"Say not always what you know, but always know what you say."

- Archmaester Vaegon

Prince Jonothor of the Royal House of Targaryen

The Prince of Summerhall

II

The walk from Flea Bottom was spent beneath the watchful eyes of the great red castle sat upon Aegon's High Hill. Built both atop the highest hill in King's Landing, with high spires and towers the castle reigns as a symbol of the distinction of House Targaryen - they are after all, above all others; noble or common.

The castle was both the spiritual and physical successors to the first Targaryen holding on the mainland - the Aegonfort, a hurriedly built redoubt of wood and earth to secure the dragon's beachhead. The Red Keep, born during the reigns of Aegon and his son Aenys, was constructed as a symbol of the glory of the Royal House of Targaryen, with strong walls and towers of red brick to showcase our house's color. It also helps, Jon thought, that the Blackwater Rush naturally has vast supplies of red clay, he's sure the keep would certainly be a bit less grand, or red for that matter, if all the bricks and stone had to be imported from Vale quarries or Westerlander mines.

In the end though, it's neither the majesty of Aegon nor the dedication of his son and heir Aenys for which the Red Keep is remembered today. When Maegor took the throne his paranoia ran rampant and even with the fires of the Black Dread at his back he felt under threat both from the kingdoms and his councilors. He took it upon himself to build a castle within a castle along with a dry moat of spikes to ensure his protection. Maegor finally concluded his venture into further madness with a complex labyrinth of tunnels and traps built beneath his holdfast, by a rotation of different masons and builders each of which he killed so that only he knew the extent of his machinations, allowing him to spy on and even kill his councilors should he desire. Jon remembered a smallfolk story of his youth where a single builder escaped his wrath and returned in the night through Maegor's own tunnels to slit his throat in the dark. Of course, Jon also remembered stories of how a knight of the Kingsguard, or a servant, or the Iron Throne itself killed Maegor the Cruel - he was quite the unpopular fellow.

The procession of King's men had turned off Regent's Street and onto Greyborrow Row when Egg had decided that they were far enough removed from the heart of Flea Bottom to begin conversing. Either that or he was sick of the silence and had run out of patience, with Egg it could honestly be either.

"So… Who's the girl?" Aegon declared with all the subtlety of a warhammer and a knowing smirk plastered on his face. Jon knew he was going to ask about it but he'd hoped he wouldn't fucking do it in the middle of the city with dozens of men at arms and three Kingsguards at their back.

"How did you know where I was?" Jon countered, he well and truly hoped he could delay that particular discussion to some point not right now.

"Jaime told Arthur, Arthur told me… given sufficient evidence of the need of your presence. All unimportant when compared to the fact that my brother, my bookish, quiet, shy brother, who's never cared in his life for swordcraft, beyond necessary appearances that is, was standing in front of a pretty little lady with a dagger drawn using his body as a shield." Aegon replied, the damn smirk on his face was not only still present but had grown all the wider.

As usual, his hopes were worthless, how droll - perhaps he should have prayed instead, that and Jaime's was a fucking traitor. Jon bought him wine and everything, it was shit wine but still, it's rude… and maybe treason depending on how far you drew out the term, is it treason to betray a second son for a first? Food for thought for another time perhaps.

Turning away from his brother to glare at his Kingsguard, "Ser Jaime, remember my threat - full regalia, I'll have it polished beforehand." Jon threatened.

Jaime grinned, "You'll have my armor polished before getting your sword polished, how uncouth of you my Prince, and to admit it so publicly." He seemed to know Jon had no intention of actually going through with the threat. It was a shame he lacked his brother's taste for whoring, nothing rankled the men-at-arms pride like guarding a man as he did his business. Despite that, he had more self-control than to need to relieve himself with such forays, and he had no desire to risk a bastard. A mistake like that would haunt him for winters to come.

"And what is this so-called threat, you would never be so crass as to threaten and blackmail your very own Kingsguard would you, Jonothor?" Egg questions his smirk still there. How great, another topic Jon had no particular desire to discuss in public… or at all for that matter. No telling what odd and false connections his brother could come up with discussing brothels and discovering Mae. Prince Olyvar has doubtlessly poisoned his mind with ideas of princes running away with whores, as if he'd ever be so derelict of his duties as to elope and flee while the realm burns.

Sighing, Jon craned his neck to look at the Kingsguards who'd fallen in line behind them, "Ser Oswell, Ser Caldwyn - how would you recommend punishing one of your brothers, how does the Lord Commander handle disciplining your order?" Ser Jaime's smirk seemed to fall off his face like a raven shot from the sky.

