Late 160 AC, King's Landing
The Hand of the King
Viserys sat stiffly astride his horse as he observed the galley pull into one of the hundreds of quays which lined the docks of King's Landing. Gulls screamed their presence above him, swooping down occasionally to steal fish from the many fishermen who were selling their wares in the market just by the Mud Gate. He spied his son on the upper deck of the ship, leaning backwards with his elbows on the railing, his back facing the docks. As the ship finally docked, Viserys could see that his son was speaking with a woman who seemed Dornish by her look, in not by her presence on the ship. She, in turn, seemed to be hanging onto Aegon's every word, a look of delight on her face. Viserys's grip on his reins tightened.
The gangplank was lowered and Viserys observed his son sauntering down the ramp, strutting about as he owned the place. Arrogance had always been Aegon's chief flaw. A small part of Viserys knew he was to blame for that. He did not wish to listen to that part. The rest of the hostages scampered down behind him, some looking around in fear, most in awe and all in disgust, their noses wrinkled. The stench of King's Landing, a mixture of unwashed masses, the stink of the sea, and the refuse of half a million souls, had a way of seeping into your very bones.
Lord Benjicot Blackwood, who had stayed behind in King's Landing with Viserys, spurred his horse forwards. The assembled Dornish lordlings turned towards them. Viserys, for his part, hung back, opting to observe the Dornish rather than speak with them right away. Aegon noticed him and made his way over, pushing through the guards in red and black livery who had gathered around the Dornish contingent, following at the heels of the Master of Laws. Ser Joffrey Staunton, who had been holding a horse by its reins for Aegon, relinquished them. Aegon mounted up beside Viserys with a little grunt.
Aegon was followed closely by a knight who Viserys recognised as Aegon's man, a certain Ser Jon Harte. Aegon turned towards his knight and spoke something in hushed tones. The knight nodded and turned towards the direction of the River Gate, presumably into the city. Viserys grew curious.
"Father," Aegon said, with a nod. Viserys spared him a nod in reply. Aegon stretched in place, raising his hands high above his head and twisting. A joint or two popped. "I'm glad to be back in King's Landing. The journey was dreadfully boring."
"It is good to have you back, " Viserys said. He tried to smile. "Your nephew has heard of your exploits in Dorne. He and your cousin have grown enamoured of your songs and wish to emulate you." Viserys knew at that exact moment that he should not have said this. Aegon puffed up in pride. "Do not get a big head, now. Pride comes before the fall."
Aegon absently waved his hand. "Yes, yes. I know. Shall we be off to the Red Keep?"
Viserys hummed in response. "Let us wait for the Dornish to move. We shall follow behind, " Viserys said. He looked at Aegon. His son had not changed much over the course of the year, though his skin took on a slightly darker hue, probably due to the time spent under the red Dornish sun. He still appeared to Viserys as carefree as he ever had been.
"Just as well, " Aegon replied. He stood up in his stirrups and looked over the crowd near the ship. The Master of Laws was trying to corral the Dornish into a circle and was presently given them some instructions. Viserys tried to discern what Aegon was looking for. "Let us wait for a few more minutes, father, " Aegon said as he sat down in the saddle. "My squire will join us in a moment. As will Ser Jon with more horses."
"The boy from the Reach, you mean?" Viserys asked. His lip curled a little but Viserys's distaste if the Reach was a long cooled ember. "You should have taken a boy of higher birth. Perhaps someone like Hightower-"
Aegon laughed, sending a lance of irritation through Viserys. "Do you think I'm japing, boy?" Viserys asked.
Aegon stopped his laughter and turned in his saddle to face Viserys. "A Hightower as my squire? You seem to be losing your wits in your old age." Aegon's lip curled in disgust. "Taking a squire from the Hightowers would be seen as a sign of royal favour."
