Chapter 22-Cooler Heads!

Chapter 22

CORLYS VELARYON

With Aegon Targaryen's arrival at court, he had thought that he was set to gain an ally for himself, that the young Prince would be easily swayed to his side, after finding himself alone at court given that neither his father's faction nor Otto Hightower's faction had any love for the boy.

And given their past correspondence and the boy's apparent respect for him and his mercantile endeavors, he thought that he would be easily swayed to his side. Yet the boy had surprised him, for he had joined neither faction, standing alone at a court where he had few friends. It was a respectable option, one that had not won him many friends, though it would all change rather quickly now that the boy was second in line to the throne.

Aegon had spoken against open warfare in Stepstones, something that he desired, for he believed it his destiny to bring those tumultuous isles to heel and add them to his kingdom, to add to his pedigree, and yet he had not denied the need for it as Otto Hightower did.

He had opted to speak for a third option, one of prolonged warfare—an idea inspired by his own campaign against the Mountain clansmen of the Vale. A sound idea, in his own mind, that made it clear to everyone at the council how he was his own man.

And now it was upto him to make that a reality. Open contact between the Crown and the Triarchy could not be seen to happen, for it would alert their enemies, so Corlys joined one of his trade vessels as they made port at Lys so that he could talk to Lys's rising star.

Lysandro Rogare, the head of the Rogare family, was one of Lys's most powerful magisters. He was the one who had set the foundation of the Rogare bank, a financial institution that was growing rather rapidly and beginning to threaten the hegemony of the Iron Bank of Braavos.

"I have always desired to meet the famous Sea Snake," the man complimented him as they dined in his manse, and it was a display of opulence and wealth where white marble gleamed in the walls, with golden utensils, all held by scantily dressed servants and slaves.

There was a reason Lys was called the tear of Valyria. It was a kingdom famous for the pleasures of flesh, and the Rogares claimed lineage from one of the forty of Old Valyria, though their claim was rubbished by many before they had obtained all their wealth.

"I am honored," he said as he sipped his wine. Lysandro Rogare was a short and broad man, not afraid of showing his flesh. He wore a white silken toga that barely covered him as he sat on his sofa. Two maidens sat beside him, their arms and legs wound around him, feeding him grapes and apples.

"So, you wish to make me turn on my dear friends from Myr and Tyrosh," he asked as the smell of sweat and perfume gripped the air, and Corlys shook his head.

"I am afraid that is not quite how I will put it," he began, knowing that this would not be easy.

"I am here to help you make more friends, better friends," he offered, for that was the only reason Lys would ever betray Myr and Tyrosh.

"Myr and Tyrosh have been good friends to Lys, to me. They have filled my coffers; they have shared my wine, my bread, even my women," the man finished as he took a group from the mouth of one of his servants.

"So why should I need more friends, or as you say, better friends?" he said as he picked up his wine. There was the man they called the First Magister. The truth was that a covenant of magisters ruled over Lys, and yet it was well known that one person truly held all the power.

Him—Lysandro Rogare, the First Magister of Lys.

"You say all that, and yet only one in a tenth of all that this so-called 'Crab Feeder' comes to your coffers, while Myr, Lys, and Tyrosh each pay an equal amount of Gold as tribute to the man," he said as he leaned back and his information seemed to shock Lysandro Rogare.

"So, the very friends you speak of have been robbing you blind. They are only fair-weather friends, for when in history has the Triarchy ever remained at peace? We all know if it were upto Myr and Tyrosh, they would decimate you for your gold and take control of the disputed lands," he offered, and the man raised a hand, and immediately, the girls around him stopped and left them, sauntering away as they were left alone.

"And what does the Iron Throne offer me?" he asked.

"We need not your men or your gold," he said as he sipped the wine and put the glass back on the table.

"The Iron Throne has enough ships, men, and Gold to lay waste to the Stepstones, let alone the half a dozen dragons could char every rock on those accursed islands and beyond in days," he left a little hidden threat there.

"Yet we would much appreciate it if we did not have to, and for that, we would need a friend. And when we are victorious, Myr and Tyrosh lay wasted, their coffers dried up Lys, and you would be in a perfect situation to take advantage of. After all, it is a Bank's job to lend money to its clients, especially when those clients are friends."

0000

AEGON TARGARYEN

Aegon had been truly shaken by Larys's words as he began to really look into what had transpired between Daemon and Alicent, and though he had done that before he felt it, the conversation shifted in a day or so, turning from speculation to slander.

Some against Alicent herself, some against his own self though most of it was against Daemon. And there were many stories as well, of that night, and they were becoming murmurs, each different than the last, and he could not trace their source.

And he knew that only two people held the answers. Daemon and Alicent, and since the latter was in no mood to talk to him, avoiding him deliberately, he knew what he had to do.

Daemon had been away from the castle since that day on a campaign against some bandits, and when he learned of his return, he rushed to meet the man and was barely able to intercept him on his way to the Dragonpit.

"We need to talk," Aegon cut in as he stepped into his way, and the look on Daemon's face made even his shiver. It was demonic, filled with rage and anger. And he saw Daemon snarl at him.

"You must be happy now that you have gotten rid of me," Daemon snarled as he felt a group of people gather around them.

