The Prince of Whispers Chapter 11: The prophecy (Patreon)

Jaehaerys was silent, frowning in thought as his plans lay shattered on the floor like a smashed clay pot.

He had left the capital on royal progress through the Reach for multiple reasons. He wanted to assess the situation in Oldtown and check in with the High Septon before he gave his blessings to a betrothal between Gael and Aegon. For that, he needed sound advice from Lord Hightower. While the rebellious elements within the Faith had subsided over the years, there were still pockets of opposition to the doctrine of Targaryen Exceptionalism. The key to preserving political power was vigilance, and he was a man who saw the need to keep an eye on his enemies. The rebellious elements in the Faith were unlikely to subside in his rule. It’d be foolish of him to think he defeated all detractors during his reign.  

Granted, Aegon and Gael were not siblings; they were aunt and nephew with a small age gap. However, the people of the Faith were not exactly known for their reasonable thinking and, instead, for their blind faith.

The other reason was the most obvious one, as it required a personal apology on his behalf to House Redwyne. After all, he was the one who unwittingly brought shame to House Redwyne. They were old and trusted allies, and the former lord of the Arbour was a good friend.

But not once did he foresee the scope of calamity that his absence would unleash on his family. The most damning of all was the gall of his son to make excuses and assign blame elsewhere.

“I have warned you time and again, father, that giving leeway to Aegon's indulgences is a grave mistake. He is headstrong, untamed, and shows no respect for…” Baelon's voice trailed off as his father's hand met his cheek with force.

Jaehaerys glared at his son, who stood shocked as the sound of the slap echoed across the solar. He could see Viserys and Daemon stir from beside Baelon at his action. If the situation were any different, he’d have never struck Baelon in the presence of his grandchildren. After all, he wanted some discipline within his household, but his son’s erratic and self-destructive actions in the past weeks removed any sort of inhibitions.

‘This is necessary. They need to see this if they are to learn from their father’s mistakes.’ Jaehaerys thought.

“Do you think me a fool, Baelon? Do you think I do not know what happens in my seat of power?” Jaehaerys roared as he took a step forward, forcing Baelon to take a step back.

“From the moment that boy was born, you have behaved like a petulant child, lost in a sea of anger. You have blamed that child for the loss of your wife – my daughter! Do you know who I blame? You!” Jaehaerys tore into his son by pushing him back, and he could see his words were more of a blow to Baelon than a push with his hand.

“You forced a third child on her when you should’ve been content with two male heirs. You took that risk knowing Alyssa might not survive the childbirth. So, why are you blaming Aegon for things far outside his control?” Jaehaerys thundered, but the answer he received was stunned silence.

Seeing the stunned faces of his son and grandchildren, the rage that had created an illusion of strength in his ageing body left him. Immediately, he felt like he was about to keel over.

“I…” Jaehaerys gasped as he slouched, but thankfully, Daemon was immediately by his side to keep him steady.

Baelon and Viserys quickly followed and helped him into a chair.

“Call the Grand Maester.” Baelon said in alarm.

“No. What I need is some water.” Jaehaerys said warily as he wiped off the sweat that suddenly built up on his forehead.

He rested his back against the chair and took a few calming breaths as Viserys poured some tepid water into a tumbler and offered it to him.

“Your self-loathing has doomed you, Baelon and doomed us all. Aegon was more than just a prince third in line to the throne. He was gifted with the arcane arts and a great practitioner of pyromancy. The best of the Freehold runs thick in his blood. Fire made flesh.” Jaehaerys uttered the phrase in the tongue of his ancestors.

“Father, I…” Baelon started but seemed to flounder for words.

“Must I do everything in this family? Can I not depend on anyone to care for the family and help me rule the Seven Kingdoms? Or am I doomed with idiots and weaklings who only bring more burden on my shoulders?” Jaehaerys bemoaned.

Once again, silence was the answer he received from his son and grandsons.

