Chapter 71: The Young Dragon VI
Early 162 AC
Pomp had its place, but for a more private setting, there was little need for it, especially amongst family. Daeron, with his eldest siblings by his side, gave a soft smile as he embraced Rhaena, and then Elaena, as their mother leaked silent tears. It was a plan that had finally come to fruition, one his father had begun years before after the startling changes the Stormlands had brought about in Baelor. Of course, it was not something done often, but far be it from Daeron to deny that when it came to setting trends, good or ill, his house tended to have a large hand in them. Now, with the end of his tourney and announcements for the realm, it was time to put them into action after discussing the matters with the lords in question before their departure.
"Must I go? It is most unusual for a girl to foster away from home."
"There is a tradition in such things, yes, but we have set trends before that became tradition, and this will be the first of many. Besides, Lord Tully is a good and trustworthy man, sister," the king said softly to Rhaena, her usually calm expression marred by the same silent tears of their mother. Yet she held his gaze firm, her strong heritage a testament to her will no doubt. "He will find you proper ladies in waiting, worthy of your station and attention, whom in time I am certain you will befriend. You may write to us as much as you wish, but with my coming campaign in the Vale, I may not be able to respond as swiftly as mother."
"That is fine, my king," his sister replied, before moving to give Baelor and Daena a hug. "I will miss you all, but I have heard Riverrun is a lovely place, so perhaps it shan't be too bad. I do hope I will be able to see more of the Riverlands, I have heard the Gods Eye can be beautiful when the fruit trees near its banks are in bloom."
Daeron turned to Elaena and embraced her gently, the skinny, awkward Targaryen doing her best to return the hug. "Lord Cregan Stark has always been a loyal supporter of our family, sister, and I am certain he will not begrudge you the time needed to accommodate yourself to Winterfell. It is an old and storied castle, so I am certain you will something there to your liking."
"What of their faith?" she asked softly. "Will they not seek to convert me to the ways of the Old Gods?"
This would have been a question he would have more associated with Rhaena, or even Baelor before his time in the Stormlands, but given how close she had become with their cousin Naerys, and how often she enjoyed spending time with their cousin's children, it was possible she was thinking ahead to a betrothal now that Daena had hers. "Unlikely, sister, as Lord Stark both knows better, and while the Seven may not be known much in the North, save for Manderly lands, I doubt he will force you to pray to faces carved into trees. Your letters will, by necessity of distance, take longer to reply to, but as with Rhaena, feel free to write whenever the fancy strikes you."
The youngest of their family gave a nod before hugging the others, refusing to shed tears in an attempted show of strength. "I will, my king," she said, before their mother swept the two girls into a hug, softly crying as she kissed their foreheads and cheeks. Daeron did not begrudge her this, as it would likely be years before they returned, almost women grown by then. Besides, this was a private meeting before they were to depart for their fostering, he could not give a single damn what some lord or lady would think if they saw this. He was just glad his uncle and kin were not here, now that would have made things awkward…
Flanked by the most loyal guards their family had, save for the Kingsguard themselves, he watched them board the small wheelhouses he had commissioned to carry them to their new homes for the foreseeable future. Riverrun and Winterfell were by far the best choices for his sisters to foster within, if only because of the plans he had for those two kingdoms and how it would all tie together. Nothing short of a small army of assailants could hope to seek his sisters harm, and his vassals surely knew the penalty he would inflict upon those who allowed his sisters to come to harm.
"Don't worry, little Baela, you'll see our sisters again," Daena crooned softly, gently picking up and comforting the whining puppy in her arms. The Storm Spaniel was a bit too friendly for his liking but was taking well to training and seemed to enjoy following Daena wherever she went. At the very least, the thought of caring for the dog without her sisters picking up the slack might inspire her to be a bit less reckless.
"See to it that she learns not to disturb me whilst I work, Daena," he replied. "Baelor and I have things to discuss before the midday meal."
"Brother, she merely wishes for affection," his sister giggled as the puppy licked her face. "Is it so wrong for her to seek ear scritches from her king?"
"Yes, especially when the king is busy planning the pacification of the tribes infesting the Vale," Daeron said with a sigh, watching Baelor give the puppy a scritch behind the ears, much to her apparent contentment. "Speaking of which, brother, how goes the preparations for the Goldcloaks? Have they finally finished?"
