Peacekeeper

Chapter 11: Peacekeeper

"Are we really going to let the Dornish get away with this new low? This base duplicity hitherto unprecedented?" I argued with great fervor, "How will we show our faces to the world if we allow this?" 

My father sat in his solar with his withered face in his wretched hand, his few remaining hairs swept back under his crown. I appreciated how he incorporated more regular use of brocade and samite into his look as he aged, obviously having learned a thing or two from our time together on self respect and presentation. Previously his day to day just didn't cut it, yet now even in his deplorable state of health and wholeness, his kingly aura only increased, reaching peaks never before contemplated by his pedestrian ass kit. 

"Aegon, the Dornish ambassador accused you of slaying a hundred men for the crimes of ten, and raping all the women flowered in an entire village, in response to cattle rustling. As well as taking four girls from a knightly family as thralls." my father somberly spoke, "Please, tell me the truth son, and I will throw that man from my court and return him to Dorne sans his lying tongue for daring to accuse you falsely." 

I reeled back a bit and frowned, "Accused me falsely, no. I did all that." I explained to him, "I'm complaining about them shamelessly coming here and tattling to my father rather than saddling up and riding to war against me. How can they stand to show themselves under the light of the sun after such cowardly and honorless behavior? You know they are attacking my keep right now, while I'm here addressing the complaints of a hostile nation." 

"Both the Arbor and Old Town have mobilized to keep the peace, the peace you were supposed to keep." my father growled, obviously angry about my take on the situation, but that can take a back seat because now I'm angry.

"How could you possibly say that!" I shouted, aggrieved, deeply, "Who are you that wears my father's face, and insults me so heinously? My father would never, not in a thousand years, ever say that the combined military might of the Arbor and Old Town is in any way comparable to me and Sunfyre. He knows, pretender, that my dragon and I could end them both in a day, and be home in time for supper." 

"By the gods, how has your arrogance reached such height?" My father groaned.

"Pride." I corrected, "Arrogance implies I'm wrong." 

"Arrogance!" he growled angerly at the correction, "For the lives of my people are not yours to pay out in exchange for your amusement, nor your ego! There is no amount of suffering you can inflict on others that will ever fill the hole in your heart, son. There was never enough for my brother, and there will never be enough for you. Cruelty does not fulfill, it only extracts, and the more you partake, the more it takes, making that hole bigger and bigger until no act will ever satisfy, and you are left hollow. I will not allow you to jeopardize the peace of the realm, just so you can destroy your chance of ever being the man you were meant to be." 

I quietly nodded in acceptance of my father's reasonable ethical argument, that showcased his wisdom gained in long suffering. I disagree with his diagnosis, but respect his position. The man is correct in substance, wrong in application. 

"I thank you father, for the comparison to Uncle Daemon, far more complimentary than likening my might to that of Old Town and the Arbor." I began with an acknowledgement before starting my denial, "Yet you wrongly project his motivations upon me. The self aggrandizement and sadistic joy are merely happy benefits of a man who loves his work, and it is work, the work of establishing order where chaos reigns, and Dorne was, is, and shall continue to be a source of chaos in Westeros. There is no true peace in chaos, only lulls in the violence. Until order is established between us and the Dornish, there will be no peace." 

My father considered my argument, then shook his head, "What does order between us and Dorne look like, Aegon?"

"The submission of Dorne to the Iron Throne." I explained, "But we must be wary of false submission. The Dornish are not rational, they are emotional. They are not ethical, they are passionate, and united in hatred of us. Aegon burned them out of their homes, yet the Dornish people did not turn on the Martells. Even in the most extreme of circumstances, no traitors emerged to hand us our final victory, instead, they focused all their treachery on us. We must oppress them, humiliate them, and destroy any notion of resistance. I am the man to do this, father, place your faith in me." 

"No." 

The refusal took my breath away. I am forsaken.

"The strength of the realm is not to be spent on military adventurism." my father further solidified his rejection, "I denied my brother, and I deny you. Conflict with Dorne is not the will of your king." 

"It is the will of Dorne." I stated as I stared at him.

