Chapter 238: Aegon’s Little Buddy |
The next day at dawn.
In the Great Hall of Riverrun, Old Tully's two sons and a retinue of retainers lined both sides of the room. Above them, in a separate chamber, Rhaegar, clad in black, sat on the Lord's high seat.
A bell chimed softly as Helaena, standing by Rhaegar's side, rang it to summon the servants. Rhaenyra quickly took the bell from her and gave her a stern look. Helaena shrank back, snuggling into Rhaegar's lap, silenced.
BANG!
The hall doors burst open and Robb Rivers strode in, helmeted and tired after a grueling day and night journey to Riverrun.
Rhaegar, his hands on the armrests, tilted his head, "Milov, step forward."
Milov Tully, the second son of Old Tully, stepped forward, his head hanging low with trepidation. His lewd, gaunt appearance spoke of a life of debauchery.
Rhaegar eyed him with disdain, "Riverrun has a thousand defenders. Why did you avoid fighting?"
The Old Lord Tully sons had been left to stew for a day and a night; it was time to see what they were made of.
Rhaegar snorted and summoned Old Tully's youngest son. This man, fat as a pig with a mop of red hair, resembled a reborn boar.
Before Rhaegar could speak, the young man blurted out, "I wanted to send troops, but no one would obey my orders."
His face, trembling with random jerks, showed a lack of intelligence that explained his failure to command.
"Enough, both of you, get out!" Rhaegar bellowed, not wasting another look.
The Tully brothers, relieved as if pardoned, slipped out the side door.
Riverrun was the stronghold of the Tully House, and this meeting was crucial to the safety of the Riverlands. Yet the brothers showed no concern, only an eagerness to avoid responsibility. Rhaegar sighed, momentarily sympathizing with Old Tully's plight.
At that moment, a young man with black hair stepped forward and asked, "Prince, I hear the chaotic army is besieging Harrenhal. Are Lord Lyonel and my grandfather safe?"
Rhaegar recognized the young man. It was Elmo Tully, the sixteen-year-old grandson of Old Tully and the only son of the heir who had died in the rebellion.
"Lord Lyonel is recovering and Lord Tully is well," Rhaegar replied.
Elmo, relieved, inquired further, "Prince, with both lords well, do you have a strategy for dealing with the Blackwoods and the Brackens?"
His temperament mirrored that of his grandfather and late father: not possessing great skills, but brimming with cleverness.
Rhaegar surveyed the hall, noting the absence of significant bannermen and a lack of leadership.
In response to Elmo's question, he declared, "The Blackwood and Bracken House have risen in rebellion and will face severe consequences."
The room erupted in murmurs. Elmo's eyes lit up with anticipation. With his father dead and his uncles being useless, Elmo stood to inherit Riverrun when his grandfather died. If he could use the royal family to subjugate the Blackwoods and Brackens or take territory from them, his future as lord would be much more secure.
"Robb," Rhaegar called, gesturing to his loyal supporter.
Robb stepped forward, his head held high. Rhaegar continued, "At Lord Lyonel's suggestion, we will negotiate with the two houses first. As Lord Blackwood's son and heir, you will lead the way."
Rhaegar's choice of words - "lead the way" - was deliberate. His gaze shifted to Elmo, scrutinizing him. "Your uncles have proved not being capable enough. As the ducal family of the Riverlands, Riverrun should send a representative."
Elmo hesitated, taken aback. Despite his knightly training, he had never seen the battlefield, living a sheltered life under the protection of his grandfather and father. Now he was being asked to represent his family against the rebels. The pressure was immense.
Rhaegar tilted his head, a smirk playing on his lips. "What, you don't dare?"
Compared to House Bracken laying siege to Harrenhal, House Blackwood is much easier to deal with.
With Robb leading the way, the pressure is off Elmo; if he backs down, three generations of the Tully family will be ruined.
Elmo gathered his courage, the prince's taunt spurring him on. "I will represent my house and convince the Blackwoods to surrender," he declared loudly.
Stepping forward in this capacity effectively positioned Elmo as the family's heir. He had to rise to the occasion.
"Very well," Rhaegar said, sitting up straighter. "You will be the messengers to invite Lord Blackwood to Riverrun for negotiations."
