicked out. He left and it was his choice."
Dany glared at me. "Just so. My father, the king, was a good man."
"Once, I assume he was," I lied as nicely as I could. I always thought Aerys was a prick, even during his early years, thanks to being raised with a silver spoon in his mouth and parental figures scared of hurting the feelings of the future king. But it was Duskendale that turned him into the monster we come to know. "But that doesn't absolve the fact of what he became. I know you hate them, but Baratheon, Stark and many others wouldn't have rose up if they didn't have a reason for it."
"They killed children. The Kingslayer—"
"Aye. They did. Lord Tywin killed you nephew and niece in cold blood and presented their corpses and that of their mother to Robert Baratheon. He smiled and rewarded Lord Tywin for his actions. They should be punished accordingly and face justice. If the Rebellion sought to rebel against tyranny and unjust murder, they stained their cause with their own actions."
"You act like it was justified."
"Kingship isn't absolute and runs on consent of the governed, and those who are governed are the lords. If you were being ruled by an oppressive king, would you tolerate their actions or put someone better in charge, someone you believed is just?"
Daenerys eyed me suspiciously. "Is this a trick?"
"How is this a trick?"
"You're trying to make me agree with you in a way I can't refuse."
I ran a hand down my face. "What I'm saying is that you need to see the full picture. Understand why they rebelled against your father and installed Robert Baratheon in his place. You need to know the truth of your ancestor's past if just to avoid repeating their mistakes. King Aerys Targaryen was a tyrant. Don't believe me or Haldon, ask Ser Jon Connington. He was friends with your brother and served King Aerys as Hand of the King. He was in the royal court at the time and knows first-hand."
Dany glared. "I will do so. Where is he?"
After some searching, we found Connington in the sparring room butchering some straw dummies he had already disembowelled for all the straw carpeting the ground before him. The knight had removed all the blue dye from his hair so it had returned to a red mane beginning to grey from age. While he'd been clean-shaven as Old Griff, he had started to grow back his beard and his rugged face was slick with sweat.
I called Jon's name and he turned around, face softening once he noticed Dany beside me. "Princess Daenerys, Aegon." He bowed his head respectfully, still breathless from must have been a vigorous bout.
"Ser Jon Connington," was my polite response. "I see the straw dummy is dead and you are gasping. I assume it put up a fight?"
"Not as much as I would have liked. I desired to spar against Blackheart or Duck or even that Summer Islander – I forget his name – but they are in Pentos for business." I was intrigued but I didn't have time to ask when Jon continued, "May I ask why the princess is here? Surely you don't intend for her to pick up a sword."
That may not be half a bad idea. I'll have to think on that. I examined her. While she didn't have the height nor build, I could always teach Daenerys to use a knife for self-defence. Dany blushed and I said, "Not as of yet. We were looking for you, ser. We have a few questions we need to ask of you."
"Ask of me?" Jon Connington put the sword away on the rack. "I'm all ears, Aegon. What questions do you wish to ask of me?"
Daenerys spoke up. "You were the Hand of the King for my late father, correct?"
Jon paused for a moment, his features tightening for a moment. "You are correct, princess. King Aerys selected me after dismissing Lord Owen Merryweather who had proven himself weak during his late tenure as Hand of the King. Lord Merryweather's response to Robert Baratheon's rebellion was sending missives to the lords of the Seven Kingdoms declaring the rebel's outlaws and demanding their heads. Being no Tywin Lannister, few cared to heed him. He was weak and ineffective, so your late father thought Lord Owen was conspiring against him. His Handship was stripped of his respective seats and titles and exiled for his failure. I promised to deliver your father Robert's head and led the royal army to Stoney Sept after the stag's defeat at Ashford."
"We came to ask you what King Aerys was like during his later years as king," I said slowly. "Whether he was truly as the stories claim."
He looked at me, then Daenerys. "King Aerys . . ." Jon paused, trying to carefully select his words.
"Speak freely, ser," Dany urged him on. "Pray, do tell the truth."
"King Aerys was a fine king early on in his reign."
"But not later?" Dany deflated. "Is it really true?"
"There is truth in the words, princess," Connington told her. "King Aerys had grown paranoid and saw enemies everywhere, be they true friends or foe. He even saw Prince Rhaegar as his enemy."
