Aegon gave a low grunt as his brother's weight settled in his lap with all the finesse of her hammer stroke. Nevertheless, he anchored the boy against him and made a shushing sound. "But I was quiet," Gaemon whispered, lips pursing in a mutinous little look he'd perfected almost as soon as he could produce sound.
"We shall just have to be quieter then. You don't wish to disturb Alys, do you?" he questioned, keeping his voice as gentle as possible. Aegon carded his fingers through his brother's hair, pushing the unruly strands back with a firm stroke.
Gaemon's pout loosened. He turned towards the marble effigy of his sister. Aegon watched the unmoving carving with minute attention. It was the details of the face which concerned him, chiefly the eyes. A cold slab of rock could never compare with the flashing and twinkling of his sister's eyes. The shape of them was right though, light crinkles just at the corners, as though a threat of a smile lingered about.
The Alysanne before him was about as tall as she'd been in life. He knew father had insisted that the measures be exact. It showed in the long limbs and slim waist. If he stood, she was taller than him on her pedestal.
"Can I still tell her I miss her?" Gaemon interrupted him yet again, tugging on his arm. "If I do it very quietly, she won't mind, will she?"
Gaemon did not truly miss Alysanne. The vast number of years between them had ensured he rarely saw much time in her company and she rarely sought him out outside of the rare moments when mother insisted they sit together. But his brother was a gentle-hearted child. "Aye. She would be glad to know you miss her." Plucking one of the roses he'd meant to put beside her urn, Aegon placed the stem in his brother's hand. "Give her this as well."
The boy buried his nose between the petals and dragged in air. "It smells nice."
It would have looked even nicer in Alysanne's hair. Aegon chuckled and ruffled Gaemon's hair, sending him off with a gentle shove for good measure. He regretted the winter roses had wilted so soon after he'd placed them there, but they would have to make do, it appeared. Then again, if Alysanne had been fussy regarding the mount she rode, she loved all flowers equally.
His brother placed the rose at the effigy's feet and took hold of one outstretched hand, his small fingers wrapping around the slim digits, almost as though he were willing the spirit of the departed back.
Standing from his seat, Aegon walked past the child, into the narrow gap holding the urn with Alysanne's remnants in it. He knelt by his sister's ashes and placed the flowers near her, taking care to let the petals brush against the gold ornaments. "The horse is doing well. Father won't let anyone ride it, of course, but he'd being fed and cared for."
He imagined, for a moment, the look on Alysanne's face whenever she found something she disagreed with. "Rhaella won't enter the stables either. She said she would care for every other beast, but not that one." Might be he should go further into detail, but Aegon did not think she would care to be burdened with so many trivial matters.
"Jon will no doubt come see you once he returns." Instinctively, he reached out, stroking along the jagged lines, considering the design. He withdrew. "I have to go. You know Gaemon is about as patient as a colt on his first legs." He withdrew.
True to description, his brother had wandered off, staring with undisguised interest towards the other narrow gaps; his curiosity carrying him from one entrance to another. Aegon smiled, recalling a day long past when he and Jon had done the same. It had been summer and father had decided that they ought to learn before long that some truths could not be avoided.
He'd been amazed that an entire human body could fit in such a tiny container. In his mind, for some reason, great kings and queens were of impressive proportions; in other words, of sizes to match their worth. He even betted Jon they would find bones the size of a human arm. Of course his brother had gone along with him and they'd even tried to unseal one of the urns.
Father's chagrin had been blatant that day. Naturally, the septon serving that day had treated the moment with appropriate levity, which in turn transformed the King's vexation to amusement. They were not even lectured. A happy ending to their somewhat morbid adventure.
"Gaemon, come out from there," Aegon urged his sibling, holding one hand out. "I promised Rhaella I would have you back in time for lessons."
A groan rang through the hall. "I don't have to listen to her." His brother emerged from the darkness nevertheless. "Lessons are boring." The complaint resonated with Aegon's own experience. It was one thing to broaden one's knowledge on one's own. Maesters cramming useless notions in one's head, however, was an entirely different kettle of fish.