“Grandfather, I’ll cross the Narrow Sea and ask Aegon to return. He is my brother. He will not say no to me.” Viserys said earnestly.

Jaehaerys eyed his grandson, the one who tamed the mighty Balerion. It was a sad reality that his eldest grandson was without a dragon because of the passing of the Black Dread. But without a dragon or not, Viserys was the only one who understood a crucial lesson. Family was important, especially the Targaryens.

“It’s good that you hold such bonds, Viserys.” Jaehaerys nodded at his grandson before he cast his eyes onto the other two occupants in his room, “Do you know what is crucial for our family to hold the realm together?”

“Dragons.” Daemon answered immediately.

“No Daemon. It is the bond between us Targaryens that holds the realm together. We all have dragons bonded to us. What will happen when we have no familial bonds amongst us? What is holding us back from tearing each other for the sake of power?” Jaehaerys stared into the eyes of his grandson as he posed this question.

But, of course, he was taking things too far. His children and grandchildren had yet to learn the truth of such things. He learned such things living under the yoke of Maegor’s tyranny. His children and grandchildren had never suffered such hardships, which made them ignorant of such things.

‘But there is still hope and time to ensure that I leave the realm in capable hands.’ Jaehaerys thought, eyeing Viserys, who sported a look of understanding.

“If you cannot reconcile with your own son, how can I trust you to hold the Seven Kingdoms together? I suggest that you seriously rethink what you have done, Baelon.” Jaehaerys said, staring at his son in utter disappointment. “Leave. I have some things to discuss with Viserys.”

He watched his son and grandson leave before turning his attention to Viserys.

“Come closer, Viserys. Take a seat beside me.” Jaehaerys pointed at a chair across from him.

As Viserys made himself comfortable, Jaehaerys took a moment to gather his thoughts.

“Do you care to know why Aegon the Dragon launched the conquest on Westeros?” Jaehaerys asked while palming the hilt of the dagger he carried with him.

“Because he saw the bright future of a united Westeros and the glory it’d bring to House Targaryen.” Viserys answered.

“Yes, my boy. That is what the Conqueror said to the Maesters so that they may write their books. The real reason is hidden here…” Jaehaerys unsheathed the dagger and presented it to his grandson.

“Inscribed on this blade in Valyrian letters is a prophecy – the song of ice and fire. Aegon had this dagger made so that those ascending the throne would always know their true purpose.” Jaehaerys said grimly. “Go now. Press the blade against a fire and read the prophecy. See the destiny of our family and the duty of a Targaryen king.”

As Viserys heated the blade and started reading the prophecy almost reverently, Jaehaerys thought of the actions he should take to secure the family from a certain danger. The fact that he had seen a Targaryen with an affinity to fire was an omen of good tidings. The relevance of the prophecy only became apparent when Aegon’s gifts manifested before his eyes fulfilling one part of the prophecy.

The Conqueror had called this prophecy the Song of Ice and Fire. Jaehaerys had assumed for all these years that the talk of ‘fire’ in the prophecy was related to the dragons. But now, he was unsure, especially after hearing the tale of Aegon’s miraculous feat. He had suspected Aegon’s gifts were somehow related to the prophecy, but he wasn’t entirely certain.

But after hearing Aegon managed to overcome dragonfire, Jaehaerys was certain Aegon’s affinity was the cornerstone of the great legacy in store for House Targaryen. It was now the need of the realm to tie Aegon’s bloodline close to the throne. He had no idea whether Aegon’s gift would pass on through blood, but he had to assume the gods, in their wisdom, would pass that blessing into the bloodline. Targaryens could fight the looming darkness that could plunge the world into darkness with their own fire.

“Your grace, I… I have read it. This… is this true?” Viserys asked with a stutter, looking at him with wide eyes.

“These are the words of Aegon the Dragon. He was a dreamer like Daenys, who foresaw the Doom of Valyria. Now, it’s time that we follow the warnings of Aegon the Dreamer. This secret is only passed through a Targaryen king to his designated heir.” Jaehaerys took a deep breath as his eyes turned glassy.

