Riverrun was seeing another peaceful morning as the castle began to stir with activity.
Hoster Tully took a moment to enjoy the peace as he walked into his solar. It felt more hollow than usual today, probably because of the argument with his brother that had taken place the previous day. Because of it, Brynden took leave from Riverrun. Where he currently was, Hoster wasn't sure, nor did he want to know. His foolish brother had caused him enough headaches.
Sighing, Hoster tried to prevent melancholy from overtaking him as he sat at his table. He and his brother had been at odds for some time now, but yesterday everything came to a boiling point. After his brother had rejected so many marriage offers that could benefit their family, Hoster had had enough with his brother's lack of mindfulness to last him a lifetime. Right now the Tully name rested solely on them both, but it felt like Brynden didn't understand the responsibility of their position. His children were far too young to be trusted to handle the political mess that was the Riverlands. and so they needed to be united as brothers. Instead, his brother felt the need to undermine him at every turn.
What a brother he had.
Honestly, after seeing his father rule before him, Hoster had thought that he had been prepared to handle the responsibility that came with being the Lord Paramount of the Trident. He had underestimated how fractured and grudge-driven this land really was. It was why Hoster was constantly on the move, mediating between petty disputes that seemed to materialize from out of nowhere on a daily basis.
Thankfully, this week marked a rare time for him to be at Riverrun with his family. He had been looking forward to it, only for it to be spoiled by the aforementioned argument.
What a blessing it was, the bond of brothers.
Hoster resisted the urge to pour himself some wine so early in the day as he reflected on the recent changes that had impacted the Seven Kingdoms in the past seven years.
Since the Targaryens had traveled to Dorne, a visit that none of the other lords had been expecting, the royal family had only traveled together once more: to Casterly Rock. Tytos Lannister, the Lord of the Westerlands, had died in 267 AC from a sudden heart attack. His son had then risen as the new Lord of Casterly Rock. Not that he hadn't already been running the Westerlands from the shadows before then. Even as the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister had kept one eye on his domain to ensure that everything was running smoothly. Because of his actions, the Westerlands were thriving, and so was the kingdom….and this was despite the grumbling of many that labeled Tywin as a tyrant due to his uncompromising nature.
The Westerlands weren't the only ones thriving, however. The Crownlands had seen some changes too, most notably the introduction of a census. It was a practice that was copied from Oldtown, only now the king was implementing it on a larger scale. It helped to root out a lot of the embezzlement that had been taking place previously, as the crown was now more aware of the amount of taxes that should be coming in based on the population size in the different regions. It had been King Aerys' first policy introduction, and through Tywin's watchful eyes it was working remarkably well. The crown was seeing more gold flowing in than it ever had during King Aegon V's reign. Supposedly Tywin was implementing a similar system in the Westerlands to similar success. There had been concerns that the king was planning on ordering the other kingdoms to follow suit and have that information sent directly to King's Landing, and many River Lords had drawn up plans to find ways around it, but such a decree never came.
Perhaps the Targaryens had learned their lesson after King Aegon V's failed reforms and weren't going to try and force another law on the kingdom that they couldn't enforce.
Of course, there were rumors that it had been the crown prince who first put the idea into action in his domains, but Hoster doubted such rumors. The young prince would have been around five if that were true, and that was ludicrous. The crown prince might have magic, but that did not automatically make him a capable administrator. Odds were that someone in court was trying to make the crown prince look better. No doubt part of the continual efforts by the crown to bolster the prince's image.
It might actually be having an opposite effect.
Hoster remembered the ravens that he had exchanged with Rickard Stark the previous year. They were calling it the year of the "false winter," and that was because of the sudden winter that had hit the continent for six months. It was brief, but it had been a brutal half-a-year. The Citadel had scrambled to try and explain the phenomenon as no one had expected it.
As usual, it was the North that was hit the hardest, and many of what little crops they could grow failed because of the sudden drop in temperature. Because of the unexpected harsh winter, Rickard Stark had been forced to reach out to him about importing more grain and other foods to his lands.
Hoster had happily agreed. The Riverlands weren't the Reach, but they grew enough food to have a surplus, enough to supply the North. At an appropriate price of course.
It had been a good deal for Hoster and the Riverlands, even if the Stark was left grumbling. Despite the man's sour mood, however, Rickard had sent several more ravens explaining his desire to have further dealings and "closer relations" with house Tully.
