A Song of Salt and Smoke
Poll: Some people have complained that the protagonist shouldn't be called Aegon. I am tired of arguing this point, so I have decided to leave it up to the readers in the form of a poll, letting the readers pick between 'Aegon', 'Orys', and 'Steffon', with two votes allowed for each voter. Please head on over to my profile to vote for the name you think is best. I'll go back and edit the chapters once the poll is finished, but will continue to call him Aegon.
Here's a short, but important chapter with Tyrion.
Chapter 5 – Little Lion Man
Tyrion
The castle was in mourning. A wolf was wailing as it had throughout the night, and each howl sent a shiver down Tyrion's spine as if he was being chased naked by a pack of rabid wolves.
When the beast roared again, he decided he'd finished reading his book, forgoing reading any more about the passing of the seasons written by maesters long since passed. Besides, his reading lamp was nearly out of oil as dawn's light emerged on the horizon.
He limped over to the table where Aegon was snoring loudly, his head plonked down on a set of Valyrian scrolls, wineskin nestled beneath his arms. Aegon had done what he had often done in years gone by, drank himself to sleep while reading some treatise on warfare or history. Often in Tyrion's company. Tonight he had drunk more than his fill though, as he had every night since the boy Bran had fallen from the tower. He'd been so drunk last night that he'd pissed on Septon Chayle and sent the man running for the hills.
"Egg," he said softly, but the whisper couldn't be heard above the snoring, "Aegon," he said louder, with still no response. Finally, he shoved the lad and shouted "Aegon!"
"Ughhh," came the groan from his hungover nephew, "leave me be, Nuncle."
Tyrion shook him again, "You're drooling on Ayrmidon's 'Engines of War'!"
Aegon sat up and gave a roar of a yawn, then hauled back another swig of Arbor gold, a favourite of his mother's.
"Must you start drinking this early?" asked Tyrion worriedly.
"I mean to break my fast as a champion of House Redwyne," Aegon bit out.
There was a knock on the library door, another groan from Aegon, and Tyrion called for them to enter.
In came Brienne the Beauty, and soon loomed a giant shadow over him, glaring down from on high. She must have been waiting for sounds of her prince's awakening.
The wench was loyal to a fault, but despised Tyrion for thinking he was a bad influence on her otherwise perfect prince. Tyrion thought it absurd, Egg needed no encouragement from him to drink. The boy had come back from the Greyjoy Rebellion a little drunk. At Casterly Rock, the mighty Lord Tywin could reign him in, but out and about in the rest of the realm, the man was left to his appetites. Tyrion believed it was only out of spite for Aegon's father that his nephew seldom drank in the daytime.
"Your Grace, the queen, and your siblings await you in the Guest House."
The wolf howled again and pierced the room much louder now that the library was no longer sealed to the outside's noises. Brienne's booming voice drifted down to him. "The boy has been a long time dying, I pray to the Mother Above that she will ease his passing and take her close to her bosom soon."
Aegon's squires, Willem Lannister and Devan Seaworth, poured into the room after her, and began readying the prince's clothes for him.
"Perhaps it is the Old Gods keeping him alive," replied the prince, rubbing his temples. "Something certainly has that wolf of his screaming into the void."
"I could see the wolf to the kennels, if it please you, Your Grace," offered Brienne, standing as tall as a bear stood on its hind legs, clad in that distinctive cobalt armour of hers. A gift of Aegon's, so that she might be dubbed Brienne the Blue in the songs.
"No, no," disallowed the prince, "I know better than to part a Stark from their wolf. The beasts follow their owners everywhere it seems, it would be a cruelty to separate them now."
Tyrion stretched his aching back and turned to his nephew. "Aegon, it is past time you called on Lord and Lady Stark, to offer them your comfort."
"My comfort will do them no good," Egg replied looking as petulant as a toddler.
"No," agreed Tyrion. "Yet is expected of you. Your absence has already been noticed."
"Leave us," commanded Aegon to his squires and sworn shield, Brienne looked ready to protest but acquiesced with a wave from Aegon, "I'll be along shortly." Once they had taken their leave, a solemn look appeared on the man's face, and he emptied his wineskin, gulping back the Arbor gold.
Tyrion was curious. "What is it?"
He had never seen his nephew look so troubled as he did now.
