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BtM Chapter 19: Viserys II
🕑 Added 2024-04-13 18:44:27 +0000 UTCOr a day in King Viserys’ life
Mornings for the king started slow as of late, groggily pulling himself out of the bed, he unconsciously shifts his arm to the other side of the bed, expecting to feel the warm touch of a woman.
But Alicent always woke up before him; the days where he’d lovingly hold her every morning were long gone.
He heads then to the great hall, where he usually breaks his fast. Ser Steffon Darklyn was the Kingsguard assigned to him for the morning.
This day he found his son, Daeron, mindlessly poking at some eggs, a sizable book to the side.
“Morning son.” Viserys says. “What brings you here so late?”
Daeron looks up to his father, a determined gaze on his face. “Good morning father, I thought as your cupbearer, it’ll be much easier for me to eat breakfast at the same time as yours.” He answers. “I asked the servants, and they said you usually do so around this time.”
Viserys chuckles, playfully scratching his sons head. “The gods blessed me with a dutiful son. Say, what’re you reading?”
Daeron’s face lights up at the prospect of discussing his interests. “It is ‘Wonders made by Man’ by Lomas Longstrider, I read the first one, and I thought it was fascinating.” He says. “Did you know that the titan of Braavos’ feet are actual islands?!”
“Ah, I’m not particularly fond of reading, neither was Daemon, but even he was enamored by Longstrider’s tales. I favored the second book much more than the first, knowing what marvels humans are capable of building proved to be much more interesting than natural ones.”
Daeron cheerfully nods. “I saw his mention of the Hightower, I was there, but the size of it didn’t impress me as much as its foundation.” He says. “I heard the black stone dates back to the time where the children of the forest made Westeros home, even before the first men came into the continent.”
“Is that so?”
“Mhm!” Daeron answers. “I heard that not even Valyrian steel could put a mark on the dark stones, one day, I sneaked Ser Darrion’s sword and hacked at it for ages! I didn’t even put a dent in it!”
Viserys guffaws. “You’re so small, even if you were to hack a normal boulder; you’d tire out before you give it scratch.” He playfully pinches his son’s nose. “Maybe when you’re grown, you could try again.”
Daeron seemingly ignored the playful tone of his father, as his face hardened in uncharacteristic seriousness. “I see.” He mused loudly. “Then I shall endeavor to do, one day in the future.”
“His grace should also work hard in the yard.” Steffon interjects. “I’d wager it’ll give you enough strength to split the black stone in half.”
“Ser Darklyn has the right of it, you better work hard in your training, lad.”
“I will!” Daeron obediently nods.
________________________________________________________________________
After breakfast, it was unfortunately time for court. Daeron, dutiful boy that he was, followed him with a copper flask of watered wine.
Viserys felt more energetic, maybe it was his son’s advice to walk more, eat better, or the Summer Island oil that he gifted to him every week, but his sickness acted less, his body was less numb, the discolored patches on his skin shrank, and he could breathe much more comfortably.
It is maybe because of that, that he went through the usual processes of court with renewed vigor, listening to petition and resolving conflict with much more ease.
Whenever he felt uncomfortable, he drank some wine to take the edge off.
Daeron was conscientious as always, not only did he do his duties, but he also focused intently on the processes, Viserys could see him absentmindedly nod when he agreed with one of his decisions, and frown when he didn’t. But he stayed silent, knowing that his duty is only to observe.
The court session ended with a somber note, Viserys sentenced a man to death for raping a young maidservant, much to the worrying jubilation of many of his courtiers.
He’s afraid that they may be much too bloodthirsty.
After dismissing Daeron, Viserys left for the gardens.
It was time for his daily walk through the halls of the red keeps, strategically taking the path going through the wing reserved for the Stormlander lords staying in the castle, and would you see it, he comes across Lord Borros on his way.
“Your grace.” The gruff lord bows alongside his guards.
“Lord Borros! What a pleasant surprise, would you be so kind as to walk with me?”
The Baratheon signals the dismissal of his guards. “Of course.”
They spend the first few seconds silently walking side to side, before the Lord Paramount of the Stormlands couldn’t help but ask.
“I’d assume that there is some subject you wished to discuss, your grace?” It was the longest sentence he heard the lord say. “Whatever you wish of me, I am at your service.”
“I guess we’re going straight to the point.” Viserys says. “I shall not beat around the bush then.”
Viserys stops, his form hunched over the cane seemed even tinier in front of the tall man, yet the King unabashedly stares him in the eyes.
“I am considering a betrothal between my son, Baelon, and your daughter the Lady Cassandra.” He says. “News of their infatuation with each other is abuzz in court, and to be frank, I am very much in favor of joining our houses, the Baratheons were and are still our staunched supporters, and the Lady Cassandra shares our Valyrian ancestry through both her great-grandmother, the late Alyssa Velaryon, and your ancestor Orys Baratheon.”
A hint of a smile shows itself in the stoic lord’s face. “It would be an honor to do so…” He says. “To be honest, your grace, the rumors of my daughters fancy for the crown prince aren’t an exaggeration, they seem to be quite besotted for each other.”