"Yes, my king," his heir replied. "The last vestiges of the old guard and corruption have been swept away, and policies put in place to ensure that such rot does not so easily take hold once again. The rotation between serving in the countryside and within the city itself has certainly reduced the propensity of guards becoming too… comfortable, shall we say, where they are stationed."
"Another of those Lowhill inspirations?" Daena asked as the puppy leaned further into the scritches.
"Aye, but with our city in mind, given that even with the greater numbers and improved training the Goldcloaks must undergo, there is only so much I can imitate before it will not work," Baelor said, giving little Baela one last bump upon her nose, causing her to huff in surprise. "Until supper then, Daena, Daeron and I have much to discuss about the coming campaign."
"Ah yes, you and your wars, brothers. Very well, Baelor, I am to have a luncheon with cousin Naerys and her ladies in waiting, likely to try and see of having my own. I will see you then," she replied, reaching up and giving the king's heir a quick kiss on his cheek before moving off with a quick yet exaggerated sway of her hips.
Noticing how his brother's eyes struggled to pull away from watching their sister's departure, Daeron playfully elbowed his brother in the ribs. "Well, at least I shan't worry about the two of you being unfit for one another," he chuckled, with Olyvar and Alliser stepping beside them as he ventured to his solar. "Quite the turnaround for the both of you, I'd say, from before the time of your fosterage. More like a cat and dog than a pair of dragons."
"More than that, brother," Baelor replied, lightly rubbing the cheek where she'd kissed him. "I've had years to give thought to my future as a prince, and in doing so realized that for all my faith, there are things even a prince cannot simply ignore because they are inconvenient to his plans, marriage being just the first. Before my fosterage, I might have asked you to disinherit me and allow me to become a septon. Now? Now I can no more see that in my future than the return of our ancestor's dragons to the Dragonpit once it is rebuilt."
"I was initially unsure about you being fostered for the house that had turned its backs on our house during the Dance, but Royce has proven himself a most capable man and loyal lord," the king replied. Perhaps fostering the future Targaryens will be as beneficial, should they be matched up best with those who bring out their better qualities, or barring that, temper their more… deleterious ones. "I must say, though, it was quite amusing to see the envious looks the ladies of the court have been giving our dear sister whenever she has spent time with you, or even greeted you on your way to the training yard."
"I've not noticed."
Daeron could not hold back his laugh at that. "Come now, brother, it is fine to acknowledge that until I announced your betrothal, you were the second most sought after bachelor in the entire realm! What with your legend beneath the sands of Dorne, and above them, as well as your fine Targaryen looks, you should be proud to say that half the maidens of the realm likely dream of you! Though probably with far fewer clothes on than you have now."
He did not miss the exasperation and slight embarrassment in his brothers gaze, which made him laugh only harder. "I will not be tempted by others before I am married, even if it were… accepted by the lords at large. I am not so remiss as to risk siring a bastard before I enter my marriage bed. What would mother think of that?"
"Well, I suppose that is as good a reason as any, but what of your marriage night? Surely you will want some experience before then?"
"I need no experience in bed that I do not wish to make with my wife by then."
"Honorable, brother, foolish to some, but honorable nonetheless," Daeron said, stifling his chuckles as they entered his solar. "Now then, to the business at hand. I presume you read the message from Dorne after I did?"
"The one we received last night? Yes, brother, I did. While it pains me to no end that the whole land has erupted in war, I'm surprised how calm you are about this disaster."
"Oh, I am now, simply because I have had time to ponder it," the king said. To think of his anger when the messenger had arrived, and how he had gone to great lengths to ensure that his kingly visage would not be marred by a loss of control. A king's control of himself reflected his control over his house, his throne, and his vassals, and to lose the first would only exacerbate the loss of the others. Yet even with that in mind, it was all that Daeron could do to not simply defenestrate the messenger in his solar that morning. It wasn't the poor man's fault, nor was it that of the grand maester who had received the ravens, but unless someone between Dorne and Kings Landing had mistakenly written the message, or sent the wrong one, then perhaps one of the worst things for his plans had occurred. Dorne was at war with itself and the Iron Throne… at the same time. To say nothing of the politics of Dorne itself bringing potential for violence even amongst those that had remained under the Iron Throne, be they truly loyal, self-serving, or merely opportunistic jackals, waiting for the right time to strike.