"I do not believe I can face Lady Stark," confessed Aegon.
"Why ever not?"
Aegon stood and looked around the library as if checking for spies. Before returning to his stoop and collapsing into the table.
"It's my fault the boy's hurt," whispered Aegon.
Tyrion was shocked and confused. That could not be, Aegon had been hunting with Tyrion along with the king's party when the boy fell. He said as much to his nephew.
Aegon shook his head ruefully, "I should have stayed and watched them. Or I should have made Uncle Jaime come with us. I should have known better. I should have known." Aegon tried to squeeze the skin for another drop, but cast it aside when none flowed forth, "Damn it!" he cursed.
"You're not making any sense, Aegon. What do you mean?"
"Mother and Uncle Jaime."
"Yes... what about them?"
"I think they might have pushed Brandon from the tower," Aegon whispered in a low conspiratorial voice into his ear.
"Why would they have done such a thing?" asked a scandalized Tyrion. But deep down, he knew why. Jaime and Tyrion had always been close. Jaime and Cersei closer still, but closer even than twins ought to be. If young Bran had discovered such a thing during his explorations, then Tyrion had little doubts as to what lengths his brother would have gone to keep that secret.
Aegon gave him a queer look and shook his head.
"You know?" Tyrion half asked, half stated.
"Know what?" came the cagey misdirection, but beating around the bush would not do now that Aegon suspected something even more horrible besides.
"Know the truth about your mother and your uncle," Tyrion would not say the quiet part out loud but did gesture with his fingers the necessary particulars.
Aegon stared right through him for an age but eventually nodded.
"And you think this might have had something to do with the Stark boy's fall?"
Aegon nodded again.
"How can you be certain?"
"I am not."
"Then perhaps the boy did fall on his own. Such a thing has been known to occur."
"She knows I know about them."
That did shake Tyrion, even after his years of suspicion, he had never felt brave enough to confront either of them.
"She knows?"
"I spoke to her in the Red Keep, I think it has something to do with Jon Arryn. I thought they would be more careful. I should have known better."
Did his siblings kill the Hand of the King? There was much Tyrion wanted to ask his nephew, but this was not the place for it. Looking at the morose face of his nephew, Tyrion felt the familiar tug on his heart, imagining that Egg was his child by Tysha. That Aegon was his son in truth, and not just the boy he had practically raised ever since his mother sent him to Casterly Rock. But such fantasies weren't worth dwelling on and he shook his head to clear his mind.
"Is this why you've been avoiding your mother?" Tyrion asked rhetorically.
Aegon nodded his head, and let out a sob.
For all the fine knight Aegon had grown into, he was still only a boy. Tyrion's boy.
"Shh, we'll speak more of this later, somewhere safe," instructed Tyrion, "for now, we carry on like we always do."
"Come, it is time to break our fast," he said, ushering a staggering Aegon to his feet and out the door, "our family awaits."
A cold, cheerless meal had been laid out in the morning room of the Guest House. Cersei sat at the table with Jaime and their children, speaking in low, hushed voices.
Tyrion had not been invited but he cared not for such niceties nor would he allow his nephew to face his mother alone. Aegon took the seat next to him and did not look up from the table.
After asking about Robert, a servant approached. "Bread," Tyrion told him, "and two of those little fish, and a mug of that good dark beer to wash them down. Oh, and some bacon. Burn it until it turns black." The man bowed and was about to move off, when Tyrion noticed his nephew had not ordered anything. "Cabbage for my nephew, get something in the belly to cure that bottle ache."
Aegon groaned, but did not argue.
Little Tommen spoke up. "Do you have news of Bran, Uncle?"
Tyrion recalled that he hadn't spoken of the boy's condition with Aegon, who likely just assumed the boy was dying still.
"I spoke with the maester last night," Tyrion said, drawing his nephew's attention. "He told me there was no change, which he believes to be a good sign."
"I don't want Brandon to die," Tommen said nervously. A sweet boy, he reminded Tyrion of Aegon when he was that age. Tywin had bled the sweetness out of him though, now he was simply openhanded and just. There was no time left for sweetness in the man he'd become.
Tyrion gave them all a crooked smile and took a sip of beer, "Why, Tommen you may get your wish. The maester thinks the boy may yet live."