Viserys shook his head. "You still have much to learn." Viserys sighed. "We cannot hold on to grudges for the rest of our lives. Besides, mine own sister is the wife to a Hightower"
Aegon looked as if he had something to say and Viserys felt he held himself back at the last moment. "As you wish, father," Aegon said instead. He stood up in his stirrups once more. When he sat back in the saddle, the Dornish were moving in a single file. Viserys wondered if Blackwood meant to make them walk all the way to the Keep. Aegon spoke. "There are a few grudges I mean to speak with you about, as well." A dark look crossed Aegon's face.
Viserys nudged his horse to turn and face the slowly moving Dornish contingent. They reached the River Gate and Blackwood looked to be speaking to the men-at-arms surrounding them. Blackwood had also arranged for some horses near the River Gate, Viserys observed. As Aegon was turning his own horse, Viserys heard a cry and turned back to Aegon in haste.
It appeared that as Aegon was nudging his horse, it had responded a bit too eagerly to his command. Instead of turning, it reared up, neighing wildly and rising to its full height on its hind legs. Thankfully, Viserys looked to see that Aegon was unharmed and still in the saddle. He was calming the horse down and Viserys looked for the cause of the horse's abrupt frenzy. On the ground, at the horse's hooves, a man lay.
The man wore his clothes in the Braavosi fashion, with an overly large cap and even larger feather in it. To Viserys's eye, he looked the fool, but bravos prefered such outfits, he knew. And it looked like Aegon recognized the man's origin as well. The flush of anger spread over Aegon's face and his brow deepened into a scowl. Viserys ought to do something before Aegon lost control but a part of him urged him to stay back.
The Braavosi picked himself up and turned to face the horse which had caused him to fall. Irritation was writ in his posture and however much a fool he looked like, yet he recognised the blood of the dragon when he looked at Aegon and Viserys behind him. Some of the irritation gave way to well-deserved wariness. The man stepped closer to Aegon, perhaps to tender his apologies. Aegon's face was twisted in hate and anger. Viserys could see Aegon had no intention of listening. Aegon spurred his forward just a little, looming large over the man. The bravo backtracked in fear.
"My apologies, lordship. I was not aware-"
Aegon raised his leg from his stirrup and kicked the Braavosi square in the chest, sending him sprawling.
"You cur!" Aegon thundered. He continued raining blows on the downed man. "You dare to apologize after what your lot have done. Why, I ought to have you whipped-"
"Aegon!" Viserys said sharply but the damage was done. No crowd had gathered but people stared at them regardless. The fisherfolk of King's Landing kept to their own, heedless of the quarrels of those above them. But here in the docks, there were more than fisherfolk. All manner of merchants and envoys came from over the entire realm and from Essos, even as far East as Yi-Ti.
Would this be taken as censure against the Braavosi? Viserys did not find it in himself to care. But appearances must be kept, and a prince of the blood could not afford to show himself as a common thug, beating up peasants and merchants as he willed. They had standards to keep. Either way, Viserys's call shook Aegon out of his stupor.
Aegon gave one last kick to the Braavosi. The man lay groaning on the stone quay. Aegon spat on him and nudged his horse forward. His face was still twisted in anger, but the hatred had faded from it.
"Come, father," Aegon said. His voice carried over the silent dock. "Let us make to the Red Keep. There seems to be an infestation of vermin in the docks of late."
Viserys pulled closer to Aegon and spoke in a low tone. "We need to talk." Aegon gave the slightest nod. His neck was set very stiff and Viserys could see the veins stand out on his neck. Without sparing a glance at him, Aegon pulled his horse forward into a trot. Viserys too pulled his horse up and made to follow Aegon, when Ser Jon finally appeared, leading two horses, one a rouncey and the other a pony, no doubt meant for the squire.
"Find wherever Quentyn is hiding and bring him to the Red Keep. I will be leaving presently with my father," Aegon commanded his knight. The man bowed his head in reply, the ever-silent sentinel. Aegon fumbled with something near his chest and Viserys saw that he removed the brooch which held his cloak. The blood-red cloak pooled near the horse's hooves. Aegon flipped the brooch through the air. It caught the light and glinted as it flew and Viserys could see it was fashioned in the shape of a red dragon. Ser Jon caught it within his hands and looked at Aegon in confusion. "Have the boy wear this. It will let the common folk in the Keep know he's mine."