He should not be telling Gaemon as much though, else the little imp would take it into his head to bedevil his poor tutors. Rhaella swore she didn't know what to do with the tyke half the time. "Have I ever told you the tale of the falconer and his pet?" The child shook his head. "Well then, come sit here and I will tell you."
Clearly excited at the prospect of hearing a tale, Gaemon hurriedly climbed into his seat and leaned in, as though to better hear the story. "A long time ago, there lived a man. He dwelled alone in his humble home, except for one other creature he kept for companionship. A mighty falcon. One day, the falconer took out the bird, allowing it its flight. But unlike their many past outings, the falcon did not return back to his master until well into the day. Our falconer, tough concerned, said little. And the next day, the creature woke him early and flew away, failing to return until sundown. On the third day, the falconer decided he would sit atop his hillock and watch for the falcon. Upon returning to his home, he found the roof had caved in and walls crumbled. Only then did he understand that the eyes of his falcon, superior to his own, has seen the danger and attempted to warn him."
"But we don't have falcons," Gaemon frowned. "Alys said not to touch hers." He kicked his heels against the wood of the bench, nose scrunching in silent worry. One of the traits he'd observed in his younger siblings was their love for tales and the nearly obsessive necessity to grab bits and pieces of said stories then apply them to their own life. The younger ones, much like Gaemon, tended to miss the forest for the tress, which was to be expected. They were just children.
"I am certain Alys would not mind our using hers." One day he would understand, and when he did, Aegon expected it would only lend itself to the bettering of the kingdom. "What say you, young Gaemon, would you not enjoy relieving Rhaella of her burden and taking care of Patches?" The irritating bird would doubtlessly peck the poor boy's fingers a few times before they got used to each other, and one could hope that happened soon enough. He ruffled his brother's hair again and gave him a small smile.
"Then Patches would be mine, aye?" The more he knew of responsibility, the better. "I will take care of him. If Alys doesn't mind."
"Why not ask her?" That suggestion was enough for Gaemon to comply. Left to watch an approaching septon, Aegon stood to his feet, wondering why it was they were being sought out. The apologetic expression on the man's face gave him some inkling as to what was going on.
"Apologies for intruding, Your Grace," the septon began, glancing towards the younger Targaryen with a smidgeon of unease. "I come from Sunspear bearing greeting from Her Grace, Lady Elia and your uncle, Prince Doran."
"I hope the both of them remain in good health," Aegon returned dispassionately. "It has been some time since I've had word from either."
"Indeed, Your Grace, both your mother and your uncle are in good health. As for word, I was tasked with delivering this." Extracting a sealed letter from his sleeve, the septon held it out with great care, stare travelling to where Aegon knew his brother was. "For Your Grace."
He accepted the letter more out of filial duty than any desire to hear from his kin. It was not as though Aegon was displeased with receiving knowledge of that corner of the kingdom. Yet the many plots he had had to stop thus far were not endearing him to the notion of further contact with his mother and uncle.
"Should Your Grace wish to send a reply, I am your humble servant," the man said.
Aegon gave a slow nod before dismissing the septon and retaking his seat. He broke the seal and unfolded the letter, knowing he was safe enough. Gaemon returned to him, presumably with a reply from their sister. "What is that?"
"A letter," he answered. "What did Alys say?"
Brightening at the question, Gaemon vigorously nodded his head. "She said I can have the falcon, but I must take good care of it." Grabbing onto his sleeve, the child tugged with unexpected force. "Will mother allow it?"
"We will talk to her, have no fear." Lady Lyanna had never struck him as particularly unreasonable. Sure enough, Alysanne's abrupt departure had shaken her and might be engendered within her a more pronounced streak of protectiveness, but even so that had manifested in her retreating from father's court rather than imposing restrictions of her children. "Jon will help as well. Now, see if you can find Baelor the Blessed for me, will you?"
Though a murmur of protest left the boy's lips, Gaemon acquiesced in the end, taking off on slightly unsteady feet. Aegon motioned for a young septon passing by to follow in his brother's wake. "Keep him occupied for a while."
"Aye, Your Grace."
