77 AC
Kings Landing
Third Person Pov
King Jaehaerys Targaryen sat at the head of the council table, his queen Alysanne at his right hand. The small council chamber in the Red Keep was bathed in morning light filtering through the tall windows, casting a golden glow across the polished surface of the table.
To the king's left sat his eldest son and heir, Prince Aemon Targaryen, the Master of Laws. His silver-gold hair was pulled back neatly, his violet eyes attentive as he reviewed the documents before him. Hand of the King Septon Barth sat nearby, his plain robes a stark contrast to the finery of the others present.
"The crown's finances continue to improve, Your Grace," Lyman Beesbury, the Master of Coin, was saying. "The reforms to customs collections at the ports have increased revenue by nearly a fifth."
Mafryd Redwyne, Master of Ships, nodded in agreement. "And with the new vessels commissioned for the royal fleet, our presence in the Narrow Sea has never been stronger."
Grand Maester Benifer clearing his throat. The elderly maester held up a small scroll, the broken seal clearly visible.
"Pardon the interruption, Your Grace, my lords," Benifer said, his chains clinking softly as he shifted in his seat. "A raven has just arrived from the North. The seal bears the direwolf sigil of House Stark."
The king's exchanged a knowing glance with Septon Barth. "No doubt regarding our new decree," he said, his voice measured and calm despite the tension that had settled over the chamber. "It was only a matter of time before Lord Stark made his thoughts known on the matter."
Grand Maester Benifer presented the scroll to King Jaehaerys with a bow. The council fell silent as the king broke the direwolf seal and read the message. With each line, his expression darkened until his face settled into a grim mask. Without comment, he passed the parchment to Queen Alysanne. Their fingers touched briefly as she took the scroll, and the council members watched tensely, noting the subtle changes in the royal couple's demeanor. Septon Barth leaned forward, Prince Aemon straightened in his seat, and Prince Baelon's hand drifted to his sword hilt as the queen's serene expression gave way to one matching her husband's gravity.
"Lord Stark says the new decree granting lands south of the Wall to the Night's Watch is not in the North's interest," Queen Alysanne stated, handing the scroll back to the king. "Those fields are vital for grain production. He warns the Northern lords will be displeased and urges us to reconsider our decision." Her voice remained measured, but the concern in her eyes was unmistakable as she looked to her husband for his response.
"The North remains under the Iron Throne's rule," Septon Barth said firmly, his voice cutting through the momentary silence. His weathered hands rested flat against the table as he leaned forward slightly. "I reviewed this letter before our meeting, Your Grace. While Lord Stark's concerns are noted, the fact remains that they should do as their king commands." His eyes, sharp despite his years, moved from the king to the other council members. "We cannot allow individual kingdoms to dictate royal policy, particularly regarding matters as essential as supporting the Night's Watch."
"I concur with the Hand," Grand Maester Benifer said, the heavy chains around his neck clinking softly as he nodded. His gnarled fingers stroked his white beard thoughtfully. "The precedent would be dangerous. If we yield to the North on this matter, what message does it send to Dorne or the Iron Islands when they disagree with royal decrees?" The old maester's voice carried the weight of historical knowledge. "The Night's Watch serves the realm, and all must contribute to its maintenance, Your Grace. The Starks have traditionally understood this better than most."
Prince Aemon Targaryen cleared his throat, drawing attention to the king's left. The heir's expression was thoughtful, his violet eyes contemplative as he considered both sides of the argument.
"Perhaps we might find middle ground in this matter," he suggested, his voice measured and diplomatic. "Lord Stark raises valid concerns about the North's grain production, which we should not dismiss lightly. As Master of Laws, I believe we should invite Lord Stark to King's Landing to discuss this matter in person." He gestured toward the letter. "A face-to-face negotiation would allow us to better understand the specific concerns of the Northern lords while explaining our reasoning for supporting the Night's Watch. Only then should we make our final determination."
"I stand with my brother on this," Prince Baelon said, his voice carrying the confident tone of a seasoned warrior. He leaned forward, his broader shoulders and more martial bearing a contrast to Aemon's scholarly demeanor despite their shared Targaryen features. "The Starks are proud but loyal. They've held the North for thousands of years and understand its needs better than we do from King's Landing."
The prince's gaze moved respectfully to his father, awaiting the king's response to his proposal.
Queen Alysanne placed her hand on the table. "My husband," she said gently, "shouldn't we reconsider this carefully? The North remembers... We must balance the Watch's needs with the North's well-being. Are there no alternative lands for the Watch? And Lord Hand," she added, turning respectfully to Septon Barth, "while our authority is absolute, is inflexibility always wise? The Starks have served us faithfully for ages. Shouldn't their counsel on Northern matters hold some weight?"
Grand Maester Benifer's voice rose, his tone laced with concern. "But Your Grace," he cautioned, his gaze sweeping across the council, "to invite Lord Stark to negotiate on a royal decree... would that not set a dangerous precedent? Would it not suggest that the Iron Throne's pronouncements are subject to the whims and desires of individual lords? If we reverse this decision simply to appease the Starks, what message does that send to the rest of the realm? Should we not, instead, make an example? Reaffirm that the Iron Throne's word is final, and that all lords, no matter how ancient or powerful, must abide by it?"
Septon Barth nodded in agreement with the Grand Maester, his expression resolute. "Indeed, Your Grace," he affirmed. "To negotiate now would be seen as weakness. Let the decree stand. We have made our decision in what we believe to be the best interest of the realm, particularly the Night's Watch. If Lord Stark continues to object, then perhaps we can inquire what concessions he seeks to appease the Northern lords. We can offer something in return for their acceptance, but we should not appear to be backing down from a royal edict."
