"Know your role. As your responsibilities shift, so must you."
The city below was a hive of bustling activity. Merchants peddled their wares in overcrowded squares, with the less fortunate ones setting up stalls in adjacent streets. Builders set about constructing the next tower of residential housing, soaring above the heavily patrolled slums of Fleabottom. Shops had begun to sprawl out from their original foundations to combine with the houses around them as the more successful artisans expanded.
And all of their work paused, if only momentarily, as the sound of triumph tore through the air.
Well, mayhaps not triumph, but it was the sound of a returning dragon, and one with a very pleased rider. There was plenty of reason to be pleased, after all. The key to peace, to ending this war, to victory, was about to be delivered to the Small Council.
We soared through the skies, flying low so the people below might see us both, so the people might know that we had returned safe and sound. Our roar cut through the air once more as we turned toward the seven-towered castle of red stone where we could finally put finish this-
Another roar interrupted our thoughts. Louder, deeper. From a larger dragon.
Fear.
That hard-earned bond between us began to fray as we fought against the urge to turn and flee. Twisting our head, we saw a familiar bronze behemoth placidly gliding through the air, approaching from the north, roaring a greeting.
The greater half nearly mewled like a scared kitten before reason reasserted itself and we answered with a roar of our own.
Vhagar meant no harm. If she meant to rip our flesh, tear our throat, slash our wings, break our bones, roast us from within-
She was bonded to the dear kin of our lesser half. That was not an aggressive approach.
Even as our mind tore at itself as it grappled with the choice of fleeing for safety, we maintained our course. The bronze beast grew closer and closer but made no aggressive moves, but her movement remained calm and unhurried. Before too long, she began to circle the city, clearly only flying for the sake of flying instead of breaking us, hunting us, killing and eating-
The panicked thoughts did not recede until after we made our landing in one of the many courtyards of the Red Keep. But even there, the fear did not leave our mind. Though the presence of the bronze beast did not follow us, there was the scent of a new threat- of two threats.
Smaller than Vhagar, but still larger. Each was near as large as we were, but there were two of them. But these were on the ground. Calm. Docile. Secured far from us. No reason to fear, or so half of us asserted.
Even so, our landing was not graceful. It was the rushed movement of a fleeing prey, coming down hard and suddenly to throw off pursuit. We never came to a halt so much as we prepared to throw ourselves back into the sky at a moment's notice.
I undid the chains that bound me to the Cannibal, and slid from his neck, holding tight to one of the many horns that grew from his jaw as I landed. Looking up, I could see those crazed pupils still narrowed, venomous green orbs still looking to the sky where Vhagar circled.
"Cannibal," I addressed the dragon, and those eyes temporarily flickered to my face before returning to the skies. "Wait here before you fly back. Just one minute."
The beast growled at me, but assented, his tail flicking back and forth nervously. Working quickly, I undid a series of latches and straps that held a large, suspiciously person-sized bundle, and threw it over my shoulder. It squirmed a bit as it settled, but that was all.
"There," I said. "Back to your lair, Cannibal. I'll send food."
Of course, that last command was unnecessary. He roared in his usual, nearly deafening, manner and returned to the skies to run away. Yes, he was still craven, massively so, but he was getting better.
But only when we flew, not alone.
Oh well, that was something to ponder later. For now, there were more important things to handle. Thus began my long walk to the Small Council chambers, through a mostly empty keep. Well, it was the hottest part of the day. Being active in the afternoon was a fool's errand. All it meant was that I could find my way in relative peace and quiet.
As much peace and quiet as a prince and (temporary) Hand of the (momentarily indisposed) King could get, at least. Curse that new title of mine, demanding that I deal with this work instead of seeing my wife.
Eventually, however, I did make it to the Small Council chambers carrying a person-sized bundle. Truth be told, it was less a bundle and more a large, fur-lined bag, further stuffed with a wool cloth, long and narrow. But that was cumbersome to think about, let alone say, and invited questions about its contents. Thus, it remained a bundle.