"Such matters would be handled within the brotherhood, My Prince. I would, of course, bring up the topic with the Lord Commander if you desire so." Ser Caldwyn responded monotonously, Jon always had felt it interesting that he had never got along with the Crownlander. It's not that they disliked each other but any interaction they had was lukewarm - privately he thought Ser Caldwyn didn't know how to handle an un-Valyrian prince.

"Ser Arthur punishes us by sparing with blunted steel till our shins, shoulders, arms, thighs, and backs all feel like they've been cut to ribbons and our joints and knuckles refuse to move. It'll go on for hours till you can't even grip the sword anymore, and Arthur continues wailing on you nonetheless." Ser Oswell declares, with the smallest of grins as they could both see Ser Jaime shiver, his cocky demeanor long gone by now.

Jon was more amicable with Whent than most of his brothers, the knight had a caustic sense of humor and seemed to find it entertaining that he had spent the rebellion guarding a prince's lover and bastard rather than fighting in battle. Jon had often heard Ser Hightower lamenting having missed out on fighting in the banks of the Trident where his brothers won glory yet Ser Whent seemed to be unable to care less.

Ser Arthur though, Jon never knew why the Sword of the Morning disliked him. Perhaps dislike was too strong a word, Ser Arthur just always looked terribly sad when he saw him, not angry or spiteful, just regretful.

"While punishing your White Lion sounds like tremendous entertainment that should have a fee for entry and stalls selling food and trinkets, don't think I haven't noticed your deflections Jon, I will get my answers one way or another." Aegon interrupted as they turned onto the King's Way, one of the main roads of the city and leading directly to the Red Keep from the city center.

Jon sighed again, it made him feel old, "I will explain… later… after this meeting you're dragging me to. What is this about anyway that I am needed so urgently?" While the Lord of Baratheon had shown up today, making him the most likely candidate for the cause, the capital was still a host for delegates from many of the great houses and their rebellious lords. He could easily imagine this is some Ironborn invasion or Wildling raid or even a fucking lost Blackfyre - his house was not short on enemies.

"It is- too delicate… to be discussed around the rabble and the immediate reaction has split the council." Egg stuttered somewhat while explaining, it was unlike him having always been the more confident and composed of the two and he rarely had a head for what should and should not be said around whom. Aegon had once begun a conversation on the first Blackfyre rebellion with him while having a meal with his Dornish uncles, and had the gall to wink at him while doing so, to this day Jon has no idea what Egg's uncles had done to annoy him enough for that charade.

"The Lord Hand and your brother are split on the issue, my Prince, and as Prince Viserys is at sea you have been summoned to try and mediate the issue and help find a compromise." Ser Oswell explained, "You are understood to have a more levelheaded demeanor than your family is known for and are well acquainted with court politics." In theory, it was a nice compliment but it doesn't take much to be less aggressive than usual Targaryens.

It was not strictly uncommon for Connington and Egg to disagree. It is in Egg's nature to butt heads with all those around him like a stag, oh not to say he couldn't be diplomatic when he wanted to be but he just can't find it within himself to let something he disagrees with pass on quietly. At least when he is free to step out of the princely mask he wears while interacting with nobles and emissaries, Jon hoped he didn't have one of those - how would he know if he did?

In general, Viserys was there serving in his role as Master of Ships to break the ties, when Jon was younger, or so he heard, Viserys had always supported the more Rhaegar aligned Connington on his rulings but with his squiring and duties on the Narrow Sea he had begun to develop an aggressive ideology more in line with Egg's flares of temper than father's passivism. Sometimes this combination worked to get father to accept unpleasant truths but most of the time they were overruled. The Lord Hand rarely had certain issues he was dedicated to but through and through he was Rhaegar's man and he wouldn't fight father the way Egg would.

It was often expected that Jon would support his father's policies as they had similar bearings and personas so it was assumed that they would have similar political beliefs. And maybe they did once upon a time but Jon wasn't one to sit back and watch a threat grow. He had argued with the Lord Hand on behalf of more aggressive policies often, the only difference is he did it more quietly than Egg. He caught Connington in the Tower of the Hand or an empty chamber or the cleared council room and argued there as loudly as he liked, although he preferred to keep his tone reserved - 'loudness is brashness' or so Lord Victor Bywater once told him once ' just look at Prince Oberyn'. Egg, on the other hand, had no issue declaring his problems with an act or decree at any time or place and as loud as he liked, he'd done it in the council chamber surrounded by the small council and he'd done it in the throne room surrounded by petitioners.

