Lessons Yet to Learn
Understanding
The little boy crossed the courtyard like a little ball of lightening – one moment, the blur of soiled clothes and mop of black hair was at the gate and in the next, he had already disappeared behind the shadow of the guest hall. The women sweeping the grey flagstones looked at his retreating back and then exchanged a look, smiling, shaking their heads. Prince Duncan Targaryen was a sight that could goad a smile out of anyone. And since many of the maids had been here since the time Prince Maekar had been allowed to establish a household at Summerhall, all those years ago, the sight of tiny royals running away from their teachers was not something they were unused to. It was a good thing to see in their everyday routine of maintaining the castle in perfect condition and pour water all over the flagstones to disperse some of the heat. Summer had come mere months ago but the air in the area of the Dornish Marches was already suffocating.
Prince Aemon emerged at the door his nephew had just passed through and followed, although in a considerably more measured step. At the time he reached his sister's solar, Duncan had already handed his parents the parchment that he had insisted to deliver.
Rhae looked up, her face stunned. Her black eyes even looked widened. "Is it possible?" she asked. "The Ironborns were defeated?"
"Looks like it," Aemon said and sat down. "Father sent that from the Southshield immediately after the battle was over. Your Alor Gargalen tricked Dagon Greyjoy into plunging his own Iron Fist into the sands. When their fleet gave chase, he led them within the range of our catapults that shot wildfire. They were all destroyed. And Father killed Greyjoy in a single combat."
"That's impossible," Egg murmured, running his fingers through his hair. "We cannot be this lucky, to end it all in a single battle. And one does not kill Dagon Greyjoy in a single combat just like this."
Before Aemon could remind him that their father had just done exactly that, a shout from Duncan sent them all running for the window where a single raven was making its way over the granaries.
"I have to go," Aemon said and rose, frowning. He had spent three hours fixing the broken leg of the castellan's boy right before the news about their victory arrived and he could have really used a few minutes in a comfortable chair.
When he returned shortly after, his white face and puffy bloodshot eyes told them what they didn't want to hear.
"We have to leave for King's Landing," he said. "Immediately."
"I was already starting to think you wouldn't make it in time."
That was Maekar Targaryen's welcome when his sons and daughter entered his solar mere minutes after setting foot in the Red Keep.
They hesitated, unsure of how to behave now. Before they could offer obeisance, Maekar waved them in. "Come in, come in," he said and then Duncan, clearly run away from his attendants, rushed in past his parents and threw himself at his grandfather. Maekar picked him up and held him tight before releasing him. "What you did wasn't good," he said, trying to sound stern.
But it looked like that with Duncan, he could never be properly stern. The child's buoyancy, his wide grin, and his dark, non-Targaryen hair always unarmed him completely, so when Duncan tried to look sufficiently remorseful, he smiled and let him stay.
Aegon and Rhae had left King's Landing a few months ago. Now, their father looked even more hardened and extremely exhausted. Huge bags hung beneath his eyes. The lines on his face looked deeper because of the lack of sleep. Fighting the krakens had taken a toll, even if he had won at the end.
He didn't look like a man who had just become king. He looked… haunted.
The Queen Dowager sat on a settee near the empty fireplace. Like Maekar, she also looked prematurely aged and tormented. But she smiled when Duncan ran for her and threw himself in her lap, although she winced in pain. The boy had hit her bad leg, of course.
"Is the funeral really going to take place in the day after tomorrow?" Rhae asked. She was pleased that they had made it and would be able to bid a final farewell to their uncle. But she hadn't really believed that they'd do it. Two weeks was a very short notice for a king's funeral.
Her father's look told her that he knew what she thought. "Now, it isn't the time for lavish ceremonies, Rhae," Maekar said. "The realm has yet to recover. And I won't be spending any money than strictly needed for the coronation either. I intend to use every coin to stabilize the kingdoms and get your sister back."
Rhae and Aegon looked at each other, concerned. It fell on Aemon to ask since they didn't dare. "What's going on with Daella? Is there something new?"
Maekar's fists clenched. "For a while, Bittersteel used Haegon's absence and forced her into undertaking servant duties. Sweeping floors, kindling fires, carrying firewood and so on."
Rhae gasped, shocked. Her eyes went to Aelinor who nodded that it was true.
"Now that Haegon is back, Daella was given her gowns back and once again started receiving the treatment due to her rank. But Haegon is getting more insistent."
Aegon spat an obscene oath. Aemon tried to remember everything he knew about Haegon Blackfyre. Would the news of Aerys' death push him into not waiting further? Their spies told them that both he and Bittersteel were determined to make Daella Haegon's wife and queen. Only Haegon's infatuation with her had stopped him from forcing himself upon her. But for how long would it last? Daella has been through so much already, he thought. Another husband like her first one might break her mind.
"What are we doing to get her back?" he demanded.
