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Chapter 2: Baelor
He discreetly glances at the Sept. It has been too long since he had cared for any of them. He had not been a believer since he lost Rhonda. Not even his children or finally winning Elia's hand made him regain his faith. He doubts he ever will be a believer again. But, he gives the Seven their due, even if in name only. It is his duty now. He is the Lord of Oldtown. He must set an example to his children, family, and his people.
This Sept, however…
The last time he was in King's Landing, he and Elia had been here was to see Aegon and Margaery marry. And they had done so with all due pomp and circumstance. Most of all there had been joy.
Now, they were here for less auspicious circumstances. He looks towards Elia and takes her hand in his. Elia smiles slightly and squeezes his. While she had no love for the boy himself, her mother's heart would want to be here for Aegon as he mourns his brother. But, she turns towards their son and he resumes his examination of the building.
The Great Sept of Baelor is truly magnificent. It is odd in a way. Despite its original simple purpose, it was opulent by design. Today, every inch of marble is scrubbed to blinding white. He glances up, towards the high dome. The mix of glass and gold and crystal only heighten the glow of the lamps lighting the halls.
A splendid building. Naturally, such splendor made it perfect for coronations and weddings. And true to form, this Sept was an ideal setting for a royal funeral.
Well, not quite ideal. They are here to mourn the death of a young man, a prince, barely approaching his prime. The boy had so much of life to look forward to or, so it was said. The Starks finally gave in, his Rhaenys recounted to him, after she learned it through her Tully husband.
While he does not understand the appeal of such a union, he supposes it might have held some for the boy's parents. The boy's mother was born of a match between close kinfolk and the boy's father was himself of a union between brother sister born from another union of brother sister. The pair would gravitate to such things. Not him.
All for naught, he has heard it said. After the betrothal had been announced, the boy set out to travel, to engage in youthful indiscretions away from his watchful parent's eyes. And for it, his life was cut short.
His boys are not so much younger than the prince had been. He would have been crushed had such a fate befell his own children, yet, he is not so lax in his care for his boys. He never could be. He made that mistake once, years ago.
Never again.
He looks toward the dais. There is an effigy of the boy's likeness. Typically, the body would have been on display, but, there were only bones. Lynesse wrote the sight of the young man's body had been troubling; bloated, she had said. The elements were not so kind, she had recounted. The boy's companions had been distressed as well. Preserving his body with the flesh intact was not viable for travel over the sea and showing only the bones would be too morbid. He thought Aegon had the right of that.
He thinks it is an accurate likeness. He had only seen his wife's first husband's other son a handful of times and spoke to him even less. In truth, he had no need to do it.
Yet, he knows Aegon and Margaery would not allow for anything less than a good likeness.
He looks off the dais to where they stand at Rhaegar's right. He feels a brush of pride at the way they comported themselves so far. He feels this often, but, in this, there is a dignity in the way they stand together, their hands linked with little Aemon between them.
While he is not a man of faith and though they are not children of his body, he is blessed to have a hand in their upbringing. Before them all is an image for people to take comfort in; a proper prince and a princess consort together in with unity and a clear show of a line that perseveres. The realm that will one day be Aegon's charge needs to know that and see that. It warms his heart to see it. Years ago, he swore that he would do whatever it takes to see his family thrive and he has always striven to do exactly that.
Alas, the whole family was not here. Rhaenys, now heavy with child, could not make the voyage in her state. As his eyes skims the room, he sees red hair. He thinks about how it would have been good to see his girl, but, he is rather pleased she did not put herself at risk for this. He had heard once that death pays for life, yet, it would be, perhaps, an ill-omened thing for Rhaenys to be here. Even as his eyes move away from Tully red he resolves to speak to his daughter's husband.
For a moment, he spares the king and he queen a glance. The king's gaunt gaze is fixed on the dais as the High Septon conducts the last of the rights. The queen looks dazed. A worshiper of her gods, he doubts she ever comes here...and to be forced to be here for this. He would pity her, except, he is not so good a man.
He holds in a sigh.
He will be glad when he leaves the Sept and King's Landing entirely.