His orders carried out, Aegon returned his attention to his mother's correspondence. A lot of it was ordinary enough in nature that he found himself thankful. His pleasant disposition might have even lasted in spite of one or two questionable choice words were it not for the last few lines.
I have heard it said His Majesty was sorely vexed with that woman. Is it possible that he considers abandoning her in her brother's care? Surely, she finds Winterfell a suitable home for herself. Do let me know, in what manner His Majesty wishes to proceed.
His lips compressed in a thin bloodless line as he crumpled the letter into a tight ball of wrinkles. The momentary anger flared to unimaginable heights. His sister was dead. Alysanne had been given to the pyre and his mother's sole concern was whether the King had yet to tire of his wife. He might have laughed, except that he was bound to attract attention in so doing.
The letter could not have arrived at a more inopportune moment. Nary a fire was nearby for him to relieve his frustration. Aegon shoved the mangled missive in the inner pocket of his doublet with a sound of disgust. He debated upon whether he should write his answer as soon as he arrived to his chambers, but decided, quite firmly, against it. No matter his personal beliefs, he was the Crown Prince and the Dornish faction did have its uses. Proper words had to be used, strung together craftily.
He would not mention the letter to father either. The man was wretched enough as it was. If only Lady Lyanna could find it in herself to forgive and forget. Whatever words had been spoken between them, Aegon would be willing to bet his own life that his father loved the woman. But even such a love could be stretched thin over years and disputes and misunderstandings.
Yet Aegon did not understand it. Not at all. Why would father allow her to leave in the first place? She'd been sick, barely even getting better. It could be argued she hadn't even been in her right mind. Having lived a certain number of years, Aegon well understood that two people very much in love could easily fall victims to their own weaknesses and misgivings.
Moreover, he'd sent her off with Ser Jaime. Ser Jaime whom he'd heard Lady Lyanna praise on numerous occasions. The same Ser Jaime whom the court whispered was much too close in age to the Queen, much too close for it to be mere duty, and in the end simply much too close. Courtiers were simple people; but they had a knack for unearthing secrets. And if he heard the rumours, so had father and Jon. Rhaella he was not certain about, but she always made a point of keeping their mother company whenever Ser Jaime was assigned to guard them.
It all came back to that blasted tourney. Ser Jaime had been knighted at the very event where father met Lady Lyanna. The lady and the knight were indeed very close in age, a year or so apart if he had his dates right, and, well, Aegon was not blind. Ser Jaime certainly had his charm and he trusted that if he were a woman, he too would give a sigh or two as he'd seen Rhaenys do. But was that enough to sway Lady Lyanna? Did she contemplate the man with a woman's eyes, or had she simply forged an easy camaraderie with a peer who just so happened to be a Kingsguard?
It would be a lot easier if he could at least ascertain Ser Jaime's interest in Lady Lyanna. At least that would be a start. However, whenever he gained the courage to do so the whole world conspired to put an end to his investigation. Which left the lot of them, truly, nowhere. Aware he would not find the answer in Baelor's Sept, Aegon chose to return home with Gaemon in tow, entertaining the child throughout their ride back.
Several servants waited to greet them in the courtyard, but among them were two of his sisters. Rhaenys and Rhaella , one had come for him, the other for the child, and he very nearly wished one of the two away at the moment. Nonetheless, he hurriedly dismounted, placing Gaemon in Rhaenys' arms.
"If you would be so kind, sister. I must ask Rhaella something," he told the eldest, contriving to forge a convincing smile.
"But, Aegon, I have been waiting all day to speak to you," Rhaenys complained, clearly dismayed. "A servant can take him to his lessons." She put Gaemon down. The child looked between the three of them.
"Gaemon will miss his lessons if you do not hurry," he stated simply, before taking Rhaella's hand and placing it upon his arm. "Would you care for a walk in the gardens?"
"I should love to take a walk with you anywhere, brother," his sister answered glibly, her flattery indicating her current mood. There was a high chance she would accommodate him if he approached her right.
Wasting not a moment longer, he marched the both of them to the gardens, leading the way to a secluded part which constituted Lady Lyanna's little walled corner. A secret garden for a secret plot; how very fitting. "Has your lady mother written?" he questioned without preamble.