It helped nothing that many of Jon's similarities to his father were inspired by a youthful desire for paternal attention, his mother was gone and long ago he coveted each second he could get with his father, but it had done little. He was told that his father saw the faces of all that he'd lost during the rebellion, of his mother and lover and stillborn sister. He had practiced the harp daily and turned his tempers to stone as a youth trying to create commonality with father, beyond dead loved ones that is, but it was for naught - it would be easier if his father had hated him, or had him thrown into the sea, at least then he could have a reason to resent him, a reason to…

Jon felt a shove on his shoulder and was so startled he almost fell over. Egg looked at him laughing, his arm outstretched from where he'd shoved him. "Thinking of the pretty miss maiden bar wench, out of sight not so out of mind after all." Jon looked around and saw Jaime grinning and even Whent smirking but something was off. Like when you get just a bit too loud in a discussion and find yourself shouting in a silent hall.

It was quiet, too quiet, this was the King's Way - one of the largest and most traversed streets in the city and it was empty, no workers nor septons nor even any street urchins - be they the Spiders or otherwise. It wasn't even particularly late, he had intended to spend a few more hours at the tavern and wait for the city to sleep while he talked with Mae. The vendors had closed early for some reason and the beggars didn't think it worth it to plead for handouts from two princes walking slowly up the street. The city was scared, Jon had heard his father's reign compared to Daeron the Good's - how this was all a false spring and storm clouds rose on the horizon bringing death for them all.

The walk continued all the way to the small council's chamber in relative silence, they greeted passing courtiers, nobles, and knights as was proper but the anticipation was pervasive. He and Egg had lost their shadow of household guards upon entering the keep, maintaining only the three Whitecloaks at their back, omnipresent and silent.

Men bowed as they passed and the doors of the small council chambers were opened for them, the seats were filled with the most influential men in the Seven Kingdoms and they'd been waiting here, for him, for what - it took almost half an hour to walk back, not to mention how long it took Egg to collect him - damnation, way to make an entrance. Talk about fashionably late, but this was the dragon's council and dragon's chamber, no one left until they were dismissed.

The King's pampered seat of fine golden wood and royal red silk was noticeably empty, as it most always was in the council chamber - along with the Iron Throne to be entirely honest. Jon failed to understand why the realms were so hopeful for his father's ascension when he was young, Rhaegar Targaryen had never shown any interest in stewardship or ruling.

Although he wasn't a madman so that was a step up Jonothor guessed. Is a King who rules but burns people alive for fun better or worse than no King at all.

The Lord Hand, Jon Connington looked older than he should with flecks of gray in his red hair and a trimmed red gray beard, a long time friend of his father and technically a hand during his grandfather's reign, sat across from the high seat, he looked grim and frustrated but nodded at his arrival.

To the high seat's left sat Prince Olyvar Martell, the Master of Laws and middle brother between Prince Doran and Oberyn. He lacks the jovial nature and whoring of his younger brother but also the temper, it is said he shares a similar disposition to the Prince of Sunspear but he also had a vicious arrogance to him, and seemed to be the Martell who hated him the most. Egg's position as heir and Olyvar's seat on the council were the prince's pride and joy more so than even his wife or children, although having met Cersei Martell, formally Lannister, perhaps it's not entirely his fault. The seat to the left of the King was usual held by his uncle if memory served, Jon was pretty sure there was some insult to his person held in Olyvar occupying that particular seat but he honestly didn't care enough to figure out how - this was not the first insult he bore and it wouldn't be the last, not even by this particular prince or tonight by all likelihood.

The middle seat on the left was occupied by the Grand Maester Pycelle, an ancient man with a thick white beard and if what Jaime told him was true Lannister gold in his pockets. He has held his seat since the early reign of Jon's grandfather and told him stories of the king before the Mad King growing up. He portrayed himself as a feeble, slow, and docile old man but every once in a while Pycelle would make a comment or calculation that was just a bit too sharp for the doddery old Maester he seemed to be. Jon had enjoyed histories and reading much as a youth and spent considerable amounts of time following around the Grand Maester, just as Egg followed Ser Arthur. He was asked often, and unsubtly, when he was younger if he intended to follow his great uncle Aemon to the citadel but he preferred learning to serving and he was not about to bind himself to the whims of old men or go celibate.

The last seat on the left was empty and there was a distinct lack of Lord Mace Tyrell, the Master of Coin and an arrogant man full of great ambition and pride. Egg spent half his time complaining about how the Lord of Highgarden would pester him so, all but throwing his daughter at him when she would visit the capital. It was odd though, for him to miss a council meeting, he took great joy in what little influence and power he was given for his house's loyalty. Not that they did much during the rebellion, most of the Tyrell army followed Lord Mace to Storm's End. And even with tens of thousands of men it still took until Tywin Lannister sent another ten thousand men with his brother, Ser Kevin, for the castle to finally fall.