He does not care for this city and Elia doubly dislikes this place. As for the Sept? He had seen Elia marry Rhaegar here. That of itself will never bother him because Elia was not his and because of it, the world gave him Rhonda and she was no less dear as short their time was together. But, he dislikes it because the vows he witnessed Elia speak were spat back in her face not even three years after she spoke them honestly and only because Rhaegar dissolved a marriage that he should have never been allowed to; all for a union that only hurt the ones he loved.
He gives his wife's hand another squeeze.
As much as he loves and misses Rhonda, he cannot complain too much about happy accident allowed him to claim Elia for himself. But, that does not mean he wants to be here. He longs to be back home among his own people, in his own halls.
Through the corner of his eyes he spies Mace looking on and it takes everything in him not to clench his fists. As dear as his sister is to him, this good-brother is the one he likes least. He has for years and it takes every inch of strength in him not to show it.
Yet, it is not mere dislike. He hated Mace and has for years. Ever since the day he saw Oberyn's maester attending to his distressed nephew and seeing Willas' tear-stained face does he regret that he would never do ill to his own family.
He has lived a lifetime and he can still hear his boy screaming: "My leg, my leg! Father, Uncle!"
Willas, his poor boy.
He will never forget! He will not allow it of himself.
No matter how much he wishes he can forget, he forces himself to remember Oberyn's somber repentance, his father's grey face, and his own horror. To this day he hears Mace's undeserved pride turn to ranting and raving as though he was not at fault; that he had not been the one to push Willas into entering the lists that day.
"He is my squire. I am his master. He is not ready."
"I'm his father, not you, and I say he is ready."
He closes his eyes and takes another breath.
Willas. His smart, kind, and beautiful boy. He chokes down his rage.
His nephew and his squire…who now has to use a cane to walk even short distances; who can no longer run up and down the Tower stairs freely as he used to as a child; his boy denied a good wife though he is an heir to a fine house and mocked behind his back for being a cripple.
Mace's bluster crippled his boy.
He will never forgive Mace for reminding him, "He is my son, not yours" or father for saying, "Mace is right. Willas is his son. He means only the best for him".
Most of all he will never forgive himself for letting himself be swayed by such things.
That day, he swore; never again. He would never let any of his children suffer no matter if they were of his body or not
And now, the bells toll. The rich and loud sound flow over him and past him.
The ceremony is complete.
He takes another deep breath. Once more he looks to the dais where Aegon was speaking to the High Septon. No doubt they are discussing the final steps: incineration, and the placing of the remains down in the crypts. He does not spare the effigy a glance.
His duty at the Sept is done.
His duty in the city is nearly done, he thinks, as he, Duncan, and Elia make their way out of this building. A few more days and they could return to their lives. Still, he will remain for as long as he must, for his boy.
He failed one of his boys once.
Never again.
After attending the obligatory feast, he, had, in fact, sought out Tully. Duty satisfactorily accomplished with the result, he brought himself to the rooms assigned to Elia only to be met by Aegon standing in front of her door. He frowns, concerned. He had not expected Aegon this time of night. As always, his presence is welcome, but, it was somewhat late.
He looks at his wife's son in askance.
Aegon snorts. "Aemon 'escaped' his nurses again."
He smiles. "And you think this is where he ended up?"
A smile twists at Aegon's mouth, just a touch bitter. It's one Aegon rarely lets anyone see. That rush of warmth knowing that Aegon trusts him fills him again.
Aegon tells him, "That's where I always wanted to be."
Aegon breathes out slowly and he put an arm around his boy's shoulder.
The smile Aegon gives next him is nothing like the morose one he witnessed minutes before. It was not carefree, of course, but, at peace. Then, Aegon says, "Grandmothers are indulgent where mother's might not be. He was quite disgruntled that he was not allowed at the feast. At any rate, Margaery would have my hide if I don't return him now that we are both free."
The feast was well executed, though he had no doubt even before seeing the result. The king and queen had not attended and so it fell to Aegon and Margaery to act as hosts. Naturally, there was no need to disturb the mourning parents. No one had thought it strange and he certainly had not remarked upon it.
