14

Chapter 14: Chapter 12: ManagementChapter Text

"Are we worthy?"

-Motto of the Dragonseeds

104 AC, Red Keep

After my heart-to-heart with Laena, the two of us, already close, grew closer. We slept in the same bed now, Laena moving into my room. I'd batted my eyes a few times at my father and told him that I was having nightmares about Daemon and didn't want to sleep alone, which was true. I did actually have nightmares about my uncle.

What I'd done was tantamount to murder. I had seven separate plans for the confrontation a week ago. One of the seven was for a peaceful resolution of conflicts. But I didn't try it as the gain was minimal, and squandered much of the clout I'd accumulated over the funeral, and honestly was rather chancy to begin with. So I went with plan number one, which was provoking him until he assaulted me and siccing the Kingsguard on him, before manipulating my father into executing him.

I tried to think of the many upsides of that plan. At minimal losses, I eliminated my most dangerous rival for the throne, discredited his reputation irreparably and salted the ashes. I avoided a conflict with the Triarchy in the Stepstones and was able to purge the Goldcloaks and Dragonkeepers, for my supporters to take their places. I'd also knocked the warmonger faction out of court, as my father was making anyone even remotely friendly to Daemon take the black with extreme prejudice. I'd even done it without losing Dark Sister or Caraxes. It was flawlessly executed, with no unforeseen deviations or consequences.

And yet I woke up in cold sweat, Daemon's ghost relentlessly hunting me in my dreams.

Usurper. He hissed, choking me out, killing me with Dark Sister, feeding me to Caraxes.

Usurper. He hissed, skeletal fingers closing around my neck, his head under his arm as he swung Dark Sister in the other, his putrid breath of death as he grabbed me by the hair and slowly lowered me into Caraxes' maw.

Mom would have been ashamed. It was already bad enough that I'd only made seven independent plans. She'd have made seventeen, and refined them for twice the gain at half the loss. But what would shame her the most was the bitter feeling in my heart. I could already hear her screaming about my failure to emotionally detach myself. Feeling regret after executing a plan? Caring about my enemies? All that mattered were the losses and gains, tallied in a cold and calculating arithmetic.

I had won, overwhelmingly so, but why did I feel as though I lost? Not even my breathing exercises and acting skills could suppress my emotions.

This was why I confided my secret to Laena afterwards. I was just as broken as she was that night, and needed the companionship. That we wound up together in the aftermath was a pleasant surprise. I always knew she was touchy-feely and cuddly, but I assumed that she was just enjoying the skinship and not actually into women.

Girls were far more used to cuddling one another then guys, after all. My good friend Pamela from my past life was just as much of a cuddlebug, but she rode only stallion. And Yuuki's concept of personal space was nonexistent among her friends, but she was straight... I think. Well, she wasn't into women, but didn't mind getting intimate and carnal with them.

Laena and I weren't dating, but we weren't just best friends now.

It became one of those pleasures in life, the little things like waking up together with your lover getting a wake-up kiss from her. How we could spend the mornings just cuddling together. How we spent the nights discussing my old world and life while holding hands, during pillow talk. And though Laena begged and begged me to tell her of our future, I refused, for now at least. Half the fun was not knowing where life would take us.

Though in order to soothe her grief, I did mention that Daemon would kill my future nephew, a mere six-year-old child, solely to take revenge on his father. And whatever affection for Daemon Laena still had, rapidly began drying up at that. Blood and Cheese were murderous monsters in his payroll, tormenting poor Haelaena and threatening her children with rape and murder. For God's sake, the twins were only six. And Maelor was two. Helaena was so traumatised that she became mad with depression and grief, eventually committing suicide.

Laena had been so horrified that I barely got her chamber pot under her when she threw up. After she finished retching, she looked up at me, steel in her eyes, and I knew that she was mine to the hilt from that instant onwards.

———

104 AC, Red Keep

Although the funeral was over, the Small Council remained as busy as ever, preparing for the coronation of my father in a month. Despite everything, Viserys was still unwilling to outright declare me heir to the Iron Throne, as he still held out hope for a son. A hope that was physically present, as in the aftermath of Daemon's execution, my mother had announced her pregnancy. Worse, she had Runciter back her claims up that it looked to be a boy.

I was dubious that was the case, as she was barely showing, and last I checked, Runciter was neither trained in midwifery nor even that good a healer. No, what she did was to get in my way again. Stubborn in her belief that I wasn't worthy of the seat.

Damn that woman.

I thought that allying to kill Daemon would have made her reconsider, but I think that letting her see what Laena called 'the monster', backfired. Now, Mother was unwilling to let me sit the throne no matter what, fearing that I'd ruin the Seven Kingdoms.