Lord Varys sat next, on the Lord Hand's right, an inconspicuous seat choice no doubt designed to avoid ruffling any feathers, or perhaps scales would be a better analogy. He was a queer and shy man who always left Jon feeling distinctly concerned that he had said something he shouldn't have whenever they talked. When Jon was young he always seemed to know where he would run off to and pop up where Jon least expected it but that had only made him try to get better at sneaking, it was like a game - to be played without consequences.

That left two empty seats on the right and one on the left as Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, a proud and old man with a short and well maintained gray beard and grim countenance, stood behind the high seat at the ready for any threat.

Technically both the Lord Hand and Aegon were allowed to sit in the King's place being the highest representatives of the Head of House Targaryen in the realm. Neither of them did though, Connington in all his long years of Handship never did and it had become something of a tradition by the time Aegon started joining council meetings.

Jon recognized now that technically there was an insult in seating a prince of the blood farther from the King than a lord, or in this case a Prince of Dorne, but he couldn't bring himself to make a fuss over the issue, they'd already been waiting for him for gods know how long. Aegon though had different plans, he sent Jon off in the direction of the middle seat on the right before, rather than taking the honored place at what would be the King's right hand, asking for the Grand Maester to move one over so that they would both be sat at the middle of the table as equals. Leave it to Egg to take an insult meant for Jon more seriously than he did and in the same breath spite his very own uncle.

There was a long pause, before the Lord Hand took in and released a heavy breath before announcing, "We have received a request from the Lord Renly Baratheon. He asks permission to marry the Rose of Highgarden, Lady Margaery Tyrell, and stipulates that a trade agreement is part of the marriage contract… but as an economic interaction between two great houses says that he does not require permission for that part of the deal. He is also hosting a tourney at Highgarden." It was little wonder then why Lord Tyrell was missing, after all he must be tremendously busy plotting treason.

"There is certainly a… ah… precedent for non-intervention on behalf of the Crown in these types of affairs as we discussed before you arrived, my Prince. The rights and autonomy of Great Lords established by the laws of the Conqueror and upholded by the reign of your own royal father must be respected. " Grand Maester Pycelle wheezed with a long pause for a breath.

"In economic agreements, not alliances that bind the great houses of the realm together for the sole purpose of treason and ambition. The trade is but a cloak to try and veil their misdeeds, they have poured honey in a glass of piss and now expect us to drink it as if it tastes sweet." Aegon says, wrinkling his nose, as if offended by the very idea of not intervening.

"Yes, and the last time the Crown didn't interfere in this style of agreement the Stormlords bound themselves to the Vale and North and rose up in rebellion, or lest we forget that Queen Lyanna had a betrothed. House Targaryen nearly lost the Seven Kingdoms in that war and now we will do nothing to stop the next." Prince Olyvar declared, he seemed displeased with this agreement, the two greatest rivals of Dorne uniting together with the sole purpose to throw Egg off his throne.

"Careful how you speak, Prince Olyvar, we are but the King's Councilors, we only council, and who's to say that the Tyrell's have any goals of treason, they owe their very positions to the Targaryens after all. Perhaps they just seek to bind one of the rebellious houses further into the realm and restore their loyalty with a marriage pact, bribing Renly with gold to ensure he'd accept." Connington says, throwing a glare at Olyvar in the process, as far as Jon knew the Hand didn't particularly like him or his mother but he loathed the Dornish and would not let them so blatantly insult a son of Rhaegar. He also didn't look particularly certain in his own words.

"It was never expected that the tariffs on the rebellious houses would remain. Perhaps from a certain point of view, this is not a danger but a rather backward form of victory, this marriage would tear down the walls of enmity between the differing sides and trade will reopen across the south, the realm will be richer and more prosperous for it." Varys spoke, in his oddly high voice.

This discussion was getting nowhere, the council was split as he'd been told on the way and it seemed from the responses that many of these points had been spoken and heard before. They had summoned him to court, interrupting his evening, to hear his opinion, everyone knew how Egg was going to respond and doubtless he declared his thoughts loudly before he left, and as such they would hear his opinion, "We cannot allow this to pass, Baratheon is placing a knife to our necks and even if he does nothing now we would have just shifted the blade to our back. Damn the trade, it is royal prerogative to manage the marriages of rebellious great houses, we should have married him to a loyal house years ago. This union is far too dangerous to let exist." Jon declared clearly to the room, he would not support any action that lets this marriage continue, it would risk the destruction of his house, his dynasty, and his family.

"The Tyrells are a loyal house, my Prince." Varys tittered from Jon's left.