"Lots of things," Maekar assured him and gestured at him to pour wine for all of them. "Alor is on his way there already. I wish I was. Instead, I have to sit here idly and wait for a coronation…"
He spoke so grimly that one might think he was talking about a death sentence and not a crown.
"Many lords and ladies are here already. I heard that Gerold Lannister is close by," he said, changing the topic. "He might not make it in time for the funeral and coronation."
"Aren't you going to wait for him?" Aegon asked carefully. Disrespecting the Lord of Casterly Rock was not a good idea.
Maekar smiled coldly. "No," he said. "He's had enough time. If he couldn't organize his journey effectively enough, well, this is no concern of mine. Besides, Aerys would have liked better if this child murderer wasn't around for his funeral. He could hardly abide the man."
It was clear that he shared those feelings. From her settee, Aelinor warned, "I would have been more careful with my words if I were you, Maekar."
He sighed, innerved. "Of course I'll be careful. I just dislike him. I won't be sorry when I see him leave."
"But he hasn't come yet," Duncan said reasonably from the Queen's lap where he was happily munching his trifles with almond paste. "Then how can he leave?"
Maekar went to the round table to bring the boy another plate of sweets.
"He'll get a bellyache," Rhae warned.
"Won't!" Duncan protested and sadly watched the plate getting out of his reach. He slid down on the Myrish carpet and started occupying himself with counting the patterns, cautiously advancing to the sweets.
"It's a good thing that he doesn't have a daughter," Rhae said. "I can see Gerold Lannister trying everything to make such a girl queen. Now, you'll only have the other Houses to fend off," she added. Tears welled in her eyes as she remembered her uncle Aerys joking that should she find herself another suitor, they'd need the gold cloaks to push them away.
"If you want to," Aegon added.
Something in his calm countenance angered his father. "Indeed? You'll just let me follow through with it and welcome a new queen and the potential problems that may arise? Your rivals in the succession?"
Aegon shrugged. "A miracle needs to happen before the succession goes to me, anyway," he said. "I am only the fourth son."
"As was I," Maekar reminded him but Aelinor caught his eye and shook her head slightly. Now, it wasn't the moment to talk about political savvy, or lack thereof.
But there was still this worry in Maekar's chest that stubbornly refused to disappear.
Whatever people said about their new king, no one could deny that he played the part magnificently. Nothing in his cold, devoid of any expression face showed the nightmare of remorse and fear that his nights had become. No one could say that this new crown was crushing him. Now, he was all power and arresting presence. Only a prolonged examination would show that he barely touched some of his plates and other didn't touch at all. Everything tasted like a dish seasoned with ash.
The great hall was bursting with people. Every seat at every table was occupied. The steam from the fifty-five exquisite dishes was floating as high as the dragon banners hanging from the vaulted ceilings, darkening then with black stains. Each one of the fifty candelabra was lit and additional ones brought over, so there was enough light for Aegon to see the bated breath, the gloating, the anticipated pleasure of seeing what the man who had wielded the greatest power in the realm would look like in the moment of his downall.
Brynden Rivers, for the last time wearing his badge of office, looked like someone who didn't hear the gloating whispers. He didn't look cheerful but then, when had he ever? A little gaunter even than usual, swathed in his usual black, he was talking in a low voice to Shiera Seastar who feigned a frown and flicked him on the wrist. Looking at them, Aegon wished that he, too, should have this self-possession in the face of losing it all.
Most of the guests looked already sated when the King slowly rose.
"My lords and ladies," he started. He was never the one for long winded speeches, so he went straight to the gist of what he wanted to say. "I am honoured by your presence here, in this day. But a coronation is only a day and days go away. This one is already fading. And from tomorrow, we all have our duties to return to. The duty of a king is always better fulfilled when the help of a good Hand is enlisted. So I give you my choice, he who will speak with my voice. I give you Lord Brynden Rivers."
The air of the hall moved in a huge collective sigh. Ashen faces and aghast eyes followed the former Hand, now the new one, all the way down the length of the hall. When he ascended to the dais and bowed, Maekar pinned the badge of his office back on his chest, prompting another general sigh.
"I can't believe this!" Aegon whispered to Rhae. He had been watching Bloodraven from the moment Maekar had started speaking, registered no surprise in the man's face, none at all. "By the gods, they can't stand each other!"
"And what of it?" Aemon murmured at his other side. When Aegon looked at him, his brother regarded him with fondness and a little sadness.
"You've learned so much during your travels with your huge knight," he said. "And yet…"
"Yet what?" Aegon demanded.
"Yet there are still some lessons that you haven't learned. Ones that you'll need. I hope it isn't too late.
A.N. The new info from The World of Ice and Fire reveals that after Maekar's death, Bloodraven actually headed the Great Council that chose Aegon V as his successor. This being so, it's hardly unlikely that they took him out of dungeon and dusted him off specifically for this occasion. Most likely, he was never sent there during Maekar's reign. And given the fact that he presided over the Great Council, I'd suggest that he was holding a very influential position at Maekar's court. So, here it is.