Fireside Talk

110 AC, King's Landing

Time flowed like water, slipping silently past the stone walls of the Red Keep.

Two years.

From the hunt in the Kingswood in 108 AC to the autumn of 110 AC, more than seven hundred days and nights had slipped by amid bells, tides, and the wings of ravens.

More vines clung to the stone walls of the Red Keep. The tapestries newly hung in the throne room back then had faded, and two new little beds had appeared in the nursery in Maegor's Holdfast.

The girl who had entered the forest carrying her little brother two years ago had grown into a thirteen-year-old princess. She was taller now, her face had lost its childish roundness, and a measure of composure had settled into her features.

The one-year-old toddler who had sat on the white stag's back in the woods two years ago was now a boy of three. His silver hair was longer, his violet eyes deeper. He could speak in full sentences, run and jump, and even ride Sunfyre on short flights-

After the hunt in the Kingswood, the golden dragon's terrifying growth had gradually slowed to a normal pace, making Sunfyre more and more like a "normal" young dragon...

Yet Sunfyre, already the size of a small pony back then, had still grown to the size of a large adult horse, with gleaming golden scales and a wingspan broad enough to shade nearly half a small courtyard.

And tonight, in a room somewhere in the Red Keep, a baby was crying.

He was Aemond Targaryen, the second son of Viserys I and Alicent Hightower.

He had been born on the afternoon of this same date last month, half a month earlier than expected, but both mother and child were safe.

The baby had sparse silver hair and a loud cry. His eyes were said to be pale violet when he opened them-though the midwife said a newborn's eye color could still change.

At the time, Alicent had still been lying exhausted in her birthing bed, listening to the baby's cries with a smile on her face.

It was her third birth. She had grown accustomed to the pain and exhaustion, and to that tangled mixture of feelings-

Joy, pride, and a faint, elusive sense of loss.

Because Aegon had not come to see his little brother.

Or rather, Aegon had only come for a quick look, confirmed that "my little brother's been born," and then run off to Rhaenyra's room again.

He had said, "My sister's waiting for me to tell her a story."

Alicent had not stopped him.

She had simply watched her son's little figure disappear through the doorway, listened to his footsteps fade down the corridor, and then closed her eyes.

Two whole years had passed...

And Aegon still loved Rhaenyra best.

Now, the scene returned to this night, on the other side of the Red Keep.

Rhaenyra's room lay in the eastern wing of Maegor's Holdfast. Its windows faced the sea, offering a view of the scattered sails on Blackwater Bay.

It was late now. A few candles burned in the room, their flames flickering. Logs crackled in the fireplace, driving away the chill of the autumn night.

A copy of the Valyrian Chronicle lay open on the desk, its parchment yellowed and its ink old. A black-and-red cloak was draped over the chair beside it-the one Rhaenyra had worn while riding her dragon that day.

But no one in the room was reading, and no one was wearing the cloak.

Rhaenyra lay on her side in bed, her silver hair spread across the pillow, her breathing steady.

She held a small body in her arms-

Aegon was curled in the crook of her arm, his little hand clutching the front of her nightgown, his face buried against her neck, fast asleep.

Sunfyre lay curled on the rug beside the bed, the dragon's enormous body taking up nearly half the room.

The dragon rested a chin on the foreclaws, golden eyes half closed, occasionally glancing at the sleeping siblings before dozing again once all seemed safe.

After two years, Sunfyre had grown too large to squeeze onto the bed as before. But the dragon could still just barely squeeze through the door and insisted on staying as close to the rider as possible, like an absurdly loyal dog.

The sound of waves drifted through the window, and the faint light of a distant lighthouse flickered.

The siblings knew nothing of all that had happened after that night two years ago.

At the same moment, on the other side of the Red Keep, the king's study was brightly lit.

The fire blazed in the hearth, logs snapping and crackling as warmth filled the room. Yet there was no warmth on the face of the man beside it.

Viserys reclined silently in a broad armchair, one leg resting on a footstool, a wine cup in his hand.

The wine had been warmed and mixed with honey and spices, as he had lately come to prefer it.

Yet tonight, even that carefully prepared hot wine could not smooth the furrows between his brows.

A letter lay on the small table before him.

The edges of the parchment were scorched, and its folds were badly worn-it had clearly traveled far and been read many times.

Alicent sat on a low stool opposite him, a woolen blanket over her knees.

She had given birth only half a month ago and should have been resting in bed, but Viserys had sent for her, saying there was something important they needed to discuss.

She wore a thick nightgown, her hair simply tied back. The exhaustion of childbirth still lingered on her face, but her eyes were alert.

"...A letter from Vaemond Velaryon."

Viserys finally spoke, his voice hoarse, pointing at the parchment on the table. "Corlys Velaryon's younger brother. That...

"That fellow who's always following his brother around, the one you hardly ever notice. He's written to ask for aid."

Alicent said nothing, merely watching him quietly.

"The Triarchy has assembled another fleet," Viserys continued, rubbing a finger along the rim of his cup. "And this time, the Dornish are with them. That little fox Qoren Martell finally couldn't resist joining the fray himself. They're besieging that... little kingdom of Daemon's."

There was even a hint of mockery in his voice when he said "little kingdom."

"How fares the war?" Alicent asked softly.

"Badly, according to Vaemond." Viserys picked up the letter and glanced at it. "He says here,

"'Gallowsgrey has fallen, Daemon's stronghold on Bloodstone Island is surrounded, and even the garrison on Widow's Island has only two hundred men left'...

