Chapter Text
ARC II
Chapter XV: The King's Sons
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A Young Soldier I
He came from Brindelwood, a small village along the Kingsroad. As a young boy, his biggest dream was to be a soldier for House Targaryen, making a name for himself. He grew up on a ranch with his seven siblings and parents. All the boys were helping on the field, and he used the rigorous work as part of his self-training. After the work was done, he practiced with his wooden sword.
By the time he was six and ten, he was brave enough to leave the house for the capital. He still remembered how his mother and sisters cried when he went away.
But it was worth it. He got in and wore the uniform with pride.
The news of Prince Aemon’s disappearances came, and they rounded up a thousand men to go North. He wasn’t one of them.
Moons later, they said that he would come back to King’s Landing with three newly hatched dragons. Many of his friends were enrolling as the prince’s household guards. Sixteen thousand House Targaryen soldiers joined the selection, and he couldn’t help but join.
He wanted to test his skills.
There were six stages, three more compared to the common selections. And for the last stage, Ser Barristan and Ser Arthur were there, choosing the best of them.
What an honour to be acknowledged by the kingsguards themselves.
And to his delight, he was chosen with the other thirty-nine men.
Over the time he came to the prince’s service, he gathered that he was a strange boy. His comrades said that it was because he spent a lot of time with the beasts.
One time, he was on night duty with the other four guards and Ser Jaime. He was asked to wake the prince up, and so he came into the room. The ones who were sleeping on his bed were his direwolf and the white dragon. The green one slept on the floor near the big fireplace.
Meanwhile, Prince Aemon was sleeping on the settee of the veranda, cuddling up with his red dragon.
He wasn’t a meticulous boy, judging by how messy his room was. Prince Aemon liked to shop, spoiling his sisters with unusual goods that sometimes turned out to be useless and were piled up inside his room.
But he was a good fighter and a good swordsman. He always showed up early in the morning to the training yards, much to the kingsguards delight.
Ser Oswell was particularly hard that morning, clearly advancing towards the prince. His cousin and loyal companion, Robb Stark, had given up,- exhausted, and was sitting a few feet away from his station.
“He truly tries to kill us…” the heir to House Stark muttered.
In the middle of the yard, Ser Oswell just knocked the prince down. “Will you give up already?” the knight asked with an impertinent tone.
Prince Aemon looked at him and shook his head. “Never!” he exclaimed, taking his sword and shield again.
This time, the prince advanced first towards Ser Oswell and when the knight tried to strike him, the prince held his shield high and drove his sword forward. The knight dodged it, and it repeated again. The prince kept advancing with his shield as a defence and striking with his sword whenever given a chance.
That was until Ser Oswell struck harder than before, right to the price’s shield. The prince used the sudden force and dodged the attack equally hard, sending Ser Oswell’s sword stuck on the shield for a split second. Prince Aemon used the chance, sending his sword right to Ser Oswell’s neck.
Both of them stopped, panting hard.
After that, Prince Aemon threw both of his arms into the air. “YEEEEAAAAAH!” he exclaimed excitedly.
Robb Stark expressed his encouragement as well. “You did it, Jon!” he yelled for his cousin.
Ser Oswell sighed, “Oi! Don’t get too excited. It’s only once”, he said.
“Better than never. And it will be the first of many more, Ser Oswell” the prince replied confidently.
“Uh-uh, don’t get too cocky. You are only allowed to be proud of yourself once you beat Arthur” the knight said. But he could see a proud smile on the kinsguard’s face.
The prince nodded. “Who knows…” he giggled.
Ser Oswell tried his hardest to hide his smile. “Alright, you earn this one. Drink in the city’s tavern. My treat”. He said.
“Aye!” Prince Aemon exclaimed.
“You are not invited, by the way” Ser Oswell said to Robb Stark.
“What! I was trying my best too!” he complained. “Like, come on, Ser. You are my mother’s cousin!”.
“It has nothing to do with family” Ser Oswell replied, sounding like he was impersonating Robb Stark’s voice.
Robb Stark sighed. “Dick…” he mumbled.
Looking at Prince Aemon again, he knew that the prince was born and raised to be a soldier—a warrior. That was very much clear.
His swordsmanship was miles better than that of Prince Aegon, who was more of a scholar than a fighter. And when the prince did try to practice, most of the time it was with lances and trained by his uncle, Prince Oberyn. And no one would talk about Prince Visery’s skills. He was a decent fighter; that was the biggest compliment one could give the king’s brother.
It was the first time that the kingsguards had a chance to train a royal prince thoroughly by themselves. And even as a low-ranking soldier, he knew that they enjoyed it. They got a pupil who was serious enough to pursue combat skills.
Prince Aemon also took his task of writing apology letters very seriously. For about four to six hours each day, he would sit at a secluded pavilion or other quiet place to write those letters. So far, he was at a hundred and twenty-three. That was half of the soldiers from the Crownlands who were deceased during the search beyond the wall.
Only twenty of them were coming from King’s Landing itself, and the letters had been delivered. The reaction was mixed, to say the least. But just like any other person in the capital, none of them refused the coins.
Another day, the prince sent eight of his men to deliver sixty letters. Those were for the western side of the Crownlands, through the Kingsroad to the Antlers.
“Remember, for each time you visited the family, you introduced who you are, where you come from, and who sent you” Prince Aemon said. “I expect that many of the family members do not know how to read, and if you meet such, open the box and letters in front of them and read it for them”.
“This is your allowance for the journey” he said, giving the soldiers a sack of coins. “Use it well. And don’t forget—no stealing, no attacking civilians—and if I find any of you raping or harassing someone, just remember who my grandfather was”.
Rayner smirked. “Which one, my prince?” he asked, making the other soldiers chuckle.
Prince Aemon rolled his eyes, feeling no offence from his soldier’s words. “Very funny, Rayner. But for this time, I will act like the one whose head was chopped off” he replied, patting Rayner’s horse. “Now, off you go”.
“Certainly, my prince. We’ll come back in a fortnight!”
He watched his comrades pull the reins of their horses and wagons, moving further away from the Red Keep’s gate.
Prince Aemon also liked to invite the soldiers to dine with him twice a sennight. And tonight, it was him and two of his comrades. He heard the king had hired three cooks from Riverlands for the prince himself, which his palate was suitable for. That dinner was probably the highest-quality food he ever tasted. Since they didn’t use much seasoning for the prince’s foods, he knew that the ingredients were the best they could find.
“Have you ever come home, William?” Prince Aemon asked him while cutting a boiled carrot.
“Once, my prince” he replied.
“Was your family well? If I am not mistaken, you said you have six siblings".
“It’s seven, my prince. My parents have eight children. I am the third one” he corrected Prince Aemon’s words.
“My words, your parents are diligent” his friend, Lester, a soldier from Stormlands, said.