Now he and Aegon both let out forced laughter even as a memory of Margaery and Rhaenys sneaking into his study comes to him. They'd been playing a game; hiding behind a tapestry. They had been doing it poorly. Their giggling had been too loud. But, he remembers playing along.
For his children, he will always play along.
But, Aegon was right. The feast was no place for a child who already had to put up with being well-behaved earlier in the day. And sure enough, he opens the door and there was Aemon tucked into his wife side, giggling in a way reminiscent of Aegon's.
Aegon clears his throat. "Aemon, this is not where you are supposed to be."
He swallows a smile when boy juts out his chin before donning an artfully shamefaced expression. Aemon straightens but, does not move. At least the boy has the sense to seem guilty even if he doesn't feel it. Meeting his eyes, Elia's lips twitch before she says, "Aemon was just keeping his old grandmother company."
Closing the doors behind him, Aegon snorts and says, "You, Mother, are anything besides 'old'". He crosses the room to give Elia a kiss on the cheek which she receives with a smile.
"Is that so, Son?"
Aegon laughs softly, coming to kneel before Elia. "Fishing for complements, are we?"
Elia cups her son's cheek gently. This gesture he had seen many times and he knew it was not enough for any of them. She asks of Aegon, "So what if I am?"
Aegon kisses her cheek again. "I am happy to give them, but, not tonight," he says, becoming the stern father once more when turning to his son. "Aemon, you can see your grandmother tomorrow. Right now, I am certain your mother wants a cuddle."
Aemon pouts. Still he lets Aegon scoop him up without too much fuss; though, not before Elia smothers the boy with kisses.
The boy, finally pried from Elia's indulgent grasp, sends Aegon a woebegone look all too familiar to any father worth his salt. "And bed?"
"Bed." Aegon nods, confirming, just a touch stern. "Say goodbye to Grandmother and Baelor."
The boy waves before tucking his head into Aegon's neck finally displaying exhaustion.
It's not until the door closes that he starts pulling at his doublet. He asks Elia, "Are you alright?"
Even though she rises and readily takes his arm, he already knows her answer, "I hate being here."
So, does he, his face darkening as they make their way towards the bedroom. Elia had other reasons to dislike the Red Keep up to and including the way she was unceremoniously dismissed from it.
Were Aegon and Margaery not in King's Landing, neither one of them would have bothered. Still, he would soothe his wife; an act he always takes pleasure in. He gives her a quick kiss as he guides her towards the bed. "It's only for the next few days."
Removing her outer gown, she says, "I would rather be anywhere else."
He, too, would rather be at his own tower and it was not as though they were here for pleasant business. Well, at least he can let her know of something she can delight in. "I spoke to Tully."
Curious, she asks, "Yes?"
He smiles as they sit together of the edge on this borrowed bed. He takes his free hand and wraps a finger through a strand of loose hair. "When this business is done, you and I are going to Riverrun."
"Really?" She beams at him, ecstatic. Then she asks, "Duncan?"
His wife's elation is infectious as he grins back. "He's been thinking of gifts already."
She pounces on him and presses eager lips to his. Gods, how he loves this.
When they pull apart, he asks, "So, that makes you happy?"
She gives him another peck on the lips. "So very happy."
"I am glad." He means it. Then his expression turns sly, "But, I would have my payment now, if you please."
She laughs and goes to lay back. "What would you like?"
He removes his tunic and gives her a wink. "I am sure you can think of something." He runs a hand up her calf.
Not quite scandalized, she asks, "Here?"
He grins. "Why not?"
"Someone may hear us!"
He grins the way he knows she always melts for. "It's late enough besides. And so what if it is not? They hear us in the Tower. Why not the Red Keep?"
His grin stretches when she laughs. Still, ever the proper princess, Elia reminds him, "This is not our place."
This should have been. Gods forgive him, but, he is not always a good man. His wife deserved the world; the same as his children. He cannot give his wife her true due; he cannot change the past or erase the humiliation she faced or the years of being without her youngest child under their roof. But, because he could not do that, he will ensure that her son gets all that he is due! That he could do during the day, but, on this night, that same savage part of him wants someone to overhear the pleasure he gives his wife.