"Dorne has revolted against the Iron Throne, in violation of the oaths taken by the Dornish lords and ladies after the Sack of Sunspear and the surrender of House Martell. Honestly, I had expected something like this, perhaps a localized few that the more integrated Dornish lords could put down without as much assistance under Lord Tyrell. Yet here we are, even with the sheer number of hostages still under our control, many whose lives are now at greater stake thanks to the actions of their kin."
Daeron shook his head. "If only it were that simple, brother, for even if by law I could have those of the unruly and rebellious executed, doing so would no sooner win me favors than retreating from Dorne would. At least one third of that kingdom has openly risen against me, and of the remainder, possibly another third supports them secretly. Yet the entirety of the land had also erupted, by all accounts, into a civil war between houses and regions that has not been seen since before the Century of Blood, perhaps not even in the centuries of Martell rule."
Speaking of which, the Martells were now more of a pawn than he had ever expected them to become, if only because the current lord had died under the watch of Lord Tyrell and the new lord's heirs were already under the Iron Throne's sway. That flower's inability to control the situation as well as Lord Baratheon had given Daeron more than one fit of angry muttering, seeking either his head or his title as recompense for such a bungling of his duties. Yet he knew he could not seek either, for more reasons than he cared to recall. No, what was to be done was to salvage this situation as best as possible, for not only were his plans for the Vale now in danger, but it also threatened the entire reason for his plans for Bloodstone. If Dorne was not entirely under the control of the Iron Throne, and thus a semi-independent state, the Triarchy and others could claim as such in any of their negotiations resisting his attempts to close the Sea of Dorne to piracy. Bloodstone, given its size and proximity to both Dorne and the Stormlands, would be the lynchpin in that plan that he could not afford to lose.
"Dorne must be pacified," he muttered, rubbing his face. "Yet I cannot simply divert my course without losing both face and support. I am not our grandfather, with a dragon at my command, I cannot simply travel from place to place so quickly, enforcing my will and putting my enemies to flight with fire and death raining from the skies. What was that you've told me before? Paid no heed to that which you cannot control, and that even the most drastic of apparent setbacks can, in the right light, be an opportunity?"
"Yes, brother, that is true, but I too am finding it difficult to see how Dorne being at war with itself and the Iron Throne can be of our use," Baelor replied. "Lord Baratheon will be able to keep the peace in the portions of the east that have not risen against us, I am sure of it, but he will have nowhere near the men needed to put down the revolt as we had during the war itself. Yet should you call the banners, this could be seen as the king interfering in matters outside of his jurisdiction, perhaps even as overstepping his bounds into the rights and responsibilities of his highest vassals."
"I know, I know, though we do have the advantage that no Lord Paramount was yet assigned to Dorne, only a pair of governors, one of whom has so spectacularly set the kingdom on fire that it will likely taint his house's name for nigh on three generations."
"Three generations? Perhaps during his lifetime, brother, but not that far into their future. Then again," Baelor said, rubbing his shaven chin, "the Tyrells have been doggedly dismissed time and time again as up jumped stewards by the more landed and ancient houses of the Reach since the Conquest. This will most likely be just another jape to be used by discontent vassals at their expense in the future."
"Hence why this revolt and civil war must both be put down as swiftly as possible, else they threaten my plans for the Vale. I have already put into place the troops, supplies and favors needed to move as many men into the Vale as I can, and should I need to call it off, the waste will be rivalled only by the discontent from the lords attending, be they from other kingdoms or the Vale itself."
After all, he had made the declaration that the Vale was to be pacified by him, the lords of the Vale, and whatever adventurers had deigned to join in on this quest. Second and third sons, among others, of lords across the Riverlands, North and Westerlands were flocking to his forces, some with blessings and troops from their fathers, others with only the arms and armor they could personally afford. With the sellswords arriving in Kings Landing and Gulltown from Essos and elsewhere, he had planned for those who proved themselves and served well to be rewarded with minor titles and lands under the Vale lords. That the Vale lords knew about this already would have concerned him if not for the fact he had done this before in Dorne after its conquest. More men under their command would only strengthen the lords of the Vale, especially with capable ones proven to be reliable in war.
Besides, they had not raised a fuss about having more lands and lords under their own banners, so far be it from him to buck tradition and not continue the trend he had reestablished after Dorne's conquest. Speaking of trends…
"Of our sisters, which house do you think most worthy for their hands in marriage?"