"Why would he?" Dany's voice hitched. "My brother was his oldest son, his heir. What cause would father have to distrust him?"
"Your brother, Rhaegar—it was known throughout the court that the king mistrusted his oldest son. There was a growing tension between the factions loyal to the king and those loyal to the Prince of Dragonstone. The court was so tense and divided that Grand Maester Pycelle said how it strongly resembled the royal court before the Dance of the Dragons and it was feared that civil war could break out unless some accord satisfied both factions. Those who stood behind your brother were young lords, knights of renown and heirs of great houses, and the Dornish. Your father had many older lords who would fight for him. To those he saw as enemies, King Aerys was known far and wide to be cruel, but to those he deemed friends, he showered them with wealth and titles."
"You were loyal to my brother and not your king?"
"I will confess, Princess Daenerys," Connington shuffled with a look that shouted how much he'd rather be anywhere else. "Your brother was a true knight and would have made a great king. He showed such promise."
Then he started rattling off on all of Prince Rhaegar's many 'positive' qualities. Damn Jon. I thought you had a boyfriend in Myles. Do you have to betray him by gushing over your dead crush? I did block out his words of Rhaegar and Dany's eyes widened as she listened with clear admiration. Perhaps I'll have to wean them both off Rhaegar's cock as well.
There are not enough words in the English language to list my distaste of the guy. The fact everyone gushed over him, be it Cersei, Joncon or Ser Barristan, made me think everyone was deliberately being stupid. In no way could I imagine Rhaegar being smart. He was a stupid prince, the most stupid of princes, one that would have destroyed the Seven Kingdoms with his shortsightedness even if Aerys didn't decide to perform one of his famous barbecues. He was a failed politician, a failed commander and warrior and I suspected he believed the world resolved around himself because if you truly believe you're the chosen one, you're not right in the head. That's not even talking about the stupid romanticism surrounding him. He died whispering a woman's mouth on his lips . . . Shouldn't he be wearing a helmet, face down in the river, in the middle of the battle where people were looting his not-yet-dead corpse? But then again, dying of a collapsed lung filling with blood while struggling for breath, all while being looted, doesn't sound half as romantic nor the kind of tale to make the maidens' panties wet. Oh, I almost forgot how he treated his wife and two children. Just thinking that made me want to go to the Trident just so I could stomp on his face a few times.
Ok, I considered myself slightly biased on the matter.
I was unsure how long I'd zoned out, but they were still talking about Rhaegar and how gosh-darn perfect he was. Allowing Dany this moment, I stood to the side of the discussion. Eventually me and Daenerys took our leave and Joncon returned to his straw dummies, though not with the same fervour as before. I offered her my arm which she accepted with a resigned look across her face.
"You were right, it seems," Dany said after a moment of walking down the empty hallway. "I never knew my father in truth. He died before I was born. All that I know of him is what Viserys had told me. If . . . if even half of what said is true, I need to know. I need to know everything about father and mother, both good and ill."
What about your brother Rhaegar? Would you be willing to hear the bad about him? "That would be a wise cause of action, princess." I offered her a smile but she didn't return it.
"I didn't believe you, truth be told. You are a Blackfyre and despite your words, I couldn't take your words for truth with everything that has happened between our houses. I believed you were . . . I thought you were dishonest in your intentions."
The stain of our history will not be removed for some time, it seems. "We are to be married and I'll be working closely beside your brother when we finally invade Westeros. We need to trust one-another, and I have no intentions of going against House Targaryen. I know we can't forget what has happened, but we shouldn't let that cause us to distrust each other. Alliances built on sand never survive the first waves crashing into them." But can we build trust with just words?
"I suppose not," Daenerys Targaryen allowed.
Not knowing where to go and still with her arm on mine, I led Daenerys back to the garden where the sun was shining down on the marble pool surrounded by marble pillars decorated with lush green ivy. Sitting on the stone ledge, she ran her hand through the water. The pond was stocked with tiny golden fish that either fled or cautiously approached and nibbled curiously at her fingers. Dany giggled.
"Do you think Aegon's Red Keep has a pool like this, and fragrant gardens full of lavender and mint? I know you weren't there, but do you imagine it? Viserys always said the Seven Kingdoms are more beautiful than any other place in the world and he's been there. The Red Keep was made by our ancestors and is meant to look like the home of kings."
