The Council and the Future

69 AC

Small Council 

Aemon Targaryen's POV

Aemon sat in the small council chamber, listening carefully as the conversation swirled around him. Over the past two years, these meetings had become part of his routine, a crucial way to learn about the realm he was set to rule one day.

When his father, King Jaehaerys, had named him heir to the Iron Throne in 62 AC, the responsibilities that came with it slowly began to take shape. Attending the small council meetings, where decisions about the realm were made, was a necessary part of that preparation. Today, however, felt different.

Today, the discussions had a particular weight. Master of Coin, Lyman Beesbury, and the Hand of the King, Septon Barth, were deep in conversation, praising the immense success of the black roads—Dragon Tar, as it had come to be known.

"Your Grace, 'Black roads' as they are being called." Beesbury addressed the king, "The impact has been remarkable. Travel between the cities has been shortened by days, sometimes weeks. Bandit attacks on caravans have nearly ceased in the Crownlands, and we've seen an influx of traders from across the Narrow Sea, some even considering settling in King's Landing permanently, given the promise of development in Westeros, under the last dragonlords and the potential of other long lost wonders form Valyria."

Aemon couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. Dragon Tar was Baelon's idea, and it turned out to be one of the most significant innovations the kingdom had ever seen. Roads were the lifeblood of any kingdom, and with safer and faster travel, trade flourished.

Even the once-impoverished capital was starting to see prosperity that had been a dream just a few years ago. For he knew the truth, that an 11-year-old boy to have thought of this, Aemon mused, 'It will be uproar in the realm'. Baelon truly was extraordinary.

But the conversation took a more uncomfortable turn when Grand Maester Elyser spoke up, his tone pushing subtly but persistently for a change.

"Your Grace," the Grand Maester began, "I believe it would benefit the realm greatly if we shared the secret of Dragon Tar with other regions—particularly the Reach. Their fertile lands produce an abundance of grain that could be transported more easily with improved roads, feeding not just the capital but the entire kingdom, ensuring food security for us all."

Aemon's instincts kicked in, his body tensing as he leaned forward in his seat. This wasn't the first time the Grand Maester had pushed to share the formula for Dragon Tar.

Over the past year, Elyser had repeatedly suggested sharing the process, specifically with the Citadel in Oldtown. Each time, it seemed more suspicious to me, especially after Baelon's constant dislike for them and his discussion with his father a few years back about stolen dragon eggs and him overhearing something.

He did know that due to that discussion, Father had appointed a few of his trusted spies and birds in oldtown for anything unusual, but nothing substantial was discovered.

The Citadel, where the Maesters were trained, had grown increasingly restless in recent years. They were scholars, yes, but their influence was vast, and the idea of the Crown holding a secret that they did not possess… unnerved them.

'Could Baelon was just paranoid? Maybe I am just looking for enemies that don't exist? or are they just too good at hiding? But I shall see everything at face value' He thought.

He glanced at his father, who sat calmly, observing the council from his seat at the head of the table. His face was thoughtful, as always, his fingers steepled under his chin. He was a wise ruler, but sometimes, I feared, too trusting.

Queen Alysanne, on the other hand, was less composed. Mother with a terrifying piercing gaze was already fixed on the Grand Maester, her lips pressed into a thin line.

King Jaehaerys finally spoke, his voice carrying the weight of the room's attention. "Dragon Tar is still too dangerous to be shared widely. It remains a state secret, and for now, it will stay that way."

Elyser looked as if he wanted to object, but before he could, Septon Barth, the Hand of the King, stepped in smoothly, his words laced with a warning. "Your Grace, there are already whispers in King's Landing. Rumors that Dragon Tar is made using blood magic from Valyria, coupled with a rumored sighting of a Red Priest Women, Worshiper from Red Temple a few months back. The people grow uneasy with such talk, especially here in the capital."

Aemon though surprised by the mention of the Red God, R'hllor worshippers. He knew nothing of them other than pure hatred from Septon accusing them of sacrificing children at the altar of fire to their God. He knew enough politics not to believe any hearsay unless witnessed by himself. However, he didn't like having an unknown force in our kingdom.

Noticed how his mother's face hardened. She was fiercely protective of her family and their legacy, and any mention of such slander always ignited her anger.

"The people will believe what they are told," Alysanne said sharply, her voice cold. "Grand Maester, I suggest you find the source of these lies. I will not have my family's name dragged through the mud by false rumors. As for the Red priest, have someone locate her & respectfully find the motives behind the visit to Westeros. We didn't have to provoke some for mere pride, they have been known to possess deadly magic."