The others, including the prince, chuckled at his remark. “Yes, it seems so. Both my older brothers have married. My first brother built a house on the other side of our farm, so he and his family are still living close. My second brother moved to Maidenpool with his wife. He sells fish at the port. Last year, when I came home, it was for my younger sister’s wedding” he explained thoroughly.
“How old is this sister of yours?” the prince asked.
“She is now fifteen, and I heard that she is carrying her first babe now.".
The prince stopped his movement and looked at him in the eyes. “I pray for her safe delivery” he said. “When it happens, can you inform me?”.
William smiled. “Of course, my prince. I will!”.
“How about you, Harmon? You are quiet” the prince asked his other friend, “how is your family?”.
Harmon pressed his lips. “Now that Will talks about his sister, I suddenly remember mine own” he replied.
“Your pretty sister? You have to see her, my prince. You will not believe that she is Harmon’s relative” Lester jested.
Harmon sighed. “Thanks, jerk. My sister is pretty”
Prince Aemon chuckled. “What about her?” he asked.
“She is pretty. That’s the problem, my prince” Harmon replied. “She is by no means as pretty as the noble ladies, but she is beautiful”.
“Yes, she definitely is, my prince” Lester said after swallowing a piece of meat, “I could vouch for that fact”.
“How could her beauty become a problem?” Prince Aemon asked.
“There is a mill owner in my village who fancy her. He is rich and has many influences. But she was only fourteen, and he is thrice her age. And the fact that my parents have a debt to him, it’s quite worrying” Harmon explained.
“Oh no…” Prince Aemon muttered, “How much is the debt?” he asked.
“Eight gold dragons- I am getting there, my prince!” the soldier exclaimed, “I already saved five gold coins. Just three more two go. I will take some times, though”.
“And how much does my father pay all of you?” he asked.
“Four gold dragons and fifty silver stags each year. It is paid every three months” William replied.
Prince Aemon nodded and walked away from the chair. He went into his bedroom and came back shortly after.
He sat back and put a small pouch in front of Harmon, “Take it. There are four gold dragons there”.
Harmon shook his head. “I cannot accept it, my prince. I truly can’t! It’s against the law” he replied.
The prince frowned. “How so?” he asked.
“Soldiers cannot receive favour, my prince” Lester replied.
Prince Aemon looked at him, and William nodded to confirm. They were sworn first to the king. Receiving favour from the nobles and officers would be seen as an act of diverting loyalty. Even if it was a prince they served, their loyalty was still to the king. William thought it was rather confusing at times, but seeing so many schemes going on in the Red Keeps, the code was necessary.
After thinking for a while, the prince nodded. “I respect that, and I am glad you keep to the law. You can see this as an advance payment, then”.
Now, that was allowed.
Harmon smiled. “Yes, thank you, my prince!” He took the small pouch.
“You ride the first thing in the morning. I grant you days off to see your family” the prince said. “I give you three weeks to come back”.
That night, he knew that the prince would fight for them as much as they fought for him. And he was glad that he entered the prince’s service.
He and another seven of his comrades were sent to deliver the other forty-three letters to the eastern side of the Crownlands, to Rosby, Stokeworth, and Rook’s Rest.
“Be careful” Prince Aemon said during their departure, “I am not familiar with the road, but make sure to stop at a proper inn when you have the chance”.
“We will, my prince” he replied.
“And remember, no stealing, no looting, and no raping” the prince warned us.
William smiled. “No one would dare. We remember who your grandfather was” he jested, making his comrades as well as Prince Aemon laughing.
“Alright. Off you go” the prince said, “And come back soon”.
“Until we see each again, my prince” he replied.
He and his comrades pulled their reins and kicked their horses. Before they were out of the Red Keep, he took time to turn back his head, seeing Prince Aemon standing there looking back at him.
Their first destination was a small village about two hours from the capital. The soldier’s family was his wife and son, about three and ten. They couldn’t read, so William opened the letter and read it for them.
“--- He was a true soldier and had seen the world beyond what’s known. Although my words offer little consolation, I want you to know that his fight will not be forgotten. With all of my sincerity, Aemon Targaryen”
William rolled up the paper and put it back into the box. He gave it to the son, who was looking up to him.
“I thank you, good Ser” the wife replied.
“There are four golds dragons in there. Prince Aemon hope that you can use it well to support your family in the distant future”.
The woman looked down, “My health is not good. I am thinking of moving back to my parents' house”.
“Then I hope for your safe journey” he replied.
When they were about to depart, the boy came up to them and yelled, “TELL PRINCE AEMON I WILL BE A SOLDIER JUST LIKE MY FATHER!”.
“WE WILL!” one of his friends replied with a smile.
The receptions were mixed, as they had predicted. Some family members cursed, some were sobbing beyond consolations, and some were only greedy for the coins. But elsewise, the prince had told them it wasn’t their place to judge. They kept their words, and even when a family tried to attack them, they didn’t get riled up.
Some nights were spent in an inn, but most of the time, they made a camp.
“The last one was the craziest” his friend Omer said, looking at the fire put at the centre of their circle, “Do you think the lad became a soldier just to get away from his mother?”.
William smiled, tearing some meat off the roasted hare they caught. “The father was more concerning” he said while passing the hare to the next person.
“Oh, that drunkard fool was beyond help for sure” his other friend, Jason, replied.
They chatted over the family they met and laughed at the jests they threw at each other. When the night was getting darker and some people had slept, he got watch duty first.
The woods were quiet; only the winds and bugs were heard. And he slowly became alert when he saw a subtle movement from afar. He turned to his comrades, who were fast asleep in their bedroll, and back to the woods. This time, the shadow moved again, and William quickly woke his friends.
But it was too late.
“Yaaaaah!” fire lit from a distance, and he could see a lot of people coming their way.
“WAKE UP LADS!” he yelled. “Your sword!”.
His friends were up; some of them had grabbed their sword and shield, and some didn’t have the time.
Steel clashed, and blood was spilled. There were only eight of them, and their opponents seemed to be twice over or more. He could not count, for he was busy fighting. His eyes were shaking a bit when he saw Jason being slashed by two men.
William pushed his opponent and slashed his neck before another person came at him.
He knew his comrades tried their best, for he did as well.
But their number was too small for the attackers.
Again, his sword clashed with another, and this time, three people were surrounding him. He could see that his surviving friends also faced similar situations.
He was tired from the journey and the fight, wounded by the sharp sword on his shoulder. “Why did you attack us?” he asked his opponents.
“Number of reasons” one of them replied.
“We are messengers of House Targaryen. You know there will be consequences” he tried to buy his time.
“Well, we wouldn’t worry about it” an arrogant person in the middle said.
“WILLIAM!” He heard Omer yell.