He presses his lips to hers, cupping the back of her head in his hands. "And, yet, you, my dear, are already on a bed and I would have you at ease on this night and all the rest. Such things can be comforting, yes?"
In the silence, he lets go of his wife to toss his shirt on a nearby table.
"We shouldn't. It would be uncomfortable if someone were to overhear."
He huffs. They are behind closed doors. They are not so young anymore that they are too adventurous as to be shocking.
What does it matter if someone hears? It is nothing to him if anyone else is bothered by it, not on this night or any other. They are hardly newly wedded. Even if they had been, should he does not care if all the Red Keep know he and his wife enjoy one another. In fact, the thought of it happening sends a thrill through him.
While it may be unseemly, what does death teach besides to enjoy life? And he will enjoy his life, he decides, as he removes his breeches. "I did not hear a "No".
Elia rolls her eyes. "I didn't say 'yes', either." The way her legs spread tells him otherwise.
He clamors between them, running his hands against their softness, inching his hands higher and higher. He grins when she does not protest. Then again, why would she protest a familiar touch.
He smiles as he feels a shiver run down her body. "I think I can be pretty convincing. Besides, do not tell me you never wanted to -"
Elia laughs and pulls him closer. "You are such a fiend."
As he reaches to pull off her shift, he thinks for those he loves, that is something he will never deny or feel badly for.
As he sits down, Aegon asks him, "Is Mother not joining us?"
Remembering the feel of Elia against him, he finds himself smiling. "She will join us later, after breakfast. I sent someone to fetch her some."
A red-faced pair of servants saw that he had been in his wife's borrowed rooms when they came to attend to Elia's bath in morning's first light. He could not say who they spoke to afterwards or who they spied for. Not that such a thing bothered him. Rather, that held some appeal. More than some, he thinks, holding onto his delight.
Duncan frowns, moving rising. "Is she sick?"
Fondly, he thinks it delightful that both his sons love his wife so. Even still, he says, "No. She is fine. Leave it. She will eat in her rooms."
They both look unconvinced. It warms him how much they care for Elia, but, still. He will not be questioned on this. "Sit down. Enjoy your breakfast. She is fine, I promise you that."
Aegon asks, "And you know this how?"
Now, it's a bit too much. He should be a better man, but, he has not always been. He tells Aegon, "After you left, I kept her up and only just left her side less than an hour ago. She is fine. I trust I need not explain further than that."
Face now pink, Duncan all but demands, "We can speak of other things."
Aegon snorts, the tips of his ears growing red, as well. He snorts when they suddenly grow more interested in their food.
He pretends he does not see Oswell Whent, who came in with Aegon, frowning. Let the man frown. That man saw far more shocking things and participated in them during his time at Aerys' feet and at Rhaegar's. Elia told him things of what Aegon's grandmother suffered and he knew Whent was among the ones who went missing during the war. Such a man does not get to show disapproval now.
To the boys, he smiles somewhat apologetically. No matter how grown a man is, one hardly would want to hear such things about their mother. It does not matter if she was their mother by blood or by custom. Gods knew he would have disliked hearing such things even at his age. Still, he likes that he can discuss such things openly, within reason. Some things, children need not know, no matter how grown they are.
But, it is easy to push that thought away when faced with his boys. Different sons from different mothers. Watching them now seated side by side, easily speaking between themselves, he thinks that if only things had gone differently, Aegon could have been his…
He frees himself from that thought as quickly as it came. What is done is done and he has no cause to complain, not now when he has Leto Duncan and Aegon looks to him as a father as well. Rhaenys, of course, always the daughter he never had.
He is eager to see his darling again. He fondly remembers the first time he saw her at the Water Gardens, splashing about with her cousins and other children, wet curls flying this way and that. That was the day he swore to himself that he would claim for his own Elia's children. He had not allowed her to go to without his affections and he had not allowed her to leave Oldtown on Tully's arm with a trousseau filled with only things Rhaegar deigned to give.
And for it, she has given him plenty, though, of all the little trinkets he had acquired over the years, one of his favorites will always be the first picture she drew for him; one of her ever-faithful companion, Balerion. Even Mathis kept his own drawing, that of a golden tree, from his golden girl. It had been a pleasant surprise for them both; Mathis because he was not expecting one and him because it was a sign that his family was growing.
