Interlude: The Voice of Reason

"My first mistake was relying on people not being idiots."​

Maegelle had been in the midst of a rather pleasant morning. She had been teaching the children about the Seven, that same task she and Vaegon spent countless hours on. Except that by then, children of her own body joined her youngest siblings. But that did not mean she loved her other charges any less.

There was more to being a mother than simply giving birth, after all. How many times had the children run to her after skinning their knees? Or after a nightmare? Or when they were sad? How many times had they run to Vaegon?

She had lost count before Aerion and Aerea had even been out of their swaddling clothes.

Needless to say, she was rather displeased to be interrupted in this task, reading and having the children discuss the contents of the Book of the Warrior. It did not matter that the intruder was her own eldest brother. An interruption was an interruption.

"Maegelle," Aemon's soft voice broke into her explanation of why the martial face of the Seven was the Warrior instead of the Knight. Vaegon had raised the question at the start of the week, and its discussion had been quite lively. "I need to speak with you."

"In a moment," she tried to dismiss him. "This is important."

"It is a matter of the crown."

"And this is a matter of the future," she countered. "Surely that takes precedence?"

"It concerns Vaegon." And just like that, he had her attention. Maegelle already knew of the brewing quarrel between her two brothers. Vaegon had kept her apprised of the situation, after all, and why he would be spending a considerable amount of time in the city.

"My husband has already told me," she told Aemon as gently as she could while still making it clear that it was a dismissal. "As he is still free to walk the streets of King's Landing, the matter is quite clear. Now, if you would excuse us?"

"He is in the city then?" Aemon asked as though this were news to him. Honestly, anyone with even half an ear turned to the city should have been able to tell him as much. Unless Vaegon had ordered silence. While foolish to the extreme, that scenario could not be discounted. She knew her husband, after all. "Well, that's a start."

"Did you not know?" she asked. "I thought Braxton would have told you."

"I cannot find Ser Braxton."

"That would be a problem," she allowed. "Why do you need to find Vaegon, anyhow? Unless you wish to apologize?"

"Apologize?" Aemon asked, apparently scandalized by the very suggestion. Before he could continue, however, he appeared to realize that there were children in the room. "As I said, it is a matter of the crown," Aemon allowed at last.

Well, that was singularly unhelpful. She could only hope that her disappointment did not show on her face.

"Why do you need to apologize?" their youngest brother Aelys asked. Even now, he was smaller and more delicate than his nephew Viserys.

"I don't," Aemon said without hesitation, causing Maegelle to give an exasperated sigh. While Vaegon's well-meaning blunders had their charm, Aemon's did not. "And this is an urgent matter. I cannot find him. Or most of the Small Council for that matter."

"They have lives outside of the Small Council, Aemon," Maegelle pointed out, closing her copy of The Seven-Pointed Star. She could already tell that this session had been all but ended by her brother's interruption. "And that is without considering their wives and their needs."

Aemon did not immediately respond. Instead, he directed a pointed glance at the assembled children. Viserys, still gloomy but making progress. Viserra, pretending not to know what was happening but not hiding it well. Aerion and Aerea, slightly confused at their uncle's urgency. Aelys, more curious than concerned. And Danelle, who looked ready to bolt from the room at the first sign of trouble.

The sight of the poor girl made her heart ache.

"Children: out," Aemon ordered. "I need to speak with my sister. Adult matters, very boring. No doubt you'd rather run and play?"

"But we were just getting to the good part," Aerea complained. At her uncle's glare, however, she swiftly followed the others. Unsurprisingly, it was Danelle who was leading them out.

Maegelle waited to speak until the door fell shut behind Aerea, who had been all but dragged out by her brother.

"I trust you have an exceptionally good reason for interrupting this treasured family time?"

"Vaegon disappeared, Maegelle," he answered. "I have not seen him in days."

"Since you accused him of treason before the Small Council, you mean."

"Since I pointed out that his activities bordered on treason and he left," Aemon said, as though that made it any better. "And now he is… somewhere in a city that loves him, I suppose? Plotting trouble, no doubt."

"You exaggerate," she reassured him.

"The man whose first instinct to a personal attack is excessive violence is on the loose," he countered. "A man with a mountain of coin, a fleet, an army, and a dragon. I rather doubt it is possible to exaggerate."

"You really do not know our brother," Maegelle commented with a sigh. Vaegon had come quite far from the boy he had once been. The war had not been kind to him- had not been kind to anyone, as was the nature of war- the disastrous consequences of his actions on full display. But it had forced him to confront his own shortcomings. And bless him, he was trying. "He will have calmed down by now. Why do you even need to see him?"

"Our previous meeting went rather poorly. If I could get him to listen, we could resolve this whole problem within an hour."

"You accused him of treason and are surprised when he does not wish to see you," Maegelle pointed out. "Your logic is quite something."

"Potentially treasonous behavior," he insisted. "Had I wanted him arrested, I would have had an order drafted and sealed and publicly proclaimed days ago. He should know that, and yet he hides."

"I can let him know you wish to apologize," Maegelle said after a moment of thought. Her brother looked about ready to protest, but she continued. "It might get him to talk. If his friends have not convinced him of that much already."

"Lord Velaryon and Ser Braxton I cannot find. And the others…" A strange look drifted over her brother's face then, one she had seen on him more and more often since he became the Prince Regent. The kind of look that suggested darker thoughts. "Ah, I see now. Thank you, Maegelle."

Oh, she did not like that.