A split second later, he felt a slash through his back and fell on his knees. The person right in front of him raised his chin to meet his eyes.
“Any last words?” he asked haughtily.
William never regretted his life. He had tried his best to be a filial child to his parents and a good brother to his sisters. He had reached his life goal of being a soldier for the royal house. But there was one thing he now regrets. Prince Aemon talked a great deal about a grave danger from beyond the wall. One day, an army of dead men would come to all of them, and it was his wish to unite the people to fight them.
‘I am sorry, my prince. I will not be able to fight alongside you in the great battle to come’, William thought.
He remembered his prince’s face as they rode away from the Red Keep. Who knew it would be the last time?
William held his eyes up and said, “Prince Aemon will come to you. He will pay us back” he said.
“Then we will wait for him” the person replied, and then laughed. People around him join in his laughter.
After that, he felt a sharp piercing through his heart and a pain he had never felt before eating his body up. William fell to the ground and closed his eyes forever.
--
Oswell V
The preparation for Princess Rhaenys’s betrothal banquet and Prince Aegon’s name day celebration was underway, and it kept the queen busy and, dare he say, happy. Queen Elia and her ladies busied themselves by arranging the festivities in the city and the ball for later. There was talk about jousts and tournaments as well. It would be a huge celebration, as Oswell could tell. Besides the fact that Prince Aegon would leave the boyhood behind and take the mantle in Dragonstone, there was a sense of competition as well.
The Martell would go all out, wanting Aegon to shine brighter than his brother this time.
They had lost to the Starks and Prince Aemon about the dragons. They would want to remind people who the heir to the throne was.
As the kingsguard himself, he contemplated whether he would be happy if he was chosen to go to Dragonstone to be Prince Aegon’s man.
He decided he would not.
He never rested easy in that gloomy castle.
‘Rhaegar should choose the new kingsguard immediately’ he thought.
Speaking about Aegon himself, he began to notice something different about the boy. He became more secretive. And it was not just him who thought so.
“Just between the two of us, I think Prince Aegon hides something” Arys said to him the other day.
Aside from that, he spent more and more time with Lord Arryn at the Tower of Hand. Usually, the kingsguards would follow until the prince stood outside the hand’s study. But now he asked them to wait in the common room instead.
And as a loyal knight, he told Rhaegar about it.
“These days, your eldest son is about to change his name into Aegon Arryn for all I know” he said to his kingly best friend.
They were at Rhaegar’s study when the conversation happened, and the king was busy scribing something.
“Everyone knows that Aegon likes Lord Arryn a great deal” Rhaegar replied, keeping his eyes on the paper. “And he brings only goodness to my son, so I wouldn’t worry, Oswell. He is the grandfather figure Aegon craves”.
“If you say so” Oswell said to his king.
Another day, he got to guard Prince Aegon again. He sat in the common room in the Tower of Hand. The maidservants were kind enough to bring him some food and books to pass the time. But the visits got longer as the day passed.
“I am sorry to make you wait, Ser Oswell” Prince Aegon said while walking towards him from the inner side of the tower.
“No problem, your grace” he replied while getting up.
“I got caught up in a long discussion” the prince said.
“What were you discussing?” he asked again.
“Many things. It’s started with herbs we could find in the Riverlands, but in the end, we talked about the Ghiscari”.
Oswell nodded. “Does this discussion include-” He stopped his sentence and pierced his eyes. “What is that in your cheek?”.
“What?” Aegon was dumbfounded and touched his right cheek, feeling something on it, and picked it up. He chuckled after that, “It’s sugar, Ser Oswell. There is nothing to worry about. Let us get going, mother is waiting for supper”.
“Right away, your grace…” he replied, and the two of them walked out of the tower.
Aegon walked a few feet ahead of him, not caring to turn his head from the path in front of him. Oswell did, however, turn his head to his surroundings to make sure nothing was dangerous. And when he did, he saw something unexpected coming from another path leading to the tower.
“And do you know who I saw?!” Oswell asked, exclaiming to Rhaegar, who was busy playing cyvase with Arthur.
The three of them were at Rhaegar’s private garden just outside his study, having recess between his work. As a best friend and loyal knight, he was obliged to report his findings to his king.
“Who?” His king replied, not even looking at him, busy stressing over Arthur’s last move.
“Lord Arryn!” he exclaimed. “The old man was walking towards the tower with Ser Brynden. Which means it wasn’t him whom Aegon was discussing herbs with”.
“Mayhaps with one of Lord Arryn’s assistants?” Arthur suggested, “Lord Hand has a lot of them”.
Rhaegar nodded. “Arthur is right, Oswell. Ser Andar Royce is also in the capital. From what I heard, he is quite a clever knight”.
“Oh, come on, it’s not him!” he insisted.
“Oswell, my oldest son is about to be a grown man. Let him have his private time. With my mother throwing girls at him and his mother chewing him about his name-day festivities, he needs time for himself” Rhaegar replied.
“And he could only get that at Lord Arryn’s place since the ladies will not go there” Arthur added.
Oswell huffed at his best friends’ reaction to his finding.
Some days later, when he got a turn to guard Prince Aegon again, the boy was purposely looking for his little brother, Prince Aemon.
Oh, it was about to be a disaster, Oswell knew.
They found Prince Aemon in the West Garden, perched on a tall oak tree with his lute in hand. He was playing a soft tune while looking at the sunset. Jaime got to guard him, sitting on the ground and leaning on the tree.
The golden lion stood up when he saw them approaching. “Your Grace” he greeted the prince.
“Good day, Ser Jaime” Aegon replied and looked up to the tree. “Aemon, I want to talk to you about something”.
Prince Aemon did not even bother and continued to play his lute.
The older brother tried again. “I need to ask you about something. Can you go down right now?”.
And when his little brother ignored him again, he turned to Jaime and said, “Ser Jaime, it seems that my brother couldn’t hear me. Can you tell Prince Aemon that his brother needs to talk to him right now?”.
“Ha?” Jaime appeared to be confused and looked at him. Oswell just shrugged his shoulders.
This time, Jaime turned to Prince Aemon. “Eh, Prince Aemon, your brother needs to have a word with you right now”.
This time, the little brother stopped his lute play and turned his head down, not to the older brother or Jaime, but to him.
“Ser Oswell, can you tell Prince Aegon that Prince Aemon is currently preoccupied?”.
He looked at the prince as confusedly as Jaime had before. He sighed and retold the words to Prince Aegon, who was standing right in front of him.
“Your grace, your brother, Prince Aemon, is currently preoccupied” he said.
Prince Aegon said to Jaime again, “Ser Jaime, tell Prince Aemon that it is only appropriate for him to answer to me”.
Jaime turned to the said prince again and said, “Prince Aemon, Prince Aegon said that it is only appropriate for you to answer to him”.
