The private chambers still smelled of damp stone and old smoke, though the brazier had been stoked until its glow chased the worst of the chill from the corners. Vaelaris stood by the window, his fingers tracing the embroidered eyes of the heavy curtain—silver thread on black velvet.
Beyond the glass, King's Landing sprawled beneath a sky the colour of wet ash. A knock sounded at the door. "Prince Vaelaris. The king requests your presence." Vaelaris turned from the window. "At this hour?"
"The council has been summoned, my prince and its Urgent." Vaelaris reached for his cloak.
.
.
The council chamber had been summoned in haste. The long oak table was already crowded when Jaehaerys arrived. Rogar Baratheon stood near the hearth, arms folded across his chest.
Queen Mother Alyssa sat beside Grand Maester Benifer, while Rhaena lingered near the windows, her gaze fixed upon the dark city beyond. Vaelaris stood apart from the others. As always.
Maps of the Crownlands lay spread across the table, weighted down by daggers and inkpots. Rogar Baratheon's voice cut through the quiet. "Lord Harte of Bar Harbor has refused the king's summons. His steward claims he's taken ill. Vaelaris didn't turn. "Illness is a convenient excuse."
"Or a warning." Rogar's boots scraped against the rug as he paced. "The ravens flew at dawn. Stokeworth bent the knee. Massey sent his heir. Even Bar Emmon, that sniveling rat, has sworn his oaths. But Harte—" He stopped, his shadow falling across the map spread on the table.
Benifer cleared his throat. "Aye, Your Grace. Lord Harte's steward was truthful in one regard—he is at Bar Harbor. But not alone. " He tapped the map. "A septon was seen entering the keep two nights past. Not one of ours. A Poor Fellow or Warrior's son, by the look of him. And there are others. Men-at-arms in unfamiliar livery. Smallfolk gathering in the woods beyond the village. "Rogar's mouth twisted. "Rebels."
"He's the first to break. And he's not alone." Alyssa sat stiff in her chair, her fingers still now, the silver rings on them catching the firelight. "You think this is organised."
"I think men have been whispering since the day the crown touched Jaehaerys' brow."
"And after the realm watched a Kingsguard lose his head in the throne room." Rogar's gaze swept across the table. "And now every lord from Duskendale to Massey's Hook is asking the same question." No one spoke. "How much of the kingdom belongs to the king..."
His eyes settled on Vaelaris. "...and how much belongs to his brother?"
"Or opportunists." Alyssa's voice was calm, but her fingers tightened around the armrests of her chair. "Men who see weakness and think to profit from it." Rogar's hand hovered over the map, over the patchwork of green and gold that marked the Crownlands. "Bar Harbor's less than a day's ride with dragons from here. If we don't answer this now, others will take it as permission."
Jaehaerys finally spoke. His eyes held no warmth. "Then we answer." Rogar's jaw tightened. "With what? You cannot ride Vermithor into battle. You are the king. Your place is here."
"And Silverwing's rider is Alysanne," Alyssa added. "She is still too young for war."
We don't need to have dragons to remind a lord where his loyalty lies." Rogar said Rhaena lifted her head. "I can ride Dreamfyre." Alyssa's gaze flicked between them. "You're suggesting you go yourself." asked Jaehaerys.
"I am suggesting we take a detachment of five hundred men. A banner. and Rhaena along with her dragon." He let the name hang in the air. "If Harte sees a Targaryen on his doorstep, he'll remember what it means to defy the throne." Rogar exhaled sharply. "You're not a kingsguard. You're not even a sworn sword. You're—" king's hand." Vaelaris' tone didn't change, but the words carried weight.
Vaelaris looked at Jaehaerys "You still think this is a simple matter?" He didn't look up from the map. "I think if we send just an army, we look afraid. If we send a prince, we look strong."
Rogar scoffed. "Strong? Or reckless?" "Both can be useful." Vaelaris said lifting his gaze. "Fear is a tool, Rogar. You know that."Rogar's hand went to his sword hilt. "I know that men who play with fire get burned."
Jaeharys said "You want to fly there on dragonback." Vaelaris did not blink. "I do." Rogar laughed bitterly. "Of course you do."
The room fell silent.
"You solved one problem with a sword in the throne room. Now you think you'll solve another with dragonfire." Vaelaris' expression never changed. "And what would you do?"
"Politics. Gather the neighboring lords. Isolate Harte. Remind him that rebellion is a lonely business."
"Politics brought us here." The brazier hissed. Jaehaerys stood up, his crown a circlet of iron and gold, his face pale beneath it. He looked older than his years, the weight of the realm already carving lines around his mouth."
He glanced at Vaelaris. "You think we should ride out." didn't hesitate. "I think if we let this stand, the next refusal won't be from a minor lord in the Crownlands. "It'll be from someone with a keep and a host."
"Why must it be you?"
"Vaelaris met his brother's gaze. "Because I understand what it means to be feared.
"And because I will not ask men to bleed where I am unwilling to stand myself and let there be useless sacrifices" Jaehaerys studied him, then turned to Rogar. "You disagree? "his hand flexed at his side. "I disagree with sending a prince to do a knight's work. Let me take the men or even make an army of 500 soldiers along with knights and Let me remind Harte where his oaths lie."
Jaehaerys spoke after some time, he knew he has inherited a broken realm and now he had to decide how to keep it together. His voice was calm. Yet for the first time, no one interrupted him. His gaze moved from Rogar to Vaelaris. "But Lord Harte is testing the Crown." He straightened. "And it is the Crown that will answer."
No one spoke.
The decision had been made. His eyes settled upon Vaelaris. Rogar's face darkened. "Your Grace, this is reckless. Rhaena's has not that many combat experiences, she is not a soldier. And Vaelaris—" He stopped himself, as if realising he'd gone too far.
The room grew still. Alyssa's voice cut through the silence. "Enough." Her violet eyes settled upon Rogar. "The king has spoken. Vaelaris along with Rhaena will ride their dragons and Ser Joffrey Doggett will lead a detachment of 500 soldiers. "
No one argued further.
"The question now is how we ensure this doesn't spread." Benifer nodded. "The ravens have already flown. Stokeworth, Massey, Bar Emmon—they've all sworn their oaths. If we move swiftly, we can contain this before it grows." Jaehaerys exhaled. "Then we move swiftly." He turned to Vaelaris. "Take what you need.
But—" He hesitated. "Be careful and try to first make them surrender instead of a bloodbath if possible, Brother" Vaelaris nodded. "I will."
Rogar's eyes narrowed. "And if Harte resists?" Vaelaris' gaze didn't waver. "Then Lord Harte will discover the cost of defiance."
Jaehaerys turned towards the door. "Grand Maester Benifer will have the orders drawn up. They ride at dawn."
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A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter of A Prince of Ash and Fire!
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