Aerys stood amidst Jaehaerys' war council, shifting restlessly from foot to foot. He stared up at the ceiling, trying in vain to tune out the monotonous drooling of the councilors around him. Planning a war should not have been this boring but if he had to hear Ormund Baratheon talk about the logistical line to the Stepstone one more time, he was going to lose it harder than Rhaella on one of her bad days.

Where was the excitement? The daring strategy? Why, if his father wasn't going to let him go, did he have to be here to witness the worst parts of warfare?

It's all right, just focus on the plan, he told himself. Deep breaths, don't do a Rhaella, don't meticulously contemplate stabbing Ormund's eye out, that's her MO. His fingers twitched at his sides and he rubbed at his temples.

"That will be enough for today, my lords," Jaehaerys said at last, much to his relief. "We will reconvene on the morrow to discuss further strategy."

It had been the same for the past two weeks. Ever since they had decided they needed to move in on the Blackfyres, something which he had advocated for years now, and which was finally getting him the strategic acclaim he deserved, it had been non-stop war councils to decide how their armies were going to fight Maelys. Especially as, surprising no one but her, Rhaella had failed to create a spy network to take him out. She had been seething about it for weeks, and the servants of the Red Keep had learned quickly to avoid her, if they somehow hadn't already.

So now, the War of the Ninepenny Kings was coming, and he didn't plan on missing it out. He had a reputation to build. Sadly, Jaehaerys, the old fool, had refused to let him leave for the Stepstones. The Targaryen dynasty, he claimed, was too vulnerable to let him risk his life in battle. As if Aerys would ever allow himself to be killed in such a manner. How insulting.

That discussion had happened before the first War Council, and ever since, Aerys had been biding his time, waiting for the opportunity to strike. And it was now, now that the minimum plausible time to wait had passed.

Rhaella would be very displeased if he had to do that and there would be many a whipped (or worse) servants, but it was a price he was willing to pay. But that was just the contingency plan. As the rest of Jaehaerys' war council filed out of the room, Aerys cleared his throat.

"Father," he said, "I wish to speak with you."

Jaehaerys' eyes snapped to him, warmth and a tinge of disbelief spreading across his face. And for good reason. When Aerys addressed him, it was almost always 'your grace'. To call him 'father' was something he did very sparingly, and always selectively. The man was desperate for family recognition, that was clear to see, and it was something he planned to use. The Gods knew he wasn't going to get it from Rhaella.

"What is it, son? How are you faring, I know the preparations for this campaign have been a burden on us all, so how are you?"

"I'm fine, father, it's not exactly about that. Matter of fact, I think so far preparing for this campaign has gone better than I expected. Not stressful at all," he said.

"I'm happy to hear that son," the man said with a smile. "What was it then?"

"Well, I'd like to take a more active role in the campaign," he said. Jaehaerys's face immediately closed off at that.

"So this is about wanting to go and fight again," he said, his voice suddenly much less fond. It was laced with an undercurrent of steel that made Aerys bristle.

Shit, he just thought to himself.

"Yes, and I know we did talk about it, and I did respect your wishes," he said. "However, in the meantime, several things have come to the forefront of my attention," he continued smoothly.

"Such as?" his father asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Well for one, I have finally been vindicated for saying we should go after the Blackfyres for years," he said. At that Jaehaerys gave a nod. "And the court has picked up on that. What better way to follow this than with triumph on the battlefield," he said.

"How do you know it is going to be a triumph? War is never easy or certain. Your Uncle Daeron fought against simple peasants and still died." At the mention of his late brother, Jaehaerys' frame took on a heaviness. A kind of raw, old grief flashed across his face, quickly smothered.

"Unlike Uncle Daeron I do not plan to fight in the front lines, or lead a charge. The place for a commander is behind the front lines, not fighting but directing his soldiers to victory. I do not mean to take any useless risks," he said.

"Such as needlessly going into a war?" Jaehaerys asked him. God damn it. He hated to admit it, but that was a point won by the old man.