Maegelle did not wait long before making her way into the city. With a small escort of guards, of course. Even if the city had returned to safety, that did not make it entirely safe. Still, she made it to the place where she knew she could find Vaegon: not the bank, not any of his many inns, not any of his other projects, but the manse where the guild representatives were establishing some offices.

He was in the city on business, at least officially.

Her husband had redecorated the manse rather splendidly. Inside the main entrance hall, fine tapestries line the walls with devotional images and scenes of Targaryen glory. In between each tapestry were sculptures and paintings produced by local artisans. To either side were doors leading to wings of smaller offices, while large double doors in the middle of the ante-chamber would lead to the large central chamber, suited to coordinating the efforts of numerous guilds at once.

And outside those double doors stood a knight in white. Ser Joffrey Doggett, the oldest of her father's Kingsguard. It made it abundantly clear where she could find Vaegon.

But not just Vaegon. The old knight ushered her into the chamber, and Maegelle saw her husband surrounded by his four oldest companions. Braxton and Corlys stood to his right, with Martyn Mooton and Desmond Darry to his left. The latter two bore the badges of a captain and the commander of the City Watch respectively. Meanwhile, Vaegon was leaning over one of the large tables which framed the black and blue mosaic on the floor.

Vaegon had seen better days, Maegelle had to admit. His dark eyes were darkened further still by the bags beneath them. The odd lock of his meticulously short-cropped hair had fallen out of place. There was even a hint of pale stubble showing on his cheek.

All of that seemed to fade the moment he saw Maegelle join them, and a smile broke out on his face.

"Of all the diplomatic masterstrokes, I never would have considered hiding to be one of them." Despite it all, Maegelle could not resist at least some token ribbing. And neither could Vaegon resist smiling just a little more.

"It would take a master stroke to get out of this situation," Desmond muttered from Vaegon's left, glancing at the goblet in front of him.

"Oh, lighten up," Martyn said cheerfully, his own goblet in hand. "This might just work out."

"You have a plan?" The thought did not reassure Maegelle. While her husband was undeniably clever, he had the worrying tendency to not notice the gaps in his logic. At least his friends had been around. Mayhaps they had been capable of helping?

"Several," Vaegon admitted. "But not all of them are equally good."

"Or even viable," Desmond added before taking a deep drink.

"Confront Aemon to force a trial by combat and yield, confront Aemon to force a trial by combat and fall on his sword, opt for a trial by judges that you can bribe, renounce all of your activities, offer to fold them into the official responsibilities of the Hand of the King, and my personal favorite: running away to Dorne," Corlys cheerfully listed several frankly horrendous ideas on his fingers. "Or Essos, but that one is less amusing."

"The Kingdom of the Red Mountains," Vaegon corrected, idly scratching at his stubble. "The king owes his crown to me. But I would rather avoid having to choose between what is best for House Targaryen, what is best for my family, and what is best for the realm."

"So now you're waiting for a miracle?" Maegelle asked. If that was indeed the case, hiding might have been the best idea after all.

"We're waiting for the Prince Regent," Braxton said. "If he seeks out Vaegon and wishes to reconcile, the four of us can help convince him not to throw Vaegon into the black cells."

"Then you will not be waiting for long." she informed Vaegon. He seemed rather pleased by the notion. "He was quite concerned that he could not find you, or any of your friends for that matter."

"Good." Clearly, Vaegon had a very different concept of what was a good situation. Thankfully, he went on to explain. "If I can convince him to excuse and sanction my work in the city, we might be able to come to a mutually beneficial settlement. He shows mercy and maintains his primacy. My work continues to help the people. The only thing I lose is a bit of political power that I was never going to use."

"Or he might see three members of the Small Council, the commander of the city watch of King's Landing, and a captain of the same city watch working together to undermine his authority as Prince Regent and future king," Desmond offered. "No pressure."

"A trial by combat would be quicker, cleaner, and easier to achieve," the captain of the watch pointed out. "When was the last time someone managed to defeat you in the training yard? And that is without that fancy sword you refuse to give a name."

Maegelle's eyes went wide at the suggestion. A trial by combat? Brother against brother? Had Martyn lost his mind?

"I will not risk making my brother a kinslayer." Vaegon quickly rejected the idea. "Besides, my victory would weaken the position of the heir and the Prince Regent, potentially raising uncomfortable questions about succession. And I would rather not deprive any more children of their father. So… I need to convince him to forgive me."

"He might take exception to you dictating your own punishment," Maegelle pointed out a flaw with Vaegon's best possible plan.

"And now we're gambling on the Prince Regent being a reasonable man," Corlys sighed. "After he tried to convince us that you committed treason in an attempt to… do something. Secure his own position in the realm, I suppose."

"The Seven frown upon gambling," Maegelle reminded her eldest good-brother. "Though I doubt they would object to tipping the scales in favor of the most beneficial outcome. Aemon is a reasonable man, though it would not be helpful if you inadvertently reinforced his worst suspicions.

Vaegon made to speak, only to whip his head in the direction of the double doors. Belatedly, Maegelle heard some raised voices and quite a lot of movement on the other side.

"You need to go," he told the four men who had been by his side before the doors slammed open, and a familiar figure strode into the room clad in armor.

"Vaegon," a new voice called out with icy calm. Aemon Targaryen, Master of Laws, Prince of Dragonstone, Heir to the Seven Kingdoms, and Prince Regent to his father, had arrived. "It is past time we had a little talk, you and I."

...

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