“Aegon passed this knowledge to Aenys. Aenys gave this knowledge to my brother, and he passed this knowledge to me. Now, you, young Viserys, bear this knowledge and the knife. It is now your burden to keep this knowledge and pass it on to your heir one day.”

“I… I don’t know what to say, your grace.” Viserys said, staring at the dagger with disbelief as the blade slowly cooled off and the Valyrian letters started to disappear in the process.

“There is nothing to say, grandson. It’s time for you to learn and take a more active role in ruling the kingdoms. At the same time, we must bring Aegon back to Westeros. The Prince born of Ice and Fire shall come from his bloodline, and that bloodline must sit on the Iron Throne.”

“I’d be all too happy to pass the throne to Aegon. He’s skilled in ruling and has a strong sense of honour. He’d undoubtedly be a great king.” Viserys said without hesitation, surprising Jaehaerys.

“You misunderstood me, Viserys.  I have already named Baelon my heir, and in time, your descendants will inherit the throne. But those descendants must carry the blood of Aegon as well. Should Aemma give birth to a son and Gael deliver a daughter, I ask that you betroth them.” Jaehaerys explained patiently.

The look of understanding that crossed Viserys’ was both heartening and disappointing to Jaehaerys. To think that his eldest grandson would callously throw away the Iron throne even if it were for a brother who saved Viserys’ life. Such callousness could not be tolerated.

“There is much you need to learn, grandson. The first lesson is that you don’t surrender the Iron Throne to anyone, even your brothers, just because you like them.” Jaehaerys admonished.

“I understand, your grace. It’ll not happen again.” Viserys looked down, properly chastised.

“Good.” Jaehaerys nodded, “Now, listen closely…”

As Jaehaerys started talking with his grandson, he privately hoped Viserys would rise to the occasion and be a good influence on Baelon and the rest of the family. He certainly saw potential in Viserys, but his grandson was not yet ready. At the same time, he knew that he couldn’t let Aegon and Gael be lost in the mad schemes of his wife. There was much work to be done, and Jaehaerys found himself alone with no one to share the burden.

****

Aegon stared at the ceiling, deep in thought, as he lay in bed. His thoughts mostly revolved around his plan to form a sellsword company. He had already sent some feelers in the underbelly of Pentos, where all the men of the wrong sort gathered. It was mostly the sellsword types, smugglers, thieves and those with outstanding debts that he attracted with the offer of good silver and a portion of loot in their potential contracts.

However, the downside of attracting more such unscrupulous characters was increasing the risk of backstabbing and spies. After all, Essos had not been historically kind to dragonriders trying to raise an army. He suspected quite a few men he attracted into his budding sellsword company were charlatans and enemies. It was one of the reasons why he never brought such characters into the palace. He couldn’t brazenly endanger Gael just because he was building up a sellsword company from scratch.

But there was one positive outcome from his reputation. His name was enough to attract prospective sellswords to join easily. Having a dragon’s allegiance had its advantages.

Sooner or later, he’d have a substantial number of men to form a proper sellsword company and train the men to fight as a single cohesive force. By then, he’d have to find work for the sellsword company if he wanted to succeed in this venture.  

“You’re deep in thought, and I can tell you’re not thinking about me.” Gael accused as she hugged his torso while lying in bed.

The warmth of her body pressing against him made Aegon snap out of his thoughts.

“Ah, I was just thinking about our prospective sellsword company.” Aegon said, rubbing circles on Gael’s exposed skin along her shoulder blades.

“Are you still worrying about this? I told you about the offer from the Red Temple…”

“No.” Aegon said firmly.

Gael stared at him in disapproval, and she pinched him quite painfully.

“Ow! Why did you do that?” Aegon looked at his wife in reproach.

“Because you’re being difficult. Why can’t you accept the offer from Priestess Yelena?” Gael asked with a pout.

