A.C 258
His back didn't used to hurt like this, he used to spend hours a day stooped over Dunk's armor scrubbing away rust, polishing the plate and washing their linens in rivers. It had been backbreaking work, but it had good and honest work that built his up his back and calloused his hands and put muscle on his body and afflicted in him a tan that remained to this day. As he sat on the throne forged by his ancestors, Aegon was keenly aware that this chair was becoming more and more uncomfortable as the winter's chill made the uncomfortable metal monstrosity even more uncomfortable.
His back hurt enough, he was contemplating taking some bittercane. Face it egg, you're old, that's all it is. You're just old, old and starting to gripe in your old age, about your old age. The thought made him smile softly, recalling when Aemon departed for the wall after hugging him fiercely Kill the boy egg and let the man be born. Sage advice, but why did it have to come with this feeling of weariness? All around him in the castle at the heart of the Seven Kingdoms rested or hung the Dragon skulls that purchased the power his house now wielded. Did Balerion and Vhagar ever feel old? great banners fluttered in the breezes that occasionally passed through the throne room or were pushed by the gusts of wind generated by the great fanning devices invented by some Braavosi madman. On the left, flanked by the skulls of Tessarion and Syrax was the gold sea dragon on a red and blue field quartered by sea lions of House Sunfyre of Lannisport the cadet branch created when the Spring sickness all but destroyed House Lannister of Lannisport. One of his elder brothers had a bastard with a Blackfyre, that child grew up to become a skilled mariner and navigator and had been ennobled when he saved Lord Gerold Lannister from remnants of the Tyroshi fleet.
He took the name of the dragon ridden by the infamous Aegon the second as his surname and now his grandsons ruled Lannisport and Captained the Westerlands trading fleet Having married into the surviving Lannisters of Lannisport through the female line. Opposite the Sunfyre banner, looming behind the skull of Tyraxes, the trout of House Tully who had married so many Targaryen daughters over the last two centuries that they counted as a cadet branch of house Targaryen. Opposite the Tully trout was the ermine Sea Dragon on an indigo field with seven silver stars of house Aetheryon who started out as another clan of exile Dragon Lords who came to the North in disgrace six centuries before Aegon's conquest. They hadn't been a cadet branch, not until the reign of Jaehaerys the wise for whom his son was named.
Mya Rivers, the great bastard of the last King named Aegon to sit this uncomfortable chair was the mother of the current Lord, Aenar. The voice of Winterfell in the South and more importantly, the man who'd been hand of the King for his entire reign and served his father before him after Ser Brynden disappeared. And hanging beside the Sea Dragon banner the silver three-headed dragon on a blue and red field of House Tully of Harrenhal. Aegon suppressed a yawn and the instinctive urge to stretch (Lest he be impaled on some of the jutting blades that made up some of the dangers of sitting upon this monstrous chair.) as he peered down at the lord of Rosby who was discussing trouble with the granary guilds and how the increase in storage fees for the city was a crime! Especially in wintertime…Why so much of his aristocracy hated merchants Egg would never understand.
If the smallfolk were the mortar of the realm and the faith, the Citadel, and the aristocracy its columns and roof then the merchants of the gentry were its bricks. "I will consider your petition." Aegon finally said, his back was a mess and he needed to stretch his legs.
As Aegon rose he turned his head to the great skull of the black dread, which he had moved to rest opened mouth, his skull holding the monstrous iron throne as though the Dragon were reaching out from beyond the veil to swallow anyone who dared forget the power of house Targaryen and its many kin. Behind the skull and the throne, the largest banners of all hung. House Blackfyre's three headed black dragon on a red field and its parent, the three headed red dragon of house Targaryen. Fire and blood, no better friend nor fiercer foe. And what a foe his cousins in the narrow sea could have been! He walked through the mouth of the Black Dread, passing the scented braziers and oil lamps that gave the King the illumination he needed to appear regal and noble and also to be seen by those at court from within the shadowed, cavernous maw. He passed the spot where Betha's own throne would have been when she was alive and swallowed back sorrow. It would not do well to dwell on loss, not today when it was a day of festivities.