Septon Barth nodded in agreement with the Grand Maester, his expression resolute. "Indeed, Your Grace," he affirmed. "To negotiate now would be seen as weakness. Let the decree stand. We have made our decision in what we believe to be the best interest of the realm, particularly the Night's Watch. If Lord Stark continues to object, then perhaps we can inquire what concessions he seeks to appease the Northern lords. We can offer something in return for their acceptance, but we should not appear to be backing down from a royal edict."
With the King's pronouncements made, a sense of finality settled over the Small Council chamber. One by one, the Hand, the Grand Maester, the Master of Coin, and the Master of Ships offered their bows and departed, each carrying the weight of the day's decisions. Soon, only the Targaryen family remained: King Jaehaerys, Queen Alysanne, Prince Aemon, and Prince Baelon. The air in the room, once thick with the tension of debate, now held a quieter, more personal weight as they considered the implications of the King's unyielding stance and the potential repercussions in the North.
Queen Alysanne rose from her chair, her gaze meeting her husband's across the polished table. Her usual serene expression was clouded with concern. "My love," she said softly, her voice carrying a note of urgency, "I fear the lords of the North will not take this decree well. They already harbor resentment towards the Crown due to what they perceive as unjust tax burdens. This land grant will be seen not as a benevolent act towards the Night's Watch, but as a direct encroachment upon their own territories, a further sign of our disregard for their concerns."
King Jaehaerys sighed, running a hand through his silver hair. "I know, Alysanne," he conceded, his gaze troubled. "You speak truly. But a royal decree, once issued, cannot be so easily rescinded. It would undermine the very authority of the Iron Throne. If we were to backtrack now, it would signal weakness, and every lord in the Seven Kingdoms would believe they could challenge our pronouncements with impunity. We must maintain the strength of our word, even when the consequences are… difficult."
Prince Aemon, ever the pragmatist, leaned forward, his brow furrowed in thought. "But Father," he interjected, his voice measured, "what if our offer of consideration is not enough? What if the lords of the North remain steadfast in their opposition to the decree? What course do we take then if they still do not agree?"
King Jaehaerys' violet eyes hardened, a flicker of the dragon fire that ran through his veins igniting within them. His voice, though still calm, now carried an unmistakable edge of steel. "Then," he declared, his gaze unwavering, "if they persist in their defiance, if they choose to disregard the King's word, we will answer them with fire and blood. The North is part of the Seven Kingdoms, and they will obey the Crown's decrees. We will not tolerate open rebellion."
Prince Baelon, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword, nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. "Indeed, Father," he agreed, his gaze steady. "And it is not just the North we must consider. If we resort to fire and blood against the Stark, the other Lord Paramounts will take notice. They will see that even a house as ancient and powerful as the Starks is not immune to the Iron Throne's wrath. But," he paused, a hint of concern in his voice, "they might also begin to fear for their own positions in the future. They might wonder if their own ancestral lands and rights could one day be similarly challenged by royal decree. It could sow seeds of fear and resentment among the most powerful families in the realm."
King Jaehaerys' jaw tightened, his gaze hardening. "They should fear us, Baelon," he stated firmly, his voice resonating with royal authority. "Respect is earned, yes, but fear ensures obedience. We cannot allow any of the Great Lords to believe they can simply disregard the Crown's decrees. To back down now, to show leniency in the face of defiance, would make us appear weak. It would embolden others to test our authority, to push the boundaries of their power. The Iron Throne must project strength, unwavering resolve. The stability of the entire realm depends on it."
King Jaehaerys' stern demeanor softened slightly as he turned his attention to his sons. "Baelon, Aemon," he asked, a hint of grandfatherly warmth entering his voice, "how fares baby Viserys? And little Rhaenys? She must be quite the handful at three years old now."
Baelon offered a small smile. "Viserys is thriving, Father. He grows stronger each day. Alyssa dotes on him, as you can imagine. He has your silver hair, you know."
Aemon chuckled, a fond look in his eyes. "And Rhaenys... well, 'handful' is putting it mildly, Father. She has Jocelyne's spirit, that's for certain. She's into everything, asking endless questions. She's bright and curious, a joy to be around, even when she's demanding all your attention."
King Jaehaerys' eyes softened further at the mention of his grandchildren. "Good, good," he murmured, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. "It warms my heart to hear they are well. Tell Alyssa and Jocelyn that I intend to visit Dragonstone in the coming days. I long to see them all, to hold young Viserys again and witness Rhaenys' boundless energy for myself. It has been too long."
Queen Alysanne smiled warmly. "Then I shall join you, my love," she said, her gaze meeting his. "Ten days from now, we shall both travel to Dragonstone. I, too, am eager to see our grandchildren. It will be a welcome respite from the matters of the court."
King Jaehaerys nodded, taking his queen's hand across the table. "Yes," he affirmed, his voice softening further. "We will. A journey to Dragonstone, to be surrounded by family... it is precisely what we both need." The weight of the North and the Small Council seemed to lift slightly from his shoulders at the prospect of seeing his grandchildren.
The conversation then drifted away from the weighty matters of state and turned towards the lighter, more personal realm of family. They spoke of Alyssa's well-being after childbirth and the latest antics of their growing grandchildren. Baelon recounted Rhaenys's surprisingly insightful questions and her burgeoning curiosity about dragons. Queen Alysanne spoke of the joy of watching the next generation of Targaryens flourish, and King Jaehaerys listened with a fond smile, the worries of the kingdom momentarily receding as he focused on the bonds of blood and affection that held his family together. They reminisced about their own children's younger years, sharing fond memories and quiet laughter, the warmth of familial love filling the council chamber.