“I told you to keep away from the Red Temple and their priests. They’re not as benign as you think they are.” Aegon warned for the umpteenth time.

“You are no fun, Aegon.” Gael huffed, “Don’t tell me you believe all that nonsense preached by the Septons about Essos.”

“Keep in mind that those Septons included Septon Barth and even Septa Maegelle.” Aegon reminded his wife, but Gael was as headstrong as ever.

“Barth and my sister can be wrong. They’re not infallible. Priestess Yelena is a devout believer in her Red God, just as Barth and Maegelle believed in the Seven. She even has similar powers to yours. She also told me…” Gael suddenly fell silent and looked away with red cheeks.

“Told you what?” Aegon asked curiously.

“She told me of the prophecy of Azor Ahai’s coming – the prince that was promised.” Gael said almost reverently.

Aegon immediately groaned in his mind upon hearing the talk of prophecy. He pretended to smile and listen as Gael regaled him with all the colourful nonsense the Red Priestess managed to jam into Gael’s head in a short time.

When he allowed the Red Priestess to visit him in the palace, he was only polite and tried not to offend a major religious sect of Pentos. He never realised the High Priestess of the Red Temple would sink her claws into Gael and fill her head with nonsense. He suspected the Red Priestess was making up all sorts of prophecies and other magical stories to entice him and Gael into becoming the worshippers of her Red God.

It was particularly effective on Gael, who had lived a sheltered life so far, which made her predisposed to strike up friendships with anyone she met. The rumours about her simple-mindedness in King’s Landing only made it worse as Gael shut herself from anyone outside the family. He supposed the blame could be laid at the queen’s feet. Her paranoia had touched the sky after the passing of Septa Maegelle. It went to such an extent that Gael even refused to have any ladies in waiting.

Aegon feared the High Priestess was slowly edging into that vacant spot. The Pentoshi noblewomen were also trying to fill that vacancy but were not as successful as the Red Priestess.

Now, his dilemma was how to breach this subject and convey the need to guard against those who were out to influence them without offending Gael’s sensibilities.

“Gael.” Aegon called, cutting off on all the virtues she was singing about priestess Yelena.

“Yes, Aegon?”

“Remember who we are. Do not get swept away by the talk of magic and prophecies. We are the blood of the dragon. We do not bow down to those who perform parlour tricks on the streets. If we do that, we won’t be much different from them.”

“But Aegon…” Gael whined as she straddled him and pressed her naked body against his chest while her smooth, warm lips hovered just above his own. “Yelena is a friend. I cannot mistreat a friend.”

“Then treat her as a friend and not as your religious guide. We are Targaryens born under the light of the Seven. Our customs and culture are incompatible with the Red Faith.”

“But..”

“Do you wish to take a slave or use human flesh as a sacrifice for the Red God?” Aegon asked, not allowing Gael to bring him under her wiles.

“No.” Gael said with a pout.

“Then do not abandon the gods adopted by the Conqueror. Our family suffered greatly to reform the Faith of the Seven. If we abandon the Faith for a foreign god, no matter the circumstances, those we love in Westeros will face scrutiny.” Aegon reminded his wife, “Do we want Viserys and Aemma to be in discomfort because of our actions?”

“No.” Gael answered after an extended period of silence.

“So, keep your distance from the Red Faith for their sake, my love.”

“Fine! I’ll keep a respectful distance from the Red Faith, but Priestess Yelena’s offer is not so bad. She only seeks to hire our aid to repel the Dothraki raiders and bandits from constructing their temple. Destroying bandits and Dothraki barbarians who take slaves cannot cause offence to the Faith in Westeros.” Gael argued.

“It’s not that simple, my love.” Aegon rubbed her cheek with his thumb while attempting to give her a reassuring smile, “We’ll get a better offer from somewhere.”

“Maybe, but you’re doing nothing except collecting some strange wood and horns. We can use that time to provide an escort to the priestess and her entourage.” Gael remarked flippantly, making him wince.