The fact his heir did not seem taken aback by such a leap of logic told Daeron all he needed to know. "I won't be able to dissuade you from excluding houses that sided against ours in the Dance, my king, but I do believe that father had had two such great houses in mind. Lord Stark and his house have proven themselves as friends of the Iron Throne time and time again, but have had little to show for it. The New Gift by Alysanne, the dismissal of Lord Manderly, the isolation of the largest kingdom… it is an isolated land, one that could all too easily break away if it were driven to do so. Marrying into the family would serve our house well, for short of Dorne and the Reach, any rebelling kingdom, were it to come to that, would face the potential wrath of the North bearing down upon them, splitting their focus when wars should not be fought on more than one front if possible. Why do you ask?"
"I am considering betrothing the young Jonnel Stark to Elaena, brother. Whilst not the prettiest dragon at her age, she is but a young girl still and will grow into her looks as she has already done with her mind. I seem to recall several of her tutors voicing concerns over your teachings of trade as it pertains to the Stormlands?"
His brother rolled his eyes, an action so unlike him usually, but even Daeron thought these tutors were upset over nothing. "I do not understand why they would have an issue with it. If a woman is to be of use to her husband and new house besides as a bedwarmer and heir birther, why should she not contribute elsewhere? Why not cultivate talents or hobbies she may possess into useful assets?"
Daeron did not scoff, kings do not scoff, but he did shake his head. "I do not doubt the lower lords find no reason to not use every scrap of talent to their advantage, as they truly need it to succeed over the older and more storied houses. Yet for us, for a house of dragons? Why invite the gossip and risk of ridicule on teaching a princess how to conduct such matters?"
"She takes well to sums, brother, and dare I say she even finds such studies enjoyable, something I cannot say is the same for most others. Let her tutors complain when she knows more than them on a subject, I care not. Lord Wytch more than gladly allowed his sisters into a training yard to learn the bow and dagger, let us do the same when it comes to their education."
Ah, yes, Lord Wytch again. Truly a vexing issue for a king to deal with, such a young house making such waves as to rock the established boats of older houses. "Be that as it may, brother, my point stands. Elaena for House Stark, to tie our houses together as was promised by the Pact of Ice and Fire, though in this case a dragon princess for a northern wolf, rather than the reverse."
"I see no issue with this, though I would suggest not springing it upon either too suddenly. From what I can tell of Jonnel during his time in the south with Lord Wytch, he can be a prickly boy if he feels slighted, imagined or not, and we both know Elaena is not always the… easiest to please should she feel the same. That and her growing love of things others have already told us were not ladylike may not sit well with some northern traditions."
It was not the most promising match Daeron had heard of, but hopefully they would band together against mutual dislikes than fight about them. "Uncle told me not to allow her to indulge herself alongside Daena, but seeing how happy she was whilst riding is a hard thing to deny," Daeron replied, leaning on his desk. "Now, for Rhaena, I was thinking the Vale, as Lord Arryn-,"
"-has no sons or heir nephews of sufficient age or bachelorhood, brother," Baelor replied. At his king's look of surprise, he shrugged. "I took it upon myself to look before the nameday tourneys, the closest candidate recently married a Waynwood. Even if he had not, he would have been twice our sister's age once she became a woman, brother, and the nearest after that has not yet reached three namedays."
"People have been married far older than that, and for far less."
"We are Targaryens, brother, we should always seek matches that are not only the most advantageous, but also the most likely to succeed. A different of a few years is one thing, but for our sister to wait until she is six and twenty, for a boy of not yet three? If we cannot set a good example as rulers, then it will only be a matter of time before houses care not if they marry into our house or not. The Tullys have my favor for Rhaena's hand in marriage."
The Tullys? Daeron had not considered them. "They already have a Valyrian sword, brother. Why also give them a Targaryen bride? Would that not show the undue favoritism you have warned me of in the past?" At least he hadn't advocated for the Lannisters, and the less said about the Tyrells right now, the better.
"The Tullys have been loyal since the day the Conqueror bequeathed upon them the title of Lord Paramount, Daeron. You espoused their qualities quite well when they were awarded the sword, did you not? Rhaena is perfect for their house, hence father's reasoning for her fostering there in the first place. They are loyal, they have fought and defeated our enemies time and time again despite suffering some of the worst every war has had to offer, and they are by far the ones who equally stand to gain the most of such a match, if not more than we would."