“Ser Oswell, can you ask Prince Aegon why I have to?” he replied.
“Prince Aemon asked why he has to, your grace” he repeated the words.
“Ser Jaime, tell Prince Aemon that in order of precedence, as a little brother, it is his standing to answer Prince of Dragonstone”.
“Prince Aemon, your brother said that in order of precedence, as a little brother, it is your position to answer Prince of Dragonstone”.
Prince Aemon looked at him with bored eyes. “Ser Oswell, tell my brother, Prince of Dragonstone, that we are, in fact, not in Dragonstone. I don’t have any obligation to answer to him”.
Sighing, Oswell parroting the words again, “Prince Aemon said that in we are in fact, not in Dragonstone. He doesn’t have any obligation to answer to you”.
“Ser Jaime, tell my little brother that I come in piece and he is such a piss” Prince Aegon said, feeling upset being played by his brother.
Jaime looked so done at this point. “Prince Aemon, Prince Aegon said that he comes in piece and that you are such a piss”.
“Ser Oswell, tell my older brother, Prince Aegon that he is such a nosy little arse”.
“Your grace, Prince Aemon said that you are such a nosy little arse” he repeated the words.
“Right” Prince Aegon huffed. “Tell Aemon that he is an annoying, spoiled little shit, Ser Jaime”.
Jaime huffed as well. “Prince Aemon, your brother told me to tell you that you are an annoying, spoiled little shit”.
“Eh, lame” Prince Aemon replied, “Ser Oswell, tell my brother that he can go fuck himself”.
“Your Grace, your brother said you can go fuck yourself” he said.
Prince Aegon seemed about to say something again when Jaime visibly had enough. “SER JAIME LANNISTER THINK IT’S BULLSHIT!” he exclaimed.
“Ser Oswell Whent agrees with Ser Jaime Lannister” he replied. “Back in my days, quarrels between boys were resolved with swords and shields on the training field”.
“Whenever he is ready” Prince Aemon replied.
“No! It’s not wise” Prince Aegon said, “Our situation doesn’t allow us to do so”. He turned to his little brother up on the tree again and asked, “Will you stop being annoying and come down? I want to ask about something”.
“And will you stop buggering me?” His little brother replied, “What? What do you want to ask? Just say it here”.
Prince Aegon huffed. “You are impossible” he muttered. “Initially, I want to get to know you better. Someone suggested to me that we should get to know each other”.
“Who?”, “Hah?”, “What?” Prince Aemon, Jaime, and himself coincidentally wonder out loud.
“Forget it” Prince Aegon replied.
This time, Jaime was with him when they reported it to Rhaegar. And to their annoyance, their king chuckled at the situation.
“They used the two of you as parrots?” The princes’ father laughed.
It was a long time ago that Oswell saw this particular sight. Even Ser Barristan looked dumbfounded at it. Rhaegar was so rarely smiled, let alone laughed loudly. Arthur smiled brightly as well, looking at the happy king in front of them.
The kingsguards and the king had a luncheon together on some occasions, and it was one of them. They would report things around them that needed to be addressed. Rhaegar would usually go one by one about what his family was up to, whether they did something dangerous or if a threat ever came to them.
“Gods, they are so insolents” Rhaegar said, but kept giggling while scooping his soup.
“I know it’s funny that your sons are having a childish quarrel. But it’s serious, Rhaegar” he tried to reason again.
Calming himself, his king faced him. “It’s bound to happen, Oswell. They are just too different. But I know that they do not wish malice to each other”.
“How do you know?”.
“I am their father” he replied. “Even when they have some quarrels, I can feel and hear that there is no hatred behind those words. They were just annoyed with each other”.
“Aegon is often shy and likes to keep it to himself. Aemon is confident and outspoken. One likes reading inside the room, and the other couldn’t wait to explore every part of the lands. Nothing wrong with both. They are just different”.
“Speaking of which, how is their training?” the kings asked them.
“I heard Prince Aemon had beaten Oswell thrice over” Arthur replied.
“My word, is it true, Oswell?” the king asked him.
"I let him win" He defended his dignity which made Arthur roll his eyes. “But yes, he is good. He has a chance to be great with more training”.
“He is quick to learn the opponent’s moves” Jaime added, “He almost disarmed me last time. Almost” he emphasised the word.
Rhaegar nodded proudly. “Ser Arys, Ser Balon, the two of you should join the spar as well. It will be good for Aemon to know different types of opponent moves", he said. “And Aegon? How is he doing?”.
Nobody replied, for they couldn’t know exactly what happened. Prince Aegon preferred spears, and Prince Oberyn trained him privately. Ser Balon, Ser Barristan, and Arthur sometimes trained him too, but it wasn’t much compared to Prince Aemon’s daily rigorous training.
“Oh, come on, all of you must see his training with Oberyn, right?”
“Well, he-” Arthur paused. “I mean, Lord Arryn is not a very prominent fighter, but he led a successful campaign against all odds”.
“He should stick with the books. That’s what Arthur wants to say” Oswell said.
“Oh yes, there is nothing wrong with that” Rhaegar replied. “See? There is nothing wrong with my sons”.
Oswell sighed in defeat.
“Your Grace, may I?” Ser Barristan was given attention.
“Say your mind, good Ser” Rhaegar replied.
“It may be true that the two of them wish no harm towards one another” the old knight began his sermon. “But, as my life experience taught me, nothing good would ever come from a stranded relationship between brothers. Especially a royal house”.
“You know that they are both on the other side of the pole. Mayhaps you should get them a common ground, for the sake of peace and for the sake of your sanity”.
“The only common thing they have is me as their father. What should I do?” Rhaegar asked.
All the people at that luncheon looked at one another in confusion as well.
--
Aemon IV
He had his hands full. One was held by Jeyne, and the other by Wynafryd. In exchange for talking to them about his cousin, he agreed to be the canvas for their spectacular art. Since their arrival, the girls quickly picked up the southern ladies’ habit of painting their nails. They used some powder from herbs and flowers.
“Let me conclude it” he said, “Sansa has been disappearing every afternoon for days, and none of you know where she goes".
Jeyne was examining her last work with his middle finger. “True” she replied shortly. “I have been trying to sneak up on her, but so far it always fails”.
“She hides something from us, that’s for sure” Wynafryd said, almost done painting his ring finger, “My bet, it is a man”.
He frowned. “Isn’t it your job to know whatever she is doing?”.
Wynafryd shook her head. "No, no. You get it wrong. We are her companions—only if she wants to be attended. If she wishes to be alone, we cannot do anything about it”.
“And she is good at hiding her secret when she wants to, believe me” Jeyne added. “However, my guess is that Alys knows a chunk of it”.
“Alys?” he asked. “Where is she now?”.
“No idea” both Wynafryd and Jeyne replied in unison.