Looking down at the pond, I said, "I'm certain the Seven Kingdoms are beautiful. I can't speak for it, of course. Unlike you, I wasn't even born in Westeros and perhaps because of this, I don't think it'll compare to Essos. They are two different continents and it would be wrong to say each weren't without their charms. The Red Keep though? I assume it is a handsome structure for sure, but compared to my father's manse? There is no competition."
Dany pursed her lips, eyeing me for a moment before sending a tidal wave of water at me. The water hit my chest and I leapt to my feet. Daenerys let out a high laugh, throwing her head back and shacking her shoulder. While Dany was a girl more like to giggle, her true laugh was certainly memorable and usually interspaced with a snort that sounded so unbecoming of a princess of House Targaryen.
I let out a colourful curse beneath my breath as water ran down my neck and into my boots. "Seems your hand must have slipped," I said drily.
"It must have," she smirked playfully as she leaned her back over the water.
I was sorely tempted to push her into the pool, though I doubted she would have cared for that. Instead, I held in my anger and returned to my seat beside her, trying hard not to frown at the cheeky look she was giving me. Running a hand through my hair, I said, "And now Septa Lemore is going to lecture me about getting my clothes wet."
Daenerys playfully pushed my shoulder. "It was only water, you big baby. Consider it a little payback."
"You really want to escalate this into something you can't win?"
Looking me up and down, she smirked mischievously. "You think I can't?"
"I've had much experience in the art of throwing people in water, actually," I said as if that meant something. I couldn't compete to the sports played in the Water Gardens, true, but after fighting Serpent Squad, I was sure to beat Dany should she try to push me into the pool. "Do you really want to start another Blackfyre Rebellion?"
A sparkle appeared in Daenerys' eye. Pretty eyes. Large and violet and innocent but held in them a playful charm. Without thinking, my hand found her cheek, cupping it in a callused palm. Dany's skin was smooth and unusually hot, a pleasure to touch. Her cheeks only grew hotter as colour crept into them. Seriously, what are you doing? Daenerys was only a child and I was, well, an adult in a teen's body. I was about to let go until I heard someone's footsteps and, in the corner of my eye, saw a familiar shape. A stupid smile tugged at my lips and I closed the distance.
"What are you two doing!"
We stopped, lips near touching and turned around, dropping my hand from her face only to see Viserys staring daggers at me. I smiled my most innocent smile.
The Beggar King wore a rich doublet emblazoned with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen in rubies and scarlet silk, a long red cloak around his shoulders and that gilded sword on his hip. Shadowing him was Ser Jorah Mormont, the exiled creep from Bear Island. The knight wore mail and leather and a face made for scowling. He was scowling now. At the night of the dance, Ser Jorah Mormont had bent the knee, offered his sword to Viserys who accepted most eagerly and now the knight served as the Targaryen's personal bodyguard.
The Targaryen king strolled forward, eyes not leaving mine. "What are you doing?" he repeated, voice turning into a growl.
"Vis—" Dany was silenced by his gaze and was quick to shy away.
"Answer me," Viserys demanded, shooting me a glare before looking down at my tunic, lips twisting. "Why are you wet? Go for a little swim?"
"Your sister threw me into the pool," I said nonchalantly. "I got a little wet as you can see."
"We can see," the exiled knight said with a grim face.
Ser Jorah Mormont wasn't a handsome man by any means. He had a thick neck and shoulders like a bull, coarse black hair covering every part of him from his arms and face but leaving none for the top of his head. He was also in his late forties, highlighting the wrongness of his actions regarding Daenerys. Just remembering that made me subconsciously grasp my dirk, though I resisted the urge to thrust it into the man's eye. He even looks a paedophile. Granted, that may be some exaggeration, but he did molest Daenerys while she was naked, not to mention grooming an impressionable young girl. It didn't make me like him and it must have shown because Ser Jorah had grown a disliking towards me as well.
"Why were you kissing my sister?" Viserys went back on track from his slight departure.
"I wasn't kissing her." I was about to truly do so, to my shock, and put it down to the hormones. Keep control of yourself. This is not Britain. Don't act like it is by having a little snog.
"You looked like it. You were touching her."