Hoster wasn't blind. He was aware that Rickard Stark was in constant communication with Jon Arryn. It probably wasn't far-fetched to assume that there was something of an informal alliance between the two men. They had become good friends during the previous war. This possibility was only strengthened in Hoster's mind when he got word that Jon Arryn was fostering Rickard's second son in the Eyrie. All of this became more tantalizing when Steffon Baratheon had sent his son and heir to the Eyrie as well.
There was something brewing there, but Hoster wasn't sure what. However, with Rickard Stark's ravens, it was possible that they were thinking of trying to bring him into their fold. Such a coalition would be extremely powerful, and depending on the incentives Hoster wasn't against hearing what they had to say. Of course, he would have to play it safe. So far the Targaryens were keeping to themselves, but they might start paying more attention to the North and Vale if they made any overt moves. The last thing Hoster wanted was for the Riverlands to get caught in the middle of it.
A part of Hoster debated whether he should order his brother to go to King's Landing to get a better understanding of the king's court, but ultimately he decided against it. His brother would no doubt deny him again, and Hoster was done with giving him that satisfaction.
'I better get started with my day.'
His children would wake soon, and then it was another day of him overseeing the happenings of his castle.
The current year was 273 AC, and the Seven Kingdoms were entering King Aerys II's second decade as king.
---
The High Septon walked through the gardens surrounding the Great Sept of Baelor in silence. It was a beautiful day, and he could use some fresh air. The marble structure of the Great Sept with its great dome stood nearby, a magnificent display of the dominance of the Faith over the monarchy.
Or so the Great Septon had believed. Over the past decade, ever since the start of the reign of Aerys II, he felt as thought their influence was starting to wane. The Targaryens and the Faith had been at odds ever since they had conquered the continent. It had come to a head during the reign of Maegor the Cruel, during which the Faith had failed to achieve the purge of the abominable practices of the Targaryens. They hadn't lost, not fully. But they hadn't won either.
It had been through the diplomatic nature of Jaehaerys I that the Faith had been able to retain some of their dignity. The Faith Militant had been disbanded, of course, never to return. Since then, the Faith and the house of the dragon coexisted on an equilibrium, where neither interfered with the other.
While they had failed to conquer the dragons on the battlefield, they had succeeded in other ways. For many Targaryens then after would turn to the Faith, even when dragons still roamed Westeros. This victory was the most recognizable in Baelor the Blessed, to whom they owed the construction of the beautiful Great Sept.
Everything had been peaceful. Sure, the Targaryens still practiced their abominable incest, but that was easier to swallow than dealing with dragon fire.
Only now that fire seemed to be returning.
The High Septon would never presume to understand magic, and he did not want to. It was the arts of heresy that doomed one's soul. Maegor and Visenya proved that enough. There were several other Targaryens throughout history that were said to have practiced the dark arts, and they all met terrible ends. Valyria itself had been extinguished by their heresy, plunged into the sea for daring to meddle with powers that were better left alone.
What was to become of the Seven Kingdoms when their next king was able to wield that same dark power? A future king who was in the presence of a damnable red priestess?
It was an outrage!
The High Septon had been troubled by the prince's birth for many years now. He had to host several meetings with the Most Devout over the years, in secret, all expressing their fears about what the prince's birth represented for the future of the realm.
Nothing was ever decided in these meetings. None of them knew what to do. They hadn't been presented with a problem like this since the days of Maegor. Since then, the Faith had been more than happy to just continue to exert its authority over Westeros in peace while the Targaryens ruled.
While the upper echelon of the Faith sat paralyzed by this unexpected development, it wasn't the same for those at the bottom. Already the High Septon had been hearing rumors of groups sprouting in small villages trying to speak out against the crown prince. The movement hadn't gained any momentum, still isolated to those small villages in the Riverlands and the Vale, but the fact that it existed at all was problematic. The last thing the High Septon wanted was there to be another clash with the Targaryens. Not when they didn't have an army to face them.
It would also bring about the end to his peaceful and relaxing lifestyle, something which the High Septon wanted to avoid at all costs.
He rubbed his double chin as he continued his stroll through the gardens.
Truly, magic only brought about conflict. If the crown prince was just any other Targaryen, then this wouldn't be such a concern.