Aemon pressed his lips together in disappointment. He began to notice that Sansa acted strangely recently when he was about to deliver gifts for his sisters. These days, none of them seemed to be in their quarters before supper time, and it was hard to find all of them. He understood that Arya was busy with her water dancing lessons and that Leila was probably mingling in the kitchen. But Sansa? She should be easy to find.
Now, he knew that she did hide something.
“It’s done!” Jeyne exclaimed excitedly and held his palm. “Out of all things I envy, your fingers are the absolute things I want to take from you. Just look at these fingers…” the girl said, holding his hand high to her face.
“What’s wrong with my fingers?”.
“They are long and slimming down to the nails. So pretty” she replied.
“Do girls truly care about these things?” he frowned.
Wynafryd nodded, done with his other hand too. “Absolutely, it’s part of beauty”.
He indulged them both, putting both of his hands with painted nails on his cheeks. “How is it? Am I pretty?” he asked.
The three of them laughed together.
Soon after, Ser Arthur came to him and said that his father had called him to his study. He followed him and frowned when Aegon was there as well, sitting on the chair in front of their father’s table. He sat on the other chair, and his father began to talk about his wishes.
“What?”, “What?” he and Aegon asked in unison.
Their father pressed his lips and said, “Exactly what I just said. Your sister’s betrothal announcement is a sennight away. It is only appropriate if you give a present to her during the banquet”.
“I already prepared mine” Aegon replied.
“I don’t even know that someone is willing to marry her” Aemon said.
“She will betroth to Lord Willas Tyrell, heir to Highgarden” their father said.
‘Poor man’ he thought.
“And I know that Aegon has prepared his present, but Aemon hasn’t. Hence, it will be prudent for you, Aegon to accompany your little brother in search of a preferable present for Rhaenys”.
He couldn’t help but wonder whether his father was drunk.
They still followed their father’s words, though. With Ser Arthur, Ser Arys, and some guards, they went to the street of silk. He did understand why it was expected of them to do it, but that didn’t mean that it became less annoying to be forced to spend time with Aegon.
Aegon had invaded his stand since the dinner in the tower of hands. At their own family dinner, he would try to talk to him, asking about his childhood life. And because their father and grandmother always insisted on knowing, Aemon had no choice but to answer him. All was well until everything became suffocating.
Aegon kept asking him about the Starks.
‘I talked to Robb Stark at the dinner; he seems clever. What is like living with him?’, ‘What do the girls usually do in the North?’, ‘What is the entertainment for the people?’, ‘Is there any septa for the girls?’, ‘What kind of activities do you do as past times with them?’, ‘What kind of a mother Lady Catelyn is?’.
Oh, fuck Aegon and fuck his questions.
“So, what should I buy?” he asked Aegon, strolling the street.
“Well, Rhaenys likes golden jewellery with amethyst” Aegon replied. “Her favourite colour is purple, and her favourite flower is red amaryllis”.
“Right” he said. “Gyles, where is the best jewellery store here?” He asked his well-knowledged guard.
Gyles knew every single corner of King’s Landing, from the dirtiest slum in Flee Bottom to the most opulent whorehouse in the city. When he went out with his men, he always learned new things about the city as well. One time, they made him try a bowl of brown, a stew they sold in Flee Bottom.
“Don’t think about what they put in there, my prince” one of his men, Ower, said.
He laughed at the taste, and his men laughed even harder.
Knowing his personal guards gave him a sense of security and companionship in his new life. He had even memorised all of their names and the broad strokes of their lives. Some of them came from a shitty family and became soldiers to get away from them. Some were filial children who tried to make their parents proud. Some came from a rich household, and some were fighting to feed their family.
“It’s this way, my prince” Gyles replied, and he walked ahead of them, showing the way.
They arrived at the said store, and by how opulent the inside was, it might be the right place. There were some displays of finished products as well, and Aemon browsed through them while waiting for the shopkeeper. There was one particular piece that he liked and some pieces that his sisters might like.
“Welcome, my lords” the shopkeeper greeted them. “I am really sorry to make you wait. How may I help you?”.
He looked at Aegon, who was busy browsing the display himself. “I need jewellery for a betrothal gift. Preferably gold with amethyst in it” he said straightly.
“And what piece of jewellery does my lord want it to be?” the shopkeeper asked.
He replied, “The piece that you can finish under a sennight”.
“The best piece under a sennight, my lord?” the shopkeeper repeating his words.
The two of them engaged in a conversation for sometimes and agreed to buy a set of thirty gold dragons worth of bracelets. Aemon thought it was a waste since Rhaenys would probably throw them off as soon as she received it from him.
His relationship with his half-sister never showed any improvement. They loathed each other from the very start. It was mutual disgust and hatred. And Aemon swore that if she opened her mouth and made a sneer about his sisters or mother once more, he would make sure Willas fucking Tyrell needed to find another bride.
After dealing with whom it would be delivered and paying the price, they got out of the shop.
“Are you two finished?” Ser Arthur asked them, to which they nodded silently. “Your grace, would you like to go back to Red Keep? Ser Arys will escort you” he said to Aegon.
Aegon frowned. “Aren’t both of us will?”.
Ser Arthur, who had escorted him a lot of times during his time in the city, knew that he would spend some time there before going back.
“I’d like to stay” he said.
“Then I will stay as well” Aegon replied.
“Right. I go this way” he pointed at the right side of the road. “You go that way” he pointed at the other.
“What? No!” Aegon refused. “Father said that I have to accompany you. That means I am the one is in charge here. I go wherever you go” he insisted.
He looked at Ser Arthur, asking for help. The knight looked back at him and couldn’t find any words to refuse the crown prince. Sighing heavily, he started to walk away to the busier part of the area. Trying his best to ignore the fact that his brother followed his every move, he focusing his eyes on the shops and vendor along the street. This part of the city was famous for selling goods from Essos and he wanted to find somethings for his sisters.
“Perfume! Perfume! Best perfume for ladies and lords!” a shopkeeper shouted.
Aemon went to the shop and tried a couple of things, bought a different flavour for his sisters, and paid. Gyles was ready as usual to carry the bags. Strolling through the street again, he got three pairs of riding boots for Arya, headpieces for Sansa, a set of wooden animals’ figures for Rickon, and a set of wooden soldiers for Bran.
Next, he went to a craft store, looking for something for his sisters again.
“Aemon, you have shopped a lot” Aegon said to him.
“Oh, I do” he replied shortly, looking at the different papers and writing instruments.
“Do you think it’s time to go back?” he asked.
“No, it’s not” he replied shortly, and he found something so interesting. “Can I take a look at that?” he asked the shopkeeper.
Soon, the big package containing colourful papers, peacock quills, and colourful tints was in front of him. “This is a heaven for writing, my lords. We even have water colour paints from Yiti, complete with variations of eastern brushes”.
