Chapter XVI: Curious Daeron

Daeron

Red Keep

When cousin Baelor left with his fleet to go to Pentos, Daeron was inconsolable. He had begged his cousin to bring him on as a page, so he could gain fame like the knights of old he read about. His grandfather had told him he couldn't go since he was the future of House Targaryen. Daeron thought that was stupid and his grandfather was wrong. His dead great-uncle Aegon and cousin Daeron were the past of their House – since they were dead. He and his younger brothers were the present, being very much alive. And his mother's future kids were the future, since they weren't born yet. He had told Baelor that, and had told him he should probably change his Hand, since his granddad had become a bit dumb, probably because he was so old.

It was nice to be old though. Nobody told his grandfather what to do. And he could even yell at Baelor, even if he was the king. And he yelled a lot at him, and tore out his hair. And then he calmed down, sat at his desk writing messages to a lot of people, telling them what do, muttering under his mustache.

And because he was a kid, everybody told him what to do. He had to have a lot of lessons, and they made him play with Elaena sometimes, instead with the squires at the court. And Baelor was always trying to teach him about ruling. But Daeron wasn't his child, so it wasn't like he would ever become the king. Daeron thought that was because Baelor was older, and he grew a bit dumber. And he hadn't even brought his uncle Aemon with him, who everybody knew was the greatest knight ever. He said he was still sick because Lord Wyl put him in a cave, so he wanted to let him recover. But kinghts in tales never stopped to rest, so Daeron thought that his uncle didn't that much rest. At least, Baelor said he could be his uncle's page when he became healthier.

Daeron wished he would have been older, so he could do whatever he wanted, but he was afraid of growing dumber. But perhaps some people didn't become as dumb as they grew up. And some became very dumb, like cousin Daeron who died because he was dumb enough to trust the Dornish. "Never trust a Dornishman when death is on the line" his dad told him once.

The court used to be more fun when there were a lot of knights around, before Baelor left, who told him lots of tales about their deeds in battle. Now he spent most of his days in lessons, which were interesting enough, sometimes; and in the training yard, learning how to wield a sword. But he did not like the fact that his tutors often insisted on how a prince should act. "You most not do this, or that! That's not how a prince ought to act!"

'How would they know?' thought Daeron.'They weren't princes. A blacksmith doesn't offer advice on how a knight should comport itself because he doesn't know.'. It all made sense in his mind – only a prince should know how a prince ought to behave, so that means he should only listen to uncle Aemon, or cousin Baelor, or his grandfather. Or his father perhaps, but he's father did not offer him such advice, the few times he spoke with him. And father was sick now, sicker than uncle Aemon. His grandfather told him that some very bad people hurt his father in Braavos. Some of them were even brought to King's Landing to be executed. He snuck out to see one hanged, but he had night terrors after for a fortnight.

When he wasn't at his lessons, he played with his companions, sons of lords from the Crownlands, which were pages and squires for the knights at court. And he played with his cousin Elaena, which they made him do. But she was useful as a princess in a tower when he play-acted as Davos the Dragonslayer, or Serwyn of the Silver Shield.

When he grew tired of playing, he went to the library, not for lessons, but to read of the heroes that lived long ago. It was better to hear tales, than to read them though. He had pestered Lord Cregan for stories of the Dance of Dragons, but he was old and scary and would not tell him anything. His son, Jonnel, was friendlier, and he told him lots of tales and legends of the North he learned from his old nurse, Old Nan. He told his grandfather that they should bring the old lady to court, so she could tell him stories. But Jonnel said she doesn't want to leave Winterfell. At least he promised to write all the stories in a very big book and send it to him to read, but only if he was well-behaved and attended all his lessons. So Daeron had to, even if he didn't want always.

