Chapter 2: Father-Son "Bonding" And A Small Lesson In Sorcery

Chapter 2: Father-Son "Bonding" And A Small Lesson In SorceryChapter TextII: Father-Son "Bonding" And A Small Lesson In Sorcery​

"Your son is here to see you, Your Grace" announced the Kingsguard that guarded the king's door.

Aerys sought his father's attention for a less antagonistic reason this time. He and Aelinor were supposed to go to Summerhall following our wedding, but he had other plans in mind, though he needed to convince his kingly father of their soundness. And there was another pressing matter to clarify.

"If it is your desire to name Prince, not Lord, of Summerhall, might I presume that I shall be entitled to all the privileges of one in my domain?" he asked his father.

"And what do you understand by 'privileges of a prince'?" asked the Targaryen king, not eager to promise him something so openly to interpretation.

"Well, those that Baelor has, as prince of Dragonstone" he began slyly, "and those you have so generously granted to dearest uncle Maron. I speak of the right to assess and gather the taxes myself, the right of pit and gallows of course, and the right to be the highest judicial authority over my subjects. I do not think you intend me to swear fealty to Lord Baratheon, but I've no wish for some landed knight in my lands to seek his justice at Storm's End if he dislikes mine own."

"And the right to interpret the laws and make judgments according to my own… well… judgement."

His father stood silent for a moment to think, then answered him: " Most of what you speak of sounds wisely thought of, but my grandfather and the Old King have gathered the laws of the realm into one code for a simple reason - to unify these lands. To seek to interpret them by your own will, and even change them is not a wise thing."

"The Dornish still practice absolute primogeniture, do they not? According to their custom." tried Aerys to explain himself. "You know well that Summerhall's holdings were part of the Marches. And for centuries, even before the Conquest, they were governed according to the custom and law of the Marches. To govern them now by the laws as understood in King's Landing will rouse them to rebellious thought. It would seem that their privileges have been taken away, while the Dornish get to keep theirs. It is in no way healthy for the unity you seek to give this realm."

"I do not mean to keep all the old customs. I would not forbid my Stormlander subjects to wed Dornish maidens, as it was the custom. I will not sanction raids and reprisals into Dorne as once were. But they must still think that the Iron Throne still keeps them in the same respect as when Marcher lords were still needed, father."

"Law for law's sake must be discouraged, for some tried and tested customs often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between the King's law and local custom, between ancient tradition and the king's will is preferable." continued Aerys, with a slight smile, as if privy to a joke only he knew.

His father did not give him any definitive answer, save that he shall think on it until the wedding, so Aerys proceeded to his next request:

"Father, I know you wish for us to go to Summerhall following the wedding, but I must ask for your leave for us to tour the Free Cities, from Braavos to Pentos, and Myr, and Pentos, and Tyrosh and Volantis. I've no taste for Lys though. I have not seen much of the world beyond Dragonstone and the court, and neither has Aelinor ventured much outside Parchments - and she has quite the thirst to see the world and its wonders."

"And you seek to please her, I gather" laughed the king. "I see no fault with your plan, but it will not do to dwell overmuch in Essos, or you shall catch the autumn storms when you cross again the Narrow Sea."

Aerys had used Aelinor as his justification, but the truth was, though she would be joyful for it, she herself had not sought it. Aerys himself desired to see the Free Cities and its wonders: to see the mummer's plays in Braavos and the wonder of its arsenal, and a myriad other things, like the Long Bridge in Volantis. He wanted to gather tapestries and painted glass and employ artisans to make Summerhall beautiful. But he also wished to see if the Myrish' craftsmanship could craft a pair of spectacles for him as finely as they did craft the far-eyes.

And beyond all, the city he wanted to visit most was Tyrosh. Tyrosh, that fortress city on the edge of the Stepstones had little to offer to a… tourist. Its black walls were interesting, but not unique, and the island was bleak and stony. Its snails were not of interest to him, for he was no cloth merchant But he did not seek its pleasures.

Tyrosh was the place where the family of the wife of Daemon Blackfyre dwelt. Rohanne of Tyrosh was kin to the archon of that Free City, and when Daemon at last made his treachery manifest, no doubt they would seek to provide him aid in his folly. But the Archon did not rule by right of birth, rather being elected from the members of Tyrosh' ruling conclave.

And in it were many magisters and merchant prices, greedy and jealous enough to plot the fall of the Adarys family, as they were named. Now that he thought of it, that name reminded him of another member who had proved trouble to the Seven Kingdoms - the Silvertongue Alequo, who had joined with the monstrous Maelys in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, when the last of the accursed Blackfyre line fell in battle.