The Grand Maester nodded but seemed uncomfortable at the mention of magic. Faith of the Seven has always been vocal in their preaching about their hate towards magic, calling it inherently evil and unnatural.

Aemon's suspicion grew deeper. Why was Elyser so insistent on sharing the process for Dragon Tar, especially with Oldtown? Was it simply about improving the roads, or was there something more behind his persistence?

With that issue set aside, the conversation moved to a new topic—one that Aemon found equally as important: the crown's finances. His father turned his attention to Beesbury once more, this time with a question that seemed to carry less weight, though Aemon knew it was important.

With the matter set aside, my father shifted the conversation to the state of the crown's finances. "Now, the treasury. Our debt to the Iron Bank has been reduced significantly, but I hear there is a new system of wealth calculation developed by Baelon and the Master of Coin. What is this so-called 'double-entry accounting system'?"

Lord Beesbury brightened at the mention of the new system. "Indeed, Your Grace! The system developed by Prince Baelon has already saved the Crown a great deal. It's far more efficient than our previous method and has allowed us to uncover several instances of fraud and embezzlement by lords and officials throughout the realm. Some had even been evading taxes for years."

A murmur of surprise passed through the room. Aemon himself hadn't realized how significant Baelon's contributions had been in this area. The intricacies of coin and taxes were never my strong suit, and clearly, they weren't my father's either, but it was clear now that Baelon had an unparalleled mind for these things.

Jaehaerys seemed just as impressed as the rest of the council. "It seems I owe my son a reward for his efforts. Send Ten thousand gold dragons to Prince Baelon for his contributions."

Before Beesbury could continue, Elyser spoke again, his tone cautious but firm. "Your Grace, if I may, Prince Baelon is still young. Perhaps it would be wiser to transfer the road taxes directly into the royal treasury, rather than allowing the prince to handle such large sums of money on his own."

Aemon felt the tension in the room shift. The Grand Maester's words were carefully chosen, but they were meant to question Baelon's growing authority.

The road taxes were substantial, and Baelon had taken it upon himself to manage them—using the funds to further develop the roads, of course. But Elyser's suggestion felt like an attempt to strip Baelon of some of his influence.

Jaehaerys, however, didn't seem concerned. His voice was calm as he replied, "Let the boy continue. He's reinvesting the funds wisely, and I trust him to handle it."

Septon Barth, ever the political mind, chose this moment to interject, his voice smooth but with an underlying warning. "Your Grace, while the roads are indeed a great success, giving Prince Baelon such authority—especially in managing funds and hiring his guards for the roads—could raise concerns among the lords. They might see it as favoritism toward your second son, creating unrest or rumors of ambition."

Aemon could feel his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. Barth's words were clear, even if hidden beneath layers of diplomacy. He was suggesting that some lords would see Baelon's growing influence as a threat, some might see an opportunity in him, when the realm might view Baelon as an ambitious second son, seeking more power than was appropriate.

Before his father could respond, Aemon spoke, his voice calm but firm. "Lord Barth, my brother's power is my power, the Targaryens are more united than ever. You need not worry about ambition. Baelon has no desire for the throne."

The words came easily, but even as Aemon said them, his mind drifted back to a conversation he'd had with Baelon not long ago.

<Flashback >

It had been a peaceful afternoon in the royal gardens, the two brothers sitting together beneath a tree, sharing tea. They have just come to Mother's chambers playing with their younger brother Vaegon. They can't wait for him to grow up, after having 2 sisters.

Little Maegelle walking on her knees, chasing the cute Alyssa's skirt reminded of how Baelon used to follow him everywhere. Their laughter and noise illuminated the eerie Red Keep. With so many younger siblings, he was overwhelmed by love and grateful for being born in the most prosperous era of the royal family and Westeros.

They had been talking about the future, about their ever-expanding family, about what would come when Aemon was king.

"What do you wish for, Baelon?" Aemon had asked, curious about his brother's ambitions.

"I don't follow, brother. I wish for many different things." Baelon said following his line of thinking.

Aemon slightly embarrassed at his straight words, "I meant when later, as we get older. Though my path has been decided for life, but not yours. I sometimes envy you. You don't have any baggage attached to your shoulder of responsibilities for your whole life. You get to decide how you will live. Thus, I am curious, about what is it that my intelligent and wise brother seeks. Perhaps, anything from me when I became king? Lands, Titles, or maybe…Women?" He said ending in a light tone.