He told cousin Daena to check up on Jonnel, see if he was lying or not. Because if he did, then he would tell it to the king, and he would make him write it. Because Baelor always said that men should keep to their oaths. Daena promised to do so, but Daeron couldn't tell Baelor if she broke his promise, because Baelor didn't say women had to keep their oaths. Daeron thought that was stupid, and everybody shouldn't break their promises.

Baelor also told him stories, before he left. Lots of fairy tales about many things, like a prince who traveled to his uncle with a talking and flying horse, that ate hot coal; about another prince, who had to guard golden apples; about a boy born with a book in his hand; about a knight who brought back the sun and the moon, stolen by an evil giant; about a very clever sheperd, who tricked a lot of knights and married a princess. Stories about a man that traveled to the land of giants and to that of tiny tiny people, and to one of talking horses. About a princess that lived on a mountain full of evil imps, who was saved by a miner boy and had a very old grandmother. And there was one about a boy made of wood who dreamed of becoming one of flesh and bone, another about a young squire who went looking for a fallen star.

Daeron heard that Baelor send a messenger to his grandfather about the war in Pentos, but nobody told him what was in the letter he brought. Impatient, he went into the secret passages in the Red Keep. His uncle had showed them to him. He knew that if he went into one of the tunnels from a chamber with a mosaic of a dragon. The tunnels was a shaft, which one could climb up to his grandfather's solar. So he went through there, climbed all the way up and hid there, so he could hear what the messenger would talk with his grandfather.

When he heard the door open, he sat still and did not make a sound, so they would not find him. He heard his grandfather saying "Welcome, Ser Jonos. Sit and drink. I have the best of the Dornish vintage, brought by my nephew Daeron, may the Seven bless him. Or if you would not partake in such, I have Arbor Red, which Lord Redwyne has gifted me at princess Daena's wedding. Drink and tell me what news you bring of war and of my nephew."

"My many thanks, Lord… Prince Hand" said the knight. Daeron had to stifle a laugh. "It is my greatest joy to report to you that the king has been ever victorious. Our raid has seen no great obstacles, the pitiful sellsword companies that Pentos has bought have been scattered into the four winds and our army has crushed a khalasar beneath its lances, and His Graces has distinguished himself most bravely."

"A khalasar?" asked Daeron's grandfather, somewhat surprised. "It was to be expected. I suppose. You mention there was no trouble. Am I to assume that Braavos' envoys have arrived without trouble?"

"Do not insult me, my prince" replied Ser Jonos."I always do my duty with the utmost dilligence. Though our travels have been surprising"

"Pray tell me" said the Hand, bemused.

" We came across war chiefs of Old Andalos, more than eager to reconquer the old homeland in the name of King Baelor"

"Tell me he has not entagled himself so," said his grandfather, suddenly alarmed. Daeron didn't know, hidden where he was, why his grandfather was so upset. Nobody was upset that cousin Daeron conquered dorne, or Aegon the First the Seven Kingdoms. If Baelor conquered Pentos, wouldn't that mean he was a great king?

"Fear not, my prince. His Grace has limited himself to giving them his leave to raid as they please, and has promised them only arms and armor, horses, gold, maesters and septons. It is not a pittance, but if they wish for conquest, they must look at Braavos for aid."

"Praise the Seven then."

"Speaking of the gods, my prince, I am most joyous to report that His Grace, guided by their hand through a with hart, has discovered the Seven Stones carved by Hugor. I have seen them with my own eyes, and the presence of the gods in them is undeniable."

"It seems that his dreams were not folly after all" laughed his grandfather. "Have the heralds announce it in the city. Tell the grandmaester to spread the news to the realm, firstly to the Starry Sept. And you have a leave of a sennight. Visit your mother, spread the joyous news."

Once they left, Daeron carefully snuck out. At dinner that night he asked his grandfather what was special about the Stones. He shouldn't have done so, because his grandfather grew suspicious on how he knew such, and at last, got the truth out of him. Maybe he wasn't that dumb for an old man. Or maybe he wasn't that old.