"What happened between you and Alicent that night?" Aegon asked, cutting through the bullshit.

"Huh, why don't you ask her yourself?" he replied as he tried to walk past him, but Aegin stopped him, catching his hand.

"I need that answer," he repeated as he looked him in the eye. He saw Daemon look around him, and suddenly, he saw his lips turn up.

"What do you want me to say, boy? That the girl threw herself at me in the dead of night, that she was so captivated..." and only then did Aegon realize his true intentions.

"Stop!" he said as he looked Daemon in the eye.

"We both know that is not the truth," Aegon replied, and the man smirked.

"You have been played like a fiddle by that bitch and Otto, and now that cunt has achieved his greatest wish. I have been ordered to leave the capital. Isn't that special," Daemon scoffed as he wrangled his arm away from him.

"And I am not the only one who will suffer. You will learn of your own fate soon enough boy. Just when I thought you were worth something, you showed yourself to be the true disappointment, you really are," Daemon's words were ominous, and he could tell that he was angry and enraged.

And Aegon had an inkling of just what had transpired, and yet that mere idea that Otto would do that, that the man would fall so low, was a bit difficult to grasp. Yet, was it truly so out of the world for Otto Hightower to do that to his own daughter?

No. He thought, it was not.

"What really happened that night?" he asked again, and the man scoffed.

"Ask that bitch of yours. I am done with everything," and with that, Daemon walked away, leaving, and if Daemon's words had even an inkling of the truth, it really was time that he and Alicent had a talk about what truly happened that night.

0000

ALICENT HIGHTOWER

It had been days since Daemon Targaryen had confronted her that fateful night, and the aftershocks of that encounter still rang all around her. The encounter had left her scared and alone, bringing to an end her fleeting friendship with Aegon Targaryen, though she truly doubted if it ever really was a friendship.

In her rage and anger, she had overstepped, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized just how misplaced the rage and anger she had directed toward him the next day had been. How her own father's vitriol and hate against the boys had poisoned her mind, clouding her judgment.

And yet friends they would be no more, and her prayers which were often said in his company were now said in solitude once more, bringing her little comfort as she felt the gazes of every person in the castle linger on her, probably owing to the rumors about the true events of the night having gotten spread out.

"Lady Alicent," she heard a soft whisper, the familiar voice sending a shiver down her spine. She turned around and found him standing there—his eyes devoid of emotion, filled with a sense of worry and emotion she could hardly recognize.

Her guards stood there, blocking him from approaching her as he looked her in the eye. She noticed the dark circles around his eyes, which showed sleepless and restless nights.

"We need to talk?" he asked softly, and the guards did not budge as she gulped and spoke up.

"Let him through," she said, and the guards turned towards her, exchanging glances.

"But my lady, you fat..." there it was, the consequences of her mistake. She may not be as well versed in politics as him, yet she had been at court long enough to see the true ploy.

"I doubt the Prince will try anything with you two here. Let him join me in the prayer," she said, and the men relented as they backed away, clearing the path for Aegon to join her.

He knelt down as Rhaenyra had done so a few days prior, his body distant to her—at more distance than it had ever been since they had first met in the Sept.

"How have you been, my lady?" he asked politely as he picked up a stick and lit up a candle.

"I am well, and how about you, my Prince," they exchanged perfunctory greetings, something they had long foregone, and it felt much like the first time they had talked with one another, their sentences gauging and probing each hesitant to say any more than they had to.

And then there was silence, her own mind whirling away until she looked to the floor and began.

"I am sorry," she began and felt his head snap towards her, eyes wide.

"About that day..." she continued. She did not wish to relive that moment of fear and anguish of being manipulated.

"...I blamed you, even though you were blameless in all of which that transpired," in a way, Aegon shared the same amount of blame as her father—the person who had directed her to the King's chambers, just as Aegon had done so for Daemon.

"Thank you," he whispered after seconds of silence.

"And for what it's worth, I never ever desired to see any harm done to you," he added, and she nodded.

"Yet you do not deny sending Daemon back to the King's chambers?" she asked, and he shook his head.

This showed his political acumen

"I do not," and his voice softened.

"Just as you cannot deny your father's hand in sending you to the King," and she bit her lip at that. They were both so similar and so different. Both of them played this game as pawns, working, plotting each step to further the goals of their political contemporaries.

"Do you blame me for that?" she asked, and he shook her head.

"Who am I to blame you? This is just politics, and each of us must play our role, whatever that may be. But I never wished you any harm, never in a million years. What happened..." and his words halted at that.

"It was not my intention," he added softly, and she nodded.

"I understand that," and she felt a heavy burden lift off of her chest. Though only embers remained of their friendship, she still hoped that there was a chance that this would work out.

"Though, I need to ask you something," he began, his tone serious, and she nodded.

"What?" she asked.

"I wish to know the truth of the events that transpired that night," and she felt the ground vanish from underneath her. She had no desire to live through that harrowing experience once more.

"I do not wish to relive it. It is..."

"I implore you, Alicent," he called out once more as he reached for her hand, squeezing it gently.

"I need to know the truth..." he asked, and she gulped as she nodded.

"Ok...."

0000

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