RHAEGAR
"Your Grace."
The voice greeted Rhaegar as he turned the corridor towards the east of Maegor's Holdfast. It was a bright morning in King's Landing, the kind of morning that usually made poets write songs about eternal spring.
Rhaegar turned and saw Jaime Lannister standing there. The young man, his brother-in-law, looked very different from Rhaegar's own mood. Jaime wore simple all-black clothes, a tunic that fit his body, with a thick leather bag hanging from his shoulder. His face was fresh, his eyes bright green, and his posture radiated unstoppable energy.
"Jaime," Rhaegar smiled thinly. "You look very bright. Has something amazing happened lately without me noticing? Or are you just happy to see the sun?"
Jaime nodded, grinning broadly. "Yes, Your Grace. I do have good news, but that can wait. I came to report everything I have noted this week. Schools, sewers, and workers."
Rhaegar sighed softly, his shoulders slumping slightly under his silk cloak.
"You open the day with salt instead of sugar, do you?" joked Rhaegar. "Come, let us go to my solar. It is not pleasant to discuss heavy matters like this while walking in an open corridor. The walls here have ears, and the wind carries voices too far."
"Walking has its own advantages, Your Grace," argued Jaime lightly, stepping beside the King. "That is, you can feel a different atmosphere. Sea breeze, sunlight unobstructed by glass, and the sound of birds. It refreshes the lungs."
"Yes," answered Rhaegar quietly, his eyes staring out the arched window they passed. Out there, the world looked so free. "Which makes me unfocused, and feel like leaving my duties very much. Seeing birds fly only reminds me that I am tied to the ground."
They walked in silence for a moment until they reached the wooden door leading to the King's Solar. The guard opened the door, and Rhaegar stepped into his 'cage'.
This was the room he visited every day, from sunrise until late at night. His life lately always revolved between these four stone walls, behind a desk full of stacks of paper. He rarely spent time outside except for important matters like court sessions or religious ceremonies.
His mother, Rhaella, and his friends like Arthur often said he should rest. "Take leave, Rhaegar. Go hunting. Play your harp."
He had tried. Truly. But every time he tried to put down the quill and pick up the harp, shadows of the entire kingdom immediately entered his mind. All of it haunted him. The sense of responsibility was like an iron chain wrapped around his neck.
It made him uneasy, and that was bad. Rhaegar knew a stressed king was a king prone to making mistakes. But he didn't know what else to do. He couldn't be his father who ignored everything; he had to be the opposite of Aerys.
Rhaegar sat in his hard chair, gesturing for Jaime to take the seat opposite him.
"So," Rhaegar began, trying to focus his foggy mind. "We start from what you want to talk about first then. How about the schools? Is everything running smoothly?"
Schools. That was a safe topic. As far as Rhaegar last heard, it was the best project he could imagine. Something pure, constructive, and involving no death or filth. Hearing children starting to make significant progress always made his heart warm and feel a little lighter.
Jaime opened his leather bag, taking out a notebook with a thick leather cover. He opened it, flipping through pages full of neat handwriting and rough sketches.
"The children learn fast, Your Grace," reported Jaime, his tone changing to professional yet remaining relaxed. "They are like dry cloth thrown into water. They absorb everything. They also do not complain about the various new lessons we give. The teachers we trained are also patient enough in dealing with every student who cannot sit still or keeps shouting for permission to go to the privy."
Rhaegar smiled, imagining that small chaos. "Good. Most children are indeed quite troublesome to care for. I remember Viserys... he liked to run around here and there just to pick up a toy he threw himself. He would scream, laugh, then cry on his own in a matter of minutes. It gave my mother a headache, and the nursemaids almost gave up."
That memory brought a little warmth to Rhaegar's eyes. Viserys was a wild child, but he was his brother.
"I will just pray to the Seven," continued Rhaegar, his voice softening, "may Aegon be at least a little calmer than his uncle."
Jaime chuckled, closing his book for a moment with a finger marking the page.
"He does look like you already, Rhaegar," said Jaime. "Calm. Observant. When I hummed a little, a silly song about a bear, he stared at me. And by the Seven, he followed me humming. Baby sounds, of course, but the tone... he followed it."
Rhaegar was stunned. His silver brows raised high. "He did that?"
"Yes," Jaime nodded confidently. "It was clearly heard."