The High Septon had been trying to stamp out these rogues without alerting any of the lords for the last couple of years now. He specially did not want to alert the king of their presence, but these villages were isolated and filled with close knit groups that protected their own. The only reason he managed to learn of these rogues in the first place was because of the arrival of begging brothers to the capital who spoke of what was happening in these villages.
The High Septon could only hope that they remained fragmented and isolated in those villages, but he knew that it wouldn't take much for this to spiral out of control.
'I need to drink.'
Thinking about all of this always caused him to get a headache.
Better return to his private sanctum for some peace and quiet. He might have to call for some company alongside his drink too.
---
The training yard in the Red Keep was buzzing with activity as swords clashed against one another in close quarter combat.
There were many spectators around, but to the two fighters in the middle the rest did not matter.
One of the two fighters was the crown prince himself. Rhaegal Targaryen was now three and ten, soon approaching his fourteenth name day.
His form was glistened with sweat, a sign of the many hours of practice that he had put in so far. He wasn't wearing his usual doublet, for it would only get in the way as he threw himself into his movements with a passion that had defined their house. That passion seemed to matter little at the moment, though, as he faced off against Barristan Selmy in another one of their many matches.
The knight was still taller than him, much to Rhaegal's private annoyance. He was said to be tall for his age, but he was still short when compared to a man grown.
Rhaegal's thoughts stopped there as Barristan charged at him again. The man was big, but despite his size he was still fast and nimble. Rhaegal had to react quickly to parry the first couple of strikes from the man's sword before stepping back to put some distance between the two.
It wasn't every day that they used live steel during practice, but it had been Rhaegal's desire to face off against the renowned knight like this for his name day celebration. Barristan had been hesitant at first but ultimately gave in after admitting that Rhaegal was skilled enough to handle it.
Rhaegal hoped that was the case. He had been squiring for the man for many years now.
It was Rhaegal's desire to become a knight, but more than that he wanted to earn the title through hard work rather than being handed it like with some other nobles. It was why he had asked Barristan to accept him as his squire. As the Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower had expected to be the one to teach him, but Rhaegal felt that Barristan was the better choice. Not that the older Kingsguard was left out. Rhaegar had chosen to become the famous White Bull's squire instead, and he wasn't alone.
Rhaegal set aside those thoughts for now as Barristan came for him again. The man was relentless, and he had the stamina to match it.
'Probably why he does it.'
It was an underestimated part of combat, the ability to keep swinging until the very end.
The problem for Barristan was that Rhaegal had the stamina to match him.
Barristan's sword clashed against Valyrian steel, and the man's eyes narrowed as he found himself momentarily pushed back. It wasn't every day that he got to face off against a Valyrian steel sword, and the magical blades worked differently when compared to normal steel. Such as how much stronger it was, and with that increased strength came a certain ability to "reflect" the force of the impact back to its source. This was only possible if the wielder of the Valyrian steel had the ability to withstand that impact in the first place, and strength was something else that Rhaegal had in spades.
Seeing an opening, Rhaegal brought one foot forward first before he hacked down at the momentarily stunned Barristan.
Unfortunately, the knight had enough control of his body to rebound from the sudden pushback. Faster than Rhaegal could see, Barristan's grip on his sword tightened. The knight then raised the sword back into the air to strike against the Valyrian steel sword once more. Only this time, Rhaegal had overstepped with his move, allowing his grip to falter just enough for Barristan to disarm him in one swift motion.
The Valyrian steel sword fell to the ground. A moment later he found Barristan's sword pointed at his neck with the man smiling down at him.
"Yield."
What else was he supposed to do?
"I yield."
Rhaegal felt his body start to relax as the match ended and Barristan stepped back. Rather than feeling disappointed by the defeat, he felt exhilarated. Even if it was only for a minute, he had held his own against one of the finest knights in the kingdom. And he wasn't even a knight yet.
Their spectators erupted into small cheers and applause. It wasn't out of courtesy. They had seen their young crown prince handle himself well against a Kingsguard. They must have been caught up in the excitement of it all too.
"You're improving well, brother," Rhaegar complimented as he walked up to him with Arthur in tow. The friendship between the two had persisted long after their trip to Sunspear. As it turned out, Arthur's dream was to become the new Sword of the Morning, a title bestowed upon the Dayne who was knighted and deemed worthy of carrying the Valyrian steel sword Dawn into battle.
