Winter Is Coming

The small council yet again convened. Aegon sat next to his father as always, softly rocking little Visenya's crib softly, his attention divided when not speaking or addressed, until Mellos delivered a grand, distressing report. 

"The signs now present themselves. A brief autumn will give way to a bitter winter that will likely to last over a year, as always your grace"

"And what of our granaries? Our trade agreements with the free cities? Can we assure flowing resources to the small folk?" Aegon inquired. 

"The report last moon held estimations for up to three years of standard distribution before the implementation of rationing" Otto reported "Rest assured, my Prince, the small folk are well cared for, and will endure, as they always have." 

Viserys smiled, unsurprised by his sons empathy, for both him and Aegon knew well that happy small folk was a happy kingdom for all. 

Corlys, who had been listening intently, spoke next, his voice carrying the weight of both experience and authority. "Our agreements with the Free Cities that have offered trade, Braavos foremost among them, are ironclad, my Prince. I will ensure that if anything changes, the council will be informed at once."

"Very good. If that would be all my Lords, I have an infant who is likely soon to make her hunger well known, and for the sake of peace in the realm, I don't plan on leaving her wanting" Aegon smiled as Viserys chuckled with Corlys, Otto and others smiled in the light-hearted moment the Prince always seemed to find places for. 

With a sigh of relief, the heir excused himself from the chamber, Visenya gently nestled in his arms. 

"It fills me with joy to see how well the Prince and Princess have taken to the duty of parenthood your grace. I needed only gaze upon the infants on my last inspection to know they were healthy as can be" Mellos smiled, with Viserys maintaining his, his pride beneath his humble expression evident. 

"Better then I did at first, that much is for certain. Rhaenyra certainly often had much to say, like the Princess Visenya. I would have been driven half mad if not for the ladies in waiting. Aegon" Viserys laughed as most of the council joined him. 

Winter was a grim reminder of the secret father and son bore, neither finding complete solace at the possibilities the cold brought, the weather itself the least of their worries. 

He soon found Rhaenyra seated on the balcony overlooking the keep's gardens, Baelon nestled in her arms, while Alicent sat nearby, her hands busy with a small garment she was sewing. The scene was peaceful a intimate family moment that contrasted sharply with the prior council.

"How did the council go?" Rhaenyra asked as Aegon approached, her eyes curious but filled with that same innate confidence that always strengthened him.

"As expected," Aegon replied, sitting beside her. "Melos predicts a short autumn followed by a bitter winter, likely lasting more than a year, as they tend to do" 

Alicent, ever perceptive, looked up from her work. "And the preparations? Are we truly ready?"

"We are. The granaries are full, and trade with Braavos remains steady. But we cannot become complacent." Aegon's voice carried a quiet determination. "I will not sit idly by while the small folk suffer through another winter. There are still those who live on the brink, and I intend to see them through it."

An hour later.

The early morning sun hung low, the cool dawn was a rare reprieve from the city's usual noise as Aegon strolled through the currently still quite streets, the low hum of city life filling the air. Beside him walked Ser Harold, vigilant as ever.

They headed toward the largest Gold Cloak garrison in the city, where Daemon's men were known for their eccentric, often disorderly conduct. As they arrived, Aegon was greeted by a sight both familiar and amusing, rows of men strewn about both outside, across barrels and pavement, and inside across tables and chairs. Some were still laughing, singing, and sharing tales of last night's victories. Goblets clanged, a few empty tankards rolled underfoot, and the lingering scent of ale filled the air.

"Gods be good," Ser Harold muttered, scanning the scene of passed-out men and strewn armor. "Should they not be taking to their duties? And what in the Seven Hells are they celebrating? Yours and the Princess's nameday was a moon ago"

Aegon chuckled, his eyes glinting with amusement. "If you asked my uncle, he'd tell you any day is worth a drink, if they didn't find another purpose in the meantime. I assure you, Ser Harold, where these men are, there are hundreds more scattered across the city, fully alert, I trust."

As they waded through the crowd, a figure staggered toward Aegon, nearly collapsing but managing a clumsy salute. "MY PRINCE," he slurred, attempting to steady himself. "SO GOOD TO SEE YOU! JOIN US! WE CRUSHED A FIGHTING RING LAST NIGHT!"

Aegon helped the man sit before giving him a pat on the shoulder. "I'm quite alright, friend. You enjoy your victory, as long as the Lord Commander finds it acceptable...because of course he does" Muttering the last part. 

The man clung to his cup, swaying slightly. "I HEARD YOU KILLED A BEAR LIKE A DRAGON! I TOO HAVE ONE OF THOSE... A BEAR... MY WIFE!" He barely managed to finish his sentence before suppressing a gag.

