Aelyx - 10
I returned to Dragonstone in the waning days of 120 AC, my circuit of the continent complete. My journey had been enlightening. In many ways, it had been unsurprising, but my encounters with the Lords of Westeros had taken me off guard in others. As best I could tell, as of now the nobility had generally if begrudgingly accepted Rhaenyra as the heir apparent to the Iron Throne. As I'd discussed rather frankly with Lord Rickard no one was sharpening their swords to rise for a boy. When you combined that with Otto's curtailed influence and Alicent's relative lack of ability to project power beyond the walls of the Red Keep, it was evident that the Green cause was, as of now, more a battle for the King's ear than a faction prepared to violently contest the succession.
But, at this moment none of that mattered. Because right now, I was meeting my baby brother for the first time. Yesterday I had been in Gulltown enjoying the hospitality of the Graftons when I received news that the princess had given birth. I immediately abandoned my plans to travel to Duskendale and Crackclaw Point and instead began preparing my return to Dragonstone. I'd taken wing the following morning, arriving on the volcanic island at midday. When I land my elated father meets me, trailing my equally excited twin sisters. He pulls me into a bear hug, squeezing me tightly, before stepping back, his hands resting on my shoulders.
"Another year and you'll be able to look me in the eyes." He says with a grin.
Before I could respond Baela and Rhaena squeezed in between us, talking over each other as they alternate between babbling questions about my trip and telling me about our new baby brother. I allow them to take me by the hands and pull me towards the keep, as I did my best to answer their queries.
The four of us enter the castle and made our way through the black stone corridors. As we walk, I enquire about both the health of Rhaenyra and the babe. Father quickly assures me that they are both hale. I already knew that of course, thanks to both my memories and my father's mood, but it was still polite to ask. Speaking of moods, it was readily apparent the servants and courtiers of Dragonstone were quite jubilant over the birth of the realm's newest prince. Nearly everyone that we pass is wearing a smile and many have yellow flowers, indicating celebration, tucked into their clothing, wound into their hair, or slipped behind an ear.
As we enter the family wing the noise level drops drastically.
My father leans over and whispers. "Aegon hasn't been sleeping well. The wet nurse had just gotten him to stop crying when you landed. If everyone is this quiet then he is probably asleep."
I glance at him and nod my understanding.
When we arrive at the nursery, we are met by a servant who confirms my father's deduction. He hesitates a moment before telling Baela and Rhaena to go find our stepbrothers. He obviously doesn't trust them to be appropriately quiet. He slowly and carefully opens the door, before turning and beckoning me to follow him into the room.
I softly pad into the chamber. Heavy drapes block out most of the light. In one corner a female servant sat. Upon our entrance, she stands and bows deeply to both of us. My father places a figure to his lips, ordering her silence. On the other side of the room, a large ornate cradle rested. I follow Father across the room and peer inside. There nestled in the finest blankets and pillows money could buy, lay, Prince Aegon, my newest brother, my father's only trueborn son. The gloom made it hard to make see any features, but I could just make out the fact that the dusting of hair atop his head was the signature Targaryen silver. I glance at the man standing next to me.
"He's perfect" I offer for lack of anything better to say.
Father smiles proudly.
"He has my nose." He declared.
"He does," I murmur in agreement. I was lying of course, in both this life and the last I had been firmly of the opinion that all babies looked the same. I was, however, diplomatic enough not to express that opinion in front of a proud parent. I tilted my head as I further examined Aegon. Whatever my insecurities I harbored what his existence meant for my place in my father's affections the fact remained that he was my brother, and there was little I would not do to spare him the fate that had been intended for him. Traumatized by watching his mother be devoured by a dragon, forced onto the throne as a child, and dying far too young. His only lasting legacy being the title Dragonbane and the bloody wars unleashed by his grandson Daemon Blackfyre.
Everything came back to the Dance and the ambitions of the Hightowers. As much as I wished to, I did not believe that there was any way for me to stop the coming conflict. I supposed I could make a suicide run atop Vhagar and try to kill Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron. But dragons were rather imprecise weapons, and even if I were willing to burn all of the Red Keep, killing thousands of innocents in the process, I had no desire to die young or spend the rest of my life running. More subtle assassinations were also an option, but such things were difficult to arrange when one was dealing with a prince continually surrounded by protectors. And even then, the odds of the deed being traced back to myself were higher than I was comfortable with.
That was the real rub, I supposed. So long as a male child of Viserys the First lived Rhaenyra's claim would never go completely unchallenged. And the reverse was true as well. Even if, in an act completely contrary to her character, Rhaenyra abdicated her claim to the throne, her very existence and that of her children would remain an existential threat to the Greens. The unfortunate truth was that the day Viserys had chosen Rheanyra over Aegon he had made violence inevitable. That was the troublesome thing about claims to the throne, they existed irrespective of the claimant's actual desires. Someone could swear up and down that they didn't want the crown, but as long as others remembered they had a right to the royal title there would be trouble.
Once I had accepted that the war was inevitable, I had chosen to embark on a path that would see the deck stacked in my family's favor. I believed that I had made good progress on that front. I had denied the Greens their greatest asset in the form of Vhagar and I knew that the memory of my recent tour of the kingdoms would linger for years to come. I hoped that years from now when some lord was sitting in his keep and reading a raven message demanding his allegiance to Rhaenyra he would remember Vhagar in all her great and terrible glory and choose to raise his banners for the Blacks.
The thoughts of my recently completed tour brought me to the task that now awaited me with my return. I would need to make a quick trip over to Driftmark sometime within the next fortnight and give Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys a thorough briefing on the attitudes of the Westeros towards Rhaenyra and the Blacks. I would of course also take the opportunity to slip in bits of my more extraordinary knowledge. My choice to speak with the Lord and Lady of Driftmark was one that had not been made rashly or quickly. I had considered giving my report to my father or even to Rhaenyra as she was the nominal leader of the Blacks, but the unfortunate truth was that I did not trust either of them not to do anything rash. Were I for instance to tell Father, that I was not completely sure of Borros Baratheon's commitment to seeing the crown on Rhaenyra's brow there was a distressingly high probability that a very messy murder attempt would ensue. No, I had long since decided that it was best to speak with Corlys and Rhaenys who I believed would act with a certain amount of subtlety when shoring up the position of our faction.