Pre-Chapter A/N: Welcome to October, guys! Let's smash whatever goals we've set ourselves this year. More chapters on my patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)— same username as here and link in bio. Experimenting with two chapters a week, we'll see how long I can keep this up for.
XXXXX- GRAND MAESTER RUNCITER (109 AC)
Valyrian steel would struggle to cut the tension in the room. The Small Council's meeting room, larger than its name would ordinarily have suggested, felt much smaller than it ever had. Perhaps it was because they had essentially divided it into two halves. Perhaps it was because of the woman who sat on the other end of it.
"Shall we begin then?" The woman was the one to break the silence. If the desire was for her to seem the supplicant, then that had failed thoroughly. Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was—an insult meant to demean her had turned into an invisible crown atop her brow. The only kind of crown she would ever wear, yes. But one she wore better than any other he had ever seen. She dominated the room with her presence. To her left, her daughter—so beautiful a maiden that more than a few men of the council had done double takes.
If the reports he had received about Lord Corlys' final intentions were true, then she was easily the most desirable maiden in the realm bar one. A dragon, more gold than half the realm had, ships made in the best shipyard the realm could boast, and then so beautiful that it felt like comparing her to the Maiden was no blasphemy—it was fitting. Only a crown could compare.
And then to the Queen Who Never Was' other side sat the man of the hour. The future Lord of Driftmark, the rider of the fastest-growing Dragon in records, already shaping to be a warrior of renown, and easily the most eligible young lord of them all.
"We shall. The King will not be joining us today."
"Understandable," she said, saying nothing else. No one needed to say anything else. The King's wails had echoed through Maegor's Holdfast for much of the last night, it was said.
"So you must wonder why we have summoned you here."
"Naturally," she said. One-word replies seeming to be her chosen tactic—making it seem like the Hand was the one reporting to her and not the other way around. Like Runciter thought, she wore a crown well.
"We are to discuss what shall be done with the Stepstones now that the Islands have been consolidated."
"Are we?" she asked, tilting her head.
"Do you have some issue with that, Lady Rhaenys?" he said. There was a hiss of indignation from the daughter. The Son and his mother bore the quiet insult with grace and silence. It was a wise tactic from the Hand. On whether Princess or Lady was the right form of address for a woman who married out of the royal family to a Lordly one was not a matter that had been conclusively answered one way or the other. If pushed, he would claim ignorance, apologize, and allow them to seem unreasonable. If not pushed, then he would maintain whatever advantage it gave him.
"Only the issue that the matter has been litigated quite thoroughly, and a decision had been reached months before my husband and son set sail."
"Yes, but circumstances have changed since then."
"You mean that we succeeded where you expected us to fail, and now you expect us to reward you for betting against us."
"I have little idea of what you speak, Lady Velaryon. I was speaking of the fact that the King has now lost a brother in the conquest of the Stepstones. A Prince of the Blood lies dead, and the Crown will seek compensation."
"I can have the head of the one who did the killing shipped to you posthaste," she said glibly.
"If only that could suffice. But the crown lost blood in taking those islands. Not just a Prince, but a Dragonlord. Those aren't very replaceable."
"And like I said, we did not kill him."
"No one accused you of doing so, but you must understand how the… balance of things might have been affected."
"Speak plainly, Hightower," she said.
"I think Lord Hand would be the correct means of address," Ser Redwyne said, bristling. And Runciter could see the urge to facepalm on the Hand's face. He hadn't wanted to bring it up for some reason. Probably to avoid being pushed into referring to the Princess as such.
"And I myself think that a Princess of the House Targaryen should be referred to as such," Laenor Velaryon spoke with a timbre and clarity that was beyond his age.
"Is she not also the Lady Velaryon? Is that not the respect in which she appears before this council?" Redwyne contested.
"And is he not Otto of the House Hightower? I would have sought to include the title Lord in there, but unless my grasp of the situation is outdated, then dear Otto here has not been enfeoffed," he said. Runciter watched the debate develop, and there was no doubt about it—Laenor Velaryon was far from a man grown in body, but he was similarly far Redwyne's better in wits.
"As the Hand of the King, a certain respect is due," he added, digging the hole deeper.
"And is no respect due to a Princess? The daughter of a Prince? Granddaughter of a King? Cousin to another King? Rider to the dragon, Meleys?" he parried the attempt handily.
"Ser Redwyne, I think we can debate without bothering ourselves with trivialities," the Hand said, chastening his man and ending the debate. Of course, if he expected the gesture to be returned by his opposition, then he was sorely mistaken. Rhaenys Targaryen watched it happen without so much as a twitch on her face and did nothing to chide her son.
"Now shall we go back to the subject at hand, Princess?" Another peace offering. That was new. The Hand most definitely wanted something from House Velaryon then. And Runciter would bet his chain that it had something to do with the King's firstborn daughter, who the King still steadfastly refused to name his heir. The Queen was pregnant again, and the question would be even more dire if she birthed another son.