Tommen smiled and Myrcella gave a happy gasp, "Gods be good," whispered Aegon, and Tyrion could not tell if the words were said by someone frightened or relieved because he was not watching the children, but his siblings. It lasted only a moment, but he did not miss the glance that passed between Cersei and Jaime. 'Gods be good indeed.'
His dear sister dropped her gaze to the table. "That is no mercy. These northern gods are cruel to let the child linger in such pain."
"The gods have naught to do with it," barked Aegon, whose eyes likewise did not rise from the table, yet whose words had silenced Cersei.
Jaime looked at Aegon curiously, but asked Tyrion "What were the maester's words exactly?"
Tyrion chewed thoughtfully on his bacon and said, "He believes that the boy would have died already if he were going to, so four days with no change is a sign he'll live through this yet."
"Will Bran get better, Uncle?" asked sweet Myrcella.
"His back is broken, little one," Tyrion explained. "He survives on honey and water, or else he would starve. Perhaps, if he wakes, he will be able to eat real food again, but he will never walk again." He could hear Aegon gnashing his teeth on the cabbage.
"If he wakes," Cersei repeated. "Is that likely?"
"The gods alone know," Tyrion told her. "The maester only hopes."
Tyrion started on his fish. "Are you leaving soon, then?"
"Not near soon enough," Cersei said. "What about you? Gods, don't tell me you are staying here?"
Tyrion shrugged. "There is a party here under Benjen Stark bound for northwards. I have a mind to go with them and see this Wall we have all heard so much of."
Aegon spit out his food, "You're not going to take the Black are you?"
Tyrion laughed. "What, me, celibate? The whores would go begging from Dorne to Casterly Rock. No, I just want to stand on top of the Wall and piss off the edge of the world."
Cersei stood abruptly. "The children don't need to hear this filth. Aegon, Tommen, Myrcella, come."
"No," rebuked Aegon who did not move from his seat. Myrcella and Tommen looked to their mother, who looked mournfully at Aegon but did not argue, before she strode away, pups in tow.
Jaime regarded his brother thoughtfully with cool green eyes. "Stark will never leave Winterfell with his son lingering in the shadow of death."
"He will if Father commands it," Aegon explained. "And he will command it. He's the only man in the Seven Kingdoms the king trusts. Besides, there is nothing else Lord Eddard can do for his son."
"He could end his torment," Jaime said. "I would, if it were my son. It would be a mercy."
"He is not your son! You will not speak of such mercy under Lord Stark's roof again." Aegon commanded. He might have been hesitant around his mother, but would not suffer such cheek from a member of the Kingsguard.
"Even if the boy does live, he will be a cripple. Worse than a cripple. A grotesque. Give me a good clean death."
Tyrion replied with a shrug that accentuated the twist of his shoulders. "Speaking for the grotesques," he said, "I beg to differ. Death is so final, while life is full of possibilities."
Jaime smiled. "You are a perverse little imp, aren't you?"
"Oh, yes," Tyrion admitted. "I hope the boy does wake. I would be most interested to hear what he might have to say."
His brother's smile curdled like sour milk. "Tyrion, my sweet brother," he said darkly, "there are times when you give me cause to wonder whose side you are on."
Tyrion's mouth was full of bread and fish. He took a swallow of strong black beer to wash it all down, and grinned up wolfishly at Jaime, "Why, Jaime, my sweet brother," he said, "you wound me. You know how much I love my family."
"Let us pray the boy has nothing to say," Aegon grumbled, staring down Jaime.
"I must go offer my condolences to Lady Stark and her husband," said his nephew as he stood to take his leave. He hugged Tyrion around the shoulders, "Do not be long at the Wall, Nuncle. I need you close."
Tyrion nodded. Yes, his nephew needed him indeed. But first, the Wall. As Aegon had told him before, there was another reason to suspect the Stark's loyalty to the realm. One Jon Snow, a young man that Tyrion needed to make sure joined the Night's Watch.
Reminder: Fill out the poll, I'm most interested in what people have to think about the protagonist's name. I honestly hope it's Aegon because it'll be a pain to change it, but if it bothers people that much, I will, because it doesn't really matter to me. It's not all that important.
The next chapter will be the Kingsroad chapters and we'll find out that Aegon isn't entirely unlike Joffrey when he's deep in his cups, and yet entirely unlike him without the wine.
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