Regardless, the Small Council considered me heir anyway, and were willing to allow Laena and I to shadow them on their jobs in preparation for my eventual ascendance to the throne.

I'd actually made a point of getting to know each member of the Small Council individually, hoping to convince them to convince Jaehaerys to cancel the Great Council. While that went nowhere, the connections I made still remained.

The Lord Hand was too busy, so I started out with the Master of Ships, or rather, his interim appointee. I actually liked Ser Vaemond Velaryon. He was a fairly young man, barely in his twenties, with the traditional Velaryon look to him. He was rather progressive and had been one of my most ardent partisans for the cancelling of the Great Council. Even after Rhaenys had been passed over, he still remained friendly to me, on the grounds of 'well, at least you tried'.

Now that Lord Corlys was back, he'd swiftly taken charge and began preparing the Royal Fleet to perform a sweep of Blackwater Bay to keep out any pirates whom would prey on the many attendees, though he'd left Vaemond in the capital as his second-in-command and official mouthpiece.

We had a quick discussion over the Royal Fleet, the man wanted to build more ships as he was worried that after the coronation, Lord Corlys would take the bulk of the Velaryon fleet and send it into the Stepstones. I agreed to put in a word with my father, and told him that in addition to his proposal, I'd recommend him for additional responsibilities and authorities as Lord Corlys' second.

Next up was Lord Lyman Beesbury. An older man in his fifties, whom had sat in the Small Council for so long, nobody remembered the time before him. Dutiful and hardworking, he reminded me of a worker ant, toiling away in silence for his rulers. He was fond of me, seeing me as a granddaughter of sorts. I had yet to fail to bring a smile to his face whenever I'd visit him in his office, bringing him meals and conversation. He was also currently the second busiest member of the Small Council, which honestly confused me. I asked him why didn't he delegate some of his duties to his staff, and was the recipient of look that made tables across the world weep for their inability to reach its flatness.

Still I dutifully shadowed him.

And that was when I realised just how inefficient Westerosi governance was. The Master of Coin had to run around doing everything practically all by hand, from overseeing coin counting in the treasury, to ensuring that the Royal Mint stopped issuing coinage with King Jaehaerys' face on them, to sitting down with the merchants and guilds to discuss the upcoming coronation. He didn't have much of a staff beyond a few scribes and his tax officers were little more than upjumped knights. And I was told that this sorry state was much the same for every other member of the Small Council. The sheer inefficiency made me feel like weeping. I swore, then and there, that when I took over, I'd expand his staff significantly.

For crying out loud, even Vaemond and Daemon had better systems. The fleet and city watch had a strict chain of command and personnel allocation. Officers were expected to be literate and be capable of planning and provisioning their ships and men, with a functional bureaucracy. It wasn't as comprehensive and accountable as I liked, but at least it existed.

We followed him up with the Mistress of Whispers. Ser Jonquil Darke was fond of me even before I had her knighted, and willing to teach me how to fight when no one else was looking. We had a few lessons in the past, but nothing too regular or concrete. Viserys was overprotective of me, and unwilling to let me do anything that could harm myself, even martial training. She was visibly preparing for retirement, or one last battle, she didn't mind either.

Nevertheless, I still talked her round to the idea of staying in the Red Keep and becoming my personal combat trainer. Retirement was boring, I frankly told her. She'd be far happier training me and my ladies-in-waiting how to fight. And I was going to get my father's stamp of approval on it. After Daemon, it'd be trivially easy to suggest to him why I needed martial training and female bodyguards.

After that conversation, she sat down with us and ran Laena through espionage. My vocation in the Singaporean Armed Forces was actually Intelligence, so I was already well versed in the topic of spying. Ser Jonquil had mostly inherited her predecessor's spy network, and while she didn't fuck it up, she didn't exactly do much expansion. I had many ideas for this regard, and discussed them with Ser Jonquil.

Simple things first, establishing consulates and embassies internationally, with one in every Free City on the western coast of Essos and Dorne, whose members were to keep a finger on the local pulse before sending the news home ASAP. Then followed up by having envoys or diplomats permanently stationed in each of the Seven Kingdoms, as the crown's voice in their affairs.

Then we moved on to discussing how to pull a Littlefinger and start buying brothels across the world to listen in on the pillow talk of the power brokers. Ser Jonquil was of the opinion that we should make a Whore's Guild and make every brothel register on it, to ensure that our hired hands were treated well, both medically and physically. I was in agreement, and once I found a songbird, would have him or her sing it to my father.

Laena claimed to know a sympathetic Madame to appeal to the King on this, and that settled that issue.