Ser Jon nodded. Viserys took off and Aegon followed closely behind. As he glanced towards his son, whose rage seemed to have cooled down into embers, Viserys supposed he should be thankful for one thing at least. All of the Dornish had left before Aegon had unleashed his anger on the Braavosi, whomever the man turned out to be. Viserys knew he ought to try to make a discreet inquiry into the matter.
As they reached the River Gate, Viserys saw that Blackwood was waiting for them just within the walls, the Dornish all on horses of their own. "The smallfolk seem to be in a celebratory mood, lord hand," Blackwood said in reply to Viserys's questioning look. "And this celebration would be incomplete without Prince Aegon, so I made them wait."
"Very well, let us be off then," Viserys commanded and the party set out.
As they entered deeper into the city, throngs of smallfolk lined the streets, hoping to have a glimpse of the Dragonknight and the Dornish hostages. They cheered as the party went straight through the Muddy Way deeper into the city. Viserys would have preferred if they cut through the Hook and made for the shortest path to the Red Keep, but there was no real harm in a little spectacle.
As they turned into the main thoroughfare of the city which ran straight from the Gate of the Gods to the Red Keep, the throng around them increased tenfold, if not hundredfold. The men-at-arms kept a strict cordon around them to ensure no one got through but it was unneeded. In that paved street which held almost all of the city's population, white petals rained down from the heavens. Smallfolk had taken to the rooftops to get a better look at their Hand, their Prince and the prisoners.
A roar not unlike the sea as it rages against the rocks filled the air as the smallfolk shouted and cheered and threw down petals alike. Viserys allowed himself to bask in it for a moment. Not since he had arrived here from Lys when he was but a child had he seen the city in such an open celebration. If only Aegon was cause enough for this to happen, Viserys could not wait for Daeron to return, the conquering hero. All his earlier worries lay forgotten for just a while. A small smile played on his lips and a heady feeling coursed through him.
This was how it should be. This was how it ought to be. And he would do his damned best to ensure this was how it turned out to be. No longer would there be any more hiding in the Red Keep. The subjects yearned for their King.
They made their way slowly through the paved street. Viserys could see Aegon drinking in all of the adulation of the crowd. A wide smile stretched over his lips. One hand was raised and with it, Aegeon waved to the crowd, who cheered even louder when Aegon turned towards them. But Viserys could still observe the tense set of Aegon's jaw and how his smile was fixed in place. It was one for the crowd and not true.
When they started making their way up Aegon's High Hill, the crowds of smallfolk had been left behind. The paved road now had manses on either side, each more elegant and opulent than the last. Every lord and lordling in the Crownlands had sought to have a manse of his own constructed here, going up the hill. Many resided permanently in King's Landing as a bid to increase royal favour, leaving their lands in the hands of wives, stewards and castellans. It never turned out the way they expected it to.
Very soon, the Red Keep loomed upon them, like a gigantic dragon sprawling upon the rocks. Viserys had, in his youth, heard that Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, had a dragon whose scales were as red as the stones of the Keep. Maelys, the Red Queen, the dragon was called. His own half-sister, Baela had regaled him with all manner of stories when he was first returned from Lys and still a stranger to everyone within these walls save his brother. He ought to visit with her and with Rhaena, he knew, but his duties prevented him from having in the barest of moments for himself. Perhaps, he could go with Aegon to Dorne and then further on to Oldtown to visit Rhaena and then with Baela at High Tide on the return journey.
He shook his head. Those were thoughts for another time. For now, they presently passed through the enormous barbican, the iron portcullis drawn up and allowing them entry. The stables were set right by the barbican. Grooms and stable hands rushed forwards to take the horses. Viserys dismounted and handed off his horse as well. The Dornish formed a group of their own, opting to stick together. Viserys addressed them as a whole as Aegon took his place behind him, to his right.