Well, it was dubbed as a Valyrian steel sword, but unlike traditional Valyrian steel Dawn was as pale as milk glass. It was obviously different, but its past and forging was shrouded in mystery, and so it was easier to label it as Valyrian steel.
How one was considered "worthy" of the blade Rhaegal did not know exactly. The Daynes were secretive and proud of the whole thing. It was probably just a roundabout way of labeling the best of their knights.
It was for that dream that Arthur had asked to be trained under the Kingsguard, who were considered the best knights in the kingdom. Rhaegar had accepted his friend's request, and so Arthur had travel to the capital to begin to squire under Ser Gerold alongside him.
The Commander must have seen a lot of potential in Arthur to accept, one that even Rhaegal recognized. After all, while Rhaegal had no problem defeating others his age, including Rhaegar, Arthur was a different monster. He would have to resort to magic to win decisively, something he wasn't keen on doing. So for the moment, they were more like rivals.
"Prince Rhaegal was holding back," Barristan said humbly.
Rhaegal almost snorted as he picked up his sword. 'Or maybe not so humbly.'
Over the years he had experimented more and more with his magic which was only amplified whenever he wielded the Valyrian steel sword. If he tried, he could shatter a regular steel sword with one blow if he used his magic. His physical strength had grown alongside his magic to the point where that was possible.
"True. I'm sure prince Rhaegal could incinerate his foes with his flames easily enough," Arthur said.
"If I did that all the time, then beating you wouldn't be so satisfying."
"I'm pretty sure I still have more wins against you, my prince."
"Only because you suck at counting. I guess the gods weren't kind enough to gift you with a good mind as they did your body. A shame really."
"Perhaps I hit you too many times on the head for you to remember well....my prince."
Rhaegal did snort this time while Arthur cracked a small grin. Rhaegar just rolled his eyes at their antics.
It had taken a few months to get Arthur to loosen up around him, but it was worth it. He was definitely serious and proper, much like Rhaegar. But he also liked to crack jokes here and there, especially when it came to their matches. It was refreshing, and because of Arthur's time at the Red Keep the two of them had also become friends.
"Broooooother!"
Before their conversation could continue, a small figure came running toward them before slamming into Rhaegal, knocking the wind out of him. He had to steady himself as he caught the person in his arms lest they go tumbling to the ground.
He wasn't able to say anything before he felt a pair of arms wrapping around his torso and an energetic voice speaking.
"That was too cool! You almost had Ser Barristan! I bet Brightflame could roast anyone alive if you tried!"
Such a morbid yet cool thing to say.
Brightflame was the official name that he had given his Valyrian steel sword after presenting it to his father and the rest of the court. This only happened after it had been refitted with a new hilt and scabbard. The guards were gold, reminiscent of his flames, and shaped into dragon heads. The pommel was decorated with a small red jewel, the same color as their three headed dragon. The grip itself was sleek black, which suited Rhaegal just fine. Many had said that he was trying to recreate Blackfyre, and they weren't entirely wrong. He wanted nothing more than to hold the sword of kings for himself, but that was still a dream for another day.
There had been inquiries about how he had acquired the Valyrian steel sword, to which Melisandre had simply said that it was "the will of the Lord of Light for the prince to acquire the sword." Many took that to mean that the sword had come from her religious order, a story which Rhaegal was more than happy to go along with.
Some had questioned his decision to name the sword after Aerion Targaryen, who many had considered overly arrogant and a true example of the supposed Targaryen madness that plagued his family. Regardless of the man's cruelty, his moniker was one that fit Rhaegal's sword perfectly, so he still went with it despite the problematic nature that it might invoke in the eyes of the realm.
Rhaegal did not mind that either. Let them talk. It mattered little in the end.
Coming back to the present, Rhaegal looked down to find a pair of deep violet eyes staring up at him. Those eyes belonged to a young girl with pale skin and pale silver-gold hair that was already flowing down to her upper back.
"Shaena, how many times have I told you not to do that?"
She wasn't that small anymore.
Shaena Targaryen pouted at him. His younger and only sister had been born in 267 AC, which made her six already. The day she had been born his father had thrown a large feast to celebrate the occasion. The man hadn't celebrated so much since the day he found out that Rhaegal was a pyromancer.