It had been one year since the murderous traitors of the Citadel had been purged, one year since the blood letting of the grey sheep as that young novice called it. I should send Marwyn that fossilized dragon egg Aerys found in the North, mayhap it once belonged to a genuine ice dragon.
As he stepped from the Throne room Aegon found himself smiling at one of his ever-present shadows. Tall, board shouldered man with a lions like mane of a beard and long white hair and hands that still looked like they could crush a man's skull. "Ser Grandison." Aegon answered with a smile, even if they had spent the day motionless by his side, he still insisted on greeting them and speaking with them whenever time and decorum permitted (and when it didn't.), old Harlan hadn't been so old when Aegon ascended the throne.
Strong, powerfully built and with a voice like the roar of the beast on his house's sigil, he'd been instrumental in stopping a riot among the supplicants for Prince Maegor. Egg couldn't recall what happened to Maegor, his master of whispers said he was fighting as a free rider in Yi Ti and took Vaella as a wife, some match that must have been. I'm complaining about my age, but this man is only a year younger than Lord Aenar and Dunk…Nine years my senior and this one stands in silence.
"Your grace, I.." Ser Harlan was cut off by the site of Eddard Snow talking to a serving girl in one of the corners of the hallway causing Aegon to laugh softly. Warg's were hardly the monsters most in the South made them out to be, especially not compared to uncle Brynden or aunt Shiera. Once they passed the man, Aegon looked back at his guard and smiled "He won't steal your soul and to my knowledge he can only bond with one animal, that great big golden eagle from the Vale." The one that had swooped down during a tourney and stolen his queens favor when Aethan Waters (Who Egg was still convinced was another of Aerion's get.) had been granted it in the winter tourney. The eagle, like Egg was old now but he wondered if it could still remember the raucous laughter from the throngs. We should host another tourney, spring is near and the city can always benefit from the revenue of the fees and sales.
Winter was almost over, yet he was wearing an ermine lined robe of crimson and black, his crown chilled his skin and yet Eddard Snow was wearing nothing but a simple silk tunic and a surcoat of very light Essosi cotton. While Lord Aenar despite being a week passed his sixty seventh name day was seated in a small garden between the great courtyards, in the cold with not but a surcoat a tunic and a silk robe over that. He wore Myrish lenses now, to read books and reports and communiques but the chain of office never weighed heavy around his neck. "Ah my lord hand. I am glad I looked up from my floors, else I'd have walked all the way to the tower of the hand for nothing."
As the Lord of Sea Dragon Point rose, the King suppressed an urge to flinch, he was old. Though Aegon supposed the same could be said of him, for his gold and silver hair had become more silver in recent years, more so, since he dared to begin the great undertaking. "I am glad happenstance worked in your favor then, your grace." He bowed slightly, offering a smile that never quite made it his eyes. It never did, he's the last of them, the sorcerers of King's Landing. Uncle Brynden, uncle Aerys, aunt Shiera and Lord Aenar. The others were all dead or disappeared leaving only the Lord of Sea Dragon Point of that era long since gone and leaving him as Aegon's only confederate in the grand endeavor. "Have you heard back from our friends in the Lengii embassy?"
The Lord smiled, his face was aged, and care worn but not near as wrinkled as Ser Duncan or Ser Harlan, the gossips all said the tall Northerner of Valyrian descent was a life thief. If he is, he's a poor one.
