However, events soon proved Bennifer's earlier fears unnecessary.
The bond between Aegon II's children was so close it seemed almost uncanny, as if they were born as one.
From the moment little Baelon learned to walk, he trailed after his older brother Aemon like a shadow. Wherever Aemon went, Baelon followed; whatever Aemon did, Baelon mimicked.
Whenever Jaehaerys returned to the Red Keep, he always brought curious little toys from the New Citadel for his younger siblings.
When Aemon received his first wooden sword and began his training, it was Jaehaerys who guided him patiently, hand over hand. Baelon, being too young, was not allowed to join—Jaehaerys feared he might get hurt.
But Baelon's stubborn streak would not allow it. He found a stick, made it into a sword, and charged straight into the yard to "attack" his brother. The sight of his brave and obstinate little brother left Jaehaerys laughing helplessly.
From that day forward, the wooden stick-sword became Baelon's dearest treasure. He carried it everywhere, even into bed at night, refusing to let it go. His mother and the maids found it equal parts exasperating and adorable, but there was no changing him.
Bennifer also observed that while Daenerys was at first fearful of dragons, Baelon was her complete opposite. It was said that the first time he entered the Dragonpit, he boldly smacked Balerion on the nose.
Old Sour Sam remarked at the time, "He's either far too brave, or far too mad."
From then on, the Spring Prince gained another name: "Baelon the Brave."
The two young princes adored their sister Daenerys, showering her with affection, while Daenerys in turn doted on them—"especially when she was ordering them about."
...
Grand Maester Bennifer noted something else as well:
Though Aegon II cherished all four of his children, he never named any one of them as heir to the realm.
This unsettled Queen Alysanne.
"The heir to the throne must be raised from childhood," she implored earnestly. "If Jaehaerys is allowed to grow up without discipline, he may become a fine knight—but he will never become a great king."
Aegon never argued with her, only smiled and replied,
"Children will find their own fortunes."
But Bennifer could see the Queen was unconvinced, and when the matter of succession came up among the Small Council, he made sure to raise the point.
...
In the middle of the fifty-ninth year of Conquest, Aegon II made an important decision—he dismissed Lord Myles Smallwood as Hand of the King.
No one questioned Lord Myles' loyalty. He worked hard and diligently, yet he himself often admitted, "I am a general for the saddle, not a courtier for the cushion."
It was true: Myles was better suited to the battlefield than to the tangled politics of council chambers.
Aegon declared to his lords that he would no longer waste half a month sorting through dozens of names. He would instead appoint the Hand he wanted—Brother Barth.
When Lord Corbray again raised concern over Barth's humble origins, Aegon II paid it no heed.
"His father was a blacksmith who forged swords and horseshoes—so what? Knights need swords, horses need shoes, and I need Barth."
Upon taking office, Barth immediately presented the Emperor with a graver issue:
"During Aegon the Conqueror's reign, a drainage system was built beneath the capital. Its purpose was to carry refuse and sewage beneath the streets into the river. But today, the waters of King's Landing are said to be fit only for horses and swine.
The Blackwater Rush carries too much silt, and the system designed under Aegon I not only failed to improve the water, it made it worse.
As for the bay, the seawater is briny and foul, reeking with a stench enough to make a man retch.
The Emperor, the court, and the lords may drink ale, mead, and wine, but the poor have no choice but to drink filthy water."
Hearing this, Aegon II rubbed his nose with faint embarrassment.
For it was he who had designed that drainage system in his previous life.
He had known that any great city required proper sewers, but he had been no more than an amateur in city planning. At the time, he had merely copied the idea without true understanding.
"My new Hand, you are not here to question me—you are here to tell me how to solve this problem," Aegon II said, a little embarrassed but unabashed.
Hand of the King Barth did not disappoint. Calm and measured, he replied, "I propose large-scale well-digging. Some wells should be dug within the city, others beyond the northern walls. Fresh water would then be brought in through a system of glazed clay pipes and aqueducts, stored in four vast reservoirs, and distributed to public fountains at key squares and crossroads for the common folk."
The plan sounded promising—but costly. Both Rego Rego Draz and Aegon II hesitated... until the next council meeting, when Queen Alysanne placed before each of them a great cup of river water and, with sharp eyes, demanded to know whether they dared drink it.
The water was murky and stank. Naturally, no one touched it.