"Welcome to the Red Keep," Viserys began, without too much preamble. "You have been sent here, men and women, boys and girls, to celebrate a new chapter in the strengthening of relations within the realm." There was no need to refer to the invasion now. The Iron Throne had been for all Seven Kingdoms since the age of the Conqueror and the King was the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, first in name and now in truth. "Make use of this opportunity to show your devotion to the Crown and your loyalty shall be rewarded."
Viserys looked at them as he spoke. Most looked defiant and sullen, as he expected them to be. A few, the youngest of the lot, seemed excited. Those would have to be watched and separated from the rest. Loyalty could be instilled in them. The irony would be delicious to behold. Viserys allowed himself a little smile.
"We are hostages, that's all," someone shouted. "Here to ensure that there is no rebellion, or else our heads will roll." The voice came from somewhere within the group. Viserys wasn't sure exactly who spoke, which he suspected was by design. Viserys's mouth pressed into a thin line and his brow deepened into a scowl. A few guards made to move forwards, but Viserys held up his hand to stall them.
Viserys spread his hands in a conciliatory gesture. It was vital to be calm here. "It is unfortunate that you feel that way. Let me be the first to assure you that it is the most sincere wish of everyone involved for there to be a greater understanding and to foster better relations betwixt the Seven Kingdoms."
A few scoffs were heard, but they were silent and for the most part, it appeared as if the Dornish trusted him, or wished to trust him or were pretending to trust him. None of that mattered presently. The hostages were here, safe in the Red Keep and were not likely to escape. Viserys had more important things to address.
"You will be shown to your rooms presently. On the morrow, you will be shown around the Keep, including places where you may and may not enter. For the latter, none of you are to enter Maegor's Holdfast under any circumstances. It is for persons belonging to the royal line alone," said Viserys, fixing them with a stare. He got scattered nods and quite a few still looked defiant. It would headaches down the line, but he would deal with it when the problem presented itself.
The pages and grooms who had lined the walls of the courtyard they were standing in presently, rushed forwards, each of them directing one member of the Dornish contingent. They would be staying within the Red Walls of the Keep. Once people had filtered out from the courtyard, Viserys turned to Aegon.
"Come," he said. "We have much to discuss."
Aegon did not reply, but he followed when Viserys started to walk away. Viserys led them to the Tower of the Hand, a straight line from the courtyard where they were situated presently. Viserys let his thoughts stray idly while they climbed up the stairs. He ran his hands along the red stone of the bannister by the curved stairs which led up to the Hand's audience chamber. They entered inside and Viserys walked over to sit behind the table, unclasping his cloak and letting it drape behind him on the chair he sat upon. Aegon did not sit. Instead, he walked to the window and looked out, observing the courtyard where squires were drilled by the master-at-arms, Ser Brennar Brune.
Viserys let himself rest in the chair for a moment, sagging in relief at the comfort it provided. Then, he spoke. "What was that? Out there?" asked Viserys. He fixed his eye on Aegon, but Viserys's son did not even deign to turn and face him to reply. Viserys suppressed a flash of irritation.
"What was what, father?" Aegon asked. His hands were clasped behind his back, which was to Viserys and he still did not look at Viserys, opting to stare out of the window.
"Don't play coy with me, boy," Viserys warned. His brow furrowed into a scowl.
Aegon turned to face Viserys and crossed his arms across his chest. He put on a face of thoughtfulness. Viserys saw through it instantly. "I suppose you are asking about the woman I was speaking with on the ship," Aegon said. He was leaning back against the window sill, feigning nonchalance. Viserys knew his son too well for that to work. Aegon's stiff posture and the frown playing on his lips belied his anxiety.
"I couldn't care less for whichever Dornish harlot you've managed to charm," Viserys lied, perhaps a bit more hotly than he should have. "I am talking about the Braavosi."
"What about the Braavosi?" Aegon asked flippantly. Viserys found himself growing angry. "I see nothing to even discuss. It was far better than what he deserved," Aegon spat.