Aegon laughed, taking in the chaos around him. His new duties often kept him away from Daemon and the Gold Cloaks, but he missed these lively gatherings. Not for the drink, but for the camaraderie and unbridled amusement that seemed as essential as supper to these men. Memories flooded back of nights spent here, before the weight of his responsibilities grew heavier, especially after the twins arrival. 

Eventually, they found Daemon sprawled across his bed in the dim light of his quarters, halfway off, with one leg dangling. He lay facedown, his hair an unkempt mess, oblivious to the world. Smiling, Aegon filled a glass with water from a nearby pitcher, then tipped it over Daemon's back, sending a cold shock over him.

"By the fucking..." Daemon jolted, swearing under his breath before realizing who stood above him. "Oh, it's you." He slumped back down, though a ghost of a grin crept over his face.

"It's a fine morning, Uncle," Aegon said, feigning innocence, "if only you could appreciate it." He poured himself a fresh cup of water and settled on the bed beside Daemon. "I'll need the Gold Cloaks soon. And your… unique skills with the small folk. Winter is coming."

"Winter, huh?" Daemon groaned, rubbing his eyes. "Can't remember the last one. Or care to, for that matter."

Aegon raised a brow. "I forget, you don't go to the meetings. Yes, winter is apparently nearly upon us, and by all accounts, it may be a long one. Get dressed, get sober, and meet me at the Keep later. I need you cognizant for this."

Daemon's groan shifted to a wry chuckle as he pulled a pillow over his head. "If you're so concerned about the cold, get me a blanket. I'm freezing."

"And deprive a strong 'Dragon' like you of the thrill of adversity?" Aegon teased, pulling away the pitcher of wine. "Think of it as a lesson. Like the many you once taught me."

Daemon muttered curses as Aegon took the nearby pitcher of wine, pouring it onto the floor as he rose back to his feet, leaving him in the dim quarters with little more than his fading haze and the task of getting up to join his nephew.

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The crisp afternoon air breezed through the balcony as Daemon strode in, his black and red plate glinting in the sun. The slight clinking of armor caught Ser Harold's attention as he stood beside it's doorway, his vigilant eyes narrowing as he watched Daemon approach. The Lord Commander hesitated before moving aside, his silent approval granted but his gaze unyielding. Daemon gave him a sly nod, ever the rogue, before heading toward the sight he had come to both love and envy: his nephew, the Princess, and the Lady Alicent, basking in a moment of domestic peace with their children.

The little gathering was as close to ordinary as life allowed them. Baelon was blowing joyful raspberries as Aegon held him, Rhaenyra, with Visenya in her crib at her mothers side, chuckling as she sliced bread and passed a piece to Alicent. Seeing Daemon's familiar figure approaching, Rhaenyra leaned back in her chair, eyes gleaming with mischief. "You will find no wine here, uncle," she teased, raising a brow. "You're clouded enough without it."

Daemon snorted and slumped into the chair beside Aegon, grumbling, "Easy for you to say, Princess." He glanced sidelong at Baelon in his fathers arms, even the likes of the rogue's stony features softening slightly despite himself. Aegon, catching the moment, grinned and gently held the babe out to him. Daemon hesitated, staring at Baelon's small, curious face, but slowly accepted him into his arms. The tough veneer cracked, and something almost tender slipped through as he gently bounced his nephew, who gurgled in approval.

Alicent looked over, smiling. "It becomes you, my Prince," she remarked quietly. "Family softens us all in ways the world does not often see." She absentmindedly stroked her belly, her words filled with a warmth that surprised and subtly pushed Daemon through the veil of realization. He glanced from her to Aegon, who nodded subtly with a smirk as though confirming his uncles thoughts.

Daemon handed Baelon back, the weight his next words building in his mind. But before he could speak, Aegon leaned closer and whispered, "Winter is coming, uncle. But a war in the sake of love will likely follow."

The words jolted Daemon out of his quiet reverie. Aegon's gaze was unwavering, and, as he began to whisper, Daemon's confusion turned to stunned realization. Aegon explained, in hushed tones, his plan to wed Alicent as a second wife, a step as bold as it was revolutionary, something that could break the very traditions binding their realm. Aegon's resolve was unmistakable. He needed Daemon, not only as an ally, but as the firebrand he knew his uncle could be.