"We may. Last I checked, I asked you to clarify your statement, Lord Hand."
"Well enough. If you must have us speak such things plainly. The Royal House of Westeros is House Targaryen. And House Targaryen has one dragon rider at present to your small army of three. Her other rider died in circumstances that I would call suspicious at best under your care. Now you stand to expand your holdings with the Stepstones. You see why some would be cautious about the position of things."
"I might. And what would you have me do about it?"
"Daemon Targaryen is dead now. And I say for his death, the crown might find itself appeased with two islands on the Stepstones. Perhaps Bloodstone and Grey Gallows as personal additions to the Crown's fief," he said, and there was an intake of air from the Velaryons' end of the table. Runciter was impressed at the naked greed on display. But then again, it was only greed if he couldn't get away with it, and what were the chances that he wouldn't?
"Is the King aware that you are trying to use his brother's death to strong-arm us so?"
"It is the duty of the Council to do what the King may not. For the good of the realm."
"Well, I can tell you that we will not be agreeing to such terms. Regardless of whose good it is for," she said.
"Can you afford to, though? Do it for the good of the realm. Appease the Crown, restore the balance, and the realm will thank you for it."
"And two islands are enough to restore this balance of yours?"
"Of course not. They just begin. Your son, Laenor Velaryon, did not finish his Squireship under House Baratheon last I checked. The King would be most pleased to continue his education. And your daughter. The Crown shall take over arrangements for seeking a suitable husband for her." Now, Runciter knew the Hand had pushed too far.
"Have you forgotten who I am, Otto?" The Queen Who Never Was did not scream. She did not shiver with rage or anything so hysterical. Instead, she went still. So still that she looked not to even be breathing as she hissed her words into the air.
"Never, Rhaenys," he said.
"No. You must have. To dare insult me so. No terms shall I offer you here. Any other terms you have, you should address to Meleys."
"I urge you, Rhaenys, be wise here. Do not force the crown to take other measures to restore the balance. Because the balance must be restored one way or another." They stared at each other, neither backing down.
"I thought on coming here, you would seek the wise thing. House Targaryen and House Velaryon have been apart for too long. A marriage between my Laenor and Viserys' Rhaenyra would put all that to a neat end."
"An interesting proposition. I have another for you. Aegon for your daughter. We can put a crown on her beautiful head," he offered. So that was his game then. Push and push only for this to be the conclusion.
"Aegon is not Viserys' heir. To suggest otherwise is treason," she replied instantly, and Runciter could see the way the Hand's face shifted. He realized now that this woman would never be his ally.
"Indeed. Perhaps you misunderstood me. I meant the crown of a Princess, of course."
"Of course," she said, nodding and saying nothing else.
"So will there be no concessions from House Velaryon?"
"House Velaryon of Driftmark is sworn to House Targaryen. So will House Velaryon of the Stepstones. That shall be concession enough. If you seek any further balancing considerations, then you should be pleased with the knowledge that House Baratheon will be receiving two of the Islands for their contributions. If only House Redwyne had been able to fulfill their obligations, then they would have been similarly compensated."
"The summer storms—" Redwyne began indignantly but was swiftly shut down by the Hand's raised hand.
"Is that the choice you want to make, Rhaenys? What happens next will be on your head."
"Do your worst, Otto. House Velaryon has weathered many a storm, and we have done nothing wrong but succeed where the Crown gave us writ to succeed. Is it now a crime to prosper? And you speak like we did not suffer a massive loss of our own," she said, her tone as cold as the expression on her face.
"Very well. You are excused," he said, and then looked down at the parchment on the table, beginning to read it. It was a clear dismissal—if a disrespectful one.
Rhaenys bore it with dignity, however, rising and leaving the Chamber with her children trailing after her.
"So what do we do then?" Rickard Redwyne turned to the Hand.
"We show her that the crown will not be mocked or threatened," he replied.
"I find myself disbelieving that she intended to do either. I agreed to maintain my peace in this meeting so as to present a united front before a possible rival power, but you took it too far. You were too heavy-handed," Lyonel Strong cut in, his voice plain and gruff.
"Too heavy-handed? What do you call it for her to come here with two dragons? One of them Vhagar, the largest of the beasts. And the other, Igneel, battle-tested and clearly filled with more than enough rage. Our response, Caraxes, now sits riderless, and even worse, remains with the Velaryon dragons. They intend to steal him from the Crown, with or without a rider. I say we do not sit quietly while a house pretends upon and then infringes on royal power and authority," the Hand replied, his tone stern and eyes burning with a fire. If Runciter did not know better, he might have taken him for a true believer.
"And we have nothing but your word to go upon that the Princess intends such."
"Are you new to the game, Strong? House Velaryon sought that crown that now sits upon King Viserys' head. Do you think they have lost any of that desire to be Kings of Westeros now that their patriarch has fallen? Rhaenys was denied a crown that she felt was hers. And now she desires to snatch it from the rightful royal line by whatever means possible."
