Tommen had grown in many ways in the past few months. He was a few inches taller, had started developing some muscle from his rigorous training with his Kingsguard and good-brother, Loras. He constantly had his sword Peacemaker on his side, and started developing a habit of resting his hand on its jeweled hilt whenever he began to pace around. The weight of it became familiar to him, and he often times felt naked if he didn't have it on him in its scabbard. His hair had also began to grow in length, flowing down to just above shoulder length.
His wife, the Queen Margaery, had begun to show signs of pregnancy. If their wedding night hadn't done the trick, then the following weeks had done their part in helping to ensure that, yes, she was pregnant. Upon the announcement, Lord Tywin Lannister had actually laughed with joy, smile plastered to his face and all. Even the Queen of Thorns had a smile on her face at the news. The Lordly Lion and her rarely got along, but the one thing they could agree upon was the joy they felt for their grandchildren when the announcement was made.
A royal child hadn't been born since Tommen, so the exciting news spread like an undammed wall of water. Within a week, it was also announced that Princess Myrcella was with child. For a while, all seemed quiet and without worry. But Tommen knew that would all soon change. And sure enough, it did.
An attempt was made on his life, and the life of his family.
An ornate ball from Essos, one meant to entertain infants, was presented as a gift to the young King and Queen for their unborn child to have. Seeing the beautiful design of the Lion and Stag of his heritage wearing crowns of roses for his wife's heritage, Tommen thought nothing of it at first. But something within him, perhaps from the Seven, told him immediately to get rid of it. Sure enough, the moment he had the toy passed off to one of the servants, it cracked open to reveal a manticore, which quickly struck the servant, afflicting him with its lethal poison. The vile creature then began to make its way towards Margaery, whom Tommen had now stepped in front of, sword unsheathed and at the ready. Drawing back on the lessons with Loras, Tommen moved forward with a downward cleave and split the manticore in two.
On the inside of the now broken toy was a single note, written in clear Westerosi for all to read.
The Usurper's bloodline shall end, from the smallest leaf to the deepest root. Prepare yourself for war. Once more shall a dragon sit upon the Iron Throne.
Aegon VI Targaryen
Rightful Ruler of Westeros
King of the Andals and First Men
Lord of the Seven Kingdoms
To say that Tommen was now paranoid would be an understatement.
His wife and unborn child had been threatened.
He had been threatened.
The entire Seven Kingdoms had been threatened.
War was imminent.
Within a few hours of the attempt on the royal family's lives, Tommen had called for an emergency Small Council meeting.
"My Lords, you know me to be patient, understanding, and reasonable. But after today's events, those traits of mine are strained. I shall ask this once and only once. How in the fuck did Aegon VI Targaryen survive? Why is he still alive? And more importantly, Master of Whispers," his eyes narrowed at Lord Varys, "I want to know how in the NAME OF THE SEVEN DID WE NOT KNOW ABOUT IT?!" Tommen's angry outburst caused all to flinch slightly, even Bronn, who normally wouldn't be phased by such a thing.
"Your Grace, I wouldn't even know where to begin," the Spider spoke, nervous and trying to placate his King. "We all believed that Aegon was dead, butchered during the sack of King's Landing during Robert's Rebellion. Perhaps it is an impostor we deal with? Someone who wishes to destabilize your reign as King of Westeros?"
"You see, Lord Varys, normally I would agree with you. But I find it extraordinarily hard to believe that after all these many years, almost two fucking decades since my father's conquest and victory at the Trident, you, the Master of Whispers, the man who is supposed to know when even the most silent mouse shits anywhere on this continent, does not have a clue as to how a legitimate threat to the realm survived?" Tommen let out an exasperated sigh. "Come now man, tell us what you know. You've had to have heard something, even the slightest whisper."
Varys visibly gulped, clearly nervous; King Joffrey had been an outrageous fool that acted on emotion and believed winning and ruling to be the same thing. King Tommen, on the other hand? He could see now that he was dealing with an actual King, or at least one that was much wiser than the previous one. "Your Grace, um, there was one such instance, when last we heard a report around the same time Ser Jorah Mormont last brought us news."
Tywin Lannister's eyes narrowed on the Spider this time, and spoke aloud for the first time since the meeting started. "You've had news of a possible legitimate threat to all of Westeros since King Robert?" Tywin asked dangerously low. "Why wasn't this brought before us sooner?"
"I thought such a thing was below being made known. Everyone saw the state in which Elia Martell and her children were laid before King Robert following the sacking of the city."
Even the calm and normally reserved Mace Tyrell was angry. "My daughter and unborn grandchild were almost killed because of your thinking it was 'below being made known', as you say."
"Did it ever occur to that brilliant mind of yours, Lord Varys, that perhaps another infant had been switched out with Aegon VI, and Targaryen loyalists snuck him out?" Tommen fumed. He looked around the table, at his Small Council. "I am a young King. A young King that is seeking out the wisdom of his council, those who have seen far many more winters than I. Who do we know of that was not dealt with following Robert's Rebellion? Who else is there that could possibly cause strife for us?" At this point, Tommen wasn't even being rhetorical; he genuinely wanted to know.
"There is one name that comes to mind, your Grace," Tywin spoke, a look of uncertainty and uneasiness passing over his face.
"Who might that be, Lord Hand?" King Tommen asked.
"The former Hand of the Mad King, Lord Jon Connington."
Following the Small Council meeting, Tommen spoke privately with both Ser Bronn and Prince Trystane.
"We could very well be at war, soon. As my Masters of War and Laws, I need you two to work together and with me in these times. Any information that you might think helpful is to be shared immediately, without a second's thought or hesitation. Ser Bronn, I want you to organize proposals for a draft. Don't make it sound so forceful. Tell any and all common folks, as well as nobles, that if selected for the draft, at the end of a 3 year service, they shall be rewarded a small but fair plot of land, and won't ever have to pay any royal taxes. Make it seem favorable to them." Bronn nodded and headed on his way. Tommen then turned to Prince Trystane.