When the time came, Aegon would need the Gold Cloaks to serve as both his shield and sword, rallying the city's people around them both, paying off on their love from these past months. If war came, it would be not only for love but to strengthen his connection with the smallfolk, who would come to see him not just as a Prince, but as their future King. They would need the Lord Commander as a force to shield them from the harshest days of winter, as the heir supplies them to hold strong, and, perhaps, the fires of conflict that would come with it.

Daemon's usual stone-faced expression broke into a smirk. He set his jaw, the roguish glint back in his eye as he let out a short, sharp laugh. "You never fail to surprise, nephew." He reached over, clapping Aegon on the shoulder. "If you mean to upend this world, let us do it together. When they come against you, let them see that fire can defy faith itself." He leaned back, taking in the approving smiles of Rhaenyra and Alicent, who shared in Aegon's quiet but fierce conviction. "We will show them… we will show them all," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

The breeze whipped past, but it carried a different feeling with it, a shared, bold certainty among them that even the chill of winter could not touch.

The room was unusually still as the Small Council gathered, the weight of Aegon's proposal hanging in the air before he even presented it. He had summoned them early, bypassing customary formalities, and each council member understood the urgency in his tone. As they settled, Aegon's presence was unmistakable; his expression was calm but resolute, his eyes sharp and unwavering.

Once all were seated, Aegon unfurled the parchment he'd written himself, laying out his proposal in concise but potent language. As he read aloud, detailing his two primary changes to the realm's tax laws, it became evident how carefully he had crafted this plan: the 50% tax reduction on food trade between the North and Riverlands, contingent upon proper health standards, and an exemption for northern exports of wood and fur, handled by the Velaryon fleet to facilitate warmth for the capital's people in the coming winter. Aegon proposed that if the North accepted these terms, the Crown would return control of the New Gift, a large tract of farmland currently under the Night's Watch, to House Stark. In return, they'd owe a modest tax of 10% of its yield to the capital, though only during times of winter.

Aegon set the documents before each member. Lyonel Strong was the first to respond. "While your proposal is admirably constructed, my prince, changes to the Crown's tax laws could set a precedent. If one region is granted a reduction, other houses might be emboldened to seek similar concessions."

"I would welcome it," Aegon replied steadily. "If the Tyrells wish to exchange their harvests for tax reductions, they may do so. This is not favoritism; it is an invitation to all who wish to trade food and resources for the security and well-being of their people."

Lord Beesbury, the meticulous Master of Coin, leaned forward, brows knit. "Your highness, such exemptions could bleed the Crown's coffers dry. These are losses we might not recover for many years, particularly if this winter proves longer than a year."

Aegon's eyes flashed with determination. "And what value is gold if our people freeze to death while we sit comfortably by a fire?" He lifted his chin, addressing the council as a whole. "This winter will not last forever. We are the ones who must bear the costs now to ensure our people's survival. A more secure populace means a stronger economy once the frost melts, and, thus, commerce will flourish."

It was then that Otto Hightower cleared his throat, his tone measured but edged. "Your concerns are admirable, Prince Aegon, yet you've not been at this table long enough to grasp the full implications of such legislation. The effects of currency and tax laws spread far beyond a single winter's need. Your decree could well unbalance the economic structure of the realm. This decision may be better suited to your father's authority, to a seasoned mind that understands the wider implications of."

Aegon's expression hardened, his voice dropping to a quieter, more dangerous pitch. "You are quick to critique from your comfortable seat, Lord Hightower, but your voice lacks the weight of experience with the struggles of the smallfolk. Do you venture into the city, or even beyond the Red Keep, to see how our people live, or how they die, piled on the streets during harsher winters while you and your like sit high and warm in your Hightower?"

"Aegon!" Viserys interjected, his voice firm yet carrying a fatherly restraint. "Passion is commendable, but restraint is a mark of wisdom. We are here to discuss policy, not to indulge in personal disputes."

Aegon sighed, taking a seat once more. "Of course, Father. I apologize. My only goal here is to ensure our people's survival and prosperity."

Across the table, Lord Corlys Velaryon leaned forward, his eyes on Aegon with a glint of respect. "The heir and I have discussed this plan in detail, and I fully support it. This alliance with the North and Riverlands offers more than financial gain; it secures loyalty and could pave the way for stronger trade opportunities in the future. The people should know their future king does not merely sit idle but champions their welfare."

Aegon nodded to Corlys, his gaze shifting briefly to Otto. He knew that Otto's loyalty was divided, a man with ambitions not just for himself but for the Hightower name. Otto's disapproval only hardened his resolve. He glanced at his father, who was regarding him with a soft but conflicted gaze, as though he admired his son's determination but wrestled with the notion that this was veering too close to favoritism.