"A reply to father? I do not believe so. I have heard naught in any event." She worried her bottom lip between two rows of small teeth. The delicate bite reddened the skin where she applied pressure.
"To you." If she thought she could misdirect him so easily, she had another thing coming.
"How mistrustful you are. She has not written to me except to say that they'd arrived well and to give me some instructions should the children need me." She was not far from being a child herself, Aegon considered, one-and-ten. "Jon wrote to tell me how he enjoyed our uncle's hospitality."
"I do not like this. She has to return soon, Rhaella. Elsewise, we only give fodder to gossips." Something dark flashed in her eyes and she bit harder on her lower lip. Indents marred the skin when she released the abused flesh. "The danger is not only for her; Jon and you, and the rest of the children."
"Father trusts her, Your Grace." She drew back, almost as though she sought an escape. "He will never believe her guilty of aught she hasn't done."
"What does he believe her guilty of?" If it were him, he would simply take care that Ser Jaime became a non-issue. A dead man was a man who caused no trouble after all. Alas, the situation was delicate. She turned her face from him. "Don't do that. I want to help you."
"A wise man does not step between husband and wife."
"And a wise woman does not let a marriage fall apart," he retorted.
"I do not have all the details," Rhaella warned, her brow furrowing. "And there are some bits of information I find at the very least questionable." He nodded. Something was better than nothing. Anything was better than nothing. "Do you recall when the accusation was bandied about that our mother had practiced witchcraft to entrap father? Well, it seems it was more of a promise than a spell."
"And that is the cause of all this?"
"Apparently. Uncle Viserys told me that he once heard father and Ser Dayne speaking of this promise. Ser Dayne asked father whether he even knew what he truly needed. I surmise she must have promised to give him what he needs."
"What does he need?" He knew the answer though. Aegon refused to believe that such a reason had poisoned the well.
Rhaella glanced down at the ground, one foot giving a small kick. "What all Targaryens need."
"That's ludicrous," he raged against her assessment. "Have you seen father with Gaemon? Does that strike you as a man displeased with his lot?"
"I am not mother, Aegon." She was right, of course. Whatever Rhaella thought was indicative of her opinions, not of mother's. "Despite her promise Visenya died within a year of her birth and then Aelyx as well. I think Alys was the last straw for the both of them and every little bit of frustration came pouring out."
"And Ser Jaime?" He held his breath, catching Rhaella's gaze with his own.
"Just an ugly rumour as far as I could make out." She took hold of his hand. "Your uncle is not helping matters." Aegon could do little but nod. "Can you not write to the Princess? Surely she would not refuse a request from you."
"That is not how any of it works, though, I suppose it does you credit that you are so very trusting." There was no use in burdening her with more knowledge than strictly necessary. "I wish I could say mother accepted the loss gracefully and was contented with some day being the King's mother."
Rhaella's shoulders drooped. "You need not say more. I understand." Her forlorn expression pierced him. In an effort to console her, Aegon wrapped her in his arms, patting her back gently.
"I need you with me on this, Rhae. You and Jon and me, we can solve this if we put our minds to it." He felt her arms hug back, her hold firm, almost as firm as he believed Lady Lyanna's hold was on their father. If he had the right of it, they could, at least, bring some closure to the whole situation.
"I am." A simple enough answer. Aegon believed her. Rhaella pushed away from him gently, allowing their eyes to meet once more. "I wish they would just let us live as other siblings do." Her lips lifted into a pale imitation of a smile. "A house divided against itself cannot stand."
It was often the case that Alysanne's more flamboyant personality cast her younger sister into shadow. Aegon would be lying if he said he'd not granted the other more attention for the simple reason that Alys had walked through life as though she attended a banquet at every moment; she had been pretty and happy and unmarred in ways Rhaella was not. For she, like he and Jon, chose to lift the world onto her shoulders.
"We are of the same flesh and blood." Even as he spoke he knew countless siblings had fought before for thrones. "I trust you."
She finally let him go as he did her. They widened the space between them and gave each other a decisive nod.