"A loyal and unambitious house then, my apologies for the confusion." Jon corrected trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

Aegon stood swiftly, banging the table as he went while asserting, "I agree with my brother, we shouldn't have allowed the Stags to recuperate so much of their power from the rebellion. We should have redrawn the maps or created new lords but what's done is done, what we cannot do now is allow the Baratheons to gain even more power. Mark my words Renly has not forgotten his brother was declared King."

Connington looked at them both before smacking his fist against the table, calling for attention. "What you recommend is nothing less than high treason, your father has been consulted and has made his preferences clear. We must not allow another war, this includes starting one."

"I wasn't aware we had a choice on the matter. When the King is unwilling or unable to rule it falls upon his council to fill in the gaps, as we have done for much of my father's reign." Aegon retorted.

"With these actions you insult and infringe on the rights of not only two of the greatest houses in the realm, but also your own royal father. You may start a war with both our strongest ally and enemy, you would sacrifice tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives and show weakness and divisions within house Targaryen." Lord Connington responded.

Jon looks to Egg and nods his head to the chair, standing and shouting in a council meeting was making a fool of oneself, "Bloodraven once said that only the dead have seen the end of war." Jon took a breath, "Mayhaps Renly means well, he could, and I mean this with the most trusting and faithful disposition, be content in his position and want for naught but the betterment of his own kingdom. Perhaps Lord Tyrell is only trying to reintegrate our cousins of Baratheon back into the loyalist realm. But why, why would Lord Mace give up on his blatant desire for his daughter to be Queen? Wh…"

"Blatant is one way to phrase it, like a bitch in…" The Dornish Prince murmurs loudly from his seat.

"I'm sorry Prince Olyvar, who is the Queen as we speak?" Jon silenced the rude interruption, a Martell had no right to declare others wanton for the queenship.

"As I was saying, why would Lord Tyrell give up on his greatest desire, why would Renly refuse a crown that portions of the realm would beg him to take, and furthermore why should we risk it? We cannot afford to cry over spilled wine, if the likely scenario comes to pass - as it almost certainly will - Renly will be declared King and name himself an enemy of the Iron Throne and every hour we wait he grows stronger. We should strike while the iron is hot, seize Renly if possible, rally what allies we can, and put the traitors to the back foot. The lords may call us violent, aggressive, tyrannical, or even mad- but what does it matter, we will still sit above them all, House Targaryen would remain ascendant. They can say what they like about us in their keeps, they no doubt already do, but I will be damned to all the seven hells if I let traitors sit easily and put my brother at risk." Jon jabs two fingers into the table to announce his point.

"It is easier to find men who will volunteer to die, than to find those who are willing to endure pain with patience." The Lord Commander offers from behind where the King would sit if he actually attended his council meetings.

Jon countered the White Bull, "I will endure all that I must for as long as I must… I swear it… but I will not sit idly by as all that I hold dear is placed at sword point by Renly Fucking Baratheon. I will go to war if I must, I will die if I must, but I will not wait in fear to die alone, I have not the strength for that!" Damnations, he'd let himself get riled up, he shouldn't have been so condescending to Aegon, it's difficult to talk about the death of your family in a civil and polite tone.

"War is a gamble we cannot afford, the last time House Targaryen was this weak the Blackfyre's were ascendant. If we delay we can begin to build strength, forging ties and letting enmities soothe. Make this Renly's war not ours." Connighton explained, Jon knew he was not without sympathy for the idea of retribution but he seemed set on this path.

Lord Commander Hightower interjected once again, "Many good men were lost against Robert, some of my brothers not the least of which, meeting a glorious end on the battlefield. Neither the Crownlands nor the Stormlands have fully recovered from the rebellion, this works in our favor, Renly is not as bold as his brother and there has not been an outr- " He coughed into his hand poorly hiding his mistake "an incident like at the Tourney of Harrenhal. This gives the crown time to improve its position."

Martell opened his mouth, doubtless to make some foolish comment - hopefully about making ready for war but Jon felt it more likely about his mother.

Fortunately Connington decided to cut him off, "The Princes are young and cannot begin to imagine the consequences of their actions." Connington stood slowly from his chair, "There is nothing to be done, we will not start a second rebellion."

"So we will sit here and do nothing, that's your ruling. as a knife is sharpened to be plunged into our backs. Think of the realm, the family you've served so loyally - what will happen when Renly rises with a hundred thousand men ready to kill us all." Aegon shouted from his seat.

"I have always served the interests of House Targaryen, of his grace King Rhaegar Targaryen. I will hear no more, this council is adjourned," Connington paused to consider something, "In fact, to ensure no justification is given, all meetings are canceled until Renly has left, have a good night my lords, my princes." Nodding to each attendant as he walked out the door.

"Well that didn't go as I had hoped, thank you for the support though." Aegon declared as the door shut, the other councilors had left after the Lord Hand. The meeting was over after all, it's not as if there was anything important to discuss with an oncoming war, no nothing at all.