Viserys eventually broke his silence, his voice thoughtful. "Aegon, there is no doubt your heart is in the right place. But the matters of law and currency are never simple, nor without consequence. We will take this under consideration."

Corlys stood, projecting his voice clearly. "The realm is at a precipice. Winter will arrive whether or not we debate it, and every man, woman, and child within these walls will feel its bite." He glanced at Otto, his tone gaining edge. "We speak here of policy and precedence, but Aegon speaks of life and death. We are stewards, and our duty is to the people of the realm."

Otto's expression was carefully neutral, though his displeasure was clear. The Grand Maester himself, usually silent, nodded in cautious agreement. "With each generation comes change, my lords," he said. "Perhaps it is wise to consider whether resisting such a shift serves us, or if we might find ways to integrate it."

Aegon smirked ever so slightly, casting a glance toward Otto. He knew well the man's ambitions would surface in time. But for now, he was grateful for the support of those who understood the stakes. At that moment, he allowed himself a fleeting, private satisfaction at the thought of Otto's eventual reaction upon learning the truth of his marriage plans with Alicent, a truth that would make him a grandfather and complicate the Hand's long-schemed ambitions.

Corlys's voice broke his thoughts. "Let us cast our votes on this measure, and make clear to the realm that we do not sit idle while the people suffer."

Each lord cast their vote, and the small council was forced, in the end, to yield. Aegon's proposal, though met with resistance, was approved. The prince left the room with Corlys by his side, a silent promise exchanged between them. His path to the throne was forming, and this decree was merely the beginning.

"Well done my Prince" Daemon appeared with a shit-eating grin from the shadows.

"I'd rather be forced to move mountains then be stuck in there" Aegon sighed as he made no delay in returning to his wife and children.

The evening in Aegon and Rhaenyra's chambers was warm and relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension of earlier council debates. When Alicent stepped inside, her calming presence brightened the room. Her smile softened the atmosphere as she took her place beside them, nibbling delicately on a cracker topped with cheese. Rhaenyra's teasing remark about the council actually coming to an agreement brought a light laugh from Aegon.

Aegon reclined comfortably on his side, grape in hand, cradling little Visenya. His posture was so unguarded, he might as well have been a portrait painted for the ages. "The council, for all its misgivings, agreed to the legislation," he replied, a quiet pride in his voice. "Letters were dispatched to House Tully and House Stark just after. Now we await their correspondence."

Alicent's gaze softened as she placed a reassuring hand on Aegon's thigh. "I'm truly glad. It's a relief to know the smallfolk will be protected this winter."

"With Daemon's support, the Gold Cloaks will be fully mobilized. He's eager to help ensure safe passage for trade goods, patrol the streets, and light the public fires. He is also fully prepared for the strife that will follow" Aegon's eyes glinted with a sense of purpose, his empathy for the people deeply moving his two companions.

Rhaenyra reached out to clasp his hand, pulling him from his thoughtful daze. "Aegon…" she said softly, her gaze shifting meaningfully to Alicent, who smiled with a look that needed no further explanation. Catching on, Aegon glanced down at Visenya. "Right…just time to settle her for the night." He rose with a gentle touch, carrying his daughter to her and Baelon's share crib. He laid her down with all the care of a father who saw the world in his children.

As Aegon slipped back into bed, the three stifled their laughter, aware of the Kingsguard just outside. Meanwhile, Otto Hightower strode down the dim corridor, a sharp eye scanning Alicent's room only to find it empty. Concerned, he made his way towards Aegon and Rhaenyra's chambers, his steps echoing off the stone walls. Outside the door, he paused, but the quiet from within gave no hint of activity.

Steffon Darklyn, now stationed in place of Ser Harold, stepped forward. "My Lord Hand, the Prince and Princess have retired for the evening. Shall I pass on a message?"

Otto's jaw tightened. He knew there was more to the night than met the eye. "No," he replied curtly before turning back, disappearing into the shadowed corridors of the keep.

Within the chambers, Rhaenyra shifted slightly from atop her seat on Aegon's face who was concentrating on the Earth itself. "Is he gone?" she whispered, a glint of mischief in her eye as she looked over to Alicent, both hands over her mouth as she held off from her 'ride' for the moment. 

"He's gone," Aegon replied, his senses confirmed the Hand's departure.

The three of them relaxed, and their quiet laughter resumed. They continued to share in the warmth of the night, the deep bonds of love and 'friendship' intertwining as their hearts found solace in each other's company. And while the outside world might raise questions, tonight, they were simply themselves, unburdened by duty, united in companionship and passion.