"They need reinforcements, supplies, and the support of the Iron Throne."

He put down the letter, tipped back his head, and took a deep drink.

"It's been five years now, hasn't it? Since the year we married, he and the Sea Snake have been trying to get their hands on the Stepstones."

His voice held a tangled knot of suppressed feelings. "That troublesome wretch Daemon went and crowned himself king in the Stepstones without a word to me,

"And Corlys? Not only did he crown Daemon himself, he's also Daemon's 'admiral.'

"The two of them joined forces, conquered a patch of land, then crowned themselves and started ruling it without so much as asking anyone.

"They wrote to me, one saying, 'Brother, I need your recognition,' and the other saying, 'Your Grace, these lands were won for you'-

"It's utter horseshit!"

Viserys slammed his wine cup onto the small table, splashing wine over the edge.

"They need my recognition?" Viserys raised his voice. "When they need me, they remember I'm their king, their family, their liege.

"And when they don't?

"Did Daemon tell me a word before the day he was crowned?

"Did Corlys ask my permission before sending his fleet to blockade the Stepstones?"

Alicent rose, went to his side, and gently rested a hand on his shoulder.

She had done this countless times, and each time it had soothed some of Viserys's anger.

But tonight, Viserys clearly needed longer to vent.

"I wrote to them myself last year." As he continued, his anger gradually gave way to hurt. "Just after Daemon's coronation, I wrote and told him: you may keep your crown, so long as you cause no more trouble. Guess what he wrote back?"

Alicent already knew the answer, but she remained silent.

"He actually replied, 'Thank you for your graciousness, Your Grace. I shall continue to rid the realm of pirates and ensure the safety of trade across the Narrow Sea. As for this crown, it is merely an ornament upon my brow and does not diminish my loyalty to you and the Iron Throne in the slightest.'

"Listen to that, Alicent!

"Does that sound like a letter Daemon Targaryen could have written? When has he ever been so polite to me, his own brother?

"Worst of all, even the scribe he hired was utterly incompetent. As his brother, wouldn't I know Daemon Targaryen's handwriting?"

Viserys imitated the tone of the scribe Daemon had hired, his mockery growing sharper. "Loyalty?

"He's loyal to the Iron Throne?

"He's loyal to me? If he were loyal, he would have asked my leave before starting a war!

"He would have obtained my consent before being crowned!

"He would have-"

He stopped and drew a deep breath.

"And then there's Corlys, that old Sea Snake." He lowered his voice, but his anger had not faded. "Five years ago, I thought he'd come back to King's Landing to admit his mistakes, bow his head, and serve as my Master of Ships again. Instead, he wanted me to marry Laena.

"I treated him as my brother-in-law, and he wanted to become my father-in-law. I refused. I chose you. Ever since then, his attitude toward me has changed.

"On the surface, his perfunctory letters were all respectful. Behind my back...

"Behind my back, he joined forces with Daemon, supported his claim to kingship, and helped him wage war. He's taking revenge on me! Revenge because I didn't choose his daughter! Revenge because I wouldn't bow to him!"

Alicent remained silent. She knew better than anyone that Viserys had a point, but she also knew the matter was far more complicated.

"Now they're in trouble." Viserys sneered. "The Triarchy has struck back, the Dornish have joined in, and they can't hold out.

"Now that Daemon can't manage on his own, he remembers he has a brother. A king.

"Weymon writes to ask for aid-

"Weymon! That poor wretch who's spent his whole life in his brother's shadow! An honest man!

"This letter is nothing like him. It deliberately exaggerates the danger in the Stepstones. Corlys couldn't swallow his pride, so he dictated it to his little brother Vaemond and had him write to ask for help!"

He raised his cup again, drained it, and slammed it down empty.

"What am I supposed to do?" He looked at Alicent, his eyes filled with anger, hurt, and profound exhaustion. "If I send reinforcements to those two 'rebels,' Daemon and Corlys, what will people think of me as king? They'll say: look, that weak 'Young King' is letting his brother and brother-in-law lead him by the nose again. They'll say: the king can't even uphold his own authority, and still has to help those who disobey him. They'll say-"

"Viserys."

Alicent finally spoke, her voice soft but clear. At the same time, her hand pressed a little more firmly on his shoulder.

Viserys fell silent and looked at her, at the wife standing before him.

"Which course would better serve the stability of the realm?" Alicent asked, her brown eyes steadily meeting his. "Standing by while the Triarchy and the Dornish join forces and strengthen their hold on the Stepstones? Or rooting out the threat once and for all?"

Viserys opened his mouth, but gave no answer.

"Daemon and Corlys," Alicent continued calmly, "have selfish motives and ambitions, and there are ways in which they have disobeyed you.

"But they are also doing what the Iron Throne ought to do-wiping out pirates, protecting trade routes, and curbing the Triarchy's expansion.

"If they lose, the Stepstones will fall back into the Triarchy's hands, the pirates will return, and trade across the Narrow Sea will be threatened again. By the time you decide to send troops then, it will be too late."

Viserys fell silent. He gazed into the hearth, the firelight dancing in his eyes.

"Family," Alicent said softly, having gradually absorbed Aegon's "brainwashing." "However many disagreements there are, however much resentment, you are still family in the end. If you send troops now, it will not be merely for Daemon, nor merely for Corlys, but for the whole realm, and for the Iron Throne."