“Give me all those” he said to the shopkeeper.
“Whatever this is for?” Aegon asked again, “And why did you buy so many toys?” he complained.
“They are for my brothers and sisters” he replied, quickly correcting himself, “- cousins”.
“Oh” Aegon said, shutting his mouth.
Soon, his package was ready. “Thank you” he said to the shopkeeper, and paid. “Leila will love this” he muttered.
And to his annoyance, Aegon chimed in. “What is?” he asked.
“Nothing!” He replied shortly. “You know, you don’t have to follow me around like a puppy. Just sit somewhere and I will come back later”.
“I can’t. I have to escort you until we come back. I have said it to you, I will go wherever you go” he replied.
“Even if I go to the whorehouse, you will follow me there?” he asked out of annoyance.
Aegon was taken aback. “Is- Is that where you are headed?” he asked timidly.
“For someone whose uncle fucked the whole world, you sure are gullible,” Aemon replied. “And actually, I am. I will go to the whorehouse. That’s why I want you to go”.
Before Aegon could reply, he walked away quickly, leaving Aegon, his guards, and the kingsguards behind. After blending with the crowd, he walked faster. He pulled up his hood and took turns in the small alleyways. To his surprise, Aegon was also quick on his feet, and he started to walk faster and faster. He could hear his guards calling for him, but he ignored him, focusing on how to get away from this plague.
“Aemon, don’t walk too fast” Aegon said, “The others couldn’t keep up”.
“They need to get faster” he replied, starting to run instead of walking.
Again, Aegon followed him, running and chasing him too.
‘Will he ever leave me alone?!’ Aemon thought begrudgingly.
After so many turns and alleys, he arrived at a small clearance. Street vendors were scarce, and there were only men at every turn. Aegon soon arrived, without the guards or the kingsguards.
His brother was breathless from all the running. “Oh, finally, you stopped. Aren’t you tired?” he asked.
“No” he replied shortly, “it’s a little walk”.
“Is this the whorehouse?” Aegon asked again.
Aemon almost forgot his false excuse. “I think I get it wrong. Let’s get back” he said.
When he turned around and was about to walk away again, he realised that Aegon was staring at something.
“Lord Connington…” his brother muttered.
He turned his head, seeking the figure among the men there. And there he was, the king’s spymaster, entering the building.
His guards talked. They talked about many tales of the lords and ladies who lived inside the Red Keep. Without any commands, they shared things with him. Like how Lord Lefford was fond of gambling or how Princess Ariane liked to entertain men into her chamber when she was in the city.
They also talked about men who preferred to fuck other men. Lord Renly Baratheon was said to be one of them, and that was why Lord Stannis was adamant that he never appear at court. Ser Loras Tyrell was also rumoured to be one. But one name was always coming, and they said it was certain. Lord Connington undeniably preferred men to be his lovers. Nobody ever denied it.
A bet was made among the guards, of which one was Lord Connington. The rammer, or swallower, they called it.
Now that a chance was right in front of his eyes, he was curious. He wanted to know too.
“Aemon, where are you going?” his brother asked when he walked towards the building.
“It’s obvious, brother”.
He pulled off his hood and walked towards the door. There was a man guarding the post, and he stood in front of him. Aegon stood behind him.
“I’d like to enter. I have business” he said to the man.
The greasy, thin man looked at him from head to toe and then looked at Aegon, inspecting him as the same. “Whores go through the back door” he said.
Aemon was surprised, to say the least. “What makes you think that we are whores?”.
"Oh, come on, I have done this thing for so long” the man said. “Your face alone gives it away. Too pretty. Slender body, painted nails—you are not exactly very subtle”.
‘Oh, shit’ He looked at his painted nails.
“Excuse me, we are not-” Aegon was about to deny the man
“Yes, we are!” Aemon cut him off.
“What?!” Aegon protested.
“No shame in that boy” the man said, “You will be popular here. Silver hair, purple eyes—people come here every day fantasizing they fuck the king”.
“This pretty boy is marketed towards the younglings. More of a-fucking the crown prince” he said.
“Ah-, what a pretty boy…” the man muttered and visibly started to lust over Aegon.
“Where is the back door?” he quickly asked.
“That way” the man replied.
He took Aegon’s hand and walked in the said direction. Aegon, of course, protested.
“You just called ourselves whores!” he protested.
“Shuuush. Just to get us inside” Aemon replied, kept walking while taking Aegon’s hand in his. He was smiling gleefully, finally able to annoy Aegon back.
Once they passed through another guarded door at the back of the building, his brother got more annoyed.
“Aemon, this is not appropriate!” Aegon said, pulling his hand and forcing him to look at him.
“Which one? We are inside the whorehouse or that I was claiming we are manwhore?”.
“Both!” he said. “And really? That man just called us pretty; doesn’t it bother you?”.
Aemon raised one of his eyebrows. “No” he replied shortly. “If people ever compliment our faces, that’s the best thing we will ever get”.
“No, that’s not true. We are men. It is only appropriate if the chosen word is ‘handsome’ rather than 'pretty'”.
“Why are you so bothered by it? And are we really having this conversation right now? Inside a whorehouse” he indulged. “Fine! How many people have called you handsome?” he asked.
‘It is the most ridiculous conversation I ever have’ Aemon thought.
“A lot” Aegon said too quickly.
“Who?” Aemon asked “Your entire Martell family doesn’t count”.
His brother seemed to be thinking inside his head, falling silent for a while, “Lady Margea-”,
“Oh Gods!” he groaned. “Come on, let’s find Lord Connington and go” he said, walking inside the building more.
There was a lot of chatter, and based on the voice, he knew that all of them were men. He was rather taken aback when they entered the main room. Men kissing each other and groping one another in the corner of the room. Even the servants who delivered drinks and food were boys.
“Aemon… We shouldn’t be here” his brother whispered. There was a slight fear in his voice.
He wasn’t afraid. He had his dagger with him, and looking at the many windows in the building, it was easy to get away. However, even with the danger, his curiosity won. Just what kind of man was Lord Connington? He was said to be his father’s most loyal servant.
He walked toward one of the servant boys with Aegon following him closely.
“Excuse me” he said to the boy. “Do you happen to see Lord Connington? Red-haired, about in his late thirty”.
The boy frowned. “What business do you have?” he asked.
“I bring him another boy” he replied, gambling all the way out.
The boy looked at Aegon at a glance and nodded. “Ah, his type” he replied. “The lord is upstairs in his usual room, the farthest corner one”.
“Thanks!” Aemon replied, taking Aegon’s hand once again and taking the stairs.
“Are you implying that I am a whore again?” his brother whispered angrily.
“Sorry. That’s the only way” he replied, “And it works! How easy is that?”.
“Why are we here again?”.
