My first lesson as the king's cupbearer was that wine was heavier than it looked.
The second was that powerful men drank a great deal of it.
"Not too much."
I looked up at the servant correcting me.
His name was Pate, though he looked nothing like the Pate I vaguely remembered from another part of this world's future. He was perhaps forty, with thinning brown hair and the permanent expression of a man expecting someone else to make a mistake.
"His Grace dislikes an empty cup," Pate continued, "but he dislikes being overfilled more."
"Why?"
Pate stared at me.
Then his eyes moved toward the door.
Then back to me.
"I don't know, my lord."
A lie.
A sensible one.
I'd been in King's Landing less than two days and was already learning that I don't know often meant I know, but saying it would be dangerous.
Pate demonstrated again.
Hold the flagon with both hands.
Pour slowly.
Never reach across the table.
Never interrupt.
Never turn my back on the king unless necessary.
If Aerys lifted two fingers, wine.
If he covered the cup with his hand, stop.
If he pushed it away, remove it.
"And if he throws it at someone?"
Pate went very still.
"I was joking."
"I would advise against that here, my lord."
Apparently humor was another casualty of court.
When the doors opened, I followed him inside.
The Small Council chamber surprised me.
I had expected something grand.
A miniature throne room, perhaps.
Instead, it was simply a room.
A fine room, certainly. Carved chairs, tall windows, polished wood, maps, candles and a large table.
But still a room.
That felt important.
The Seven Kingdoms were governed from a table.
Not a throne.
Men entered gradually.
I recognized only some of them.
My father arrived early.
He looked at me once.
Nothing more.
But I remembered everything he'd said.
Listen.
Remember.
Who agrees.
Who remains silent.
What they want.
I stood near the wall with the wine.
Then Aerys arrived.
Everyone rose.
The king's almost-white silver-gold hair caught the sunlight from the windows. Against it, his purple eyes seemed even stranger.
"Sit."
Everyone did.
I remained standing.
The meeting began.
And for the first ten minutes, I understood almost nothing.
Taxes.
Harbor fees.
Repairs.
Appointments.
A disagreement involving land somewhere in the Reach.
A request from a lord whose name I immediately forgot.
I had expected secrets.
Plots.
Perhaps someone discussing war.
Instead, they argued about money.
I almost laughed.
Lord Damon would have loved it.
Then I remembered his ledgers.
The injured miners.
Everything costs something.
Perhaps this was exactly what ruling looked like.
Just on a larger scale.
Aerys lifted two fingers.
I moved.
Slowly.
Don't spill.
Don't overfill.
I poured.
His purple eyes briefly settled on me.
"Good."
One word.
I returned to my place.
My father never looked at me.
The discussion continued.
I began paying less attention to the subjects and more attention to the men.
Tywin rarely spoke first.
That surprised me.
He waited.
Others argued.
Then my father would ask a question.
Usually a short one.
Suddenly, the argument changed.
A lord complained that increased harbor duties would raise revenue.
Tywin asked how merchants would respond.
The lord hesitated.
Another man suggested they would simply pay.
Tywin asked why they would not use another port.
Silence.
I almost smiled.
Creylen's lesson.
Gold buys food.
Unless no one wants to sell.
A tax could produce money.
Unless it changed what people did.
I understood that.
Aerys did not seem interested in the details.
"How much will it bring?"
The master of coin gave a number.
Aerys leaned back.
"Then do it."
Tywin spoke.
"Your Grace, the projected revenue assumes trade remains unchanged."
"And why would it change?"
"Because merchants prefer keeping their coin."
Aerys smiled.
"So do Lannisters."
A few men laughed.
Tywin didn't.
The king looked pleased with himself.
I poured more wine.
There it was again.
A tiny thing.
Almost nothing.
But I saw it.
Aerys wasn't only disagreeing with Tywin.
He enjoyed disagreeing with Tywin.
That was different.
The meeting lasted almost two hours.
My arms hurt by the end.
My feet hurt too.
Being close to power, I discovered, involved a surprising amount of standing.
But I learned.
One man spoke constantly and said almost nothing.
Another barely spoke at all, yet everyone listened when he did.
A third agreed with Aerys before the king had even finished speaking.
Tywin never did that.
Sometimes he agreed.
Sometimes he didn't.
But his answer always seemed to exist before Aerys asked for it.
I began understanding why the two men had once worked so well together.
And why they no longer did.
Tywin wanted the realm governed correctly.
Aerys wanted everyone to remember that he was the one governing it.
Those things weren't always the same.
When the meeting ended, chairs scraped backward.
Men bowed.
Aerys stood.
Then he noticed me.
"Well?"
I froze.
Everyone else did too.
"Your Grace?"
"Did you learn anything?"
I could feel Tywin's attention without looking at him.
Dangerous.
A simple answer.
"Yes, Your Grace."
Aerys waited.
Apparently that wasn't enough.
"What?"
I thought quickly.
Not the harbor tax.
Definitely not the harbor tax.