Once more, he reminds himself to ensure the preparations for his journey to Riverrun are thorough and complete.
He loves his sons, of course, but, once more he thinks it is a shame that Rhonda died before she could give him a daughter. Alas, he had lost her to the Stranger and Elia could give him no children without putting her life in danger, which he would never do.
Still, he thinks he would have liked it if Aegon could be his son by more than his marriage to Elia. Aegon had joked about it once, but, he is content in that Aegon is both his son in thought and husband to his niece who just as good as a daughter to him.
Thankfully, from Willas forward, his sister's children are more Hightower than Tyrell despite the just made him more eager to give all of his children, of blood and bond, all that he can, even if it in ways he should not speak of, especially when their own fathers-
He shakes himself to be free of such maudlin thoughts.
Besides, there are more important matters to discuss, it seems, when Duncan remarks, "Leto wrote."
Aegon asks, "How is he?"
"He fares well though he reports nothing particularly exciting."
"That is good," Aegon adds. "Though, 'nothing'? Surely, something is different."
He takes a slight breath when Duncan mentions, "Oh, of course, I had not written. Sarella left for Oldtown for Sunspear some weeks ago."
Aegon laughs, incredulously. "She left found something that was worth tearing herself away from her books?"
He wets his lips and tells himself to remain calm. He says, "She went to see her mother."
Duncan nods along. He already knew Elia's niece long since left Oldtown. Aegon had no though there was hardly a need to involve Aegon in his cousin's intent to travel.
Aegon asks, "Will she be in the Summer Isles long?"
There was nothing for it, then. He says, "She had not said. I do know she wanted to go through Tyrosh before she returned. Sarella was traveling the Archon's daughter, you remember her? She went south through Lys then met up with her mother. That much I know."
There is no need elaborate. After all, some things are better off not known. And if they are, what would that mean for him?
Even then, Aegon proves quite sharp, if the glint in his eyes is any indication. Too sharp, perhaps.
But, in the end, Aegon asks only: "I hope the lady is well."
It was difficult to hold in a snort. No woman could have become a captain of a ship like the Feathered Kiss if she had been prone to illness. Her daughter is no different in that regard. Both ladies were quite resourceful. Oberyn did well, there.
Then again, so had Lynesse, he was forced to admit to himself. When he got that letter, he was glad that for once he is glad the love of his mother stayed his hand in not cutting his sister out of our lives completely.
Just as well, after she shamed herself, Lynesse owed them.
Then, Duncan mentions, "She might join up with your cousins in Volantis."
It is on that note that Viserys, recently sitting himself down at Aegon's other side, adds, "Quent and Nym will be happy to hear that, I believe."
He lets himself laugh slightly. Sarella had not been the only relative of Elia's who travelled. Oberyn had said once that there was a freedom in his daughters being Sands, but, Doran, too, proved he was not such a martinet towards his children. All the better, as it turned out.
Aegon gives him a look, and then turns to ask to Viserys, "Why Volantis?"
"Nym's grandsire is ill." Viserys shrugs. "Before I left Sunspear, Arianne received word they left Norvos. Arianne's pet Sand had written, they would have reached Volantis by know."
It's not only his lips that twitch at Viserys' reference to towards Ryon Allyrion's boy though they all knew Viserys does not have true hatred for the bastard of Godsgrace.
But, it is not the consort of Sunspear's Princess that has his attention. It is Aegon. He wonders what Aegon suspects…suspects because Aegon does not know, does he?
Of course, Aegon had always been perceptive.
And still, no matter if all that can be proven he has done is give some money to his wife's nieces and ensure that ties to his sister's keeper are well maintained, he will not shrink from this.
Even if he had done more, he thinks back to Rhonda with their boys in their toddling years and then of each time Elia cried after Aegon was forced to leave her sight and the way she would clutch desperately at Rhaenys, Leto, and Duncan afterwards as if they would be torn from her, too.