"You do not even know who it was," Viserys retorted, his tone growing hot. "It could have been anyone!"
"Let us not delude ourselves here, father," Aegon scoffed. "You know it was a Braavosi, as well as I do."
"That does not excuse your behaviour, boy!" Viserys thundered, growing angrier at Aegon's tone and his carelessness.
"It does! It does, it does and it does!" Aegon was getting agitated and he crooned over Viserys, which fed his own anger. "I need no reason to trample on any Braavosi! If you hadn't interfered, I would have cut him down, like the dog he was!"
"Are you out of your wits, boy!" Viserys got up from his chair. His heart beat faster and a pit of cold dread settled into his stomach. He feared he did not have the strength to see this conversation through. "You do not even appear to realize what you are speaking of!"
"Oh, but I will have to do what you seem to be unable to," Aegon said, this time his voice a bare whisper. "Avenge my brother, your son." He paused for a moment and Viserys was lost for words, as a wound in his heart, recently scabbed, was torn open. Aegon twisted the knife in the wound then. "Unable? Or unwilling? You never seemed to care for him anyway."
"How dare you!" Viserys was beyond words in his anger. "How dare you! You think I have done nothing? You think I sat idle and let my son's murder go unanswered?" He held himself back from striking Aegon at the last second, reigning in his anger, and trying to soothe his temper.
"Pray tell, then, what you have accomplished?" Aegon drawled, pushing Viserys. Aegon stepped close to Viserys. Viserys could see the flush of anger on Aegon's face and knew his own was not dissimilar.
"As you already know," Viserys stressed, hoping to cut off the argument before it got out of hand. He spoke in a forced calm, "the King has levied heavy taxes on any Braavosi goods imported-"
Aegon laughed. It was high laugh and tinged with a madness borne of desperation and anger. "What sort of mummer's game do you think you are playing?" Aegon growled, his laughter cut off abruptly as he began to speak. "You son lies dead by Braavosi hands for nigh on a year and you speak of taxes? You are more craven than I had imagined, father, if you believe taxes would buy you a balm for Aemon's life, while you hide in fear of the Braavosi."
That was the last straw for Viserys.
His hands balled themselves into fists and for a moment, he forgot himself in his anger. Viserys took a step forward and swung his fist into Aegon's face. A cry of anger left Viserys's lips as his fist impacted Aegon's jaw. Aegon staggered backwards, clutching at his cheek. For a moment, a heavy silence hung over the room. Then, Aegon looked up, hate in his eyes.
With a cry of anger, Aegon rushed towards Viserys, swinging wide. Viserys could see the tears in his eyes. He allowed himself to be punched but Aegon seemed to not be done. Aegon pushed Viserys down and straddles him, intent on taking out his anger. Viserys was not one to take it lying down, however.
And so, father and son grappled with each other on the floor of the Hand's private audience chamber. An idle part of Viserys's mind was thankful for the soft Myrish carpet behind his back, as he lay on the floor. His hands were locked with Aegon and both tried to overpower the other. In a second, Viserys got a grip on Aegon and twisted. Now, Viserys was on top of Aegon. A haze filled his mind, and Viserys was about to punch his son. He raised his fist, anger twisting his face into something ugly-
"Stop it!"
Viserys froze at the high voice. He felt two pairs of arms hold onto his shoulders on either side and drag him backwards, off of Aegon. He let himself be taken. All anger left him in that second and he felt empty, his shoulders sagging, unable to support his pride. He looked back to see who had pulled him. It was Naerys and his son's wife, Serenei. An inappropriate relief coursed through him when he noticed that they were alone. No one else was here to see his shame.
"What are you doing?" Naerys asked sharply. Viserys could see the dampness of unshed tears in her eyes, but she held herself straight, reprimanding him.