"From intermingling with a royal bloodline? I know they were never kings, often suffering some of the same slights from their vassals as the Tyrells do, but surely a simple marriage like this won't secure them?"
"I agree normally it would not, but with the coming fighting in the Vale for second and third sons, the lords of the Trident will be far, far less liable to take risks should they lose these spares in the warm thus weakening the options of their houses. Politicking is most active during peacetime, brother, but in an war? We saw how feuds cease when a common foe unites former rivals, or in this case, calls them to a greater purpose than their petty squabbles. With the Vale set to be pacified, and now Dorne in uprising and at war with itself, eventually marrying the most pious daughter of Aegon the Dragonbane to a pious and loyal high lord's house will be something the lesser lords must not only accept, but also would look foolish to make trouble of. Every lord worth their salt will be looking to cozy up to Lord Tully now that he will be hosting a Targaryen princess once word spread, perhaps even with thoughts of marriage in their own minds."
"Some will still cause trouble, brother."
"Some always will, just look at Dorne. With House Tully tied closer to the crown, their vassals will be less likely to cause trouble, further securing the power for the house that has so loyally served us."
This would have normally drawn a laugh for the king, but Daeron didn't much feel like laughing now, not with so much hanging in the balance once again. "I will… give the matter some thought, brother. You have good points, but I must speak with others on the matter, no matter how much I trust your judgement. Besides, what am I to do with Dorne? A bigger thorn in my side there has never been, giving me trouble before, during and now after it has been conquered. A king cannot be in two places at once, but if I am not seen putting down this revolt before it spirals further out of control, then I will be deemed weak by those who would seek the ruin of our house. Essosi, Dornish, even those in our own court, it goes without saying we have enemies crippling us from beyond our scope of knowledge."
"Yet the king cannot simply send for a campaign into the Vale without attending it as well, and as you said, brother, there is much riding on the success of that venture. Men looking for lands and houses to establish come victory, increased trade as clan raids are reduced or ceased, more lands made available for farming or prospecting for mining, a promise to the Vale lords made before the entire gathered kingdoms…"
"I know, Baelor, I know," Daeron muttered, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands and groan. Even with his brother, there were just some things he could not do, no matter how he wished. "Yet even if it gives me the support of the Stormlands to allow them to solve the problem, I doubt they have the forces to put down this civil war and revolt in due time without it dragging into a multi-year debacle. Even were the Reach to join, Lord Tyrell will have enough issues as it is herding those squabbling knights to quell the uprising in western Dorne."
The king could be in two places at once. He would not risk sending his uncle to oversee one of the theaters of war, as Viserys was best at the administrative duties of the Hand. Aegon he dare not send to either theater, either as a representative of the crown to serve with a Lord Paramount or to lead, as the man was led only by his stomach and cock. Thoughts of the damage he could cause amongst loyal lords if he were to stay in their homes, where young, impressionable women were, be they maid or highborn alike.
Baelor… Baelor would have to go in his stead to war. Yet to which front? He was his heir, yes, and was not set to marry Daena until she'd reached her majority. He himself had not married, no matter how often it was broached by kin or kith alike, and he knew war was risky. He'd almost been assassinated at least once, or at least the one time he'd known of it. His heir's reputation would certainly win over the more stubborn lords who saw education as second to martial might, despite requiring men to read and write their missives.
'There is danger in that too,' he thought, looking up at his brother, who was intently staring at the map of southern Westeros, eyes likely tracing the contours of mountains and rivers. Likely already looking for the best means of creating strong points to hold caches of supplies, and the best routes through which to resupply. Yet his heir's mind, as Viserys and even Aegon had mentioned in passing, was a potent weapon not just against their combined foes, but possibly against his kingship if guided correctly. Already he could imagine the whispers of lower lords and ladies of the proper heir having been misplaced, of how the legend of the Fyrestorm was only to grow no matter where he went to war, no matter how the campaign would result. Would they call it Baelor's victory if it were successful, or Daeron's folly if it were a failure all the same? Would voices of discontent at his rule, successes or otherwise, grow to where he could no longer ignore them?
Yet try as he might to block out the thoughts of usurpation, of knowing in his heart that his brother would never, ever commit such treason all for the sake of the throne, a niggling sensation that eerily sounded like cousin Aegon drew another name to the front, a voice of reason his brother would likely follow to the very end.