"Mayhaps we should leave," Dany said, about to stand up before I grasped her arm and smiled at her, though my eyes were directed at her brother.
"Why leave? We're not hurting anyone and besides, a true dragon doesn't bend."
Viserys didn't like that. "You should leave," he told me, moving his hip to show his sword as if I'd forgotten he always carried one on his person. "My sister can stay. I have some words I mean to tell her."
"Is that how you treat your future good-brother?"
He laughed, a bitter sound that carried no love. "We are not family, Blackfyre. Remember that. Oh, I might have offered my sister for an army, but that doesn't make us kin."
Wasn't the best welcome to the family speech I'd received, which was a shame. "Tis true, but I do believe you promised me to your sister so it would be most strange if I was forbidden to see her."
"It is not strange at all, Blackfyre. I'm the head of House Targaryen and she's my sister so she does as I say. I am the king and she's a princess, so she does as I say. You bent the knee and I am your master, so you do as I say."
I glared daggers at him. "Daenerys can do as she wills. You may be her brother and king, and I swore a vow to serve you, but this manse is my father's and he's the host while you lot are guests. Speaking with Illyrio's voice, I say she's free to do as she likes under this roof." And any other.
Viserys looked surprised for a moment, then his face tightened. "Are you refusing me?"
"I am and I say you should leave." Even the kings of England bent to the wishes of their lords.
"You dare!" he screamed. "Do give commands to me? To me?" He stormed forward, face flushed, and a hand wrapped tight around his sword tilt as if to threaten me. "You are the descendent of bastards and traitors. Your parents were a bedslave and a cheesemonger. I am the son of a king; I am the king. Have you forgotten your place, or do you think because you were promised my sister's hand, that you stand as my equal?"
I'm not your equal, vermin. I'm your superior. My fingers brushed the handle of the dirk. If he wanted blood, I was more than happy to give, guest rights be damned. Despite being outclassed, I had been taught to defend myself and I was confident enough that I could give Viserys a mortal wound before either he or Jorah unsheathed their swords.
"Please, Viserys!" Dany moved between us, her arms spread wide before touching his sword hand to stop him from drawing his blade. "Please, don't do anything! Don't hurt him!"
That was a mistake. His anger turned from me to her. "You do not command the dragon. You don't get between the dragon and his prey! I am the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and I won't be given orders to from a traitor's slut, do you hear me?" He made a move to slap her out the way, but Daenerys pushed him, hard.
Viserys stood taller than his sister, and Dany was slight, so the push wasn't all that strong. But from how his face shifted, it might have been. Rage twisted his features and I knew that he would hurt her badly. Instincts taking charge, I grabbed Daenerys shoulder and pushed her behind me. "You will not lay a finger on her," was all I said to him.
"You seek to horde her to yourself and use my own sister against me?"
Isn't that what I've been doing since she got here? "I seek to protect her. From you, if needs be."
"Ser Jorah, hit him." He turned to his knight. "Hit him. Get him out the way, the king commands it!"
If one would assume Ser Jorah was going to stand back and do nothing, you were wrong. The Northern knight stepped forward and began to unsheathe his sword but was quick to turn his head and return the blade to its scabbard when a column of Unsullied household guard charged forward, led by their captain and Jon Connington whose face was as red as his hair. Knowing that would certainly have ended in their deaths, Viserys and company retreated.
With his hand resting atop his sword hilt, Jon watched Viserys and Jorah leave before turning back around to us, his craggy face twisting with narrowed eyes. He wasn't happy. "What was going on here? Did you give them cause to almost draw their swords?"
You blame me? I felt my face redden in anger at the allegation.
Before I could say anything, it was Dany who replied as she stared at her hands. "I pushed him. I pushed him." She sounded surprised, though full of wonder as if such a thing was impossible.
"You pushed your king?" Connington asked, confused.
"She did," I almost laughed and tried hard to keep from smiling. There is the fire inside you. Looks like it's been ignited.
"I . . . I shouldn't have. I shouldn't have laid a finger on him let alone a hand. It was wrong of me. He was my brother – my king. Oh gods, Eg-Aegon, do you, you think . . ." she shivered.
"During the time of the Targaryens, it was a crime to lay a hand upon the king of Westeros," Connington frowned. "If you weren't a crown royal, he could have had your hand off for that."
