"Did you think these ideas are mine alone?"
As it turned out, being all alone in the enemy capital was not quite the strong starting position the Princess of Dorne might have hoped for. Big surprise, that. Having the man who had been more than willing to spit on the peace banner at the negotiating table might have helped, but who was I to judge? All it meant for me was that the words were on parchment and joined by a seal before the sun had set. Final. A done deal.
Even after the princess had been escorted from the chambers and to her own quarters, we sat there in silence. Stunned silence, mayhaps, at the reality of the situation: a long scroll of parchment that sat on the large table, detailing everything from individual borders, released vassals, forfeiture of a single unified coinage, guarantees of independence, and so much more.
"That's it, then," Lord Tyrell broke the silence. He lounged in his seat, as though all the tension had fled at once, a great weight lifted from his shoulders. "Victory. Peace as His Grace wished it."
"Aye." I do not recall who said it, but the same sentiment echoed within me.
We were done. The whole sordid mess of this war was over, from the failed propaganda stunt to the rage-fueled spree of vengeance to which I had more than contributed. But that was done. That was in the past.
And that was when an unwelcome worry took root in my gut.
"All we need is for Father to add his seal," I said, and the other members of the Small Council stiffened in their seats. That was all it took for me to realize that we had a potentially bigger problem on our hands. "Is he not capable of that much?"
"It's not that…" Aemon tried to answer, but his voice faltered. He sagged a bit more into his seat before he spoke again. "Grand Maester, you can explain this better than I."
"His Grace King Jaehaerys remains incapable of ruling," the words were blunt. "He remains barely responsive to external stimuli, and simply keeping him from starving himself proves a challenge. Were it not for Her Grace Queen Alysanne, we might be planning a funeral and a coronation."
Damning words, those, and they hung in the air for several long moments.
"We will declare a regency," Aemon said, though his tone made his reluctance clear. But there was an easy confidence in the declaration, stating plainly that this would happen. A fine quality to have in a ruler, but this was an example to which I would have to object. "And we will have peace."
"I do not like it," I said. "We are unjustly taking power and establishing a precedent that empowers the Small Council ahead of the king."
That was the kind of precedent future generations could and would exploit. The kind of thing I had no desire to enable.
"A man who does not want to acquire additional power, how very rare," Corlys commented with a smirk. "I suppose your greed is limited to coin?"
My brother's face briefly twitched in response. It appeared that he had yet to fully come to terms with even a fraction of my financial holdings. A shame that Father had clearly failed to explain things to his heir. Or fortunately, really. Otherwise, there might have been some pointed questions regarding the vast amounts of inns and taverns I owned.
"Excuse me for wanting to think ahead." There was no immediate response to that, with my brothers by marriage and by blood both staring at me. "What?"
"Who are you and what have you done to my friend?" Braxton asked, eyes narrowing in suspicion. As though I were incapable of being careful. Why there was the time… no, wait, I had nothing. At least not around them.
"Forgive him, Ser Braxton," Aemon interrupted. "Vaegon never liked seizing power, though he will come around in time."
"I have no issue with accepting power," I told my brother, mostly truthfully. As Maegelle had reminded me, I was already a powerful man. Much of the city answered to me, directly or indirectly. My wealth rivaled that of entire houses. I had run a network of informants that spread throughout the Seven Kingdoms. I had a dragon, and now an army. And that power had not gone to my head. But this was different. "But seizing power is another matter entirely."
"Then we can put it to a vote," he suggested. "Unless you would prefer to confirm the necessity for yourself?"
"As a matter of fact, I am," I said, taking the obvious excuse and rising from my seat. It had been too long since I had last spoken with Father anyways. What kind of son was I, after all, to ignore my ailing father when it was convenient to do so?
"Seriously?" Aemon asked. "You cannot just leave ahead of a vote just because you disagree with it!"
"There are four of you, and you have managed to rule for a month without me," I pointed out as I made to leave. "I am certain you can keep the realm from burning to the ground without me for another hour. And if Father really cannot rule, then my one vote will not make a difference if the rest of you are in agreement."
It was hardly a long journey, nor was it particularly eventful. Besides the many guards still prowling the halls, or mayhaps because of them keeping most aspiring petitioners away from me, I managed to reach my destination in no time.
"Am I intruding?" I asked as I stepped into my parents' apartments. Mother and Father sat side by side on a couch facing the fireplace, leaning against one another. Only one of them reacted to my words, however, and it was not my sire.
"Never!" my mother declared, waving me over to her side but never losing her matronly grace. "Come, come, have a seat! I was just wondering when you visit. Honestly, I was considering having you summoned."
"Were you now?" I asked, obeying all the same as I sat in one of the comfortable chairs flanking the couch. The fire in the hearth crackled merrily as I took my place, its warmth only exceeded by my mother's smile. Father's expression, by contrast, was better expressed as vacant.
"Of course!" Mother answered. "Are you just here to check on your father? You've been busy, I know, but I do appreciate that you were able to at least stop by. How are things?"
"Better than before," I said, as I prepared to break the big news. "We have been able to negotiate peace with Dorne."
"Peace?" Mother asked as if she were concerned she had not heard correctly. After I nodded, however, her face lit up. "Oh, what splendid news! Have you told Maegelle yet?"
"Not yet," I admitted. "The Small Council… needed my immediate attention." For a moment, I had almost said 'was more important,' a phrase that Mother would no doubt have scoffed at. Mayhaps not in terms so crude, but most certainly in spirit.
"Well, as long as you do not keep her waiting too long," Mother said with a patient smile. "You really don't want your wife chasing after you to hear such important news. An end to the war!"
"I… the Small Council still needs Father's approval to approve the peace," I admitted. Glancing at the king in question revealed that that was a futile measure. He had still not responded, but that was the least concerning about the sight. He was gaunt, his eyes flat, and his hair disheveled. Gone was the man whose inscrutable smile warmed the hearts of the realm, leaving only a man staring into the blazing fireplace. "They are pushing for a regency."
"A regency?" Mother turned to Father. "Beloved, what do you think?"
"I'm not hungry," he mumbled. Where was the wise and clever man who had managed the Seven Kingdoms? Where was the man who had confronted me about my idiocy? Where was the man I was happy to call Father?
"They were right," I said softly. "Seven be good, they were right."
"It might be for the best," she said equally as softly. "Almost four months without change, and with peace so close… Vaegon, do you really wish for the war to resume? Do you really wish to go back to Dorne?"
"A regency for a king who is deemed incapable of ruling by his Small Council sets a precedent that can too easily be exploited," I pointed out.
"You are worrying about the future without considering how we will get there," Mother pointed out in turn. "How often have your father and I told you? The long-term results do not matter…"
"… if we do not get there at all," I finished the thought. How often had I used that trite phrase? How often had I thought those words and applied them? Why was it different now? "You made your point."
"You are never too old to listen to your mother, Vaegon," she pointed out. "I know you prefer to listen Maegelle, but I'm not so old to have lost my wits."
Well, she had a point.
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AN :
Hey everyone—just a quick note to let you know that this story is now complete on Patreon. As it began, so it ends: with an excerpt from a fictional world that's been living rent-free in my head.
Finishing a story always brings a strange mix of emotions. On one hand—woohoo, it's done! On the other... it's done. Something that's been a part of my life and weekly rhythm for over a year has come to a close. Bittersweet, to say the least.
So thank you. Seriously. Whether you've been a die-hard supporter or a tough critic, I'm grateful you stuck around. You made this journey what it was.
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Hey guys I really need you to throw some power stones to elevate the ranking :)
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