The king nods with a smile in his face. “Such news gladden me, whilst the political advantages of such a union would be most advantageous, the knowledge that their matrimony is going to be likely agreeable brings joy to my heart.” Then he frowns. “Although, Lord Borros, if we were to agree on this, there needs to be some additional… concessions to be made from your side.”
The Lord Paramount mirrors Viserys’ expression. “Which are?”
“You know how my son is, his bold tendency to interfere in other lord’s business brings me many headaches, but I am a father, and as such I am to indulge his desires.” He says. “Both I and he devised a method by which we can improve the stormlands, much like he previously did with the north and the riverlands. Mainly to build roads and to build you a fleet.”
“I am afraid I do not understand.” He answers. “How would the improvement of my lands be a concession?”
“Can you blame me? Many a lord are much too stubborn to accept change, even if it is beneficial.” Viserys says. “But we do have a presumptuous ask for you, lord Borros, we’d like to propose a betrothal for another of your daughters.”
Borros’ frown deepens, the king was right to be worried, whoever he chose for his daughter is for him to choose, and not even his liege has the authority or the right to decide that for him.
“To explain the thoughts behind our proposal we’d have to speak about your navy, mainly, the absence of one.” Viserys begins. “Storm’s End and its surrounding land’s weather are just too rough for any ship, let alone a fleet, so in order for the Stormlands to have any semblance of a navy, they have to use another position, somewhere close, but one that lacks the unfortunate situation of your territory.”
“Naturally, one can easily see that the best position to build a new port in the stormlands is the island of Tarth, it has a strategic position in the narrow sea, the eastern coast doesn’t see many storms, typhoons and such, and its proximity to Storm’s End makes it the best possible place to base a Stormlander fleet.”
“So if we were to assist in the building of a Stormlander navy, we need to assure the House of Tarth’s loyalty, the riches coming from such an investment may instill some of it, but it is equally capable of planting nefarious thoughts in their minds, so the best way to do that…”
“Is through marriage.” Borros finishes the king’s sentence.
“Yes.”
Borros spends more seconds thinking on the matter.
“If you assure your support in building a navy, then I agree to your conditions.”
Viserys extends his one intact hand for a handshake. “Then I’m pleased to join our families in matrimony.”
Borros does the same.
_________________________________________________________________________
The rest of the day passed quite quickly, there was no small council meeting to be had, so Viserys spent his time alongside his sculptors supervising his model of Valyria.
Shortly before dawn, the king partakes in a new tradition, sharing a drink with his favorite son over the balcony, watching the sundown.
He came in late this time, as Baelon already sat on a reclined chair, sipping a chilled cup of Dornish red.
“Busy day?” He asks his father.
Viserys pours himself a cup. “Not especially, I was just absentminded.”
“Ah.” Baelon says. “Your Valyrian replica, I can never see the appeal. Both you and Daemon seem to be obsessed with their culture.”
The King groans in satisfaction as he sits next to his son. “They were the greatest empire in history.”
“Eh… I’d put my money on Yi-Ti.” Baelon disagrees. “Plus there are signs of an even bigger, more prosperous civilization, there are many ruins of ancient structures made of unbreakable black stone, from the Hightower all the way to Asshai by the shadow. Maybe they are ruins of an even more prosperous empire than any one known to mankind.”
“Bollocks.” Viserys argues. “The Valyrians had dragons, enough to blanket the sky in their shadow.”
“They also had the greatest amount of slaves, and treated them like cattle, sacrificing them for their dark magics. In the basilik isle, the brindled men are still alive as a testament to their depraved methods. An empire that stands on a foundation of evil is unworthy of such a label, you know that.”
Viserys’ face clinches out of distaste; the Valyrian Empire’s abhorrent culture was a sore spot to him, especially as a Targaryen. “The disrespect of your ancestors aside, I come bearing good news. I have secured a betrothal between you and Lady Cassandra.”
“I know.” Baelon answers. “You weren’t subtle about it, discussing it publicly in the halls of the keep.” He japes. “Thank you, father.”
The king smiles. “I promised you years ago that I’d let you choose your bride, and your choice was better than any I could force upon you.” He says. “Lord Borros seems adamant to have the wedding as soon as possible.”
“Let us decide on that another day, now is the time for relaxation.” The prince takes a sip from his drink.
“Alright, tell me, how goes my city?”
“Construction is going as smoothly as ever, the stonemasons’ experience from Dragonstone proved invaluable, the cleansing of the gold cloaks is underway thanks to Daemon’s mistress, and most importantly, the sewers are about to be completely rebuilt.” He answers. “The smell is soon to be a thing of the past.”
Viserys guffaws. “I grew up with that ghastly scent, so much so that I feel as if I’d miss it.” He jokes.
Before Baelon could answer, someone softly knocked on the balcony door before entering.
Both father and son were unworried, and Viserys mentioned for whoever it is to enter.
It was Aegon, Baelon’s younger brother, he walked in with a determined gaze, but his trembling hands betrayed his nervousness.
“Aegon, what is the matter?” He asks.
Aegon directs his resolved eyes to the king. “Father, I wish to annul my betrothal.”