Viserys is king in name only. Even those pledged to serve him see him as nothing more than a tool to be later disposed of. "Daenerys did the right thing," I said, offering the girl an encouraging look. "It was somewhat foolish, it must be said, and you could have got hurt." Dangerously close to. Just fortunate the household guard arrived in the nick of time . . .
"What caused this?" Jon asked me, his face softening.
"Me and Dany were sitting by the pool. We were only talking and Viserys came along. I may have said some things and—"
"Don't say foolish things than. Should you give people cause against you, they will take offence. I thought you knew, and Daenerys, you—"
Once more, Dany looked to be shaking and stared at Jon's feet. "I know. It was foolish of me. I shouldn't have. I woke the dragon, didn't I?"
Despite myself, I laughed. Daenerys turned to me, confused. "He's no dragon, princess. A dragon is be a magnificent beast. Proud yes, but not the kind to start a fight over some petty words. You have nothing to fear from your brother. He isn't a dragon. He's little more than a snake, though I do think snakes would be offended by the comparison."
"But he's got Ser Jorah at his side. Doesn't that scare you?"
"He's got a bear. I've a duck," I smiled. "Should he even poise a threat, you need to remember that this manse is swarming with both Golden Company men and Unsullied. They won't let any harm come to me, nor let any come to you."
"He is the king," Connington reminded me.
And who are you loyal to, Ser Jon? While he might be a Rhaegar loyalist who jumped onto the Targaryen bandwagon for some meaning and revenge against the Baratheons as well as Varys for the whole deception, I doubted he would go out his way to protect Viserys. He never did before and why would he protect someone like Viserys over a boy he came to see as a son?
"He is the king. It would be wrong to lie and say Aegon did not aggravate him," her voice was stilted. "You had sworn him your sword, you swore an oath."
"I did, princess," I allowed. "Though I ask you this one question and I want you to answer it as honestly and swear on the honour of House Targaryen. Do you truly want to see Viserys sit the Iron Throne?"
She paused for quite a while, and before answering, looked around to see if Viserys was still there. "He will not be a good king, will he?"
"He was about to slap you, so you pushed him away. That is not the attitude I would want to come from a king. What you did was brave."
"Was it?"
"Indeed. Very brave." I smiled warmly and she blushed. She did blush prettily.
"He tried to slap you?" Connington asked. "Why didn't you say that before? You . . . if that is true, then maybe . . ." He ran a hand through his hair. "Pray forgive me, the both of you, but I needs speak with someone. Excuse me." He bowed his head and walked away.
When Jon had gone, we once more sat beside the pond. "Aegon, do you think Westeros will rise for my brother? Your father says they are sewing dragon banners and praying for his return."
"The smallfolk or the lords? There are those who desire the return of the Targaryens, but just as many stand opposed. Most don't care. The smallfolk care not for who rules them so long as they are safe, have food on the table, healthy children and rain for their crops. Most smallfolk won't see the lords who rule them, and few ever have the chance to glimpse royalty in their lifetime."
"But surely they care about who is their rightful king?"
"They want to live their lives in peace and quiet. Why should they care who sits the Iron Throne in King's Landing? Do you care who rules in Yi Ti? To them, both are just as far away as each other. In their minds, kings are nothing more than a name and idea. I wouldn't say you can't get them to care, however. Every smallfolk is a person with their own desires and wishes. Most are humble and as numerous as grains of sand on a beach, but they shouldn't be underestimated nor are they powerless. They are no great lord or knight who were taught with the sword, but many discovered the hard way how dangerous the smallfolk are when truly angered. Maegor the Cruel when fighting the Faith, Rhaenyra when the smallfolk stormed the Dragonpit, Daeron the Young Dragon when the Dornish rose up."
Daenerys looked at me for a moment, her face blank with resigned realisation. "They won't rise for him. Would anyone rise for us? He will never take the Seven Kingdoms, now will he?" She didn't sound shocked.
"You don't think so?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Even with the Golden Company, it won't be enough. Those who lead his army look down on him. It is clear they are more than loyal to you. They only follow my brother because their own loyalty to the black dragon. He has no coin and lives on your father's charity. The clothes on his back, even the sword at his hip is borrowed. He only has Ser Jorah Mormont at his side. He will not take us home."
He can't. But you can.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票