"And that is why you spurned the marriage with Princess Rhaenyra? It would be a good match, and it is not like the King has made up his mind on some other option. If your worry is that the claim will be pushed by force or whatever means, why not merge the claims and be done with it? Let Princess Rhaenys have her grandchildren on the Iron Throne and let there be peace."
"Surely you would not be so blind. Is it treason instead, Strong? The King intends for the Princess to rule as Queen in her own right. Do you think Laenor Velaryon, that boy who so vigorously defended his claim before even fully out of his swaddling clothes, would submit to Rhaenyra as Queen? Do you think he would see himself as Prince-Consort? Or would he see himself as King of the Seven Kingdoms with all that means? And in that case, do you not think it is treason to put forth a match that would be counter to the King's true wishes and might see his chosen heir supplanted?" he asked, and Strong backed down with an inclined head. The Hand's silver tongue was truly unmatched.
"But that still leaves us the matter of how we assert the Crown's power over House Velaryon. You yourself did a good job of painting the power they have amassed."
"They have power, but no legitimacy. I have worked and bled for this day. If the realm is to vote again, Laenor Velaryon would not even get a third as many as the King would. They have no support, and that means when we push them, they will back down like any house would."
"And the Dragons?"
"Dragon riders or not, they would never slay their own kin. Neither would they rise in open rebellion—not unless they felt they had a chance of winning. House Velaryon is power-hungry and grasping. But if we are quick and thorough, they will bend before they break," he said, and he sounded so confident that it was not hard to believe him. And so they began to scheme and plan late into the night.
"Lord Beesbury, were you able to create what I asked of you?" the Hand asked then.
"Yes, Lord Hand. But I must add that these provisions will be most unfair to certain Houses. I would not be surprised if they petitioned the King to see a reduction or even elimination," the Reach lord said. Runciter almost shook his head as the Master of Coin began to hand out sheets of parchment. The man was a genius when it came to numbers. He could understand and see them in a way that Runciter just could not. He had been chosen for his wise stewardship of House Beesbury's holdings, after all. Turning a honey-producing house into one of the richest in a Kingdom as large as the Reach was impressive. That he had done it without fomenting rebellion among his smallfolk from overtaxation was a feat worthy of reverence.
Runciter could hear Darklyn's whistle as he picked up the parchment. He began his own examination and could see why. The numbers looked correct. He would have to get his scale to check them over later, but from what he could see, this man had modeled the Crown's incomes for the next decade with present taxation and growth, and then he had proposed a series of tweaks to the present tax policy that saw the Crown taking in nearly as much money—only a 5% reduction—while reducing most taxes. Most.
"Yes, Lord Beesbury. I understand that. But I assure you that the affected Houses bar one will come to see the necessity of the present policy. And you did what I asked, yes?"
"Yes, Lord Hand. For Houses Redwyne, Manderly and Hightower, the only others to be substantially affected by the new taxes on shipbuilding and importation from Essos, I included a few special benefits. Reductions in taxes on wine should see the Redwyne books break even, and the same should hold true for House Manderly when it comes to shellwork, pearls, and fish, but I cannot assure more than that without an in-depth look at their individual finances."
"But you think the numbers are sound?"
"I think their tax burden to the Crown will remain within the same range, but like I said, taxation can have all manners of knock-on effects that we cannot predict."
"And like I said, this is for the good of the realm. They will understand. I will see to it that they do."
"As you say, Lord Hand."
"This would cripple any house," Strong said.
"No. I highly doubt that some increased taxes would cripple Velaryon. Maybe make them bend those stiff backs of theirs a bit, but nothing of value will be lost," Darklyn chuckled. Strong, despite his concerns, did not object further. And so the provisions were passed and would be placed before the King for assent. Something that he was sure the Hand would secure.
And so the war between the Crown and House Velaryon would begin, Runciter wrote in his journal that night. First would come the King's First Tax Revisions. A series of taxation policies that would see the taxes lighten on near every house in the realm, while near-doubling on House Velaryon-related interests.
Not so overtly as to be obvious, but the tax burden on industries dominated by the Velaryons would be increased—five dragons in tax per ship built was one such increased tax. While taxes from everything from produce to wine would be reduced slightly enough that the Crown would hardly feel the loss, but the individual houses would feel their burdens lighten. House Velaryon would protest the new policy, but they would find themselves alone in that fight.
A/N: Otto would not abide any threat existing to the Crown. The Crown that he believes will be his grandson's. At this point, he still has hope that Viserys will name Aegon as his heir. In canon, I don't think either of the sides thought Civil War inevitable until Viserys' literal last years. In the show, it seems like they hadn't even considered it until it started right around them. So here, he is trying to get House Velaryon on side. When Rhaenys rebuffs that, he decides to fire a warning shot. This isn't a knockout blow, just something to bring them back to the table. Next six chapters up on patreon(https://www.patreon.com/c/Oghenevwogaga)(same username as here and link in bio), support me there and read them early.