"That ruling involves more numbers than I expected."
Aerys laughed.
Several councilors joined him.
Even one of the Kingsguard near the door smiled.
"Gods, Tywin. He truly is yours."
My father's expression remained unchanged.
Aerys walked past me.
Then stopped.
"Come."
I blinked.
"Your Grace?"
"You wanted to learn."
He continued through the door.
I looked at Tywin.
His face said nothing.
His eyes said everything.
Go.
So I followed the king.
Walking alone with Aerys Targaryen was not part of Maester Creylen's lessons.
Two Kingsguard followed several steps behind us, which made me feel slightly better.
Not much.
Aerys walked quickly.
"Your father has taught you accounts?"
"Some."
"History?"
"Yes."
"Swords?"
"Yes."
"Horses?"
"Yes."
Aerys glanced down at me.
"Does he permit you to enjoy anything?"
I considered defending Tywin.
Then decided that sounded dangerous too.
"I enjoy swords."
Aerys laughed.
"Of course you do."
We entered an open gallery overlooking part of the Red Keep.
The summer air was warm.
Below, men trained in a yard.
Steel rang against steel.
Aerys stopped at the railing.
For a while, he said nothing.
Then:
"Your father was different once."
That surprised me.
"Different?"
"You sound shocked."
"I've only known him as he is now."
Aerys smiled.
"Everyone believes Tywin Lannister was born with that expression."
I almost laughed.
Almost.
"He could laugh," Aerys continued. "When we were younger."
That was harder to imagine than dragons.
"You knew him well?"
Aerys looked at me strangely.
"We were friends."
Were.
I noticed the word.
He did too, perhaps.
"Your mother as well."
There it was.
Joanna.
Again.
I kept my face neutral.
"She served Queen Rhaella."
"Yes."
His voice changed slightly.
Softer.
"She was clever."
I waited.
Aerys looked toward the yard below.
"Too clever for Casterly Rock, perhaps."
Something cold moved through me.
I didn't understand what he meant.
So I remembered Tywin's lesson.
Don't reveal more than necessary.
"She liked Casterly Rock."
Aerys looked down at me.
"Did she?"
"She was happy there."
At least I thought she had been.
My memories of Joanna were warm.
Lavender.
Stories.
Her hand in my hair.
Her voice telling me to protect my siblings.
Aerys studied me for a moment.
Then smiled.
"Perhaps."
I disliked the way he said it.
Before I could think further, someone approached.
"Father."
I knew the voice before I turned.
Not because I'd heard it before.
Because there was only one boy in the Red Keep who could address Aerys that way.
Prince Rhaegar Targaryen was carrying a book.
That was the first thing I noticed.
Not a sword.
Not armor.
A book.
He was older than me, perhaps ten, with the unmistakable appearance of his house. His hair was pale silver-gold, though not quite as near-white as his father's beneath the light, and his eyes were a deep violet.
He looked nothing like the warrior prince from my memories.
Of course he didn't.
He was a child.
That realization hit harder than expected.
Rhaegar stopped when he noticed me.
Aerys gestured.
"Come. Meet Tywin's cub."
Wonderful.
Rhaegar approached.
"Tycen Lannister."
He knew my name.
"Prince Rhaegar."
I bowed.
He looked at the sword at my hip.
"You're younger than I expected."
"So are you."
Silence.
That had come out wrong.
Aerys burst out laughing.
Rhaegar blinked.
I felt heat rise in my face.
"I meant—"
"I know what you meant."
There was the faintest smile on Rhaegar's face.
Aerys clapped a hand against my shoulder.
"The lion has teeth."
I wished everyone would stop making lion references.
Rhaegar glanced at his father.
"Mother is asking for you."
Aerys's amusement disappeared.
"Then she may continue asking."
Rhaegar's expression barely changed.
But I saw his fingers tighten around the book.
Interesting.
Aerys turned away from the railing.
"I have matters to attend to."
He looked at me.
"Tomorrow, cupbearer."
"Your Grace."
He left with the Kingsguard.
Rhaegar and I remained.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then he looked at me.
"You really thought I would be older?"
I sighed.
"I hoped you'd forgotten."
"I hadn't."
"I've heard a great deal about you."
"From whom?"
That was difficult.
"The maester at Casterly Rock."
"What did he say?"
"That you're serious."
Rhaegar looked offended.
"That's all?"
"And that you read too much."
That produced a real smile.
"He sounds wise."
I looked at the book in his hands.
"What are you reading?"
He turned it enough for me to see.
A history.
Of course.
"Do you like history?"
"Sometimes."
"You say 'sometimes' often."
"You've known me for a minute."
"And you've said it twice."
I liked him immediately.
That worried me.
Because I knew what happened to him.
Or at least I thought I did.
Prince Rhaegar Targaryen.
The last dragon.
The prince who would become obsessed with prophecy.
Lyanna Stark.
Robert's Rebellion.
The Trident.
Robert's hammer crushing his chest.