Baelon had sipped his tea and smiled before answering. "You are an ungrateful bastard, aren't you? How many men will not kill themselves for a chance to be reborn as Crown Prince of the Iron Throne? I have no interest in the land or titles either, Aemon. Land and Titles are superficial and without real power. The politics of Westeros are petty, and the lords' squabbles bore me. Leaching off one another, selling their daughters to another to get more gold. I'll always be there to support you when you need me, as a faithful servant to the crown, but my gaze is elsewhere—across the Narrow Sea, to Essos."

Aemon had been surprised by the answer at the time, but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. Baelon was different. While Aemon focused on Westeros and the burden of ruling the Seven Kingdoms, Baelon was looking beyond. But he didn't consider Essos worth his brother's time and sweat.

"Essos! Though agree with you regarding the current state of Westerosi politics, why would you abandon our seat for power for Essos? Though they have some of the oldest cities, they are always at each other's necks. they cannot compete against united seven, or even six kingdoms." Aemon said not understanding his brother's reasoning there.

"Haha, I am disappointed, you truly don't recognize the overwhelming strength of Essos. Let me ask you this then, Which is the most powerful force in the known world, today?" Baelon asked with an amused expression.

'What does he mean by the overwhelming strength of Essos?' Aemon thought.

"It is our dragons, brother. No military or tactic can withstand the might of Dragonfire," Aemon said, feeling uncomfortable as he spoke.

"You are mistaken. We are not even close to being third," Baelon said, something which felt unacceptable to Aemon.

"What are you saying? Have you lost your mind? What are these three, if you may enlighten me?" Aemon demanded.

"I will tell you, and with reason. First, undoubtedly the Iron Bank of Braavos, because of their wealth. Nearly half the world owes them a debt, including the Iron Throne. Second, the Red Priests of Volantis. They are capable enough to kill us in our beds at the Red Keep. Third, maybe if given enough time, the Faith of the Seven. It has a near-infinite number of men in its army, just like the people of Westeros. There is no more powerful weapon in the world than blind trust and belief. And only one thing offers that..." Baelon paused and looked at the wheel turning in Aemon's head.

"Religion," Baelon finished as if stating a fact.

"But dragons have ruled over Essos bef-" Aemon tried to counter but remained futile.

"Even with the Conqueror's three adult dragons, they could not defeat Dorne, which also showed us that dragons are not invincible. One lucky bolt from a scorpion, and puff... How many scorpions do you think Braavos had when they managed to remain independent when even Valyria was at its peak?" Baelon pointed out.

"And all of these, not considering the infamous shadowbinders from Asshai," Baelon said, with a significant expression, and continued.

"And we on have only three dragon riders with Vermithor, Silverwing, and Dreamfyre with Aunt Rheana at Harrenhal. Balerion is ancient and injured and has not taken a flight from Dragonpit for seven name days now, since cousin Aerea's death, right now. If you are considering sending our pregnant mother to war. You see it now?" That stunned Aemon to the core.

Dragging him out of the false sense of security, he had over the years. He was a fool.

"Don't be hard on yourself brother. I am sure, I can count on these 2 hands, the no. of people in Westeros who understand this and Aemon…" Baelon said bringing Aemon out of his daze most likely ridiculing himself for not seeing this.

"I don't need your 'hier'y ass help in getting women," Baelon said with a cheeky smile.

<Falshback End>

Aemon knows his brother, and what drives him. He is far more ambitious than anybody here could imagine. He had spoken of the suffering in Slaver's Bay, of the Free Cities, and of the unknown lands beyond. There was a whole world out there, full of magic, danger, and opportunity.

Baelon had even mentioned the old secrets of Valyria—the knowledge lost when their ancestors had fled the Doom. There was so much out there that Westeros had yet to discover, and Baelon's ambition stretched far beyond the narrow focus of the Iron Throne. Aemon knew that, in a way, Baelon's dreams were bigger than his own.

Still, that didn't diminish the bond between them. Aemon loved his brother deeply and was certain that, together, they would make the realm stronger than ever before.

As the meeting drew to a close, Aemon felt a sense of calm return. He was confident in his future as king, but he was even more certain that, with Baelon by his side, there was no limit to what they could accomplish. The realm would prosper, and their family would remain united.

...