Here I am, out from my hole to leave some word crumbs in the rocks.
101 AC - Harrenhal
The Conciliator watched, and waited.
His beard, long and white, slumped over the desk, co-opted from the Strongs to serve as his solar during the Great Council. Tomes upon tomes were stacked and shoved into the corners of the room, and tapestries of ancient Strong lords draped over cobblestone walls.
Before him sat the lord and lady of Claw Isle, a rising power in the east and the head of an interconnected alliance of houses. More importantly, however, they were the third dragonriding house to have formed, now boasting two dragons to their name and more eggs of Silverwing's brood. Malden had believed that little tidbit of information to have been kept secret from the broader realm, but he now realized the arrogance in that. It was foolish to assume that the man who'd kept the realm together for half a century had done so without an extensive spy network.
It seemed to Malden that his wife had come to the same conclusion, as a worried expression perched upon her beautiful face. All their careful efforts, for naught.
"Your Grace," Malden began, "it was not our wish to keep things from you, specifically, it was just that-"
"That you are a foolish child," supplied Jaehaerys, slow and deliberate. "That you know not of the consequences your actions have had, and will have in the future."
Gael's voice was quivering when she spoke. The strength that Malden had "W-we were only doing what Mother asked of us. She made us swear, you don't understand-"
"I understand that you are endangering this family!" Jaehaerys roared, his weariness evaporating in the midst of his wrath. Behind them, Malden could faintly hear Daemon snicker. "That you would bring a third dragon-riding house into the realm, to risk us going the same way as Old Valyria!" He closed his mouth for a moment, tightening his lips. "Do you know why the realm has been at peace for so long?"
Malden hesitated. He knew where the king was going - of course he did - but if he admitted that then his guilt would be all the more obvious. "Through the stewardship of you and your councilors, for the most part."
"Are you that blind?" Daemon sneered, only to have the King shoot him a glare. Malden couldn't see the prince's expression, but he shut up.
"No, Daemon," Gael sighed. "We are not blind. Simply diplomatic. I know it's a foreign concept for you, but most people in the realm understand it well enough."
Daemon laughed, harsh and cruel. "Oh, that's rich. You call me brash, but with the first person to pay the slightest amount of attention to you, the slightest courtesy, and you throw yourself at him like some poxed who-"
"Enough!" roared the Conciliator, his old strength returning for a moment as his family bickered. "Daemon, cease your sniping. Gael, there is no need to antagonize Daemon so. You know his temper." Jaehaerys gripped the table, taking a few calming breaths. "Lord Celtigar. I arranged the marriage between yourself and my daughter to make peace between our families, to head any perceived grievances on your end. What went wrong? What turned you against the crown?"
"Nothing, Your Grace," said Malden. "There were no wrongs wrought upon us. Simply caution."
Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow. "Caution made you hide Silverwing from the realm? Hide when the bastard claimed it?"
Malden's wife tensed beside him. "That bastard, Father, is your grandson. Kindly refer to him as Aethan, if you please."
"Aethan, then. A boy of two, master of Silverwing. One of our family's most ancient and storied dragons. My wife's dragon."
"In our defense," Malden began, "Your wife intentionally left Silverwing at Claw Isle. She chose to create this threat you're so worried about."
Jaehaerys blinked, owlish. "And I will always be confused by that decision. Nevertheless, precautions must be taken."
Behind them, Daemon chuckled. Why was he even here?
"What sort of precautions, Father," asked Gael. Her voice was full of worry, and her hand clutched his under the desk.
The King took over the man. "Aethan, as he is now, is a threat to the realm. When the boy reaches ten years of age, he will be sent to King's Landing. To squire."
Malden swallowed the growl that came bubbling out of his throat. "Squire for whom, might I ask?"
"There are a number of options," said Jaehaerys, suddenly pensive. "Any of my kingsguard, perhaps the Master-At-Arms, a family member-"
"Myself," Daemon drawled. His finger trailed over Dark Sister in a serpentine arc, swishing across the cold steel.
Gael stood straight from her chair, nostrils flaring in her wrath. "Over my dead body, Daemon! You won't be coming anywhere near my son, not if I have anything to say about it! Tell him, Malden!" She looked straight into Malden's eyes, desperation apparent.
Dark laughter echoed from Daemon's throat. "Why would Lord Celtigar have any say in where Aethan Waters goes, or who cares for him."