"That is different," Aerys replied, smiling winningly through gritted teeth. "We cannot allow some other lords to completely control what happens with our armies. And the image boost our house would win by being on the ground as we root out the last Blackfyre would secure our legitimacy for three more generations," he said. He wasn't even bullshitting, that was what he himself had realized was the reason he so wanted to go to war.

Something in Jaehaerys' eyes flickered, and Aerys could tell he was wavering. He waited with bated breath for his response. Only for the king to shake his head yet again, his resolve back in place. "You make good arguments," Jaehaerys replied, "but the risk is too high. None of that will matter if you die and our succession gets butchered beyond repair. Our house will die with you," he said.

"If that happens, you and our mother still have years to make more children," he said. It was the last thing he had before the Backup Plan. He really didn't get why they hadn't had more, probably some prophecy nonsense.

"We are not as young as we used to be," Jaehaerys rebutted, "I will not take that chance. And what of Rhaella? Would you leave her a widow?"

Sigh… It was the perfect segue and it was clear he needed to do it.

"In the very unlikely event that happens… She will not be alone." He took a deep breath. No turning back now.

"What?" Jaehaerys' eyes snapped to his, demanding an answer.

Aerys braced himself. Here it was.

"We just found out the news. She is with child," he said.

At that Jaehaerys' face was stuck for a second, before morphing into a look of pure, unfiltered joy. "My son," he breathed, "this is most wonderful news. What a bright moment for such dark times."

"Yes, indeed, so you see father, even should the worst come to pass, our House will be fine. Come on, let us enjoy this bright moment and truly make it the start of a rebirth for our family. And plus, I would never take any unnecessary risks while there, and risk not seeing my firstborn," he said.

At that Jaehaerys looked hard at him, before he finally relented.

"Very well, I see how determined you are at this, and with this joyous news… So be it," he said.

Aerys grinned. And then did the unimaginable. He hugged him. Very briefly, only a few seconds at most, but Jaehaerys practically melted into the hug. Then he was pulling away.

"Thank you, Father," he said, "you will not regret this. Now, I need to be on my way."

"Go to Rhaella," Jaehaerys said, suggesting what he was already planning. "Be with your wife for your last few weeks without war." Who else would he be with? Rhaella might have been inane but she was frankly the most bearable company in this God forsaken world.

Aerys nodded and left, making a beeline for Rhaella's chambers. He knew she wouldn't take what he told Jaehaerys well. At all. Upon entering her rooms, he saw a woman seated beside her, no doubt one of the women she collected like they were Pokemon.

It was for her spy network, she claimed, but suspiciously, they were all very beautiful, and all very willing to sleep with her, and listen to her tyrades about literature, a topic which she was quickly revolutionizing in Westeros. Aerys shuddered at the thought.

"Aerys," she said, raising an eyebrow, "what are you doing here?"

He shifted, relishing these last few moments without a headache.

"We need to talk," he told her, his head pointed towards Rhaella's latest harem girl.

Rhaella's brow furrowed, but she nodded. "Fine," she sighed. She didn't even bother glancing at the woman, who still watched her adoringly. "You're dismissed," she said, "run along."

The woman hesitated. "My princess?"

Rhaella's eyes flashed with annoyance. "Are you daft?" she snapped, "I said you're dismissed. We'll continue our talks another day, and if you're attentive enough, maybe we'll do more," she said more seductively.

Aerys wrinkled his nose. How tasteless. The woman flinched, and, with a confused combination of hurt and hope, fled the room.

"In fairness, she wasn't the best company, the concept of gothic horror doesn't seem to stick with her," she said. "Anyways, what's this about?"

"I finally got Jaehaerys to agree to send me to the Stepstones," he said.

"Well good on you," she said, her voice disturbingly close to encouraging. "Now, how much snake oil did you have to sell him?" she asked with a smile.

"Not that much." At that Rhaella raised a mistrusting brow. "I pointed out the political and military reasons why it would be a good idea. And… I also told him the fact that you are pregnant."

A beat of silence. And then, Rhaella said in a deceptively soft, and frankly very out-of-character tone, "You did what?"