"Indeed it did not, but I'm surprised you thought that my opinion would sway him. He seemed particularly set in his ways on this issue." Jon agreed as he grabbed a flask of wine and two glasses from a cabinet in the corner of the room. It would not do for the King to be a remiss host but servants were often barred from the Small Council chambers, for security purposes, as such wine and glasses were stored on hand for just this situation.

"I had some small hope, but Connington won't move on this, that much is obvious." Aegon seemed almost uncertain, which was a strong statement from someone as self assured as Egg was. It probably hit him hard that he was shut down so swiftly, not to mention that his only supporters were his direct kin.

He poured a glass for each of them before sitting back down, "The King and the Hand are an awfully hard pair to overrule, even for princes. If we were to start raising men on our own… treason is still treason even if you're a prince - you can ask grandfather when we're hung."

Egg took a sip of his wine before leaning back in his chair, the joking Aegon was gone, this was the Prince of Dragonstone, "For how strongly you argued for action, it is surprising how quickly your tail falls between your legs. What happened to my brother who was willing to fight and die for his family and damn the consequences."

Jon squares his shoulders and straightens his back, he was a prince as well, "He sits before you, I'm counseling you subtlety not inaction - if you intend the rule you must understand the difference."

Jon took a breath, "Start making inroads with any allies you have, the Dornish most of all. They must be ready to have their spears at Renly's back as soon as possible." That may well give him pause, if he's truly a fool he'll try to defeat the Dornish outright and lose his army doing so, better men than him have tried. "You can't be caught though, if Connington catches a sniff of us," Hmm how to phrase it, " warmongering, he may send you back to Dragonstone where we will be unable to prepare. I can't raise swords on my own, a second son with muddled rights and bloodlines - the lords will believe me a Blackfyre and send father my head." And no matter how many may wish otherwise, Jon likes his head placed firmly on his neck, it may be slightly more difficult to read without his head - not to mention kiss.

Aegon nodded, he seemed to have come to the same conclusion and returned, "You have friends among the gold cloaks, see if you can prepare them as best a possible, perhaps a donation is in order as long as it gets to the right pockets, good armor and sharp swords will be needed soon." And gods know it's hard to find the right pockets, the gold cloaks are rife with greed and corruption.

There was a pause as Aegon seemed to consider something, for a flash he had an uncomfortable grimace as Jon's brother flashed through before the heir to the Iron Throne returned, "Do you believe you can court your northern cousins to our side?" There was no hedging around the issue or leading statements, just a flat, simple question as Jon preferred.

Still the topic of the question made Jon down as much of his glass as he could possibly do politely. The wine was sour and bitter, probably like the Starks if he had to guess, "I have no idea, I doubt it though. I've never even met Lord Benjen, not to mention fostered any friendliness between us. I'll see what I can do but we shouldn't bet on Northern swords, I doubt they'll even call their banners while the South burns." They'll probably enjoy it, he was half Stark himself, should he enjoy the pain of the South, the same South that brought such woe upon his family. When one grandfather kills the other, which side do you pick…

There was another pause as they considered how fucked everything was, "Are there any Reacher Lords other than the Tyrells still in the Capital? Perhaps we can start undermining the Flower's army, a turned cloak or a hostage before a battle can be a tremendously useful thing." Jon asked.

"No, they were summoned to the Reach a moon's turn back, it was a whole headache in the council at the time as they seemed to disappear for no reason at all save the news of an odd tourney celebrating nothing, Lord Tyrell was visiting House Footly in Tumbleton at the time so he was of no use. I guess now we know the point of the tournament, to celebrate the treason-" Aegon cleared his throat, "I mean the union of Houses Baratheon and Tyrell." Aegon took a swig of his wine, he seemed bitter at the entire issue.

"Even with the armies of the Riverlands and Knights of the Vale it would be a close conflict, Renly's men are more easily marshaled and will be besieging the capital long before the Valemen get out the Bloody Gate. Not that they would help us anyway, they haven't forgotten their dead on the Trident. Casterly Rock on the other hand spent much of the Rebellion hiding in the West, they only joined the war once father's victory was assured. They sent men to do the dragon's dirty work, cleaning up the siege of Storm's End and dealing with grandfather but there is still no love lost between the Crown and the Lannisters." Aegon mused, his frown deepening.

Egg was right, the lions had hoped to gain something with their little gifts at the end of the rebellion, specifically either a Targaryen's hand or the Handship. They got neither, Jaime had told him once of the events of those days, of how Tywin had sent men to kill Aerys and how a young Jaime had decided to give the King a clean death instead of what his fathers dogs would do. Jaime had been smirking while telling that story though, as Jon would later learn Jaime never smirks while telling the whole truth.