It went without saying that his father had immediately announced that she was to be his wife when she came of age, making the two of them betrothed the day that she was born. It was not something that Rhaegal had ever discussed with her, not directly, and if she was aware of their future together then it didn't hinder her relationship with him. One might even say that she was clingy, for various reasons, or so Rhaegar liked to often joke about.
"It's not like it matters! You're bigger than me. And you have too many muscles for your own good. Not like Rhaegar."
"Hey now." Rhaegar pretended to be offended by their sister's words. He wasn't actually mad because he knew that it was true.
Over the years, differences between the twin brothers started to manifest. They were still the same height, had the same colored hair, eyes, and overall facial features. They were considered handsome by almost everyone, their faces sculptured and imperious, with sharp cheekbones, and straight noses. The differences came with their build and hair. Rhaegar liked to keep his hair long and tied back. Rhaegal on the other hand preferred his hair short, since it was easier to maintain. It was something their mother lamented about, saying that his hair was just as beautiful as Rhaegar's and deserved to be "free."
Moreover, Rhaegal had a more solid build compared to Rhaegar. It wasn't that his brother lacked muscles. Far from it. After their trip to Dorne, Rhaegar started to take his training sessions more seriously, the end result being a more powerful build compared to the bookworm that he had been. For reasons he could not understand, Rhaegal just had a more imposing build in comparison. Some said that he was more than likely going to have a similar build to their ancestor Maekar, the First of His Name, by the time he was grown. The fact that he kept his hair short only added to the comparison. He was only missing the beard really. That, and he was supposedly more handsome than the man had been.
King Maekar probably wouldn't have appreciated that last remark.
Shaena started to squeeze him. "Are you ignoring me!?"
Oh right, she was still here.
"Shouldn't you be at your lessons with the septa, sister?" Rhaegal said with a raised eyebrow.
Shaena stuck her tongue out. "She's boring! Always talking about how I'm supposed to be a proper lady! Like I care. I'm going to ride dragons one day, not be stuck inside doing needlework."
Rhaegal turned to his brother, who shrugged.
"It wasn't me who told her that. It was Uncle Aemon."
Aemon Targaryen. Ever since he sent his first raven seven years ago, he had been in constant communication with him and Rhaegar, and sometimes with Shaena too. The man had expressed his joy about hearing of Rhaegal's abilities, saying how it was a sign that Aegon V's efforts at Summerhall had not been in vain. He had also lamented about not having been sent a single raven about the affair, and so had taken it upon himself to make contact first. In different letters, Aemon had expressed his desire to come to King's Landing, saying that there were many things he wished to discuss with him
The man wholeheartedly believed that Rhaegal was the prince who was promised, a belief that he had shared with Rhaegar as well. He had even led them to discover the prophecy for themselves in the library of the Red Keep. Where it came from Aemon said he didn't know, only that it had been there long before he was born. In fact, Aerys I had been fascinated by the prophecy as well after he had discovered it.
It made Rhaegal suspicious of course. He wasn't one to take prophecies at face value, especially ones that had no clear source. His "dragon dream" had been an exception, especially with recent events. But he would think more on that later, when he was back on Dragonstone.
Rhaegar was the opposite. He started to believe in the prophecy wholeheartedly, believing that Rhaegal was the one who was going to fulfill it. However, he also cited the need for the "dragon to have three heads." In his interpretation, he was going to need a Rhaenys and a Visenya to stand by his side, just as with the Conqueror.
Yes, his brother was suggesting that he bring back polygamy, something that hadn't been done since the days of Maegor. It was a sin before the Faith, and they would no doubt voice their opposition if Rhaegal ever did such a thing. With the Doctrine of Exceptionalism, the house of the dragon always existed in murky waters with the Faith. Many Targaryens had adopted the Faith, but this did not necessarily mean that they were beholden to it. Otherwise, they would have stopped marrying brother to sister a long time ago.
In other words, Rhaegar was suggesting that he walk into a political nightmare based on the grounds of some damn prophecy. Recent events had only made his brother more firm in his belief, but again he would think on that later.
Rhaegal wasn't interested in stirring up the Faith for no good reason, not when they had remained tolerant of his existence up to this point.
There was only one problem. Rhaegal did have a good reason for it.
"I knew she would be here." Another person joined them. Ashara had become another common sight in the Red Keep since Arthur traveled to the capital to squire under Ser Gerold. Apparently his mother had accepted her into her service as a lady despite her young age. Why? Rhaegal did not know, but he did not complain.
