Daeron

The Red Keep was exploding with the voices of many a lord who supported him against his foolish half-brother.

Daeron Targaryen sat uncomfortable upon the Iron Throne of Aegon the Conqueror, gazing over the masses.

Daeron kept his gaze fixed on Lord Tully for a little while before returning his eyes to the book he held in his hands.

The War of Conquest: A true account by Archmaester Jorah that book was called.

Daeron had read that book half a hundred times, a truth that was clearly shown in the book's wrinkled pages and fainted fingerprints upon it's leather bindings.

"Your grace?" he heard Cregan Tyrell the Hand of the King say.

Daeron lowered the book, and looked curiously at Lord Cregan.

"What?" he said, perhaps too harshly.

"Would you not like to participate in these discussions, your grace?" asked the Hand.

"I am not a soldier, I have no experience in warfare. Leave it to those who know what they are talking about" Daeron replied and returned to his reading.

Cregan Tyrell said no more, but when Daeron threw a quick glance at him, he saw the discontent in his eyes.

About two thirds into the book Daeron closed and lowered it.

"How many men do we have?" he asked Lord Tyrell.

Cregan's eyes shone at that.

"A deal more than the Pretender. Thirty thousand so far, and Lord Stark and Lord Martell has yet to join us"

"Good" replied Daeron.

"Have the servants fetch a glass of Arbor gold, a platter of cheese and fruit and The king-beyond-the-Wall: A list of the kings of the Lands of Always Winter and their life stories by Maester Leyton"

ordered the king returned to staring at the lords of the Vale, the Reach and the Crownlands.