The two Princes share a look, ' Enemies to the North, enemies to the West, enemies to the South .' Perhaps the Lord Hand was right, if the war goes as it looks like it will we'll be defeated soundly. Perhaps the best course of action was just to give Renly no just cause to declare war. It will be hard to justify a war based on the memory of a man who died years ago, perhaps that fear alone would be enough to hold back his blade.

Egg's mask fell from his face and he showed the fear he felt on the inside, the same fear Jon felt. "What do I do Jon? How can I protect us, protect our family? How can we even hope to fight this? Tell me what to do." He must be truly desperate to show his feelings so openly, this was effectively Egg's equivalent of begging on his knees.

Think, Think… Inaction can't be the way. We are Targaryens, the greatest house in the known world, we did not get here by sitting on our laurels, by being content with the way things were. The Young Dragon did not look to Dorne and say he was content with six kingdoms, but Daeron had more men, more allies, more loyal subjects…

"We need another army, the Crownlands and Dorne aren't enough and gods know where the rest of the former rebels will fall, it as likely as not they all rise up with Renly and fuck us in the ass." Jon replied, "We need… we need the lions. We have no choice, House Lannister can raise the second largest army in the realm and they are fully united under Tywin, an able military commander unlike Mace Tyrell. The old lion is a practical man, he will not let hurt feelings get between him and his ambition. We need to talk to the Lannisters and you need to start courting whatever girl Tywin puts in front of you." He hated to dictate his brother's wife but such was the fate of a Crown Prince they both knew this.

Just like that the wall was broken, Jon had hope and hope gave him muse, "We also need to go to that dumb fucking Tournament, it will be full to bursting with every lord in the Reach and Stormlands, we may just be able to sway a few away from Renly, every Lord has their problem vassals after all. If we can get even a few to declare neutrality we will be better off because of it."

Egg let out a cynical laugh, the edges of his lips tilting upward. "Thank the gods, there's hope for our cursed family yet." Egg took a massive swig of his wine emptying the rest of the glass in one go.

"Don't thank them too loudly they might notice, the gods are obviously no fans of ours." Jon japed.

"Hmph, well now that my wife is well and chosen let's move onto yours, you never did tell me who the girl was. That speech of yours was more sentimental than I've ever heard you, I think I smell a connection." Jon almost laughed, the conversation he dreaded earlier seemed like a breath of fresh air now.

"You smell the horseshit I'm gonna put in your boots. The girl has a name, Maella, and she's a smallfolk… a dragonseed." Jon could feel a fond smile grow on his face, he couldn't help it, she made him happy - happier than all this talk of his impending death that is.

"Well the Dragonseed part was obvious unless our aunt had risen from the dead." Egg laughed, he also seemed to move on from the war talk easily. Teasing him was always his favorite hobby.

"Indeed, I met her… gods years ago, you know how I liked to wander-" Jon mused.

"Liked," Egg scoffed, "You still do, drive the poor whitecloaks mad to this very day. I swear Hightower is going to poison your horse one of these days." Egg interjected.

"If he poisons my horse, I poison his wine. But as I was saying, I was around one and ten and was reading up on the Dance when I found The Fallen Prince and just had to see it. It's filled to the brim with references to the Targayens of old, to princes long dead and much hated queens. So I snuck off to the tavern just wanting to see the inside, I was always so curious, and from the very second I stepped within I knew I was unwanted. A haven for anyone with grudges against the Targaryens: lesser lords, smallfolk, thieves, beggars, hedge knights, and dragonseed ." Jon explained, in retrospect that was horribly reckless, he had probably been very close to dying.

"The place practically screamed Dragons be gone and I was about to leave, scared out of my wits, when I saw her. Perfectly elegant with long silver hair and striking blue-lavender eyes, she was like the Targaryen queens of old given form, everything that I wasn't." Egg had always told him his eyes were a light Lilac, a shade of purple just like the rest of the family but to him they had always looked gray.

"It was only after she tripped over her dress and spilled beer and wine everywhere that I realized that she was as young and nervous as I was. She was clenching her little fists and apologizing profusely to the barkeep begging to keep her job."

"I pitied her, I had to walk through Flea Bottom for the first time to get to that Tavern and I saw so many beggars, so many starving women and children. And here was this girl, my age and with the colorings of my family, having to beg for work and without a stag to her name. While I had never worked in my life and had access to the royal coffers."

"I went up to the barkeep and paid for the spilled alcohol, told him I was the bastard son of a wealthy man when asked - an easy lie. I requested a bit of the girl's time, I can't imagine what they assumed I was going to do to her, nothing good I suppose, but I just sat her at a table and introduced myself. Not as a prince of course but just Jon."