“To prove which role Lord Connington is” he replied, “my guards have been setting a bet, and I feel obliged to prove it”.
“What nonsense is that? And whichever it is, it’s none of our business. It’s no one's business, actually! It’s privacy!”.
“It’s not like I will say it out loud. It’s just between me and my guards” Aemon replied, “Besides, you have lived with him under the same roof for all your life. Aren’t you curious?”.
“No” Aegon replied quickly. “The only thing I care about is whether he is doing his duty right”.
“As a spymaster?” Aemon scoffed. “Uncle Brynden called him useless”.
“No, he is not. He is a good man. He is loyal to father down to his very soul” his brother defended the lord, “And the man deserves his privacy kept safe”.
“It’s not like I want to see him fucking with a man" Aemon said, “If you are so adamant about keeping his privacy, go on! Peep him for me and tell me which one is he, the rammer or the swallower”.
“Is that what people called it?”.
“It’s what my guards call it”.
They arrived in front of the farthest room, hearing men moaning from all over the lined-up rooms. It was such a new experience for him, and he never imagined that such a place existed.
Was there an all-female whorehouse too? He wondered.
They waited a while until the corridor was empty.
“Come on, go on” he whispered to Aegon, nudging his head to the keyhole of the thick copper door.
Aegon eyed him and gulped, looking nervous. But to his surprise, his brother braced himself and kneeled in front of the door, placing his eye right at the hollow keyhole.
It took his brother sometimes, and he was seemed taken aback after that. Once again, Aegon placed his eyes at the keyhole and peered inside. Aemon could see just how wide Aegon’s eyes became, and he stood up in an instant, taking several steps back from the door. There was a horror expression clearly written all over his face. He shook his head repeatedly, muttering things that Aemon couldn’t hear.
“So, which one?” he asked.
Aegon looked at him in the eyes and shook his head.
Huffing, he crutched right in front of the door and peeped through the hole just like Aegon did. The room inside was dark; all the curtains were drawn, blocking the light from outside. However, he could see the two naked figures on the bed. One man was on his four, and the other was busy humping him from behind.
Lord Connington was the one who got fucked. Aemon almost chuckled at the fact, until the figure behind him caught the light a bit. He had white hair, a wig or not; Aemon could not be sure.
And just like Aegon, he finally saw the horror. Or, to be precise, heard it.
Lord Connington was moaning, “gar… Rhae gar… Ah! My king… ah, Rhaegar!”.
Suddenly, the whole world stopped. His breath hitched, his throat dried up, and his eyes were blurry. He stood up and looked at Aegon, who looked back at him with the same horror face from before. None of them said anything to one another.
They kept looking at each other, and without words, they walked away from the room. None of them even cared about the men looking at them with lust or calling them pretty while they were walking past the main room. The man at the entrance shouted at them when they got out using the front door. But again, they couldn’t care.
Once they arrived at the main road, they were found by their guards and kingsguards. Ser Arthur scolded them out, and they just kept their silence while he was shouting at them for being irresponsible. They were dragged by the knight onto the prepared carriage so they couldn’t run away again.
Once they arrived at the Red Keep, they walked towards the Maegor Holdfast. But at one of the corridors to the garden, a familiar, warm voice called them,
“Aemon! Aegon!” their father called.
He was standing, surrounded by Lord Randyll Tarly and Lord Mace Tyrell. They approached the older men and Aemon couldn’t help but look at his father in a different light. He pitied him.
Aemon knew that the capital was a shitty place, and Red Keep was the way to hell. But not to his extent.
“How was your day out? Did you get the gift for your sister?” his father asked.
Instead of replying to his father, Aemon kept looking at him. There were soft wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and seer bags under his eyes. People said that he looked just like his father when he was young. Mayhaps it was true.
The man in front of him held so much with little return. His father was surrounded by men without honour. One man tried to murder his own son, one man only aimed to get his children into the royal family, and now, he found out that one man lusted after him.
Just how lonely his life and his path might be, Aemon wondered.
“Why are you two keeping silent? Is everything alright” his father asked with full concern in his voice.
Instead of answering him, Aemon stepped closer to him and hugged him tight.
“Oh” his father was taken a back, “What happened, son?” He softened his voice.
“I miss you” he replied quietly, resting his head on his father’s chest.
The moment was cut short for someone called his father. They untangled themselves and looked at the men running towards them.
“YOUR GRACE!”. It was Grandmaester Cressen, holding a scroll with such a serious face. His breath was raging, and there was such worry in his eyes.
“Grandmaester, what is the tiding that makes you run in such manner?” his father asked.
The old maester who was still collecting his breath, turned his head towards him, looking right through his eyes.
--
Eddard V
They surrounded his nephew like hyenas, ready to corner him, and bring him down. Their glistening eyes gave it away, as if they had waited for this very moment to come—for a mistake in his nephew’s name to happen.
The tiding was a troubling one. Lord Rosby had sent a letter saying three villages in his lands had been pillaged, the women had been raped and kidnapped, and goods had been looted. The men behind the grievance acts were said to wear the Targaryen sigil on their attire and bragged loudly that they were sent by their prince, Aemon.
According to Jon himself, he did send two teams; one of them was travelling through the Rosby.
“No! I know those men. They are good, loyal soldiers. They will never do something like that!” Jon defended his men.
His voice was loud and clear, even when he had to face the entire council as well as his father. All of them were there, all the kingdoms’ envoys, the masters, the hand of the king, Oberyn, and even his uncle, Prince Viserys.
“You have just known them for a few weeks, do you not, my prince?” Stannis, as the Master of Law asked.
“You are not responsible for their actions, for you couldn’t know their true nature, my prince” Lord Manderly, as Master of Ships added.
“Even if he didn’t, he has to know that sending troops as envoys is not wise” Lord Yronwood, Envoy of Dorne argued.
“His intention is noble, that is not to be argued” Ser Brynden defended Jon.
“However noble his mission is, it proved to backfire on him and, by extension, the royal family” Lord Randyll replied.
“A commander couldn’t know what his entire troops did during battle, let alone an emissary journey” Lod Tywin countered. “You should have known that, Lord Tarly”.
“The action is reckless and unnecessary” Lord Tyrell said.
“Do we even know for sure the truth behind the tiding? It seems no one ever brought it up” said Lord Rogers, the Envoy of Stromlands, who was also Eddard’s own uncle by marriage.
“Lord Rosby is a truthful man. There is no one could deny that” Lord Monford Velaryon, Envoy of Crownlands replied.
"Hear, hear" the loyalist faction lors agreed.
“Still, there should be more clarity than a short tiding since they brought up Prince Aemon’s name” Lyn Corbray, the Envoy of the Vale countered.