Rhaegar felt a sharp stab in his chest. Not physical pain, but emotional pain. Disappointment for missing that moment mixed with strong guilt. He rarely held the child. He was rarely in the nursery. He was too busy being King that he forgot to be a Father.
"He has your talent, it seems," added Jaime, smiling proudly. "He might become a musician in the future."
"That would be fun to see," Rhaegar laughed, but the laugh sounded a little fragile. "A King who can sing better than shout. Westeros needs that."
Rhaegar looked down, staring at his own hand holding the quill. I must make time, he promised himself. Tonight. I will see him tonight.
Jaime, who seemed to notice Rhaegar's mood change, cleared his throat softly and turned another page in his book. Back to business. Salt after sugar.
"For the sewers, Your Grace," Jaime began, his voice returning to serious. "We have obtained many additional workers. News of fair daily wages has spread. They keep increasing all over King's Landing, coming from slum settlements and refugee tents."
"Do we have enough tools for them?" asked Rhaegar.
"Barely enough, but the city blacksmiths work overtime making shovels and pickaxes," answered Jaime. "The filth accumulating for decades in the main trenches... most has been dug out. The smell is terrible, Rhaegar, you are lucky not to have to smell it. But it has been removed, transported out of the city, and replaced by a compacted clay base layer."
Jaime pointed to a diagram in his book.
"We keep maintaining the initial design. V-shape at the bottom for fast flow. The workers, especially those who were farmers and used to hoeing, have started to become proficient in following orders. Foremen I trained are starting to be able to be left alone."
"How many?" asked Rhaegar.
"How many what?"
"How many people do we employ now in those trenches?"
"About one thousand two hundred people, in rotating shifts," answered Jaime without looking at notes. "And about five hundred more in the cement works and material transport."
Rhaegar leaned back, exhaling a long breath. "One thousand seven hundred stomachs that can eat because of your wages. That... that is a good start. Very good. It reduces pressure on the soup kitchens."
"Correct. But that also means large treasury expenditure every week," reminded Jaime. "We must quickly build the jobs you approved before."
"Yes.... you are doing an extraordinary job, Jaime," said Rhaegar sincerely. "Truly. I do not know what I would do without you. Perhaps I would drown in a pile of complaints about feces and hunger."
Jaime grinned, typical Lannister style. "Well, someone has to ensure this capital does not drown in its own filth before my nephew is big enough to rule it. Consider this a very large and very smelly gift for Aegon."
Rhaegar laughed freely this time. "A strange gift. But very appreciated."
Jaime Lannister, who had just closed his notebook, changed his posture. His shoulders tensed slightly, and the relaxed expression he showed earlier when talking about Aegon faded.
"Is there further report regarding the bandits attacking those villages, Your Grace?" asked Jaime, his voice low. "Last time I heard, Ser Jonothor was chasing without result."
Rhaegar sighed a long sigh, leaning his back against the hard wooden chair. Bandits. Another thorn in the flesh of his reign.
"Yes," answered Rhaegar. "We received a raven last night."
Rhaegar took a small parchment scroll from the stack on his desk and handed it to Jaime.
"One of their leaders has been captured by Ser Jonothor Darry in a dawn ambush in the hills near Acorn Hall. It is a victory, of course. But what they found there..." Rhaegar shook his head, his eyes gazing far away. "The group numbered approximately two hundred and fifty men. Some died in battle, but most surrendered."
"And now they are being marched here, under heavy guard," continued Rhaegar. "But what makes me uneasy, Jaime... according to Jonothor's report, most of them are not mercenaries or criminals. They are former farmers. Their hands are rough from holding hoes. They are not even that skilled at swinging their stolen weapons."
Rhaegar massaged his temples. That fact hurt. His own people, the people he should protect, now took up arms out of desperation. Other bandits, splinter groups, had not been found, but Rhaegar had also sent other teams and asked for full cooperation from Riverlands Lords to hunt the rest.
"What do you want to do with them when they arrive?" asked Jaime, putting the parchment back on the table. "The rest of those 'bandits'?"
Rhaegar stared at the map of King's Landing spread on the wall. He thought of the big projects Jaime was working on. Trenches needing digging. Stones needing breaking.
"We need a lot of manpower to build roads and sewers, do we not?" Rhaegar proposed an idea that had been spinning in his head since last night. "What if we employ them? We can give them forced labor sentences. They build roads, we feed them. That is more productive than letting them rot in cells or beheading two hundred heads."