As he left to see to other matters, he laughed again. His father had been quick to allow him to assess his own taxes, to impose tolls and taxes on the merchants that traveled his lands. But Summerhall sat where the Boneway ended, and most of the merchants that traveled through it came from Dorne itself. He would not impose upon them tariffs so great that they'd complain to their prince - his own uncle, and he to his mother (though she could hardly scold him at so great a distance - but his father could always command him to lower their fiscal burden), but it felt good to know he could fleece them, even if not too much.

His meeting with his father done, Aerys went to the training yard. Not to exercise his own martial skills, for he had long come to the conclusion that they were middling at best. He was no great talent with the sword or spear, nor good at jousting. As for archery - it was not a skill that one near-sighted as him would excel at. It is hard to hit a target if you cannot see it after all.

Yet it was an archer he sought in that yard. His uncle, Brynden was shooting his bow, under the taunts of his half-brother Aegor, who his father had the horrid idea to invite to Aerys' wedding - hence he was at the Red Keep, and not at Stone Hedge, were his horrid person would have fit better.

"Brynden" he said, "come with me. It is time for your lessons."

Eager to escape Aegor's taunt, the boy excitedly put his bow aside, and came to him.

But Aegor, that literal and figurative bastard, would not desist. That piece of horseshit was always angry, and taunting his better, his Bracken blood running hot in his vein. Once his father had become king, he had tried to have his sons get along well with the Great Bastards, and while Baelor had a decent opinion of Daemon, and Aerys had taken under his wing Brynden - younger than him and still eager to learn and be guided, neither had a warm relationship with Aegor.

The boy's bitterness was all-compassing, and he dwelt on imagined slights so much that he never smiled. The only one of his kin who he liked was Daemon, in whose year he spewed poison every time he deigned to listen.

As such, Aerys was quick to shut down his attempts at antagonizing Brynden: "Leave Brynden alone, Aegor." he said, spitting out the bastard's name like it was poison. "

"Why?" Aegor defied him. "After all, no warrior can become greater with only compliments given to him." he said, with false concern.

"Need I remind you, Aegor, that while you might be a legitimized son of a king, I am a prince of this realm? I suggest you listen to those greater than you, and cease troubling him." answered Aerys. He knew that reminding Aegor that he was base born made him even more angry, but he could not be bothered to care.

He beckoned Brynden, and together they left for the library. Since his father became king four years ago, and Aerys came to court when his family had left Dragonstone, he had somehow taken the young albino under his wing, shielding him of the jeers and taunts of the squires at court.

Most important of all, he encouraged Brynden's fascination with the higher mysteries, finding books about magic and arcane arts in the library and nudging him closer and closer to exploring skinchanging and the powers of greenseeing, but also other eastern arts. He knew from his previous life that Bloodraven had been able to glamour himself as Maynard Plumm, and that was an useful skill for one's (hopefully) pet sorcerer to have.

Brynden was still upset, or mad, when they reached the library. With his face hidden under a hood, to protect his skin from the scorching sun, only his red eyes were visible under the covering, with a malevolent glint in his eyes, as he muttered: "One day I'm going to kill that Bracken son of a bitch."

Aerys laughed, and mildly scolded the boy, though not for the reason a septon, for example, would expect: "Remember what I told you, Brynden?"

The boy muttered again, still sullen, in a monotone voice: "Do not say such things where one can hear you. And if you do it, make sure nobody would suspect you."

Aerys laughed again: "Don't worry, that bitter half-nag will not live to see old age, nor children, that I can swear to you. Now, tell me, have you had any success in skinchanging into an animal yet? Having Aegor's horse throw him off and trampling him is a foolproof way to avoid suspicion for kinslaying. If you don't have any success, I guess we shall have to find some skinchanger North or Beyond the Wall, or maybe go to God's Eye to see if we can find the fabled Children of the Forest to see if they'll be willing to teach you their arts."

"You are going to leave for Summerhall after you marry Aelinor though. You cannot go gallivanting with me across the realm to find some master of sorcery to apprentice me to." said Brynden matter-of-factly, glancing at me with his usual creepy look.

"Indeed, though I shall travel to the Free Cities beforehand, for the king has allowed me to do so." answered Aerys. "Do not worry, I shall bring you some gifts - tomes of arcane and eldritch lore if I can find any."

"But once I shall settle at Summerhall, I shall ask father if you might be allowed to join my household. For all father treats you with courtesy, I doubt his brotherly love is so great that he cannot dispense with you from court. Once you shall be at Summerhall, we shall see how we will proceed further."

Aerys rose then, and took an ancient and dusty book from the shelves, dropped it on the table, coughed once from the dust and began his lesson: "Now this book has some vague mention of the Valyrian blood mages fleshcrafting practice, but even if we don't find anything of use, it can further our understanding of the sacrificial practices of Essos in general and the Freehold in particular… "