After her, Laena and I brought Lyonel Strong his meals into his office. The man was big and brutish, but there was a cunning glint in his eyes. The man was a very deliberate individual, and rarely did anything without first thinking it through. It was a very interesting shadowing, I'd give it that. He was polite and courteous to us, and was willing to explain what new laws he was working on, and why he intended on passing them. They were mostly sanctions on the Triarchy, with the caveat that he intended Dorne to back us up and sign in our favour.

The alliance of Lys, Myr and Tyrosh had conquered the Stepstones with our tacit blessing, rooting out pirates and making the trade route between the west coast and the Free Cities safe. However, in recent years, they had begun slapping on harsh tolls onto ships that passed through, driving up prices of everything on the coastline. Dorne was also hit hard by the tolls, and it was Lyonel's hope that if they allied with us, the Triarchy would back down. Sanctions first, but with the added threat of violence if they were still antagonistic.

Well, I already knew specifically what would happen in Canon. After my mother died, Daemon and Viserys would have a falling out, and the Rogue Prince would, well, go rogue. He'd take the Velaryon fleet and Caraxes before moving to conquer the Stepstones for himself, permanently antagonising the Triarchy against us. You see, the Stepstones were lucrative.

Ships from Volantis and further east had to sail through it to reach King's Landing, Gulltown and White Harbour, while ships from Braavos, Pentos and Essos' northern coast would have to sail through them to go around Dorne and reach Lannisport and Oldtown. Through this one archipelago passed nearly all the shipping that reached Westeros. According to even Lord Lyonel's most conservative estimates, the Triarchy made hundreds of thousands annually from the tolls alone. Closer to a million gold dragons annually now that they'd hiked up the tolls.

The Stepstones were the lifeline of the Triarchy. With it, the Three Daughters could contend with economic heavyweights like Braavos and Volantis. In fact, it had defeated Volantis so throughly the year before I was born, that the Eldest Daughter was no longer the preeminent power in Essos, and likely never would reclaim its throne again. Now, Braavos and the Triarchy jostled for continental hegemony. And if Canon was any indication, the Triarchy would splinter and the Bastard Daughter would triumph, becoming the most powerful and influential Daughter of Valyria on the other side of the Narrow Sea.

I left him to his work at that. For all that I had learnt in accountancy, I lacked the necessary knowledge on how to translate it over to this world. I only had the quickest glances at the economic situation of the Known World, and couldn't risk wrongly applying my knowledge. I had the solutions, but I didn't know the diagnosis, so to speak. Giving the wrong medicine was tantamount to poisoning, and that applied for this as well. I could always ask Uncle Vaegon, of course, but he wouldn't live forever. If I was to become a good Queen, I needed to learn this.

Lord Commander Ryam Redwyne wasn't in any shape to see me. The wound Daemon had inflicted upon him had festered, and he was deep in a fever. Runciter had absolutely refused to let anyone else treat him, stubborn old goat, never mind the fact that I could cure him. I'd tried to lean on Vaegon, but Runciter had more silver links than my uncle and absolutely refused to listen to him. He even refused to listen to the other maesters in the Red Keep, even if they were known to be skilled healers.

We kept pushing though, backed by the remaining four Kingsguard and half a dozen maesters, urging that the King order Runciter to hand over Ser Ryam Redwyne, but my mother pushed back against us, insisting that her pet maester knew what he was doing. And by the time we triumphed against Runciter, it was too late for the Lord Commander, and all that was left was putting him out of his misery.

Furious, my coalition of White Knights and Grey Scholars launched a lawsuit against Runciter, and we'd won easily as my father was also furious at his Grand Maester's incompetence and stubbornness. When the Royal Fleet sailed to the Wall with the Goldcloaks, it set sail with a single man in Grey as well, sending them to take the Black.

The Dragonkeepers were temporarily spared for now, but Rhaenys was breathing down their necks and overseeing the training of their replacements. We'd had to lean on the local and visiting Lords to loan men in to make up for the loss of the City Watch, but they were transient at best. We'd have to start recruiting in earnest soon.

During this time, I also met with the new Lord Commander of the Goldcloaks, Ser Balon Byrch. Ser Balon's command had remained loyal and backed us against Daemon's men. And in the aftermath, as the highest ranking officer left with the purge, Ser Byrch had been given the high seat. I'd made it clear to him that when he recruited new men, I expected the quality and professionalism of the City Watch to be several notches higher. Daemon's treason had cast a long shadow over them, and they would need to work twice as hard to escape it.

Runciter's replacement was being elected as we spoke, with Uncle Vaegon temporarily holding the office. My coalition had sent a raven to the Citadel instructing that we get a Grand Maester whom was skilled at healing, willing to listen to his peers and not convinced that his position in the Small Council meant that he was above punishment. We even got the Lord Hand to back us up on this. And as Lord Hightower, his word had a lot of weight. House Hightower was the Citadel's greatest backer. They'd written back to us promising to obey and begging that we forgive them for electing Runciter.