There was silence for a moment. Rhaegar hoped Jaime would agree, Jaime was always pragmatic about labor. However, Jaime shook his head firmly. His face hard.
"No, Your Grace. We cannot do that. Even if they were poor farmers before."
"Why?" Rhaegar frowned. "Didn't you say we are short of people to dig hard ground in Flea Bottom?"
"Correct. But think of the impact," said Jaime, leaning forward. "We are already troubled enough taking care of the honest unemployed here. People willing to work hard for fair wages. If we let those murderers and looters get jobs, even if the status is forced labor and only given food, the people who haven't got jobs will be angry."
Jaime looked into Rhaegar's eyes sharply.
"They will see that to get a full stomach under King Rhaegar's rule, you have to become a bandit first. It will trigger jealousy. Those starving will see those criminals eating royal bread, and they will ask: 'Why should I obey the law if criminals are treated better?'. Then they will rebel. We will create enemies from our own allies."
"You are right," muttered Rhaegar. "Justice must look just to those who obey the law."
"Exactly," said Jaime. "For now, we have no other choice. We can immediately send them directly to the Wall. The Night's Watch is always short of manpower. There, they will get food, purpose, and discipline. And they will be far from here, where their anger cannot burn the city."
Rhaegar laughed softly, a dry voice without humor.
"The Wall," he said. "It seems they will get thousands of new recruits this year. The Night's Watch will become the largest army in Westeros if this continues."
"Indeed," agreed Jaime. Silence fell between them again.
"We will get through this, Rhaegar," said Jaime suddenly, his voice softer, dropping formality for a moment. "You are a good king. Do not let doubt eat you."
Rhaegar stared at the Lannister youth. There was sincerity in his green eyes.
"We can only pray and try, Jaime. Humans are created for that," Rhaegar sighed tiredly, but there was a little relief in his heart. "I just hope this goes faster. But no, humans cannot play with time... Everything takes process."
Rhaegar twisted the ring on his finger, then asked about something bothering him.
"Lannisport," he said. "Lannisport and the Westerlands do not have refugee and bandit problems as severe as King's Landing and the Riverlands, do they? Reports from your uncle, Kevan, always show stability."
Jaime nodded. "We prepared early regarding this matter, Your Grace. My father... he listened to me, fortunately. Before we introduced those tools massively, we had built manufactories. We had prepared replacement jobs for farmers who would be displaced."
Jaime smiled wryly, a slightly cynical smile.
"This one is hard to imitate by other Lords, especially greedy ones. They see tools and only see gold savings. They fire their workers without thinking where those people will go. They just throw away most of their workers like trash, and now they are surprised that trash catches fire."
Rhaegar nodded, understanding that fatal difference. Vision. The Lannisters had vision, while others only had greed. Then, Rhaegar decided he had heard enough about problems, bandits, and sewers for one morning. He needed something else. He needed the light Jaime brought when entering earlier.
Rhaegar leaned forward, grinning a little, trying to recall his more relaxed side.
"Enough talking about this. My head is dizzy enough," said Rhaegar. "Earlier you said there was something amazing. Your face shone like the sun earlier, and I know it was not because you were excited to check feces in the sewer. What is your happy news? It makes me curious."
Jaime's face changed instantly. Political tension melted, replaced by a smile so wide and sincere it made Rhaegar almost jealous. It was the smile of a man who felt complete.
"Catelyn," said Jaime, mentioning his wife's name with a tone full of affection. "She is with child, Rhaegar. Maester Baelin confirmed it yesterday afternoon."
Rhaegar's eyes widened. For a moment, he was not King, and Jaime was not just his subordinate. They were just two young men, two brothers-in-law.
"With child?" Rhaegar smiled, a smile that reached his eyes this time. "Really? That... that is extraordinary news, Jaime! Congratulations!"
"Thank you," Jaime chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly but happily. "I am going to be a father. It feels... terrifying, but also extraordinary."
"A child," muttered Rhaegar, his mind drifting for a moment to Aegon in the nursery. "Children bring hope, Jaime. Amidst all this chaos... they are the reason we do all this."
Rhaegar stood up, walked around the table, and patted Jaime's shoulder firmly.
"May the Seven Gods bless him with health," said Rhaegar. "A small lion to accompany my small dragon. They will grow together, Jaime. Like us."
"Yes," answered Jaime. "They will have a better world than we inherited."
Rhaegar nodded. "That is our promise, and we will keep it."
...
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