He also remembers how she diligently kept every scrap of paper that came to her from Dragonstone; both the ones that were clearly edited and the ones that were truly of Aegon's own accord. He recalls each time the maids would question if the room they should clean the room they kept for Aegon or if the King had changed his mind once again about letting him visit.
He says, "The bond between mother and child is not one to take lightly. And as brief as it may be, to see their lady mother's is, I think, a balm to the soul no matter how old a child may become."
Duncan gives him a small smile. Elia is the mother he remembers most. His youngest son was of barely two name-days when Rhonda passed, and Leto was barely three years older than Duncan.
Even Viserys' gaze grow distant for a moment before coming to himself and saying, "Quite right."
Then, he turns his attention back to Aegon, anxious to know what he would say.
Perhaps, in this moment, Aegon's natural sense of discretion would win out or not. They do have an audience, after all. Among their number was a knight who had long since proven himself to be Rhaegar's man.
Perhaps Aegon reveals his deeds to Viserys. Viserys has little love for his brother, but, blood does call to blood and Viserys was Jaeherys' uncle.
In truth he had no such designs but that betrothal…
It just unnerved him Rhaegar so insistent on a Stark match? Were there no matches Rhaegar could have thought to give his third born child that would not be a threat to his for his eldest son? The Blackfyre rebellions taught him very much.
It is no fault of his that Rhaegar ignored the lessons his own kinsmen taught Westeros. Was Aegon to suffer because his father's recklessness? Today or tomorrow, the possibility alone…Though Rhaegar was far from Aegon the Unworthy, was not thoughtless worse?
Perhaps he had miscalculated. Despite everything, Aegon did like father's other son; perhaps even loved him. As far as he knew Aegon never told Elia what his feelings towards his half-brother were; not that she would have minded. He certainly would not have. Yet, he truly does not know.
He takes a breath.
What is done is done.
And it was not as though he had any hatred for the boy, personally. But, the boy represented a dark part of his history and the potential for darkness for his family. As a man and a father he could not let that stand.
He and his brothers had to fight in a damn fool war because duty to their king demanded it, because Aerys' treachery could have turned towards them. That war… His uncle was forced to hide in a decrepit tower while good men in service to his family were sent to die.
And, for what? So Rhaegar could humiliate Elia further than he had at Harrenhal?
He'd been a believer then and it incensed him to see sacred vows disavowed so cheaply.
Perhaps that was why it was easy to let go of his faith when it finally died. After all, if the gods had been real, they should have never stood for that any of that.
That boy was living proof that there may be a day that he would have to witness Rhaegar throwing away yet another of his children as he already had with Rhaenys?
Though over the years, he feels that anger less and less, particularly with Elia firmly by his side and knowing the high regard his wife's children had for him, it is still a part of him. Perhaps, he is a selfish man in that way, but, as it is, Aegon was his family, twice over. He would not be a man if he did not seek to advance the security of his own family. Any true father would not think twice of what he had done.
Jaeherys Targaryen, of course, was an innocent, but, had not innocents suffered for the misdeeds of others? And even if he was innocent, even with Aegon wedded and a father, he was a danger even when the Starks kept finding some reason to delay the betrothal to the Lady Sansa until they stopped. Rhaegar could ignore it all he wanted, but, he would not and did not.
And now…
It seemed an eternity before Aegon looked at him. His face was too solemn in a way that reminded him uncomfortably of Rhaegar. When he spoke, his voice was steady if barely above a whisper. "That my uncles care for their children is something to be lauded, of course. Still, it does not compare to a mother's love and proximity. Perhaps it is selfish of me, but, there were many nights on Dragonstone I wished for naught but my mother. I had grandmother, of course; still, it just was not the same."
With that Aegon falls silent.
Viserys smiles sadly at Aegon who gives him the same smile back. Viserys had left Dragonstone at the age of ten and three to pay the price of his brother's broken marriage. But, for some years, he and Aegon had shared a mother, just not Aegon's.
Of course, that Aegon loves his wife so dearly makes it so easy to feel that rush of love for her son. Still, as anxious as he is, Aegon's wistful tone just stokes the fires of anger Rhaegar's actions cause in him and the words give him pause. He cannot even allow himself the satisfaction of seeing Ser Oswell Whent flinch when he already dared too much.
