Chapter 56: A King In All But Name

The Godswood of the Red Keep – Continued

The carved face in the weirwood tree gazed on, its mouth downturned in silent judgment, as the three Targaryens remained seated beneath its boughs, the air thick with the scent of earth and grief.

It was Maester Aemon who first broke the silence.

"Lord Brynden is a shrewd man," he said carefully, his voice calm and deliberate. "And a capable one. Few would deny it. He served the realm loyally since our grandsire Daeron's reign, when he first took the black cloak of spymaster. His rise was not swift, but earned, and under King Aerys, he became more than a whisperer—he became the pillar upon which the realm rested."

Aegon gave a dry snort, folding his arms. "The Hand who sees with a thousand eyes and one," he muttered. "I've heard the phrase a hundred times, from dockside whores to hedge knights and highborn lords. They say he sees through rats and ravens alike. That his eyes are everywhere. Some believe he drinks blood and lives in the shadows."

Maekar's mouth twitched, but whether it was amusement or irritation, it was hard to say. "Bloodraven has ever inspired tales... and fear. Even my father spoke of him with both admiration and caution."

He leaned back against the stone bench, arms crossed over his chest. "On his deathbed, King Daeron warned me. 'Brynden is loyal,' he said, 'but never forget, he was born of ambition. Watch him, Maekar. Watch him close.'"

Aegon frowned. "Then why keep him as Hand?"

The king turned his eyes toward his youngest son. "Because he gets things done. And I've known no better shield against vipers."

Aemon nodded slowly, the silver links of his maester's chain catching the last light of the day. "He may have ambition, that much is true. But I believe I've seen through it."

Both father and brother looked at him.

"Brynden Rivers ruled this realm once already," Aemon said. "Not from a throne, but from the shadows behind it. When King Aerys I sat the Iron Throne, it was Bloodraven who truly ruled. He was the voice behind the veil, the will behind the crown. Aerys let him, perhaps by choice or by weakness. But in those years, Bloodraven was king in all but name."

He paused, letting his words settle like snow on stone.

"But he never crowned himself. Never grasped for more than the realm allowed. I commend you, Father, for doing what our grandsire could not—keeping his power in check."

Maekar said nothing for a long moment, his face unreadable.

Then, Aemon offered the final word. "He is a dark man, yes. With dark means. But his loyalty—to the Targaryen name, to the realm—is beyond question. And if he harbors any dreams, they are not of ruling in the light."

Aegon looked unconvinced but said no more.

The sun vanished at last beneath the horizon. The godswood grew dim, shadows lengthening around the three men of House Targaryen.

And above them, high in the crimson branches of the weirwood, a single black crow watched in silence.