Malden felt the same wrath as Gael, although he hoped he hid it better. "Ten is quite young to leave home," he began, picking his words carefully and ignoring the infuriating prick being him. "Your Grace, could we not wait slightly longer. Perhaps twelve? Thirteen?"
"That is reasonable," Jaehaerys conceded, seemingly grateful for Malden's composure. "But I would have a dragonkeeper be placed on Claw Isle up until that point - both for Silverwing, and her eggs."
Gael exchanged a look with Malden, understanding and information passing between them in an instant.
The couple had discussed the benefits that a dragonkeeper might have, both for Aethan and Gael's training, and for the maintenance of their dragons. The dragonkeepers were a remnant of the Valyrian Freehold, their neophytes carrying much knowledge of dragonlore that even the Targaryens lacked. They were masters of High Valyrian, and knew how to manage the diets, hatching, and training of dragons. The Celtigars, to this point, have only been relying on Gael's second-hand knowledge, on her Valyrian lessons and stories she'd heard from her brothers and sisters.
A dragonkeeper was a considerable boon.
But the dragonkeeper would also be an extension of the Crown's influence. Of Jaehaerys' influence. They would watch their dragons, track their growth, and report back to the King. They would never act in the best interests of House Celtigar, instead with the security of whoever held the Crown. That wouldn't always be Jaehaerys - nor would it always be someone who Malden and Gael trusted.
Placing a dragonkeeper on Claw Isle would be adding a permanent unknown factor to their situation.
"Very well," Malden said, pretending that he had a choice. "Is there anything else, Your Grace?"
Jaehaerys looked pained. He was old, and Malden believed him wise enough to know there were still things Malden was keeping from him. But the King had no way of proving anything.
"Yes. I understand your little coalition is still deliberating on the subject of your vote," he said. "I would advise not acting against the Targaryen interest here. It would be a mistake."
Malden swallowed. "Yes, Your Grace. Understood."
"Yes, Father," Gael echoed.
"Good. You may leave."
So they did.
…
The Celtigars took stock of the situation in quarters befitting their status, in one of Harrenhal's many, many halls. Their allies - the Dondarrions, Florents, Rootes, Darrys, and assorted vassals of Crackclaw Point - were all equally discomfited and disturbed by the revealed reach of Jaehaerys' network, and his knowledge of their most guarded secrets.
"Well," began Lord Beric, "that settles it, then."
"Does it?" said Lady Rosamund. "King Jaehaerys has just threatened this whole alliance. He demanded the dragonrider among us as a glorified prisoner, and all but forced our hand in the vote. He oversteps his bounds, surely. We are not children to be demeaned. We are lords and ladies, each the master of our own domain."
Malden had it. "What would you have me do, cousin?" he snapped. "Jaehaerys Targaryen is, for better or for worse, the most powerful man in the realm. His family controls some half dozen dragons to our one, and King's Landing surpasses even Oldtown in size. We are stronger together, yes, but not near enough to rival the crown."
"Not to mention a war with my family is the last thing we want," said Gael, finding her voice. "Even if, by some miracle, our strength rivaled the crown's, it would still be in our best interest to cooperate. The last thing the realm needs is war. We saw how devastating that could be in my grand-uncle Maegor's time. Dragon against dragon… that would unveil a whole new set of horrors."
She thought of her mother, and the warnings she had made. The caution in Queen Alysanne's voice when she spoke of the future, and the need to keep peace throughout the realm. Before her death, she'd been terrified of the Velaryon divide, the darkness in her family. Gael had hated to see that side of her.
"Well said, Princess," said Edmund Florent. The Reacher was no fan of war, it seemed. "We are humble servants of the crown, no matter the threats he makes or the court he holds."
"Then what do we do?" Asked Jonah, Malden's squire. Still a child, it took strength to speak before so many lords and ladies. "We vote, return to our homes, and never speak again? Truly?"
Malden shook his head, and set his jaw. "No. We return to our homes, and keep in touch. We build our networks. Look for allies, catch them where the Targaryen net leaves gaps. And when it comes time that the realm's tension nears boiling over, we act. We keep the peace."
Assent rippled through the tent, their allies nodded and humming and grunting. The reason they were together in the first place was to foster peace. This was nothing new. The group began to dissipate, and returned to their families and retinues.
And thus, Viserys Targaryen was crowned.
The seeds are planted.
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