The girl had come a long way from the energetic little girl that he had met seven years ago. She still had a lively spirit, but there was more control to it now. She was already two and ten, and many were calling her "the maid with laughing purple eyes." It was such a funny nickname that Rhaegal couldn't help but tease her about it on numerous occasions, much to her annoyance. However, even at such a young age, the signs of her beauty were already starting to show, especially with her long dark hair that fell over her shoulders.
"Princess, the septa is not very pleased that you sneaked out," she said with no real heat. Rhaegal felt her eyes on him even as she spoke.
"I wanted to see my brother train!" Shaena still didn't let go of him. How she wasn't disgusted given how sweaty he was, Rhaegal did not know. "He promised that we were going on a ride today!"
"If you wanted to go horse riding, then I think that prince Rhaegar would be the better choice," Ashara teased, still looking at him.
Such an unfair blow, but she was not lying. While Rhaegal was the better swordsman between the two, Rhaegar was the better rider. It would be interesting to see who would become the better jouster in the future.
"I prefer Rhaegal."
"I can just feel your love for me, dear sister," Rhaegar said with a sigh.
"Hehe." Shaena just giggled in victory.
Ashara shook her head. "This is what happens when you spoil her too much, you know."
Rhaegal shrugged. What could he say? He loved his sister. He wasn't going to say no to her unless he had a good reason, and he rarely did.
Today was an exception, however.
"Ashara is right, Shaena. Something has come up, so I can't take you on that ride today."
The look of betrayal on the girl's face nearly broke his heart, so he quickly scooped her up into his arms.
"Not to worry. I will be sailing to Dragonstone soon. I'll ask mother if you can join me. How does that sound?"
Shaena was just like him. Dragonstone was her preferred place, finding it more comforting than King's Landing.
"Really!?" Her face brightened up at his proposal.
"You shouldn't make promises you can't keep, brother," Rhaegar spoke up. "Mother might not agree."
"It shouldn't be too hard. It's not like we're going to the other side of the world." Rhaegal wasn't too concerned. "Besides, I'm sure mother will appreciate the small break."
"If you say so."
"Now come along, princess." Ashara held out her hand for Shaena to take after Rhaegal set her down. "We still have to complete our lessons."
"Ugh, fine. But only because of your promise, Rhaegal!"
He smiled at her. "I promise." He then looked at Ashara. "Thanks again for looking out for her."
"It's my pleasure." He felt her eyes roam his chest for a moment before she started to walk off with Shaena.
He noticed Arthur and Rhaegar exchanging a knowing look, but he ignored them.
Barristan just remained silent from where he stood, no doubt making mental notes for himself.
Rhaegal tried to keep his mind clear as he started to walk out of the training yard.
"Now come, brother. Arthur. I gotta wash up, then I have to meet with Monford and his father."
---
Rhaella felt her heart at peace as she watched her four-year-old son run through the Great Hall toward the Iron Throne. There, seated on the monstrosity of a chair with his back straight, was her husband.
The Iron Throne was flanked by two members of the Kingsguard while members of the small council held an impromptu meeting at the table placed beneath the towering chair. Among them was Lucerys Velaryon, Tywin Lannister, Grand Maester Pycelle, Ser Gerold Hightower, the Master of Coin Lord Qarlton Chelsted, and the Master of Laws Lord Symond Staunton.
Rhaella liked Lord Staunton the least. The man was nothing more than a bootlicker placed on the small council because of his "friendship" with Aerys. His actual skill as a lord was questionable, but nevertheless he was still given such a prestigious position.
"The trade war has mostly come to an end," Lucerys was saying as she and her son approached the throne. The man's voice boomed in the otherwise empty hall. "The actions of the Free Cities has only further crippled their economies."
"This couldn't have come at a better time!" Lord Chelsted exclaimed with glee. "Already they were trying to recover from the oppression of the Blackfyre supporters. This will make it harder for them to bounce back!"
"It's left us a lot of breathing room for sure," Lucerys said proudly. "There has been an increase in trade through our ports now that the usual routes have closed up."
"Can Driftmark handle such a burden?" Pycelle questioned, his tone subdued.
"A few years ago I would have said no, but thanks to prince Rhaegal's efforts the shipyards in Driftmark have seen remarkable upkeep. Our trading fleet continues to grow every year."
Aerys cackled with glee. "It appears that my son's collaboration with you has produced results."