It was not his brightest idea to craft a wand, and his obsession with collecting twigs was getting noticed. Considering the practices of his family, Aegon contented himself with the fact that his quirks were hardly harmful or cause for queasiness to those around him.

“Fine. I’ll think about it.” Aegon said to escape an embarrassing conversation.

Thankfully, Gael dropped the subject in favour of carnal pleasure as she started leaving a trail of kisses along his neck and chest. Like any sane man, He was only too happy to succumb to that.

****

Aegon sneaked a peek at the sleeping form of his dear wife. Gael was soundly asleep on the bed, safely tucked away under the warmth of a couple of sheets. Her shiny silver hair fanned across the pillow, and her chest rose and fell evenly. Using that moment, he sneaked into his solar and opened a safe on the table. Inside the safe was his small but substantial collection of wand wood. He had collected pine, rosewood, ash, apple, weirwood, and many other rare and unnamed woods from Westerosi trees.

But none of them gave him any magical response.

He knew the wood was useless without a sustainable magical core, but he hoped for even a tiny spark. But that never came to pass.

The sad fact was that he was hopelessly ignorant of wand lore. The only thing he knew was a random piece of information that stuck with him in his memories of Harry Potter. It was a small piece of information he gleaned from Ollivander, the wandmaker who made Harry’s wand.

But over the years, he had come to realise that he was not that lucky to score a magical wood and craft a wand by his lonesome. He used random woods as a conduit because he thought there was magic in living wood, just like in creatures like men and dragons. He just had to find the right wood.

While the idea was sound, the lack of a magical core was the issue. It was not as if Westeros was teeming with magical life. The only magical creatures he knew were dragons owned by his family. Unfortunately, all his attempts to gain a piece of dragon heartstrings were rebuffed by the King when he petitioned the man in secret. The only dragon that died in his lifetime was Balerion the Black Dread.

The mighty dragon’s passing saddened him, but he was also excited to get his hands on the heartstrings. However, his plan never came to fruition because King Jaehaerys, in his wisdom, saw to it that not a single piece of flesh, blood or even the hide of Balerion remained. At least, to his knowledge, those remains were cremated, and the ash interned within King Aegon’s grave. He had appealed to at least keep the dragonhide as they were quite useful for making armour and even boots, but for some reason, his grandfather was keen to see no such remains survive.

Aegon let out a sigh and closed the safe. The one piece of wood he had failed to collect was from a Heart Tree. According to First Men legends, the Children of the Forest supposedly built their communities around Heart Trees, and these trees were the abode of the Old Gods. The Children also carved the faces on some Weirwood trees which later came to be known as Heart Trees. The normal Weirwood was as neutral in his hand as any other piece of wood. So, he was holding out hope for getting some reaction from an actual piece of wood from a Heart Tree.

But the issue of a good core remained an issue. Only after that did the issue of compatibility even come into effect. But sadly, there was nothing he could do with that at the moment.

‘Unless I find something interesting in Essos.’ Aegon thought as he stared outside the palace grounds where it was raining.

Suddenly, two familiar hands wrapped around his torso and a familiar warmth pressed against his back.

“Why did you leave me in bed alone?” Gael asked sleepily.

“Look, Gael. It’s raining.” said Aegon, pointing to the palace grounds where the dark clouds in the sky were showering the beautiful city of Pentos with rainwater.

It was beautiful watching the rain pour down on the green landscape of the palace grounds.

“We should go to the pond.” Gael suddenly said, looking excited. “It is said by the servants that fish in the pond dance on the ground during the rain. I don’t want to miss it.”

“You want to go to the pond in this rain?” Aegon asked sceptically.

“Yes! It’ll be fun, you’ll see.” Gael squealed and ran for their bedroom, probably to get dressed.

Aegon shrugged before following Gael. Even he found it interesting to stand in the rain without anyone chasing him away. The one thing he liked about his stay in Pentos was the freedom he enjoyed, which made him wonder what was happening in Westeros.