Magic had slowly begun to creep back into the world ever since Daemon Blackfyre turned on Aegor Rivers and declared for House Targaryen. But it had been subtle and slow, a trickle from an old pipe. Yet when the Citadel was purged of its traitors, that trickle turned into a weak yet consistent stream and Aegon felt now was the time. "In three turns of the moon, it should arrive your grace." Aegon nodded, a weight lifted from his chest. Trade with Yi Ti and Leng had been another boon of the last twenty years of his reign. Courtesy of the lords Redwyne and Sunfyre who managed to succeed establishing trade relations that evolved into an alliance that was very much symbolic. Not that the trade was very consistent given the vast distances and the dangers of the sea, but the navies of the realm mitigated some of that and the wealth one stood to gain was worth the risk.
To be young again, on an adventure just Dunk and me to the court of Leng, the women there are as tall as Tansey was. Ambassador Jikata is seven feet tall and claims his daughters are taller still. Maybe if he found a tall woman warrior, I could have ennobled him, and he would be a grandsire now and not in armor shackled to me.
But he knew Dunk wouldn't have it any other way. Still, part of him felt sad for his great friend who should have died in a nice keep surrounded by family and friends but would likely pass in a bed too small to contain him in a keep surrounded by his sworn brothers. "Tell me, have you seen my grandson?" His father, Aegon's surviving son that wasn't disinherited was abed again, his stomach plaguing him most terribly, as it had begun to do so with more frequency. Fathers shouldn't outlive their sons and I've outlived one already. Mother's mercy let Jae live another score of years at least. Aenar shook his head, bone white hair swaying in the cool air. "Alas my king, I've not."
"You can call me Egg, old wizard. There's not a soul between us save Ser Harlan and he won't begrudge you the informality." Aegon said flashing a tired smile. Ser Grandison chuckled softly, or as soft as noise coming from the throat of a man who sounded like a lion could. "My oath as a sworn Knight of the Kingsguard would compel me to fight a duel for your honor at such impertinence your grace, alas I am no wizard and I fear he would smite me with fireballs or bolts of lightning."
"Your sworn blades are indeed wise my king."
Jests, that was always the closest thing old lord Aenar would come to overt friendliness unless the two of them were alone. "Mayhap we are Lord Hand but at least we are informed, for I can tell you where Prince Aerys is."
"I thank you once again, for bringing me here Tywin." Joanna Lannister's husky voice rose in his ear, a whisper that sent a chill down his spine. The two were watching Ser Maelys Blackfyre, the two headed grotesque who was the sworn sword of Prince Valarr (and his friend's uncle.) as he ran the shield of the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard with such violence the clash of steel on steel and oak sounding like the tolling bells. "You are to be my wife, lady Joanna. You belong here." Tywin would hear nothing at six and ten he knew what he wanted in life, and he knew that life involved Joanna at his side as his strong right hand, his heart and his soul. And that life, would be shared with their children who would go on to do great deeds, as Tywin and his pride of lions restored the Lannister name and avenged all the slights and abuses their house had suffered since his lord father ascended to the throne of the Rock.
"He's fascinating, isn't he?" she asked, meaning Maelys. The bulge where his second head protruded from his neck, revealing a listless, face with blood-red eyes that contrasted with his purple was a hideous sight. Tywin despised imperfection, but every tool no matter how simple or unsightly had its uses and Maelys like the North's Wargs had his uses. He was immense bull of a man that towered over all save Ser Duncan with a kind of strength spoken of only in legend and that Tywin himself had only witnessed from Ser Sandor Clegane, the immense beast of a man who was descended from the many kennel masters of the Rock. As a sworn sword of House Blackfyre Maelys would have been a fine catch for the Kingsguard yet he had refused. Preferring to earn his glory in the service of his house and in slaying hundreds of pirates. "Lord Aenar says grotesques have uses of their own." Joanna observed in her discerning manner. What other woman could know his thoughts so well? What other signs did he need that his cousin was the one for him.