The Lord of the Tides bowed his head. "House Velaryon is gladdened by the prince's generosity, your Grace."
"It's not generosity, but pragmatism." Tywin tapped his fingers on the table. "Reopening those old trade routes has been invaluable for the crown's coffers."
"It seems you have much to thank your ancestor for, Lord Velaryon," Symond said chidingly. "The Sea Snake's legacy has come in real handy for your house."
It was obvious the man was jealous of Lucerys' recent successes, as well as his close partnership with Rhaegal.
For his part, the Master of Ships ignored the provocation. He was in too much of a good mood to allow himself to be pulled into a childish fight, especially in front of the king.
"The reduction of tariffs has also seen huge success," Pycelle added as he looked at Tywin. "With these two measures we have not seen so much gold flowing since the days of the Old King."
"Involving ourselves in the affairs of the Free Cities would bring us no benefit," Tywin said with a calm voice. "Let them tear each other apart while we reap the rewards."
"The happenings of the Free Cities are not our concerns," Aerys was in agreement. "We have more prudent matters to discuss. The upcoming tourney for example."
It was to be a celebration of the fourteenth name day of the twin princes. It was to be an important celebration because both princes were hoping to become knighted during the festivities, but that was something for Barristan and Gerold to decide.
"I believe prince Rhaegal will have something to ask of you concerning that, your Grace," Lucerys said.
"Oh?" Aerys looked curious. "He has not said anything to me. Already Rhaegar has asked for his present. Only Rhaegal has kept quiet about his desires."
"Knowing him, it won't be anything simple," Ser Gerold joked.
Aerys agreed. "Too true. Perhaps we should-"
"Father!"
Aerys was cut off as Rhaella and their son finally announced his presence.
"Prince Daeron." Tywin was the first to greet the youngest prince.
The four-year-old was too busy to take notice as he ran up to the steps of the Iron Throne.
"Daeron. What are you doing here?" Aerys questioned.
"Forgive me, husband." Rhaella sighed as she made her way over to her energetic child. "Our son wanted to speak to you right away about Rhaegal's upcoming trip to Dragonstone."
"You have to let me go too, father! I want to see Dragonstone for myself!" Daeron said as he bounced in place. The young prince had the coloring of the house of the dragon, and much like his brothers he was considered a very handsome young boy. He was also far too clever for his own good at times.
"I believe we were just concluding our meeting, my queen," Pycelle said with a courteous bow of his head.
"Indeed." Aerys waved them off. "Lord Velaryon, I expect to hear more of what my son's plans are regarding his present for the upcoming name day celebration."
"Of course, your Grace." The man would never defy a direct command.
One by one, the members of the small council started to leave the throne room, with Tywin being the last one to do so.
Rhaella watched the Lannister go in silence. His friendship with Aerys had hit their first rough patch a few years ago when Aerys had announced Rhaegal's betrothal to Shaena. Not that the man had said anything in public. He had enough sense to not cause a spectacle that the other kingdoms would hear about. No, it was Joanna who had told her about it. Her friend had returned to Casterly Rock after it was discovered that she was pregnant, where she now remained as its Lady. Joanna had given birth to twins a year before Shaena was born, and one of them was a girl. Apparently it had been Tywin's hope for the girl, who they named Cersei, to become Rhaegal's future bride.
Shaena's birth had changed that, and Tywin was not happy about it.
'He probably wasn't the only one.'
The lions hadn't been the only ones who had harbored hopes to get a royal match with the crown prince. Rhaella did not doubt for a second that any of them had given up either, especially not Tywin.
Thankfully Rhaegal still kept his unexpected friendship with Loreza's children going, so even though there was no royal match between the two families the southern kingdom was still amiable to the crown.
"Come here, Daeron."
The boy didn't need to be told twice. Rhaella had to stop herself from having a heart attack when she saw her youngest climb the Iron Throne to reach her husband. When he did, he sat on Aerys' lap.
"Now tell me more about Dragonstone."
Daeron beamed as he began to speak, a sight which made Rhaella smile.
Over the years, Aerys' love was able to spread to more than just Rhaegal, probably after Shaena was born. Rhaegal was undoubtedly his favorite still, but after securing his succession with a third son as well as a bride for his heir, Aerys' heart had softened further.
And it was at times like this that Rhaella was able to let herself relax and forget about the troubles of the world.