"It is not." he revealed, "The Martells have vowed to seek no quarrel with you so long as you seek no quarrel with them." 

"A convenient position for Sunspear, but it will not stop the raiders from coming over the Red Mountains, and corsairs sailing the Summer Sea. Am I to turn a blind eye to their violence and rapine? Am I to be made a cuckold of a Lord by command of my father?" I posited the bitter questioning to him calmly, but inwardly I felt a twisting of my guts. 

I do not want to make a mockery of my father, a man much finer in character than my last, but I will not stand by as a pack of up jumped sand monkeys sow chaos in my lands. Sons defying their fathers is not good civilization. But Dorne is not good civilization. I am a man beset on all sides by bad civilization. How familiar.

"Give to them marcher justice, but it will be justice, not atrocity intent on pulling Dorne the Kingdoms into open war." my father confirmed his place once again at the top of good civilization, "The strength of the realm is to be shepherded, grown, preserved. Not spent before it is needed. This is the calling of our House. To stand against it, is to stand against us." 

Now seemed a poor time to elucidate upon the many benefits of well run warfare, neither the personal, communal, or societal, nor how Qoren Martell was obviously doing the whole snake in the grass thing his House does whenever they feel the loss of the last outing too heavily. Instead I accepted my father's decree; accepted, but vigilance shall remain constant. I do not trust the hot blooded to allow this artificial peace to eke along quietly. 

Such an arrangement does not favor me. As the party of lesser numbers, but greater strength, my best play to establish a favorable balance of kills with Dorne is to go on the offensive, to utilize the Red Mountains to maneuver aggressively and lead them around by their noses. Use brutality to obligate their pursuit and force conflicts on advantageous terrain. Child's play. 

Defending territory is not child's play. Not at all. I'll leave the matter to Sunfyre. Out of all the dragon's I've ever witnessed, he has the most advanced hunting skills, capable of tracking over long distances and using terrain beyond just the aerial advantage. He possesses predatory cunning and delights in the chase. Its good exercise for the beast, and any Dornishmen he eats saves me money on feed. Verily, they will finally serve a purpose in the world beyond the aggravation of good minded folk, and keeping their women warm while they await my cumming. 

"Now that the sordid business is dealt with, tell me son, what projects have you begun in Dragonsreach?" my father changed topics graciously after laying down the King's Law, and I accepted it in the spirit given. 

"I've built a number of dry docks, and offered favorable rates. We've begun digging the footings for a great lighthouse. My port will soon become a favored spot for seafarers." I told him, but withheld how the semi-slavering of the mentally dull yet industriously handy provides great comparative advantage and start up power for such ventures, "I've also considered how to utilize the various sporting stadiums you've built. I'd figured I set that up after conquering Dorne, but now my schedule is open for it." 

"Speak on it, son, what ideas have you?" my father inquired, always happy to discuss matters of sport. 

"I thought to establish a professional sporting leagues for the joust, melee, and archery. Payment for participation, low stakes, but more regular than tourneys, weekly events, or bi-weekly. Perhaps divide my household knights into teams with various colors and motifs, keep track of the results throughout the year and present the top three with trophies of gold, silver, and bronze." 

My father leaned back into his chair considering it with a faint smile, "I like the sound of that. Almost like the great games of Yunkai, but more honorable, more noble."

"I thought the same." I agreed easily, "Games in the evening after the working day ends, charge admission, sell bread and ale in the stands, split the proceeds with the knights involved. Good clean family fun that keeps my warriors sharp and out of trouble." 

"Do you not see, Aegon, you were meant for more than war." My father declared, leaning forward in his chair once more, "Put your mind to tasks such as this, my son. Build, grow, greatness exists beyond the battlefield, and there is great virtue in keeping your sword sheathed. You'll be a father soon, and with such your understanding of the world will change. You will live for more than just yourself and your own glory. Once you hold your babe in your arms the first time, you will understand." 

I raised a brow at my father's statement, at his commitment to the bit. He knows I'm a father hundreds of times already, yet he denies the existence of my bastards just as thoroughly as he denies the nature of Rhaenyra's. Well played, father. 