That damnable Lord Wytch. His loyalties appeared to be to Lord Baratheon and the Iron Throne, but truly where did a man's loyalties lie when presented with such power? He was the current foster father of Lord Stark's likely soon-to-be heir, and would have four more influential lords from the Reach and Stormlands, regionally powerful ones at that, under his influence. Never mind the youngest child of the Martells as his ward, and given his rapport with Baelor, the heir to the Iron Throne…
No, he would not follow this line of thinking, no matter how much everything seemed to tie back to that new house and its unusually connected lord. Such was the way that led to the deaths of their dragons, to the fracturing of their house, and the devastation wrought upon the kingdoms, something he dare not repeat over a few supposed suspicions.
"Brother," he said, evenly, sitting upright as their eyes met. "I would send you to Dorne, in my stead, to put an end to Dorne's insurrection and civil war. I know you wish to oversee the final stages of the Dragonpit's restoration, but I cannot in good conscience simply send for Lords Baratheon and Tyrell to quell the kingdom. Eastern Dorne was to pass to you soon as its governor, the west under Lord Tyrell has proven to be untenable under his stewardship, and Lord Baratheon is no doubt looking to return to his home for more than a simple extended stay away from the former lands of House Wyl."
"Brother, I… are you certain of this?" Baelor asked. "No matter what people say of me, I must tell you I did not enjoy my time in Dorne, either time truly. Why send me back?"
"It is because you do not enjoy war that I would send you back, brother. You are more than capable of seeing an end to both the civil war and this revolt against our house, as it would be your priority that the fighting end as soon as possible, with the least amount of lives lost and lands ravaged. Your merciful hand, a trait I must admit I first thought weak, would do far better in Dorne than it would in the Vale, as the Dornish know you better than the clansmen would. That, and I do not doubt the Stormlords would rather you be sent to them than elsewhere."
"It is not weakness, brother, to care for those under your command and rule."
"I now see that, Baelor, but lords under your command may not see it that way, and as for the Dornish? I have no doubt they will try and take advantage of that to see you brought to harm, either through capture or worse. Surround yourself always with your sworn swords and shields, lest I lose my heir to an assassin."
Baelor sighed, nodding. "They will try and kill me, won't they? More than last time, anyway, even should Lord Wytch be by my side."
"Aye, another reason for you to go in my stead, as horribly uncaring as that sounds," the young king said. "I would be hounded constantly, perhaps even targeted by those willing to break sacred traditions to accomplish it. I see now, after you saved my from Lord Ladybright, that the Dornish are more than capable of seeking my death for conquering their kingdom. The clansmen on the other hand? They are far fewer in number, and will hold the same amount of animosity for me as they do for any of my lords serving me. Perhaps even less than they feel for the lords of the Vale I shall command. As for you?"
"The Dornish people might rise in further revolt if I am slain by dishonorable or abhorrent means, given my mercy to them, and turn against those who have risen against us."
"Bringing justice to a young woman savaged by some illiterate hedge knight certainly helped. One can only imagine the spread of tales of your deeds, including the establishment of Brightwater."
Baelor had the decency to look bashful at that. "T'was a small price to pay for how their masterly lord saved my life, and that of countless others deep in the Undersand."
Were it not for his brother having been there, Daeron would have taken that story as an inflated tale, not the truth. "Regardless of your generosity, brother, Lord Baratheon's message of his newest guest does bring about disturbing implications of this whole affair. Lewyn Sand was at the Bloody Banquet, as some are no doubt calling it, and watched his father die before fleeing. He has not spoken much more yet as of the message, given how hard he rode all the way to the Wyl lands, but in time I have no doubt we will learn more. Yet the fact Lord Martell sought fit to travel to the meeting in disguise tells me there was more going on in the eastern portion of Dorne than we were led to believe. Combine this with the fact that likely the rest of Essos knows of my plans for the Vale and the island of Bloodstone… is it truly any wonder that what occurred, did?"
He had shared his thoughts with only his uncle yet, deeming them far, far too dangerous to let others potentially spread. Yet his brother was not only trustworthy, as proven time and time again, but was naturally inquisitive, always seeking more knowledge and answers. Should his brother be in Dorne, none were as likely to uncover what might have occurred as he would.
"You suspect something more?"
