Chapter XVI: Targaryen's Folly
I sat at the Painted Table, staring out across the Narrow Sea, hoping beyond hope to see a ship bearing the three-headed dragon, a ship bearing my father. But it was a vain hope.
That damned Tourney. I don't know what came over my father, but it seemed he was determined to make it worse than the one at Harrenhall. The guests had jousted, fought, and feasted, and they all waited with baited breath for the great King Rhaegar to deliver his speech. The silence afterwards was the result of no great oratory skill. I was disowned and exiled to Dragonstone, and my brother was given Blackfyre.
The court was in chaos, and questions bombarded Father. But it seemed he had no interest in answering them, for a mere month later he up and left for distant Asshai, taking half the Royal Fleet with him. Why he went to Asshai is a complete mystery. There was nothing of value there, and it stank of him abandoning his responsibilities.
The realm held its breath, waiting for Father. It was balanced on the edge of a knife, and the only reason war had not already erupted was due to a mutual agreement between brothers to await the return of a wayward father.
When the remnants of the Royal Fleet limped back to King's Landing, it seemed as if the entire realm had been drawn to the city. Alas, the only thing the fleet brought back were more questions. The King and most of his escort had been lost at Asshai, they said. The King was dead.
The month long peace that followed was no true peace. All the realm weeped, for the king and for themselves. Father had amassed himself a tidy collection of widows, and they mourned most of all. From me and my brother, no grief could be spared. Father, in his idiocy, had left this burden on us.
A knock came at the door, and I turned. Mother was standing there. "Ah. Well, if they've arrived, usher them in." I sat down at the head of the table as Lyanna walked through the doorway, leading a motley procession. The nominal king, my brother Jon, walked in, resplendent in his attire, and after him followed by his mother. Then, Arianne stepped through the door, and after her, my uncle Viserys. He was scowling as he came in, which was no surprise, given the stupid proposal he was entertaining. Elia was the last to enter.
Characteristically, the first words came from Viserys, and they were as useless as ever. "The throne is mine by right. You're both bastards, and not true Targaryens besides." Everyone cringed at that, and two people turned to look at him - his wife, in distaste, and my brother, in amusement. "We are Targaryens, same as you. Father proclaimed as such at our births. And, forgive me if I am wrong, but in both Valyria and Westeros, son comes before brother." In a colder tone, I picked up after Jon. "Get out of here Viserys, unless you have something useful to say. The invitation was extended as a courtesy, and your presence is already wearing thin."
He puffed up and looked like he had something to say, but thankfully Arianne intervened. "Husband, why don't you leave the room." He looked at her in confusion, and Arianne decided to adopt a colder tone. "Now." Viserys looked at us in distaste, cursed us, and left.
"What are you teaching your daughter, treating your husband like that?" Lyanna asked with a slight laugh. "That she shouldn't look to her uncle as a source of inspiration." Arianne replied coolly. I cocked my head at that. "A curious statement, Aunt." She looked around, surprised at the mutual confusion. "You mean he never told you?" Elia was the first to understand, and when she did her eyes almost popped out of her head.
"You too?" Lyanna and Jorda were a bit slower than Elia, but burst into laughter upon their realization. The only confused ones were me and my brother. Jorda recovered from her laughter first. "When was this?" "The night of my wedding." Arianne replied, relaxing in her chair. This prompted another round of laughter, but did nothing for the confusion. Jon spoke first. "What is this all about?" Elia answered him in a cool tone. "My husband fucked my niece the night of her wedding. And afterwards too, it seems." "I'm surprised you didn't know Jon, especially considering you're married to my daughter." Arianne was chuckling a little at our faces. I recovered first. "Well, this is an interesting meeting. Everyone here seems to have some relation to Rhaegar's loins." This prompted another round of laughter, and an aghast Elia leaving the room.
When Jon finished chuckling, he spoke. "This has been an amusing interlude, but now we must get to the point of the meeting. Halys, do you insist on pressing your claim?" I nodded. "You were disinherited." "I was given Dragonstone." Jon replied by sliding Blackfyre a half-foot from its scabbard. "You're the better fighter." I replied in turn. Jon nodded. "Aye, that I am. Is there any wine?" "Jorda, the table behind you." "No need mother, I'll get it myself."
Jon walked over and poured five glasses before proceeding to hand them out. "Need I remind you that I sit the Iron Throne?" I shrugged. "I have the Reach." "And the North too, I think." Lyanna added, with a slight hint of annoyance and a glance towards me. Arianne downed her glass, then spoke. "My father will likely honor his blood ties. Dorne stands for my son-in-law." I took a sip. "Has the Faith chosen a side?" Jon shook his head. "Curiously not. One would think they would want to regain some power with a change in regime. Not that I'd listen to a word they say, after what they did to Father. Would you?" I shook my head. "An irrelevancy, then. Ah, yes, I also have Father's treasury." "Inconsequential, considering the scale of this conflict." Jon's eyes twinkled. "Enough gold to buy five thousand men is not 'inconsequential'." Jon grew silent. "Mothers, if you please, leave us." I nodded in agreement. They scowled at us, but left.
"A curious trio." I said. "The dragon must have three heads." I cocked my head at Jon. "One of Father's pet obsessions." He produced a letter. "I found this in our father's study. He had written it in Ghiscari. Care for me to translate?" "Of course, oh Maester." No grin split Jon's face. "Simply put, Father paid for a Faceless Man with our half-brother's life." I fell silent. "Jon, you know what this means. Father was unstable. Why do you persist then, knowing this?" Jon shook his head. "Our father was not like our grandfather, Halys. He was not mad. Granted, he was not good either." We sat in silence for a time, then I lifted my glass in toast. "Fuck Father?" Jon raised his glass in reply. "Fuck Father." We drank.
"See you on the battlefield then, brother."
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I was considering including an explanation of events now, but I decided it would be better to have it at the end.
The Bastardswar begins.