Serenei had gone over to help her husband. Aegon stood leaning with a hand on the wall nearby to support himself. He looked as dazed as Viserys felt. His wife was trying to look at his cheek, but Aegon pushed her away gruffly. A small lance of foreboding entered Viserys. Serenei was a good woman, and he liked her, despite being Lyseni. Many in the Red Keep were charmed by her as well, and now Viserys hoped his son would not take out his anger on her.
Meanwhile, Naerys took out a little handkerchief. Viserys observed idly that it was very white and had little black dragons stitched on. They looked perfect. Viserys knew Naerys was the one who stitched those on personally. He shook his head. It was a bit difficult to concentrate, he found. Naerys dabbed at Viserys's lip. Red bloomed on the white of the cloth, seeping around the dragons, making it seem as if their claws were dripping blood onto the white.
Naerys then turned towards Serenei. She walked over to her while Viserys clutched the cloth to his lips. They spoke in a hushed whisper and Serenei seemed to agree with whatever Naerys was asking her to do. Viserys watched, still detached and his head spinning, as Serenei spoke in a low tone with Aegon. He shook his head but allowed himself to be gently led out of the room by his wife.
Serenei was leaving, Aegon in tow. Just when they had reached the threshold, Aegon turned to face Viserys, his eyes glowing with anger. "Even a worm will turn, father," Aegon warned, "and I am a dragon." He was breathing heavily. Serenei pulled at his sleeve, but Viserys saw Aegon brush her off. "I will have my revenge, whether you wish for it or not. My brother will not rest unavenged."
Naerys, who had now come back to Viserys, stilled. Viserys let out a deep sigh, sorrow suffusing through him. Where had he gone so wrong that one of his sons lay dead and the other hated him? Naerys's words brought him out of his stupor.
"Is it true?" she asked, one hand clutching her skirts while the other held the cloth tight. "Has nothing been done to bring justice to Aemon's killers? Is that what you were fighting about?"
"It is not so simple, my dear," Viserys said gently. He took the cloth from Naerys's hands and held her palms within his own. "There were certain plans already in motion when we received news of Aemon's death. The King did not wish to put at risk-"
Naerys pulled her hands from Viserys's grasp and walked away from him. His heart ached once more. It was true, Braavos remained unpunished and it was true, there was an immediate invasion of Dorne which took the higher priority. But surely that did not mean Viserys cared not for Aemon's passing? Is that what his children thought of him? That he put the needs of the realm, of the King and of the invasion before their own?
"I assure you child, Aemon will be avenged," said Viserys. He walked over to where Naerys stood, looking outside the window.
Naerys was looking down at the squires practising. In a corner of the yard, on a shaded bench, Viserys saw that his grandson was seated. Ser Raynard Ruskin was also by his side, as was a red-headed boy. Beside the boy was Aegon's knight, Ser Jon. Jaehaerys was Viserys's page, as Aegon had been but Viserys had let him have the day to his own pursuits. He was glad for that now. Viserys did not wish for his grandson to see his uncle and grandfather brawling like things.
"When will he be avenged, father?" Naerys asked in a soft voice. She turned away from the window to face Viserys. Her face was flushed the purple of anger and her nostrils were flared in anger. "Perhaps after my son himself dies of old age? Or his son? Or his grandson?" Naerys pressed a finger into Viserys's chest, accusing him.
"Naerys-"
I have no mood to listen to you empty platitudes any longer, father," Naerys said sharply. "I have to see to my brother. He must have had a tiring journey." She curtsied very shallowly. "By your leave, lord hand."
Naerys did not wait for his reply and stormed out of the room. Viserys stood alone. He gazed out of the window, trying to spot his grandson while the weight of his age and all his mistakes pressed down upon him.
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A/N: Hello, again. I just wanted to say, I really enjoyed writing this chapter. Actually, this should've been done 3 days ago, but I just procrastinated on this. But, in the end, I'm pretty satisfied with the way this turned out. I liked writing Viserys's POV, so let me know how that turned out as well.
Anyway, please give me some feedback by taking some time to leave a message or a review. Did you like it? Hate it? Want to complain? I thrive off of feedback, so do let me know.