"Yes, he's a queer man but his insights…inspire." Perhaps Tywin himself could make use of House Clegane in a similar fashion? Its current head was a brute of a man with low cunning and a unique manner of viewing men inspired by the dogs that emblazoned his house sigil. They had been going at it for an hour, neither man nor grotesque showed any signs of stopping and Joanna pulled him away from the fascinating display in the courtyard below, leading him to a table the servants of the house of the Dragon set up so that they might take a small meal before the feast later tonight. Steffon Baratheon and Lord Rickard would be arriving by boat now if they hadn't already, Lord Rickard to retrieve his intended. This was likely the other reason for the feast being held tonight, for it couldn't solely be just for his name day alone.
Feasts were an exhaustive undertaking in terms of logistics and while they served a purpose as a display of power. Tywin Lannister, heir of Casterly Rock couldn't imagine the King holding more than one in the span of as many weeks. King Aegon was an upright man, infuriatingly practical for one so libertine with the commons, in truth Tywin admired the man's efficiency and his ability to win love and loyalty even while making hard decisions. Seated in shadow, both clad in the scarlet and gold of house Lannister. With Joanna wearing a red dress, with gold thread and several rubies along her neckline and a golden choker with a small lion made of emeralds to match her eyes, she was very much the most beautiful woman in the seven Kingdoms, Valyrians and their ethereal beauty be damned. Lord Tywin was wearing a scarlet surcoat over a simple but elegant tunic threaded with gold. It was the silk robe the Lengii called "Yakata", that depicted golden lions tearing apart red tabbies that fancied themselves lions.
They were all the rage in terms of fashion in the crown lands, but Tywin couldn't care less for that except that he did enjoy their garments in the summers when the heat became intolerable, and they afforded a reprieve. He only wore this one because Lord Jason Lannister, his uncle and his intended's father had gifted them matching pairs with a note expressing his support for what Tywin wanted to do to the Reynes and Tarbecks.
They would have to wear them at court in the Rock, no clearer message nor symbol of unified intent. And he allowed a slight twitch of his lips at the memory of Joanna laughing so hard at some absurd jape of Aerys that she spilled wine on hers. The wine stains would be gone, and it would be cleaned before they departed with Aerys and Valarr to Braavos on business, or he would have the servants fed to the lions in the royal menagerie King's love of the smallfolk be damned. They sat there in silence, as servants brought them lemon cakes and various dried fruits and warm tea and a lantern and the ever-present box of Drakos that had taken the realm by storm. These were the usual sort, but he noted the six pale drakos that were ivory in color instead of the usual brown which signified fyreleaf cut with powdered milk of the poppy and bittercane which when smoked gradually produced a myriad of pleasant sensations, the lady Joanna's only vice was that she allowed herself just one of those ivory drakos a day. In the evening before bed and what discipline there was in that.
They waited, of course neither would eat before the heir to the Iron throne came and when he did, he walked beside his betrothed and Prince Valarr, with his silver and white hair a contrast to Aerys.
Aerys was adorned in a Yakata of his own and beneath it the dragon of House Targaryen on a tunic of fine Essosi linen. He had taken to wearing black gloves of late, seldom touching anything with his own hands. ostensibly to conceal the burns from his flirtations with fire magic that ended with him lacking sensation in three of his fingertips on his left hand, but Tywin suspected it was because he didn't like touching "lesser men" unless there was a barrier between skin. Dark Sister hung at a belt at his side, a point of pride in that he finally managed to best King Aegon in the yards, earning the right to carry the blade of house Targaryen. Valarr was adorned in a similar garb but his was crimson with the three-headed Dragon in black.
He too wore gloves, but that was mostly to cover the scars on his hands from their excursion North where a snow bear had nearly ripped them off. How Valarr managed to retain the use of them or how they ended up in the beasts' mouth Tywin was never exactly clear on. At his side was an enormous leather cylinder-shaped case that he handed to Aerys who was beaming like a cat that caught the capon. "Lord Lannister! Heir to Casterly Rock, counted among the wealthiest and mightiest of my eventual bannermen!" he bowed, with a theatrical flourish before presenting the cylinder as though he were a supplicant paying homage to his liege lord.