Except none of that existed yet.
The boy standing in front of me was ten.
He had a book under his arm.
He had just been dismissed by his father while trying to deliver a message from his mother.
That was all.
I had made the same mistake with Jaime.
With Cersei.
With Tyrion.
I had looked at children and seen their endings.
Perhaps that was another kind of blindness.
"Would you like to see the library?" Rhaegar asked.
I blinked.
"Now?"
"You said you like books."
"Some books."
"There it is again."
I smiled.
"Fine."
The Red Keep's library wasn't as impressive as Casterly Rock's in size.
At least I didn't think so.
But its contents were different.
Older.
Stranger.
Rhaegar moved between shelves as though he'd spent half his life there.
Maybe he had.
He showed me histories of the Targaryen kings.
Accounts of Aegon's Conquest.
Old texts about Valyria.
That caught my attention.
"Dragons?"
Rhaegar looked at me.
"You like dragons?"
Who didn't?
"Yes."
He pulled out a book.
It was enormous.
"You won't like this one."
"Why?"
"Half of it is breeding records."
I stared at him.
"Dragon breeding records?"
"Yes."
"I take back what I said. I definitely want that one."
Rhaegar laughed.
For a moment, everything felt normal.
Two boys looking at books.
Then I remembered that I was talking to Rhaegar Targaryen.
Future prince.
Future warrior.
Future corpse.
I pushed the thoughts away.
Not yet.
The future had no right to own him yet.
Rhaegar opened another book.
"Do you believe they could return?"
"Dragons?"
He nodded.
I knew the answer.
Yes.
I had seen them.
Daenerys would hatch three.
Drogon.
Rhaegal.
Viserion.
But that was decades away.
And perhaps now it wouldn't happen at all.
"I don't know."
Rhaegar seemed disappointed.
"Most maesters say no."
"What do you think?"
He looked toward the window.
"I think men call things impossible when they've forgotten how they happened."
That was a surprisingly good answer for a ten-year-old.
I looked down at the page.
A dragon stretched across it in faded ink.
Something stirred in my chest.
Not recognition.
Nothing supernatural.
Just fascination.
At least, that was what I told myself.
Tywin was waiting when I returned to my chambers.
That was rarely a good sign.
"You were with the prince."
"Yes."
"Why?"
"He showed me the library."
Tywin studied me.
"And before that?"
I told him.
Not every word.
But most.
The council.
Aerys asking what I'd learned.
The walk.
The conversation.
Joanna.
At that, Tywin's expression hardened.
"What did the king say about your mother?"
"That you were different when you were young. That she was clever."
"Anything else?"
"That perhaps she was too clever for Casterly Rock."
Tywin went completely still.
I'd seen that before.
In the throne room.
"Father?"
"Do not discuss your mother with the king."
"Why?"
"Because I told you not to."
Not good enough.
But I knew pushing would get me nowhere.
"All right."
"And Prince Rhaegar?"
"We talked about books."
"Nothing else?"
"Dragons."
Tywin almost looked relieved.
"Good."
I frowned.
"Why is that good?"
"Because boys discussing dragons are less dangerous than princes discussing politics."
Fair.
He turned toward the door.
"Father."
He looked back.
"Was King Aerys telling the truth?"
"About what?"
"You laughing."
For perhaps two seconds, Tywin Lannister simply stared at me.
Then he left.
I stood there smiling.
That was definitely a yes.
That night, I began a new habit.
I couldn't write everything down.
Too dangerous.
If someone found a seven-year-old's notes describing the weaknesses and ambitions of the most powerful men in Westeros, questions would follow.
So instead, I made lists in my head.
Aerys.
Wanted respect.
Enjoyed challenging Tywin.
Disliked being corrected.
Drank more when irritated.
Remembered Joanna too clearly.
Tywin.
Spoke late.
Asked questions instead of making speeches.
Cared about outcomes more than praise.
Hated Aerys speaking about Mother.
Rhaegar.
Quiet.
Observant.
Loved books.
Loved history.
Interested in dragons.
Different around his father.
I stopped.
Three people.
Three sets of wants.
Three sets of weaknesses.
Ser Harys's voice returned to me.
Don't watch the sword.
Watch the shoulder.
Watch the feet.
Watch where the weight moves.
People were the same.
Words were the sword.
What they wanted was the shoulder.
What they feared was the foot.
That was where movement began.
I lay back and stared at the ceiling.
This morning, I had thought being a cupbearer meant standing quietly and pouring wine.
I had been wrong.
It gave me a place beside power where nobody expected me to possess any.
That made me dangerous.
Or it might, someday.
For now, I was still seven.
My feet hurt.
My arms hurt.
Tomorrow I would probably spill wine eventually.
And Rhaegar had already caught me saying something stupid.
Good.
I needed reminders like that.
Because the greatest danger wasn't that I knew too little.
It was believing I knew more than I did.
I closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, I would listen again.
Watch.
Learn.
Wait.
The opening would come later.