"Perhaps, but if I am in the Vale, I cannot investigate. If everything remains unconnected from some sort of conspiracy, then we focus on the tasks at hand. Yet if there is a conspiracy, it will no doubt rear its ugly head in the Vale. I would not be surprised if powerful Essosi did something to support the clansmen, either directly or by hampering my coming efforts. Yet of course, finding any links between the clansmen, the Dornish, and whoever supports them, if they even exist, will be a monumental challenge… one I would entrust to none other than you, brother."
"I see," Baelor said. "What of our uncle? Have you told him of your suspicions?"
"Mine? Half of the reason I believe there to be a conspiracy is because uncle sees one, but unlike with certain… lords, this one I believe holds far more weight, and thus has greater priority. It fits far better than merely lords trying to kill one another and pin the blame on Lord Tyrell, who despite his failures did manage to keep the peace in western Dorne for three years."
"In exchange for seeing to all of Dorne's peace and eventual integration, under my single governorship, as well as looking into whatever caused this debacle, may I ask a favor of you, brother?"
Daeron smiled. "Name it, Baelor, no request of yours has ever been too outlandish for a king to grant, be it our father before us or myself."
"When you go into the Vale, I wish for you to take cousin Aegon with you."
Daeron could not hold back his shock. That was… well, unexpected felt like a very tame term for what he was feeling. "Truly? Surely you jest? Trained he may be, he is no more experienced at war than our sisters are."
"I would never jest about something this serious," Baelor said, sighing as rubbed his chin. "I have thought long and hard on this matter before, but if I am to go to Dorne, then I would either with to take Daena with me, to live in the Stormlands as my betrothed in the meantime, or have Aegon sent off to somewhere he can either be of use, or at the very least out of the way."
Daeron remained silent, thoughts churning at this reasoning. Was Baelor worried for their sister around their cousin? Aegon's proclivities were… distasteful to an extent, yes, but were to be somewhat expected of princes of their house, taking much after their grandfather in that regard. Yet he could tell this was no jest, and that his brother was serious on the matter. If he was this set against Daena and Aegon being in proximity to one another, could it be as he had thought during Lord Wytch's private dinner with their house? Of threats within the Red Keep? Was Aegon a threat to their sister?
"I… shall give this some thought, brother, as I must consult uncle-,"
"Either Daena comes with me, brother, or Aegon goes with you, that is the boon, nothing more," Baelor said, a sudden hardness in his tone that cut off any protestations the king would have had. He had never heard his brother use that tone before, a tone that any other lord would have had his tongue cut out for using against the king. Yet this was his brother, his heir, and one of the most profoundly respectable princes their house had likely had in generations. If Baelor was so dead set on their cousin and sister not mingling whilst they were off to war, then there had to be a good enough reason for it for Baelor to be like this. His brother was not as he had been before his fostering, for the storm in his eyes quenched any fires of rebuttal Daeron might have had.
"Very well then," he said, withholding a sigh. "Which would you rather then, brother? Daena away from the Red Keep, or Aegon off to war?"
"For the sake of our mother and cousin Naerys alike, Aegon off to war by your side," Baelor said. "I would rather he go fight clansmen in the name of our house than little Daeron and Vaella not get to play with little Baela, nor mother be separated from all her children at once, so soon after seeing off our youngest sisters to faraway kingdoms. Yet if by chance you cannot take him, for whatever reason, then Daena will come with me to the Stormlands, far awat from Kings Landing but also far from the reach of potential Dornish assassins."
The silence stretched between them as the king weighed his options, but truly, there was nothing much to consider. The house of the dragon had five men to pick from to be king, from himself to his uncle to little Daeron. Sending the only other of-age man not bound by the white cloak would not upset the power behind the throne, and who knows, perhaps his cousin might make something of himself besides being a nuisance. "Then it is settled, Aegon shall serve with me, but not by my side, as I will have Olyvar there instead," Daeron replied. "He shall serve at the pleasure of Lord Arryn, whom I will give the burden of keeping him out of trouble. In turn, you shall have Ser Thorne by your side, and Daena shall remain here."
"I accept this, brother, and will bring all of Dorne to peace in your name," Baelor said, the pair rising. "When am I to depart?"
"Come morning light," Daeron said, before pulling him into a quick embrace. "Take care of yourself, brother, I will see to it that Lord Baratheon is informed of your impending arrival."
"You as well, my king. I will speak with Daena and Naerys before our supper on the matter."