Interlude Twenty Eight

Nineteenth day, Eleventh Moon, 261 AC (+340 days)

"Repeat that."

The council chambers were silent.

"I said, 'Repeat that,'" he growled.

The messenger fidgeted nervously before his training took over, and he repeated his message dutifully. The messenger continued, "My Lord also sends this letter for Your Grace, as well as another personal one for Prince Aerys."

"Out. Leave the letters."

The messenger bowed deeply and made haste out the door, past the forbidding presence of the Kingsguard. The young Ser Barristan Selmy made a strong addition to the guard. The strength of each member was paramount, especially now that Duncan was increasingly worn down by age. It was a problem the Throne had not faced before, so something new would have to be done. It did not seem fitting to strip his friend of his cloak after so many years – not to mention the oath Duncan took was one for life.

The Small Council was silent as Aegon thought on the matter. Tywin Lannister had none of the joviality that his father was known for and would likely be a better Lord for it, but he actively went for the most merciless option each time.

Aegon slammed his fist on the table. "Children!"

Aegon's Master of Coin read through the letter. "The letter claims to be from Lord Tytos Lannister and claims that the young Tywin acted in his name. Somehow… I doubt that."

His Master of Ships, Lord Daemon Velaryon, said, "I have only met the man on one occasion, but that is my impression as well."

"Of course, it wasn't truly Tytos' idea!" he said, almost shouting. "It takes a truly callous man to drown a child, let alone dozens of them! This is the first we are hearing of this event, so I can only imagine that it will get worse as the details start to circulate among the smallfolk."

His grandson, Aerys, said, "I'm sure Tywin was just doing what had to be done."

Aegon laughed. "I know that boy – a man now. He likely made things worse and then made what he thought to be the cruelest – or in his opinion, the most effective – choice."

The Master of Laws, Lord Norcross, said, "I regret to say, Your Grace, that there were no laws against this. Since House Reyne was in a state of rebellion, House Lannister has many options legally available to him."

Aerys shrugged. "It's just a few smallfolk that got caught up in putting down traitors."

Aegon's eyes narrowed. "Let it be known, Tywin Lannister is no longer welcome at Court. Neither are Lords Westerling, Banefort, Plumm, and Stackspear. All those involved have no place in civilization after these barbaric acts."

"Grandfather!" protested Aerys.

"Out! Everyone but my grandson out!"

As the room emptied, Aegon stared at Aerys. At 17 years old, he was a grown man. Thin, even after returning from the war, he would never be a warrior king. He would not inspire men to new heights by his own actions on the battlefield. Like Aegon, Aerys would need to rely on his words and his command of his power to succeed. He was a dreamer, like Aegon, but instead of dreaming of a peaceful and prosperous kingdom, Aerys dreamt of greatness. Greatness without a plan.

And he spoke without thought.

But what gave Aegon hope was that Aerys was no Aerion. He had no reports that his grandson hurt others for sport. There was hope for him to become a good king, someone to further Aegon's goals. Someone to strengthen House Targaryen.

Aerys had always had hangers-on but never a true companion. He never had a Duncan the Tall.

"Aerys," said Aegon, slowly, trying to temper his anger. "With your father possibly on his deathbed, though I pray every day for his recovery, you may very well be the next King. You will be my heir. It seems the gods constantly mock my efforts by undermining my every gain. I had just turned a new page with your father… but that is not a topic for you." Aegon sighed. "Your disregard for smallfolk must change if you are to be King. A King is a king of people – for any fool can be king of ashes or a drowned mineshaft. If you want to rule, it is people you need to rule."

"Yes, grandfather," Aerys replied meekly.

"You will cease contact with Tywin, and I shall be sending you on a journey. You have been diligent in learning after that mess during the war, so I hope you can be diligent once more. Learn. Grow."

Aerys fiddled with his hands. "What about Rhaella and Rhaegar?"

"They can wait here. This is important, Aerys," he said, leaning forward. "If you want to be a great king, you need to understand the smallfolk, and you need to learn how to think in detail. I hope a break from Court shall give you that. I shall pray for your safe journey."

"When will I leave?" he asked, slumping in his chair.

"I have things to arrange first, so I shall let you know when that is done."

Aegon dismissed him, and Aerys left the room sullenly.

Only Ser Barristan remained in the room.

Who should he find to be the Duncan to Aerys? He glanced at Ser Barristan but dismissed the thought. Ser Barristan was a good man, but not of the right temperament for such a task. But neither could Aegon simply give a Prince so close to the Throne to another landless knight. But any knight with land was sworn to someone, which meant politics, and the knight might shy away from his task.

Perhaps Duncan would have an idea.

Aegon could not give up. He could not afford to have the next king ruin what he had accomplished. With the end of the Blackfyre line, the Targaryens were more secure than they had been in a century. With the Stepstones under control, and each kingdom tied to it, the realm was as united as it had ever been. Power once more flowed from the Iron Throne, something that had been eroding since the death of the dragons and the reign of several bad kings.

The stronger the Throne was, the more Aegon could do. No matter how strong the Throne was, he knew that he could not make everything better, but, with the gods as his witness, he had to try.