Before I even opened the door, I could hear the shouting.
"…rates are fine!" I heard Lord Tyrell exclaim even through the heavy wooden door. "No adjustment is necessary!"
Oh goodness, another shouting match among the Small Council? What are the odds?
"How long have they been shouting?" I asked the knight on duty.
"Almost since they started," Ser Pate responded. "Please enter, Your Grace. See if you cannot get them to get along."
"Once the campaign in the Stepstones is done and the pirates removed, trade will only increase," Corlys argued just as passionately as I chose that moment to make my entrance. As I had guessed, and as Ser Pate had confirmed, most of my peers were indeed arguing quite passionately, save for Braxton and Elysar. "A drop in duties and tariffs will compound that and prove that we are not replacing extortion with extortion!"
"We are at war, Lord Velaryon," Aemon pointed out. "We need all the coin we can get."
"Why is it that whenever I leave, you people start arguing?" I interrupted their argument. "And my vote is with Corlys. Lower tariffs will stimulate trade." Was it premature? Mayhaps, but I heard lower taxes and that was all I needed to hear.
"We don't need to stimulate trade. The Stepstones are the most reliable way of sailing between Westeros and Essos. Traders will be glad to pay a little more for a safer route," Aemon shot back, before realizing that I had joined the conversation. "Wait, Vaegon? When did you get back from the Stepstones?"
"Just now," I said, gently setting down my bundle. "There was no reason to linger. The western Stepstones are ours, thanks to Lord Greyjoy. He provided a lovely gift, too, though we need to work towards permanently securing the islands."
"I would have expected you to send a runner to inform us of this as soon as you landed," Aemon chided as I undid the clasps and buckles keeping the bundle closed. "As to this gift, I presume you mean whatever you are carrying?"
"Correct," I said, opening the bundle wide before giving its contents a good nudge. Without warning, the disheveled form of the Princess of Dorne shot up into a seated position, skin heavily flushed from what must have been stiflingly hot accommodations. The sudden appearance made the rest of the Small Council start in surprise, with Elysar cursing loudly enough to make the knight standing guard outside throw open the door to check, but I quickly dismissed him. "It is nothing, Ser Pate. My lords, the Princess of Dorne."
"A gift," Lord Tyrell muttered before chuckling. "The head of House Martell delivered to us, and he describes it as a mere gift."
"We also need to confirm Lord Greyjoy's holdings," I mentioned as though it were an additional detail instead of the expansion of one of the Seven Kingdoms. "Or at least discuss it, so long as someone other than me breaks the news."
"My lords," the princess pulled herself up on unsteady legs. Were it not for the fine make of her clothes, clearly featuring the speared sun of House Martell, as well as the signet ring I had taken from her, it would have been easy to mistake her for a commoner. "I have come here to negotiate peace."
"Surrender," I corrected, earning a glare that she was even less capable of giving than the last time.
"If that is the price of peace, then so be it," she managed to grind out.
Aemon blinked several times as if he struggled to comprehend what was happening.
"Then the previous topic can wait while we handle this," he said.
"Why wait?" Braxton chimed in. "Since I was in favor of Corlys' idea, and Vaegon is as well, it seems to me that we have already made a decision."
Again, Aemon paused, this time looking more annoyed than surprised.
"Have a seat Vaegon," he said at last. Part of me wanted to protest, wanted to visit Maegelle, but I acceded to his instructions. "Princess Martell, I suppose my brother has spoken of the terms of your surrender?"
"He threatened to break Dorne," she answered before looking around the chamber. "Should His Grace the King not be taking part in these negotiations?"
"He is busy with other duties," Aemon deflected. "We shall handle the negotiations in his place."
Though her features remained well-masked, I could see her eyes widening fractionally. Yes, I supposed this was the part where she remembered antagonizing me.
...
Hey guys I really need you to throw some power stones to elevate the ranking :)
...
If you want to read ahead of the public release, or just want to support me.
you can join my p atreon :
p@treon.com/Nolma