Faced with the queen's resolve, the plan for wells and aqueducts was quickly approved. The entire project was expected to take more than twelve years, but in the end the "Queen's Fountains" lived up to their name, providing generations of King's Landing's citizens with clean water—one of the city's most important public works.
...
Two or three years had passed since the last royal progress.
Aegon II and Queen Alysanne carefully planned their first journey to Winterfell and the North, timed for the sixtieth year of the Conquest. Naturally, they intended to ride their dragons. Yet Aegon had grown weary of always flying far ahead and waiting endlessly for his retinue to catch up.
This time, he ordered the Kingsguard, servants, and courtiers to depart in advance, making preparations for the royal arrival. Three ships left bustling King's Landing, bound for White Harbor, the first stop on the royal tour.
But fate had other plans. The will of the gods—and the turmoil in the Free Cities—intervened.
As the ships sailed northward, envoys from Pentos and Norvos hurried to the Red Keep to meet the king.
War between the two cities had dragged on for three years. Both longed for peace, yet they could not agree on where to hold negotiations. The Magister of the Western Protectorate had attempted mediation several times, but with no success.
The conflict had devastated trade through the Protectorate, and Aegon II could not ignore it. He resolved to do everything possible to reconcile the warring cities.
After long and difficult discussion, the Magister of Norvos and the Prince of Pentos finally agreed to meet in King's Landing to resolve their dispute. But they demanded one condition:
—that Aegon II himself must personally mediate and guarantee the agreement.
Neither the king nor the Small Council could refuse. Yet this meant the planned northern progress would be delayed.
It was well known that the Lord of Winterfell and his son were stern men, quick to take offense. Aegon and his advisors feared the Starks might take the postponement as an insult.
Just as the court fretted over the matter, Queen Alysanne offered a solution: she would continue north as planned, while the king remained behind to host the envoys. Once the peace talks concluded, he would join her.
All agreed this was the wisest course.
...
Queen Alysanne's northern journey began at White Harbor.
When she descended from the skies upon her great silver dragon, tens of thousands of Northerners were already gathered, waiting eagerly to welcome her. With reverence and awe, they watched as Silverwing streaked down like a bolt of silver lightning.
For many, it was the first dragon they had ever seen. The sheer size of the crowd astonished even the local lords.
"I never imagined there were so many people in the city," said Lord Theomore Manderly. "Where in the world did they all come from?"
House Manderly was unique among the great houses of the North.
Centuries ago, they had lived in the fertile lands of the Reach, but were driven from the banks of the Mander River by rivals. Forced to wander, they eventually settled at the mouth of the White Knife.
Though loyal to the Starks of Winterfell, they retained the faith of the Seven from the south and kept alive the traditions of knighthood.
Alysanne Targaryen had long sought to strengthen the bonds among the Seven Kingdoms. The Manderlys, with their great numbers, offered her the perfect opportunity.
At once, she began arranging marriages. By the time she left White Harbor, two of her ladies-in-waiting were betrothed to the Lord's younger sons, another to his nephew. His eldest daughter and three nieces joined the queen's retinue, hopeful of finding suitable lords or knights in the southern court.
Lord Manderly received the queen with warmth and grandeur.
At the welcome feast, a whole ox was roasted, its aroma filling the hall. His daughter Jeysmyn served as cupbearer, pouring the queen a brimming cup of strong northern ale. After tasting it, Alysanne praised it highly, declaring it finer than any wine she had ever drunk.
Lord Manderly even hosted a small tourney in the queen's name, to display the skill of his knights.
Among the combatants was a most unusual warrior: not a knight, but a wildling girl once captured by rangers beyond the Wall, later adopted by a sworn sword in Manderly service.
Queen Alysanne admired the girl's courage and ordered her own guard, Jonquil Dark, to face her.
Before a roaring crowd of Northerners, the wildling girl took up her spear while Jonquil the "Scarlet Shadow" raised her sword, and the two clashed in a dazzling contest.
The crowd was left in awe.
Several days after the tournament, the Queen hosted an extraordinary "women's court" in Lord Manderly's hall.
The North had never seen anything like it. In the end, more than two hundred women and girls came, each pouring out their thoughts, worries, and grievances to the Queen. Alysanne listened patiently, offering care and comfort.
Afterward, her party departed White Harbor and traveled upriver along the White Knife. Where the current ran too strong, they left their boats and went overland, bound for Winterfell. Queen Alysanne, on Silverwing, rode ahead.
