Chapter 15: Targaryens, Rulers of the Vale
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When we return to Sharp Point there is jubilation in the air. The invasions have been repelled and I have ascended in power. I immediately order that a feast be held, both to shore up my standing and to help forge connections I previously could not aim at. My second order is to ransom Lord Wallace for seventy gold coins; a sizable sum, but one he can meet. He has done me no particular harm aside from resisting, and anyway I need the money. This will do as a compromise between mercy and profit.
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Apparently, Aelix has been indiscreet. One of the courtiers, Unella Arrecstone, has given birth to a daughter widely believed to be his. I cannot fathom what she offers him that Visenya could not, but I have no time to worry myself about this bastard girl for the time being.
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The feast was a huge success, and I hear tell that talk of it is spreading far and wide. It was the very paragon of a noble feast, with grand dishes and superb wine, skilled musicians and entertainers who were, believe it or not, truly funny.
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In trying to train Aegor and turn him into a more formidable knight, there has been an accident. Although I warned him that the next sparring bout would be a serious one, he did not display the needed attention or discipline. The result was that one of my strikes knocked his sword from his hand and carried on to cut him across the face. Not a serious wound, but it will leave a scar. Perhaps it will impress upon him the importance of taking his training more seriously, too.
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When diplomacy fails and force cannot be used, a few coins in the right place can make the difference. I bribe Septon Jarmon of the Iron Throne and secure his loyalty, at least for the time being. More important than being Septon is that he is Alaric’s Master of Whisperers. Short of getting that role for myself, bribing the man who holds it is as good an amount of control as I can expect.
I have awarded Lord Wallace the title of High Almoner. It’s something of a sinecure, but then sinecures exist for good reason, and I hope between my mercy and my favor I will dissolve any notion he might have of rebellion. Likely he would be no threat, but it could be inconvenient nonetheless.
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It would be prudent to do something, one way or another, about the newborn heir to the throne, Prince Trebor. Still, it may be imprudent to simply dispose of him, and at the same time I do not wish to risk reducing my position as Master of Laws if a regent changes the Small Council. Another method might prove valuable.
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By the Old Gods and the New, Winter is coming to an end! I had forgotten that such a thing could occur. This winter has lasted eight or nine years now, and it has affected most of the world. Nevermind Dorne, I have read reports saying that Volantis, Yunkai, Qarth, even Asshai have been locked in the grip of winter these past years. This is supported by the ever-increasing prices of food imports from foreign lands. The North has been all but paralyzed since putting down Jarl’s invasion, frozen in a winter of unmatched harshness. Fortunately, that harshness has remained north of The Twins. Times here are hard, but just about endurable. They say there hasn’t been a winter like it in over a hundred years, and I am not inclined to disagree. It will be good to feel the warmth of spring and summer once again.
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My plot has gone off without a hitch. Whilst being taken to a retreat in order to recuperate from some illness or another, the infant Prince Trebor is kidnapped and bundled away to my dungeon. Alaric has no idea it was me.
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It seems that my son has taken a page from my own book. Entirely without my knowledge he has gathered the evidence and support needed to convince many lords and ladies that Alaric is no trueborn son at all, and much of the realm considers him a bastard. How many bastards does that make on the Throne now? Three? Four? I’ve lost count. I think since Stannis died, only Jonquil has been believed to be trueborn.
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The Maesters were right. Winter has finally, finally lifted here in Sharp Point, and the peasants can get back to proper farming instead of the hardscrabble work to survive they had grown used to. I pray that we are granted a summer at least as long as the winter which has just passed.
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Oh. Well. This is unfortunate. Young Lord Trebor has died in my dungeons. The illness, whatever it was, claimed his life. Perhaps I should have let him continue to his destination? No great loss, if truth be told. Alaric recently had a daughter, and the confusion about Trebor’s disappearance combined with the prospects of a female heir have sewn yet more discord in the royal court. With the war with The Vale coming to a close, the time for my advancement may be almost at hand.
Joyous news! Aelix and Visenya have had a son. He will be second in line to the throne after Aelix himself, and this security is welcome. I am also pleased by the fact that it was Visenya, and not some harlot courtier, who bore Aelix this child. The child is named Baelor.
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The Vale is now defeated, her armies broken. All over a single holding. For the first time in over ten years the Realm is at peace, and I may be the one to shatter that peace soon enough. It is a heavy burden, but only the Targaryens can save Westeros from its many enemies within and without. More pressing is the fact that, now that we are again at peace with The Vale, Lady Paramount Margaery is eligible for betrothal. As my son Aegor has no wife, and has indeed brought the matter up with me, I am eager to propose this betrothal.
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A short while later a raven returns from The Eyrie: Acceptance. Aegor will become a powerful man in The Vale and, one day, his children - Targaryens - will become rulers of The Vale.
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