As for the Lord Commander, Ser Harrold Westerling now had the post. There weren't that many of them left, as their three most veteran members had been killed by Daemon. Ser Steffon Darklyn and the Cargyll Twins were his only subordinates now. Ser Harrold and I were of the opinion that we should recruit from the cream of the crop at the tourney celebrating my Father's coronation, and Viserys easily granted the request to hold off on recruiting new Kingsguard.

We'd offered a white cloak to Ser Jonquil, but she declined, citing that she didn't want to be privy to favouritism. She'd win the cloak in the tourney, like every other knight. And seeing the look on her face when she said that, well we weren't going to say no.

Then there were the Dragonseeds. My father and I personally met them in the throne room. I still remembered their faces and how scared they were at the sight of us. It was well known that their father had tried to kill me just half a month ago. They were so certain that we'd feed them to our dragons or execute them in revenge.

Fourteen children, the oldest was seven, the youngest still suckling babes. Born to women in King's Landing, Dragonstone and Driftmark. Their mothers came in behind them. Servant girls, whores, even highborn. Then there were those whom had yet to be born. A trio of pregnant women bearing my cousins within them. And that wasn't even all of them. Daemon's widow Rhae Royce was throughly amused at the Old King's will and the Rogue Prince's death, and agreed to send over the five bastards that he'd fathered in the Vale.

Approximately twenty-two new Dragonseeds. Nearly six times what my Canon counterpart had and more than enough for my purposes. I grinned gleefully at that, hiding my teeth behind a folding fan. Laena claimed that my grins were unsettling, so I'd acquired a fan to hide it.

We warmly greeted my cousins, Viserys promising that the children would be raised in the Red Keep. Their mothers would be employed in the household and be given comfortable quarters in what I suspected would later become the Maidenvault. The children would be given a Lord's education and martial training by the Master-of-Arms. And perhaps, one day, receive knighthoods and be awarded lands and highborn marriages.

"Will we get dragons?" The eldest blurted out, slapping her hands over her mouth immediately after she said that, recoiling in horror.

"Possibly." I answered, stepping forwards. Everyone present staring in starstruck awe and shock. My parents, the Velaryons and I had debated furiously about this. Rhaenys and Aemma were against, Viserys and Corlys cautious, but I had got Viserys remember those of the blood of the dragon were born to fly, and depriving them of the sky was just wrong. That sold him on the idea. It took longer for Corlys, but I reminded him that we had more dragons than riders and needed more dragonriders. To contain the Triarchy, I said, and that sold him on the idea. Rhaenys too, when I pointed out that without the Dragonseeds, it'd be her children I'd be sending into battle as dragonriders. And mother knew a losing battle when she say one and surrendered.

"But you must all promise to grow up into good men and women." I declared. "Serve us well and loyally, and become great warriors. And when you are older, I will reward you with dragons."

There was a shout of enthusiastic agreement from the boys, the girls looking somewhat crestfallen at that.

"But it is not just a promise you must make. You all must fulfil it. You must be good and just, every day of your lives from now on. Become worthy of dragons. Become worthy of the trust we are placing in you." I told them, everyone falling silent as I spoke. "And when you have grown into worthy men and women, I will give you dragons."

The girls looked utterly confused at that, prompting me to explain even more.

"I was nearly killed by your father because I was a defenceless princess." I stated, undoing my scarf and revealing the bruises on my neck. They had faded near completely, but they were still present. I also gestured at my hair and how the hairdressers had to cut and style it such that I no longer resembled a wild monkey.

"I will not make that mistake again. Which is why I will train alongside you all at arms, and have all my ladies-in-waiting do so as well." I beckoned Ser Jonquil forward at that. "The Good Queen, Queen Alysanne recognised that sometimes, there are places a woman must go without men, hence why she named Ser Jonquil here her sworn shield.

"I intend on doing the same as well, and you girls are my candidates for the role." I told my female cousins, enjoying the way that they looked so awed at the two of us.

"Why us? Why not highborn women and daughters of knights? Why us? We're just daughters of whores and servants." The seven year old asked, utterly confused.

"Because none of them can ride dragons." I simply said. "Only the descendants of Old Valyria can ride a dragon. And that is you all. While you will never be princes or princesses, you can still ride dragons.

"How many lords and knights and ladies can say that?" I smilingly asked.

And that was that. All that was left was the distribution of the Dragonseeds. The eldest, seven-year-old Daena, became my latest handmaiden. The children between six and four were to become pages of the household knights. Those younger would be given a shared nursery and the mothers assigned to care for them.

And once we were done and the Dragonseeds settled in, Laena and I rode into the city, and Silverwing was soon flying towards Dragonstone.