He had heard these kinds of meetings from the ravens that Lord Manderly and Mark Ryswell sent him regularly. A never-ending debate and banter between the loyalist and rebel factions. Sometimes they even reach a stalemate. That was when Rhaegar and Old Jon would dismiss everyone, preferring to talk alone.
However, Ned was grateful for the alliances. They were true to their words and supported his nephew in this court.
The debate continued, with the loyalist subtly pushing the idea that it was his nephew’s fault and the rebel countering that it was the soldiers’ fault, if the tiding was true.
Ned had not raised his voice, for he had his own opponent. So far, Prince Oberyn had not said a single word. And therefore, he would wait until the Dornish did.
Oh, he distasted the man with all of his being. He was the man who was most adamant about making his nephew a bastard in the Great Council all those years ago. He was also the suspect behind the assassination attempt on his nephew, and that was an even bigger reason for Ned to hate him.
Oberyn fought for his sister; he could understand that. But so was he. His nephew was the only thing left of her, and Ned would curse himself to death if these insipid lords succeeded in bringing his nephew down.
“Anyway, what is the business of a prince sending an emissary mission? It sounds like a campaign” Lord Tyrell provoked again.
This was when his nephew, who was silent the whole time, answered for the first time.
“It is” he said, making the whole room drop silent and look at him. “Six hundred and fifty-eight soldiers died to retrieve me. The only thing I could do is apologise. And within those letters, I also tell the family of a great danger we all will face soon” his nephew further explained.
“Is this about the dead corpse from the previous moons?” Stannis asked, seemingly most interested in the subject of the dead.
“It is, Lord Stannis” he replied. “I don’t know the gravity of the lords’ trust in the tale. And if no lords ever hear it in a serious manner, at least I want to make sure the common folks are informed”.
“And what is the urgency for you to do all of that, my prince? You don’t have to apologise for their death, and the one who should say of the realm urgency is the king, not you,” Jon Connington said.
“It sounds like you overstepped your position”, this time, Oberyn opened his mouth.
Oh, Ned knew the double meaning behind the words, and he knew it was time for him to speak.
“No, he is not” Ned replied, “He commanded those under his jurisdiction and acted appropriately”.
“As Connington had said, it is not in his right to address the matter of urgency”.
“It is his right to address the family of soldiers who fell to fight for him”.
“And why would he do that? To make people like him?”.
“I know that honouring the lives of people who died for you is such a strange concept to you, Prince Oberyn. But fortunately, my nephew knows better”.
“Oh yes, of course. Honour seems to be the topic here, isn’t it? It’s funny because your nephew should be the last person to think about it”.
“I could not care less about your strange words, but let me tell you that some people here have principles in life”.
“Unfortunately, whatever principle you are talking about ended up killing soldiers and now civilians”.
“That’s why he is here, being responsible and not facing the other way, or worse, hiding behind the curtain. And that is honour. I will gladly teach you if you still don’t understand” Ned finished his words.
Ned himself knew that everybody in the room could read the tension clearly. It was an argument beyond the tragedy befallen at Lord Rosby’s lands.
He would always be ready. If the Martell sent a thousand bards to tarnish his nephew’s name like they did to his sister’s, he would send two thousand more this time. Ned also swore to himself that he would find the figure behind the spicy foods for Jon and crush that person’s head himself. And with the new case, he was entirely sure there was someone who wished unspeakable things for his nephew.
Rhaegar hit the table three times with his own fist, breaking the heavy tension between him and Oberyn.
“First course of action would be to send people to Rosby and get more clarity” His foster father said with his familiar calm voice.
“I agree with Lord Arryn” Rhaegar replied, “And on top of it, it will be better to talk to the people directly, asking about the appearance and other things of the men who did the malice to them”.
“I’ll go” his nephew said loudly.
“No, Aemon…” Rhaegar shook his head. “I forbid it”.
“Why? The letter mentioned my name in it. If anything, I should be the one who is most angry about the situation” his nephew replied.
“Yes, I can understand that. And you have a right to feel angry. But it is not necessary for you to go. If anything, it could be a trap for you. They want to rile you out” Rhaegar insisted.
“Still, I want to know more” Jon insisted. “The only news we have is that innocent people were harmed".
“No! You can’t go. I will send the kingsguard, or envoys, or anyone but you. You stay here”.
“Why?! I have to know what happened to the soldiers I sent! It’s my responsibility” Jon argued.
“It’s not your responsibility, and it’s not your fault either!” The king raised his voice and said, “It’s too dangerous for you to go”.
“It’s not like I will go alone! There are other soldiers who will come with me”.
“No, it’s still no”.
“WHY?!” Jon got impatient.
“BECAUSE I DON’T WANT TO LOSE YOU!” Rhaegar yelled loudly.
The room fell into silence after that. The lords were avoiding eye contact with each other, feeling like they were invading a father-son moment.
Ned would do the same had he not been facing straight with Oberyn. Instead, he smirked at the Dornish prince. He knew just how irritated Oberyn might be that Rhaegar publicly showed affection to his nephew.
His eyes then landed on Jon, who was looking straight at his father. And surprisingly, Jon turned towards him, looking into his eyes. Ned nodded to him, giving him reassurance that whatever his next move would be, Jon would always have his support.
His nephew took a deep breath. “I will not deny that it is extremely dangerous for myself” he began to argue again. “And mayhaps you are right that it could be a ploy to rile me up. However, it doesn't erase the fact that I am the one who sent those soldiers”.
Rhaegar was about to reply, but Old Jon grabbed his hand, stopping the king and letting his nephew continue.
“My way is the old way, father. A man who passes the sentence should swing the sword” Jon recited what he had taught him. “If it is true that the soldiers whom I sent were doing the said crimes, I will bring them to justice. And if it is not, I will seek whoever are responsible and bring you their heads”.
The king didn’t answer right away or dismiss it. He was just staring straight at his son, looking into his eyes.
“I’ll go with him”, everyone turned to Prince Viserys.
The prince looked at his older brother and said, “As much as you hate it, your son is right. His name is the one who gets dragged into this. Thus, he has every right to punish whoever is responsible, whether it is the soldiers or any other wretched men”.
“Vis…” Rhaegar called him.
Prince Viserys raised his arms, stopping Rhaegar from interrupting. “And as a brother, I get you as well. You are extremely worried about what will become of your son. That’s why I will go with him. We will take the kngsguards and as many men as you want”.
The king fell silent again and said, “Swear it to me, Vis”.
“Father!” Jon protested.
The little brother sighed heavily. "Fine,” he replied, and got up from his chair, walking towards his king.
The two brothers stood facing each other, and Rhaegar extended his hand. Prince Viserys accepted it. “I promise I will bring your son back to you” he said to his older brother.
--
HOUSE TARGARYEN RELATIONSHIP CHART PART I
[TOGASHI'S ZOLDYCK'S STYLE]
To be Continued...