"Babes." I corrected the man again, this time not stirring his anger, "Helaena carries twins." 

The pure joy that spread across my father's decrepit face caused my own mouth to upturn.

"Twins? When did the maester confirm this?" he inquired eagerly.

"We need not a maester for such things, I've an eye for it, and Helaena claims to have dreamt of their coming, though she also claimed them to be the first of a hundred such sets, so take that as you will." I kept my skepticism real enough in my tone to deceive my father. 

To the uninitiated, it sounds absurd, but to those who've seen my nuts: they believe. 

"Women get like that while carrying our children, and I'm glad to hear she is taking well to it, but do try to convince her than a hundred sets of twins might just be one set too many." he chuckled and raised up a cup of wine, "To dear Helaena, may her dreams all come true!" 

I took up the toast and together we quickly polished off the bottle before my father took to his bed. After tucking him in, I opened a passageway into the inner workings of the Red Keep and traveled silently through the darkness until I exited into the apartment housing the Dornish Ambassador. The man wasn't yet in, so I helped myself to his supply of sour red and soft cheeses while I waited by the door. Upon his return, I closed the door behind him and turned set the lock. 

"WHA-" he managed to squawk before my hand latched over his mouth. 

I lifted the man up to look me in the eyes, his feet now dangling a foot and a half off the floor. I admired the man's heavy brows, long and wild. Wizardlike. Under those salt and pepper brows a pair of dull brown eyes filled with fear. More than the simple physicality and suddenness of the situation, the man knew of me. Good. 

"Congratulations, Ambassador, on selling my father the lie of the century: that you sunburnt sand sucking savages can be trusted to keep the peace. You have bought your people a reprieve, but at what cost?" I growled the last word, then continued calmy, "Unbowed, unbent, unbroken heathens clinging to a depraved culture. You people are a source of chaos in Westeros, and I do not tolerate the forces of chaos. Know that before this offensive deception, I would have dealt harshly with you all as a matter of principle, but now it's personal. My passions awaken, and my creativity rouses. Even the slowest of students learns, and the time is soon coming for your people to learn the harshest of lessons, but first, in honor of the peace you have negotiated, I think I will commission a portrait of myself, and pay a host of artists to copy it, so it can be sent to every holdfast and keep in Dorne. I'll send a new one each year we manage to keep to this farce so that when the time comes and the terror is bestowed, when you people have learnt your lesson well, and become decent god fearing folk, when you all say your daily prayers and beg the Seven to deliver you from evil..." my voice lowered once more and got gritty for the finale, "I want you all to know by heart, its face." 

My mind felt unburdened by the disappointment of this summons to the capital after finishing my monologue, and I stared at the man until I felt it properly sunk into his memory. It wouldn't do for him to relay it poorly back to his masters in Sunspear. The ambassador's eyes teared up, in pain, in fear, I cared not, only for the rumbling in my guts, "Thanks for the wine and cheese. I must have eaten all you had, but I'll give you a taste of what you missed out on." 

The man struggled as I dragged him around and pressed his nose to the seat of my pants, holding his breath, but I held tight until he gasped for life sustaining air then released a ripe ripping rump roar, long and turbulent. The ass acoustics weren't enough to drown out the man's scream, and I pulled away in time to dodge his retching. I looked back on the pathetic wretch of what was once a proud man, and nodded in satisfaction. 

"Good night, Ambassador." I called back as I unlocked his door and left. 

---------Monologue of Jeor Mormont to the speaker for the allied wilding chiefs at the tunnel to Castle Black before the Seventh Great Raid Beyond the Wall -------

"You come to me, to negotiate with my son, to stop him from raiding into your lands, killing your men, stealing your women, making thralls of your children. I'd admire the audacity if you people were smart enough to know the meaning of the word." The Old Bear spat into the snow, "Nay. Nothing pleases me more than allowing his forces beyond the Wall, knowing they will destroy you all. You fucking savages want to settle this with words! A thousand fucking years my family has suffered your predations, and now that the blows rain down on the other side of the Wall you people want to talk it out! My son will kill you all and fuck all your women! Begone, you wretched fools, never come back, I won't waist my breath on you any more!" 

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