From anyone else, Tywin would have taken that as a heinous insult and ended their friendship right then and there for such condescension. But Aerys Targaryen was one of the few men who could make such a gesture in genuine friendship and mirth and not turn all the affection Tywin bore for him sour.
Joanna giggled. "All hail Aerys the Dragon!" she called effecting a graceful curtsy. In the courtyard below, one of the two combatants grabbed the other and they were now wrestling between the grass and flowers. Princess Rohanne kissed Joanna on the cheek then bowed to Tywin deferentially, she was a good woman for Aerys and would like as not help his friends mold the boy into the great king he was destined to be. With my help….
When Tywin accepted the case, he marveled at its lightness despite the fact that he could clearly hear the rattling of something within that seemed like it a large sword and Tywin looked at them both with a raised eyebrow. Valyrian steel was a precious commodity; in Westeros there were only three hundred weapons forged of the mystical material left in all of Westeros and an unknown number of hundreds of thousands of links in the Citadel. The art of its forging was lost in the doom, as the Valyrian sorcerer-smiths guarded their secrets jealously. And when it was lost, the secret to creating a blade that could cut through conventional armor as though it were paper and always hold an edge was lost.
Valyrian steel was only exceeded by the star metal that Dawn was forged of. Only smiths in Qohor knew how to rework Valyrian steel, but none knew how to make more of it. Of course, there were always rumors that House Targaryen and House Stark possessed treatises and papers, ancient lore craft written down by long dead masters, but Baelor the blessed had seen much of the Targaryen secrets burned and neither House Stark nor the likely source of that knowledge had ever made use of it.
Then the Manderly trading fleet brought a hundred Yi Tish and Lengii sage-smiths to Dragonstone. Exiles from their respective empires, driven from their land for their belief that knowledge knew no race or creed and that it was a power unto itself. Qohorik smiths followed on a holy pilgrimage to learn from these masters and exchange knowledge. And now, two generations later; rumors from Dragonstone said the successors to the old eccentrics had succeeded in rediscovering how to create Valyrian steel. Looking down at the case, and realized this was the closest Tywin had gotten to an emotional outburst that wasn't fury or exacerbation or a ghost of a laugh at Aerys antics, since Joanna made him laugh at the start of the year.
He pulled the top of the case off and extracted a great sword that was near six feet long. Its scabbard was red leather framed in bronze with a gold lion along the center. The grip was made of leviathan ivory with the pommel shaped into that of a lion, with blood diamonds in its eye sockets and when Tywin Lannister unsheathed the blade Joanna gasped. The blade was brimming with power and the Valyrian steel was shaped to appear as though it were solid gold. Smoky red swirls filled the blade giving the appearance of a sunsets at Casterly Rock. There were spells and etchings in Valyrian, Lengii and YiTish, benedictions and enchantments no doubt, but what caught him was Valyrian text between the spells. "Hear me roar." Tywin mouthed.
"It's part of a set. There will also be a long sword and four daggers. But the process is, slow and costly so they won't be ready until end of the year. However, we wanted you to have this one now." Valarr said with a joyous smile, seemingly elated that Tywin appreciated the gift. "And worry not, the uniqueness and social status shall remain well preserved, our smiths might be able to create Valyrian steel, but the…" He paused, gathering himself before continuing. "Process requires criminals and wildfire since there are no more Dragons. Even the more controllable variant of wildfire is dangerous, and each blade will cost a million gold dragons."
A million gold dragons, the quarterly revenue from Lannisport, comparable to the gross product of some of the smaller petty nations in Essos and comparable to the combined revenue of the entirety of the summer isles. "I see…" this gift was a testament to the enormity of the wealth of the dragons, black and red.
And of the bond of friendship, they held with House Lannister.
Aerys smiled, a full smile "Happy Nameday Tywin."