"Archmaester Mellos? What is it?"
King Viserys straightened at once, forcing the weariness from his voice.
"It's about Lord Beesbury, Your Grace," Mellos said carefully. "I met him just now. He sought an audience with you, but the Queen refused him entry. Shall I admit him?"
"Beesbury?" Viserys frowned. "What does he want now?"
"He claims Prince Aegon has been abusing his authority in the Small Council."
Viserys's expression darkened immediately. Another squabble, another round of petty grievances. He was sick to death of them all.
"No," he said flatly. "I'll not see him. Everything in the council will proceed under Aegon's guidance for now... so long as he does not go too far."
Mellos inclined his head, though his eyes flickered with unease.
Viserys had already struck a secret understanding with his brother. Daemon would rid him of Harwin Strong and reclaim the Stepstones within half a year. After that, Viserys would sanction Daemon's marriage to Rhaenyra, a union meant to reunite Baelon's bloodline and secure the crown against the rising strength of the Greens.
As though reminded of that fragile balance, Viserys asked, "You've attended the Small Council sessions of late, haven't you?"
"Most of them, yes, Your Grace."
"Then tell me…" Viserys's voice dropped, softer now, almost hesitant. "What do you make of Aegon?"
Mellos's mouth twitched. "I wonder what His Majesty means by that?"
He knew exactly what the king meant, but to answer truthfully was a dangerous thing.
Did Viserys truly not see it? Or did he simply refuse to?
If things continued as they were, Mellos thought grimly, Aegon would root out every last supporter of Rhaenyra in the capital within three years. The prince's methods were deft, merciless, and alarmingly effective.
In all his years serving House Targaryen, Mellos had never seen one of their blood so gifted in the arts of power.
Aegon possessed not only cunning but charisma, a born ruler's talent for turning others to his cause. His brothers and sister were dragonriders all; between them, they commanded Sunfyre, Dreamfyre, and Vhagar herself, the mightiest dragons alive.
Aegon was strong, capable, the eldest legitimate son. Mellos could scarcely fathom why Viserys clung so stubbornly to Rhaenyra's claim.
The king's next question broke the silence.
"Tell me truly... who do you think the throne better suits? Aegon… or Rhaenyra?"
Mellos hesitated, then answered with the careful neutrality of a man walking a blade's edge.
"I cannot say, Your Grace. Both possess virtues of their own. In the end, it must rest upon Your Majesty's will."
Viserys's gaze lowered. The words were smooth, but the meaning was clear enough, Mellos leaned toward Aegon.
And that final phrase- your will decides all, was the cruelest jest of all. If a royal decree could settle such things, Viserys would not spend each night drowning in worry and wine.
"You may go," he said at last, weary. "That will be all."
When Mellos departed, Viserys poured himself another cup.
"Lyonel… do not blame me," he murmured, eyes unfocused. "If blame must fall, let it fall upon your son. He could not control himself."
The king drank again, his words slurring as he slipped deeper into despair.
"It's all his fault… if Harwin hadn't tempted her, none of this would have happened. It's not me to blame… it's him… always him…"
The Throne Hall
Aegon stood before the Iron Throne, staring up at the jagged mass of steel, a thousand swords melted and bent together into a crown of cruelty.
"Aegon the Conqueror forged it from the blades of his vanquished foes," he murmured. "A symbol of royal might."
Behind him, Lord Larys Strong limped quietly through the side door.
"For a hundred years that tale has been told and retold," Larys said softly. "Until people forgot the truth. They believe the throne is power. But it's a lie, my prince."
Aegon didn't answer. His gaze lingered on the throne's twisted metal.
They said the Iron Throne rejected weak kings, that it cut them until they bled. He doubted that.
When he wore the crown, he would melt down those cruel swords, pour gold into the steel, and forge a new seat, the Golden Dragon Throne, bright and untarnished, a reflection of Sunfyre's glory.
"I don't think it's a lie," he said quietly. "When my father sits upon that chair and rules the realm, he is the king. Whoever holds power is king. The Iron Throne simply shows the world who that is."
Larys's eyes followed the throne as well, his mind wandering. What if one day he stood as Hand of the King, and Aegon was away? Would he dare to sit upon it, even for a moment? And if he did… would the Iron Throne cut him too?
"Do you remember what I told you power was?" Aegon asked suddenly, turning to him with a faint smile.
"Of course," Larys replied at once. "Power is strength."
Aegon laughed under his breath. "That was too narrow a view. Power comes from strength, but strength takes many forms. Dragons. Men's hearts. Armor, steel, grain, gold. These are all strength. And all strength feeds power."
Larys inclined his head, as though a student humbled by his teacher's lesson. Aegon did enjoy lecturing, and Larys had learned it was best to listen.
After a pause, Aegon's tone changed. "You've heard His Majesty plans to wed Helaena to Jacaerys?"
"I have, my prince," Larys said with a tight smile. "An insult to you and to the Queen. Your response was entirely justified."
Aegon waved the thought aside. "That's not what I meant. I only wanted to tell you this, the reason I dared to oppose His Majesty openly was not because I had power. It was because the principle of power lies with me."
He held up four fingers, a glimmer of pride in his eyes.
"And there are four of them."
Larys blinked, momentarily at a loss, until the meaning dawned on him.
It had been one hundred and twenty years since the Conquest. The swords of the Seven Kingdoms had bent before three dragons, Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar.
And now, Vhagar herself answered to Prince Aemond Targaryen- Aegon's brother.
The "four principles," Larys realized with a chill, were the four living dragons of House Targaryen.
The prince was not boasting. He was stating a fact.
"You didn't come here merely for talk, did you?" Aegon said finally, breaking the silence.
Larys's lips curled into a sly, deliberate smile. "Of course not. But for what I must say next… we'll need a place with fewer ears."
Aegon's eyes gleamed. "Then let's hear it."
------
A/N: Want to know what happens next? You might not want to wait.
There are 19 advanced chapters already out on my Patreon, and the first two are completely free! Go give them a read!!
patreon.com/Captain_Lag