Jaehaerys POV
Jaehaerys sat at the head of the Small Council table, listening as his Master of Coin, Lord Martyn Tyrell, read through the latest accounts of the realm.
"...the customs duties from Oldtown continue to exceed expectations, Your Grace. Trade through Lannisport has also increased, and the harvests from the Reach have been plentiful this year."
Martyn placed another parchment upon the table.
"If the peace continues, the royal treasury will grow even further before winter."
Jaehaerys gave a small nod.
"That is good to hear."
For years, he had worked to heal a realm that had once been torn apart by the cruelty of his uncle, Maegor.
Roads had been rebuilt.
Markets had reopened.
Trade flourished once more.
The realm was prospering.
That was all he had ever wanted.
Lord Martyn sat down, and another councillor rose to speak.
Ships.
Taxes.
Disputes between lords.
Repairs to castles.
Petitions from the Riverlands.
The meeting continued for hours.
Every matter received his full attention.
A king who failed to listen would soon fail to rule.
Yet despite that...
His thoughts wandered.
A child.
The thought returned again.
Another child.
Only he, Grand Maester Elysar, and Alysanne herself knew. It was still too early to tell the realm. Too early to celebrate.
Too early to hope.
Hope...
He had learned what hope could become.
Some time had passed since little Daenerys had died.
He could still remember the fever.
The coughing.
Her tiny hand gripping his finger with what little strength she had left.
"...Your Grace?"
Jaehaerys blinked.
His Master of Laws had stopped speaking.
"My apologies," Jaehaerys said with a faint smile. "Please continue."
The meeting dragged on for another hour before, at last, the final matter had been settled.
Jaehaerys rose.
"I believe we have concluded today's business."
The councillors stood with him.
"You all have my thanks."
One by one, they bowed.
"My King."
"Your Grace."
The chamber slowly emptied until only one man remained.
Septon Barth.
His Hand.
His friend.
Barth stood quietly, watching him.
Jaehaerys noticed immediately.
"You've stayed behind."
Barth folded his hands into his sleeves.
"I have."
Jaehaerys raised an eyebrow.
"What troubles you?"
Barth smiled faintly.
"I was about to ask you the very same question."
Jaehaerys chuckled.
"There is nothing troubling me."
Barth looked unconvinced.
"You have been distracted these past several days."
Jaehaerys sighed.
There truly was little that escaped Barth's notice.
He motioned toward the empty chairs.
"Sit."
Barth obeyed.
Jaehaerys remained standing for a long moment before finally speaking.
"Alysanne is with child."
For the first time that day, Barth looked genuinely surprised.
His eyes widened.
Then a warm smile spread across his face.
"The Seven have truly blessed you, Jaehaerys."
Jaehaerys smiled politely.
Yet inside...
His heart tightened.
Blessed.
Had they?
The Seven had also taken Daenerys.
His sweet little daughter.
She had barely lived long enough to know her father's face.
He had prayed.
Alysanne had prayed.
The realm had prayed.
Still, she had died.
No.
Jaehaerys no longer found comfort in believing every joy and sorrow came from the gods.
Perhaps they watched.
Perhaps they did not.
But they had not spared Daenerys.
He pushed the thought aside before it could darken the moment.
His smile returned.
"Yes."
"Soon we shall announce it to the realm."
Barth's face lit with genuine happiness.
"This is wonderful news."
"I shall congratulate the Queen myself."
Jaehaerys nodded.
"I am certain she would appreciate that."
Barth stood.
"The Seven keep you, Your Grace."
"And you."
The septon bowed before quietly leaving the chamber.
Silence returned.
Jaehaerys remained alone.
He lowered himself back into his chair.
The room suddenly felt much larger.
Much quieter.
He leaned back and buried both hands in his hair.
For several long moments...
He simply breathed.
The silence was welcome.
Being king rarely allowed such moments.
Eventually, he stood.
Enough.
There was still much to do today.
He left the council chamber.
Outside waited two white-cloaked figures.
Ser Gyles Morrigen, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard.
Beside him stood Ser Lorence Roxton.
Both men bowed.
"Your Grace."
Jaehaerys smiled.
"You have both stood watch since the meeting started, and you, Ser Gyles, had to sit for hours as we talked."
Ser Gyles inclined his head.
"It is our duty."
"And now it is my order."
He looked between them.
"Go and rest."
"You have earned it."
Neither knight argued.
"As you command."
The two men departed.
Jaehaerys continued through the halls of the Red Keep.
Servants stopped to bow.
Lords stepped aside.
Ladies curtsied.
He acknowledged each with a nod.
The castle bustled with life.
Messengers hurried through corridors.
Pages carried stacks of parchment.
Guards stood watch at every crossing.
Eventually, he reached his private chambers.
Outside stood two more white cloaks.
Ser Pate.
And the newest brother of the Kingsguard.
Ser Ryam Redwyne.
Both bowed immediately.
"Your Grace."
Jaehaerys entered.
His chambers were quiet.
Too quiet.
"Alysanne?"
No answer came.
He stepped back outside.
"Where is the Queen?"
Ser Pate answered.
"She is walking through the gardens with Princess Alyssa, Your Grace."
Jaehaerys smiled.
"Thank you."
He returned inside.
His throat felt dry.
Crossing to the desk, he reached for a pitcher of water.
Before pouring himself a cup, something caught his eye.
A rolled parchment.
It had not been there that morning.
Jaehaerys picked it up.
He unrolled it.
A map of King's Landing.
One location had been marked in blue.
The Hard Rod.
He slowly rolled the parchment closed once more.
"So."
A small smile crossed his face.
"Ser Lyonel has arrived."
Everything was in motion now.
He looked through the window.
The sun still hung high above the city.
Too early.
The meeting had to remain unseen.
Even in the Red Keep, walls had ears.
He would wait until darkness.
Only then would he leave through the secret passages beneath the castle.
He tucked the map into his sleeve.
There was still time before nightfall.
Time better spent with his family.
His sons would no doubt be where they always were at this hour.
Watching the castle knights train in the yard below.
Aemon admired every swordsman he saw.
Baelon wanted to become every swordsman he saw.
Jaehaerys smiled to himself.
Perhaps he would watch the training with them for a while.
Being king demanded much of him.
Being a father demanded more.
And he intended to be both for as long as the gods, or fate allowed.