She called herself Mae and asked what I was going to do with her, she was quite insistent that she was no whore. I told her I was going to talk with her, nothing more and nothing less, I asked her what she liked to do. She told me liked music and dancing, so I said I would sing her a song later but I needed something more. All girls liked music and dancing in my mind after spending my childhood at court. She told me she really liked books and I was surprised, it's not often you meet a literate tavern girl after all, and I asked her what books she liked to read."

"She told me she didn't know her letters but her mother had a couple books that had illustrations. She said she could only imagine what interesting secrets were hidden within the pages if only she could understand them. I offered to teach her how when the barkeep called her back. As she was leaving I slipped a few stags into her pocket, at the time I thought that was probably a good amount as payment for the time I'd taken." To be fair, the young Jon had lived a spoilt and isolated life, money had little value to him.

Jon took a breath and then a drink of his wine, seeing the glass was near empty he refilled it, "I returned a few days later with a gold cloak named Eddin, I had effectively bribed him to drink near me so it was easy to get him to agree to come with. When Mae saw me she almost smiled but seemed to catch herself, looking back it's good she was smart enough to not completely trust me after one conversation, and I sat down as Eddin got a drink.

It wasn't much past midday so there were only a few people about. A few minutes after sitting down Mae came over and stood in front of me, she looked down at me with her pretty eyes and dropped some stags on the table, the stags I had given her before. She put her chin up and said she didn't want my handouts. I was confused, I told her it was for the time I took from her where she could be getting tips and her haughty look lessened but still, she said she didn't want charity. When I told her I had no need of the money she got this smirk on her face and declared that I could take the coins as payment for the reading lessons I was going to give her."

Aegon snorted at the declaration, "She's a bold one, I'll give you that. How did these lessons go?"

"Oh better than you'd think, she's a dedicated student, much more so than you ever were with the Grandmaester-" Aegon smiled across from him, "She practiced hard and didn't complain and her mother is a nice lady, a seamstress by trade, with a small, clean house near the Street of the Sisters."

"This is all quite fanciful, so how'd it go to shit. Didn't seem like a particularly well-guarded secret when I showed up, you had your resident Whitecloak and even a city guardsman with you." Aegon interrupted.

"I'm getting there, patience brother, so the lessons were going well and we'd even started discussing other topics like rhetoric and politics, so imagine my surprise when after a lesson one day, Jaime fucking Lannister was leaning against the wall standing guard near the entrance to the alley." Aegon coughed on the wine he was drinking, Jon had had a similar reaction when he saw Jaime that day.

"He lacked his white cloak but otherwise looked the epitome of his role as a Kingsguard standing watch with a massive, and truly I don't know if I've ever seen him quite so pleased with himself, smirk on his face. Apparently, he'd followed me all the way over, sick of me slipping him in the city. He'd been waiting outside for a while, keeping watch in the area and making sure no other onlookers caught notice." A surprisingly kind and generous action out of Jaime.

"In recompense for whatever he thought I was doing with whoever he thought I was hiding, he made me spend a month with him in the training yard. He had apparently been missing some of his practice sessions with his white-cloaked brothers so now he spent an hour or two beating the shit out of me and then another few getting beat up by Ser Arthur."

Now that Jon paused for a second he recognized his lack of sobriety, a faint buzz in the back of his head, and the recognition of his own loose tongue. He never actually ate dinner, he'd been dragged to that cursed council meeting before he could. Well, in for a star in for a stag.

"So now you've heard your piece, are you're not angry about all of this, that your wife is chosen by politics and alliances. Did you have no girls you cared for in the Capital?" Jon asked.

"Oh I'm furious, but I always knew I would be unable to marry for love, King's never do. I never made any strong connection with my lovers, perhaps subconsciously I never allowed myself to. I will endeavor to live vicariously through you and your smallfolk lover and when you finally sit down and write the book on my great victories you can make this a whole thing, my great sacrifice and such."

Jon snorted, "I've told you time and again I will never become a maester, and if I did I certainly wouldn't spend my precious time writing about you. I need to grab a meal and sleep off this wine, the day has been draining. We both know our duties, do what you can, and do it subtly. See you on the morrow brother."

AN:

#Patchnotes;

Jonothor Darry is dead, too many jonothors in one place.
Caldwyn Crabb is a new OC kingsguard from the crownlands
Rhaegar no longer attends the emergency council meeting, he is an absent king after all

AN no idea why people assume rhaegar would be a good king besides the other options being Aerys, Joff, and Robert, but in many ways i do believe rhaegar and robert would be similar kings in that neither had any interest in ruling.