Chapter 1: The Dragon's Council
Aemon 1
Aemon read and re-read the letter from his brother, Aegon. He couldn't believe it. His father was dead.
Father was killed in the war against the Peakes. Please return to King's Landing in all haste. Lord Bloodraven has decided to call a Council to discuss the succession, what with the son of Aerion being barely a full year of age.
Signed
Aegon, of House Targaryen, Prince of Summerhall and Hand of the King
So, it was done. Aemon determined to set out immediately with an honorary Hightower escort. Due to the deviations they would have to take to avoid the rebel lands, he wouldn't arrive for yet another fortnight.
Of all of Maekar's children, Aemon had been the closest with his father, in personality and preference. Indeed, Aemon held a similar sense of duty to the late king, if not his martial prowess. Aemon still remembered the rage of his father when he had learned that King Daeron II had ordered him to be given to the Citadel...
Aemon rolled the scroll up, and turned to his lover, who had been smuggled into his chambers.
Bethany. He had fallen for her a long time ago, while still a young man. They were both so young then.
"My father is dead," Aemon began, his voice cracking.
Bethany turned to him. "Are you serious?"
Always her to chose the most moderate response, Aemon mused bitterly. "It could be a conspiracy -- a ploy by the Peakes to capture a son of the king?"
Ever paranoid as well. Aemon smiled slightly, before returning to his typical stern gaze.
"No, Beth, he is dead. This handwriting is my brother's. And it's in High Valyrian." Indeed, the scroll was writ in the traditional language of his ancestors. Few Maesters knew actual High Valyrian -- many knew bastard dialects of the language, but none knew the pure dialect. Following the Doom of Valyria, only the Targaryens spoke the true tongue. It was a treasured secret that few outside the royal family knew.
Beth was silent. Aemon hesitated before continuing. "I'm sorry Beth, but I have to leave you. I'm going to the capital."
At that, Beth's face grew as stern as his. "So you're going to up and abandon me? Again?" Her voice rose into a roar. She stood up, throwing the sheets off of her nakedness and starting to dress.
"Beth, you're being unreasonable, I have no choice and you need to keep your voi..."
"Aemon Targaryen, I've loved you for nearly 15 years. I've been loyal to you, despite my marriage. Despite my duties. I bore your bastard and..."
"Don't bring him into this, it's not fair..."
"LIFE ISN'T FAIR AEMON! You live under a gods-damned fucking rock the size of the entire shitty Citadel! I come and give you my body, you use me, and you go back to your 'duties.' Read your fucking books like you're fucking them and not me!" She was furious, the unusual authority in her voice making Aemon cringe, as they were in his room in the Maester's Quarters of the Citadel.
"You leave me. You use me. You made our son, and I bet you can't even remember his fucking nameday!" She glared at him, expecting him to respond.
"It was last week," Aemon began, but she cut him off with her stare.
"It was yesterday."
Silence.
"Seriously, Aemon, he is your son. He is so angry. He doesn't know his father because I haven't the courage to tell him that his father is a craven book-monger and his mother is a desperate whore! He needs a father, Aemon, for his sake."
Aemon rose up from the bed, and pushed the bookcase to reveal the secret passage that Bethany had used to enter under cover. "I think you know your way out by now."
"I might be shy, but you're a coward." And with that, she stormed into the darkness. Aemon dressed himself and prepared for his journey, her words simmering in the back of his mind.
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Egg 1:
Aegon entered the small-council chamber. In it, sat Lord Bloodraven, his sister Daella, and his cousin, Daenora Targaryen, holding her baby at her breast.
Additionally, the Master of Ships, Lord Daeron Velaryon, was also present with his son and heir, Jacaerys Velaryon.
"Obviously, my son, Prince Maegor is the rightful king," Daenora spoke.
"Aye, and the rightful king like as not may be mad for all we know," Velaryon returned. Aegon nodded in agreement. He knew his brother well enough, and if the ill-named Prince had any semblance to Aerion, he might likely spell the end of House Targaryen's rule of Westeros. With the majority of the Black Dragon's sons and grandsons still alive and plotting across the Narrow Sea, it was prudent to avoid a regency if at all possible.
Aegon turned to Daenora who, despite her late husband, was a good woman. "I'm sorry Daenora, but he's right. Your son would have a regency of nearly two decades. We still remember the chaos that followed the Dance. I'm not keen on seeing that return to the realm, especially whilst we have a line of bastards trying to usurp our throne."
Jacaerys spoke up. "I would be glad to take the crown off your hands." He waved his hands trying to sound convincing, but only managing to sound foolish. "After all, my great grandmother was Baela Targaryen..."
"ENOUGH OF THIS!" Lord Daeron spoke. He had an apparent hearty disliking for his son.
One can't blame him, Aegon thought,
with Jacaerys defying his father's wishes and wedding a lowborn girl. His heirs won't have the blood for the throne.
In all this, Bloodraven was analytically silent.
I wonder what that man is thinking, Egg thought to himself. Bloodraven had been both the terror and the wonder (but more oft the former) of the Targaryen court following the Blackfyre Rebellions. He was loyal to Daeron's line to a fault, but ofttimes his methods were more ruthless than the royals wanted. Regardless, Bloodraven had held a position on the Small Council since the end of the First Blackfyre Rebellion.
The White Bastard, one of the Kingsguard, and a bastard relative of Daella's husband, entered the room.
"Lady Kiera has arrived," he said, gesturing to the door behind him.
"Let her in," Egg replied. Bloodraven, the acting regent, nodded his assent. The kingsguard knight nodded and pulled the door open, the Lady entering the room.
"Egg, stop this madness. You know as well as I that my daughter is the rightful queen. I was a loyal wife to Valarr, and a loyal bride to Daeron as well!"
Vaella, Egg thought.
The simpleton. And a woman to boot!
"Valarr is dead, as is Daeron. Royal tradition disagrees with you, my lady. If this is the case, then the Great Council will see fit to crown her. Until then, however, the question of who is rightful open to interpretation."
Bloodraven's reply was cold, and harsh. Commanding. Kiera thought to fight back, but realized it was a lost cause and stormed back out of the room mumbling curses under her breath.
Word had already been sent to the Lords of the Realm to gather for a Great Council. Egg didn't understand why these claimants thought to deny a council that had already been called.
It is for the good of the realm? Are they truly so blind as to not see that?
The Small Council session continued for many hours. By the end of it, they had agreed on two things: that a Great Council was indeed necessary, and that an army must needs be sent to take Lord Peake into custody lest his actions inspire others to take arms against House Targaryen.