By themselves, the words were innocuous; they do not feel that way. Not with the history behind them and he is a creature of politics just as much as Aegon is. If he is correct, Aegon will confront him even if he does not do it at the table.
He decides to take whatever comes his way, no matter Aegon's words.
He had always been proud that Aegon is mindful of his past and how it was right that Aegon think about how the past determines the future. Good traits to have in a future king…and a son who may now hate him.
And just like that Rhaegar arrives. Once more, he wonders, what Aegon would do. Oswell Whent is one thing, perhaps, even Viserys. Rhaegar is quite another. After all, the pull of blood and of duty is not one to be ignored. Perhaps how he ignored it where Aegon stood will cause his own undoing.
And yet, they were here now because Rhaegar had ignored the pull of both duty and blood when Rhaenys had been a toddling child and Aegon had been a babe.
There is very little to do besides wait and wait he does as Rhaegar takes his time to examine the table.
The first thing he does is direct a question to Aegon. "Where is Elia?"
Aegon replies: "Baelor had her breakfast sent to her rooms." Nothing in his tone betrays any other emotion. Despite himself he marvels at that though he knows Aegon is not one free with his emotions.
Rhaegar frowns. Then he asks, "Is she ill?"
He holds in his distaste for both the question and Rhaegar himself with more than some difficulty. It is years too late for Rhaegar to act as if worried about Elia. He had shown all the realm enough to show that he had not. If Rhaegar ever cared for her, he would not be here now. Even if he were not tomorrow, he'd been there for her since Rhaegar joyfully abdicated his own rights to her a long time ago.
To Rhaegar, Aegon answers, "I've been told Mother slept late."
Aegon says nothing further even though Rhaegar seems to want to ask.
Yet, like him Rhaegar remains silent.
Best savor what time of peace he has left.
He is no fool to think that this is the last of it. Perhaps it is the beginning of something or perhaps the end. Whatever may come, he will abide by it. Aegon deserves that much from him, but, he will not fear it.
Aegon's eyes are on him when he goes to cut up a piece of bacon.
He would have preferred not to put Aegon in this position, but, he had not been the one to start this, was he? That blame went to Rhaegar, but, would Aegon see it that way? And if Aegon did, how far would the consequences of his actions spread?
For himself, he is not worried. He has lived a rich life and has no regrets. Whatever will come he will face it. He already made his choices. The boy was his doing. He did not carry the deed out, of course, but, this was his choice and he alone will take responsibility for it.
Of course, he fears for Elia, Rhaenys, Leto, Duncan, and even Margaery to say the rest of his family. They, of course, knew nothing. In this matter, he kept his own council as any man who could call himself would. He can only hope his actions will not spill to the rest of those he loves. And still, even if Aegon were to divulge his doings to Rhaegar, Aegon will protect them to the best of his abilities. This, he knows. Aegon would never let anyone harm his family.
The question remains: what now?
He is resolved though. Whatever Aegon decides for him, he will face it, as a man, a husband, and a father. His method was cruel; but, he will not apologize for doing right by his family, for their security. That is the ultimate duty of a father.
He thinks back to that moment years ago on Dragonstone when Aegon had been a boy, eager to see his mother and sister again. He swore that day that he would do right by him, love him as much as he did his own sons grew to love Rhaenys. He swore that he was going to be a father to Aegon in both spirit and in action.
On the night of Aegon's first time at Oldtown, he sat Aegon down in his rooms and promised that he would protect him from threats real and imagined. He has never wavered in that promise. Though he has not chosen the kindest way to do it, he is not Rhaegar who could pretend that Jaeherys would not or could not be a threat for Aegon.
Perhaps Aegon may hate him for it. That he is prepared for. After all, it is a fact of life that all fathers disappoint their sons, in one way or another. His own father; Rhaegar's father, no doubt; Mace…they've all disappointed. He knew Rhaegar disappointed. Perhaps, now, it was his turn.
Does he lament that? Of course.
But, his food still goes down easy and he does not hesitate to meet Aegon's eyes, prepared for whatever may come.