"Trystane, it's only safe to bet that since they targeted me and my family, they will come for you and Myrcella as well. I would wager the diamond cyvasse set that once belonged to the Targaryens that you will be linked to us as a target. Send word to Dorne, to your uncle, the good Prince Oberyn. Tell him that his King is in need of his help, and that he requests his presence at once with great haste."
"What would you have me do, Tommen? Aside from what you have already told me, what else shall I do to best help you and Myrcella?" Prince Trystane asked.
"Have your uncle Prince Oberyn organize the City Watch and restructure it. A firm hand with a tight grip, like what Daemon Targaryen once had with the City Watch before the Dance of Dragons, will go a long way. I want no criminals, no terrorists, no radicals, nothing of the sort. We have jobs to do, and lives to protect."
The Dornish Prince nodded and made his way back to his chambers, so that he could write immediately to Dorne on the events that had transpired.
Tommen was in bed with Margaery, his arms wrapped protectively around her midsection and the bump that was there; he no longer cared if it was a boy or a girl, it was his child, and he would love them regardless of if they were boy or girl. He would butcher whoever it was that had tried to kill those he loved. No one would come between him and his family ever again. It was in these intimate moments that Tommen could be vulnerable with her.
"What do you think I should do?" Tommen asked his wife.
"We have to send a message, no doubt," Margaery replied softly. "But we can't be too forceful about it. We have to make sure that the people will support us wholeheartedly, especially if you plan to enact this draft you told me about. The people are tired of war, Tommen. Make this seem like a war that's actually worthy of fighting and dying for. Everyone remembers the Mad King and his horrid reign. His supposed heir attempts to kill the benevolent King and his Queen, both who have worked so hard to bring peace to the realm and ease tensions throughout the Seven Kingdoms. Paint him for the villain that he is and smear his name through the streets. Let no one support him."
"I see where that could work," Tommen conceded. "And who would support someone that would attempt to murder a pregnant woman? I know I surely wouldn't." Even though my grandfather plotted with Walder Frey and Roose Bolton.
"Exactly, my dear husband. See? It'll all work out in the end. We just have to stay together and close by one another. After what happened with our child's toy..." She left the sentence unspoken, not needing to finish it. Tommen had come that close to losing her all over again.
"I won't let you come into harm's way again," Tommen said, muffled, into her back. "I promise."
She rolled over and kissed him, before resting her head on his chest to fall asleep to the rhythmic pounding of his heartbeat. Tommen rested his head back on the pillow, feeling the stress of the day. The Seven had not shown him Aegon being alive from his past life. Despite that, he knew he had to take action, so that he could be prepared for whatever came next. There were so many uncertainties now with Aegon entering the playing field.
He'd had enough going on through his mind.
"I wish to speak with you on something, good-brother."
Tommen and Prince Trystane sat alone in a room playing cyvasse, while their respective wives spent time together, discussing things pregnant women would discuss.
"You're wondering about Lord Varys' failure with information that is vital to our security?" The Dornish Prince said, having read his mind.
"Yes." Tommen ran a hand through his beard and up into his hair, exasperated. "I hate saying it, but I suddenly don't trust our Master of Whispers."
"I don't blame you. If the people meant to protect me and your sister failed in their duties, I would be unsatisfied with their duties as well. What are your thoughts on the matter?"
"My thoughts are this: who possibly could have information vital to putting a Targaryen back on the throne, other than Lord Varys? The man practically shits information. Even when my vicious idiot brother was King, he was well-informed," Tommen mused.
"I think I have an idea that might put things back into order. Your Uncle Tyrion tried it, I believe."
"What might that be?"
"We supply information to certain Lords, each piece different, then we lie and wait. Then we strike out against the one who revealed their information."
"Normally I would agree with you Trystane, but the hour will soon be upon us. Our wives are pregnant, carrying the next generation of rulers in their wombs. We don't have the luxury of time to wait and see with these things." By this point, they had continued their cyvasse game while carrying out the conversation, and Tommen had moved his cavalry into the fatal striking position against Trystane's King.
"Well," Trystane said, knocking over his King piece. "I guess that's game."
"We'll figure out something Trystane. I know we will."
"Grandfather, I need your advice."
Lord Tywin Lannister raised a surprised eyebrow at his grandson, as they continued their daily fishing routine.
"What prowls about in your mind, your Grace?" he asked in a gentle but prodding tone.
"This whole travesty with Aegon; it baffles me how he could have possibly survived, let alone how it is that a Targaryen other than Daenerys survived Robert's Rebellion. I mean, you were thorough when you sacked the city. No one should have been able to escape."
"I since a but approaching," Tywin mused, letting his grandson do the math.
"But somehow, he escaped. And the only ones remaining from the Targaryen reign are you, Grand Maester Pycelle, and Lord Varys. You, of course, wanted the Targaryens dead, so that obviously puts you out as a suspect. Grand Maester Pycelle convinced the Mad King to open the city gates for you, to aid you. So that really leaves just one person. But how can I prove what I suspect without endangering my wife or unborn child?" Tommen asked.
Tywin reached out with a hand and placed it on his grandson's shoulder. "Tommen, there comes a time in every king's reign where they face a challenge before them. For your brother, it was the damned war he started. For King Robert, it was the Greyjoy Rebellion. For his predecessor, it was the Defiance of Duskendale. And before him, the War of the Ninepenny Kings. I can only advise you from my past experiences. Rest assured, my grandson, we will emerge victorious in this new chapter of our lives."
Tommen could only hope so.