...
When she reached the ancient seat of the Kings of Winter, the welcome was nothing like what she had received in White Harbor.
As her dragon descended before the gates, only the young lord, Elric Stark, his father Alaric, the former Warden of the North, and a younger brother came out to greet her—a handful at most.
Though Aegon had granted Elric the title of Lord of Winterfell, the boy was still too young to wield authority. Real power remained firmly in the hands of Alaric Stark, his father.
Alaric's reputation was infamous. Harsh, joyless, and miserly, he was said to be impossible to deal with. Even Lord Theomore Manderly, his vassal, did not deny it.
"Lord Alaric is respected in the North," Manderly admitted, "but he is not loved."
His fool put it more bluntly: "If you ask me, Lord Alaric's been constipated since the age of twelve, and that's why his face is always so sour."
Everything Alysanne experienced upon her arrival seemed to confirm those rumors.
Even before dismounting, Alaric was already criticizing her attire.
"I hope you've brought warmer clothes than the ones you're wearing now."
He went on to declare that he would not have her dragon enter the castle.
"I've never seen Harrenhal, but I know what happened there."
Still, he allowed lodging for her knights and ladies-in-waiting, adding with a dry edge:
"And for the Regalus too, provided he doesn't lose his way."
He made it clear the royal company could not stay long.
"This is the North, and winter is coming. We cannot feed a thousand idlers."
The Queen explained her retinue was scarcely a tenth that number, but Alaric only grunted:
"Better. But fewer still would be better."
Just as feared, the North resented Aegon II's failure to come north with her.
Alaric even admitted he did not know how to entertain a Queen.
"If it is masquerades or singers you want, Your Grace, you've come to the wrong place."
At last, Alysanne's patience snapped.
In private, she told him sharply: "If you wish your dukedom to remain with your son and not pass to your brother, you will give a Queen the respect she is due—former Lord."
Alaric was taken aback by her bluntness and strength. In the end, he relented—allowing Silverwing through the gates and hosting a grand feast in her honor.
His change from arrogance to deference proved that, at times, strength achieves more than kindness.
...
At the feast, when the Queen expressed sorrow at never having met Lady Stark, who had died three years earlier, the hard Northman spoke with rare pride.
"She was of House Mormont of Bear Island. At twelve, she took up an axe against a pack of wolves, killed two with her own hands, and made a cloak from their hides. She gave me two strong sons and a sweet, lovely daughter—no southern lady could better her."
The Queen seized the moment, suggesting marriages between Stark children and great southern lords.
Alaric hesitated, then declined politely.
"We Northmen keep the Old Gods. My sons must be wed beneath the heart tree."
But Alysanne was not so easily turned aside.
She explained patiently that many southern lords honored both the Seven and the Old Gods. Most castles had both a sept and a godswood. Some great houses had never converted at all—House Blackwood of the Riverlands was the most famous, but there were many others.
Even a man as grim and stiff as Alaric found it hard to resist the Queen's persistence and charm. At last, he promised to give the matter thought and to speak with his sons.
As the Queen's stay lengthened, Alaric's manner softened.
She found the rumors not wholly true. Yes, he cared for money, but he was not mean to the point of misery. He did have a sense of humor, though it was sharp-edged, cutting as a blade. And his children, as well as the people of Winterfell, loved him deeply.
As the frost between them melted, Alaric himself led the Queen hunting in the Wolfswood for deer and boar, showed her the bones of giants, and gave her free use of the castle's modest library. He even dared approach Silverwing, though with wary caution.
The women of Winterfell, too, grew close to Alysanne, and Alaric's daughter Alera became her dearest companion.
When at last the royal train reached the castle gates—muddy, snow-dusted, and weary from crossing trackless bogs—Winterfell welcomed them with great platters of roasted meat and endless mead.
Yet even then, Aegon himself had not come.
...
In King's Landing, the peace talks dragged on far longer than expected. Aegon II had underestimated the depth of the cities' enmity.
Whenever he sought balance, each side accused him of favoring the other.
While the prince and the magister quarreled at the table, their men brawled in inns, brothels, and taverns across the city.
A guard of Pentos was slain.
Three days later, the magister's flagship in the harbor mysteriously caught fire.
Aegon was left exasperated, and his departure delayed again and again.
...
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