Elmo was taken aback. "Lord Blackwood's army is stationed outside the city. Why would he come to us?"
"That is not your concern," Rhaegar replied firmly. "Invite him here under the guise of a visit to the Targaryens."
The Blackwoods had been slow to attack, probably hoping to take advantage of the situation. The show of force by the three dragons was both a warning and a gesture of goodwill.
With Rhaegar's orders, Robb and Elmo had no choice but to comply. "By the prince's command, we leave now," Robb said crisply and turned to leave. Elmo hesitated, but followed.
Once they were gone, Rhaegar turned to the Maester. "Write a letter inviting Lord Bracken to Riverrun and send it with a raven to Stone Hedge."
The maester bowed and withdrew.
Rhaegar's plan was clear: show courtesy before resorting to force. If the two lords came to Riverrun, they would be captured and sent to King’s Landing for judgment. If they refused...
Three dragons were ready to make their presence felt over Riverrun.
A day later, at the Blackwood House camp.
Inside a large tent, Robb and Elmo were led in, bound and gagged. Waiting for them was a stern, middle-aged man with black hair - Lord Blackwood - and his eldest son, Samwell Blackwood.
When Lord Blackwood saw Robb, he frowned and ordered, "Untie him."
The ropes were removed and Robb immediately addressed his captors, "Lord Blackwood, we are emissaries from Prince Rhaegar. He invites you to Riverrun to meet and negotiate."
Despite his predicament, Robb refrained from calling Blackwood "Father" to avoid further complicating matters.
"Breathe and speak slowly, brother," Samwell urged, helping Robb to his feet.
Robb nodded, "The prince wants to avoid unnecessary bloodshed and persuade the Blackwoods to surrender."
"Oh, he thinks he's invincible because he has dragons?" Lord Blackwood scoffed.
Robb paused, then raised his head defiantly, "You can refuse, but if dragonfire rains down, I may end up inheriting your lands and your castle."
"How dare you! Who gave you the courage to speak to me like that?" Lord Blackwood shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Robb.
Even if the family line were to die out, a bastard would never inherit. Lord Blackwood realized that Robb's provocation was deliberate, meant to force him to consider the consequences.
Calming himself, Lord Blackwood asked, "What does the prince intend to do with our family?"
"I don't know," Robb answered honestly.
Samwell looked confused. "Brother Robb, you're the Prince's closest advisor. Hasn't he given any indication?"
Robb shook his head and said, "The Blackwoods have not caused as much trouble as the Brackens."
Samwell looked at his father, who was deep in thought. The implications were clear: the Brackens were the primary culprits.
Half an hour later, Lord Blackwood rubbed his temples and sighed, "I'm going to Riverrun to meet the Prince. Samwell, you will stay here and lead the army."
"Yes, father," Samwell replied, concern evident in his voice.
...
At the same time.
In Stoneleigh City, the maester received a raven's message and promptly delivered it to the Lord of Bracken, Amos Bracken. Amos, a square-faced young man with brown curly hair, read the message carefully.
When he reached the end, his face contorted with rage. Tearing the letter to shreds, he cursed, "Damn them! Do they think they can trick me into entering Riverrun City? Do they take me for a fool?"
The maester, standing nearby, cautioned, "Lord Amos, scouts report there are three dragons in Riverrun. It might be wise to meet with them."
Amos glared at him, "Nonsense! If I go there, I'll be walking into a trap!"
The maester sighed, bowing his head. Amos, still agitated, snapped, "Go and tell that fool to prepare more wildfire, and bring the priestess here. I need her counsel."
"Lord Amos, Tru was a maester once. You should show some respect," the maester replied in displeasure.
Amos dismissed him with a wave, "Stop arguing and do as I say!"
The maester, feeling disrespected, had no choice but to leave with a sullen expression.
Not long after, a voluptuous woman in red robes, a priestess from a foreign land, arrived.
...
Two Days Earlier
Bloodstone Island
Aegon rose from his bed, his hair disheveled and spread out around him. He had spent the night indulging in various pleasures. Laenor, standing nearby, looked at him with a playful smile and held up a bottle of wine.
"I found a bottle of Summer Red. Let's share it?" Laenor suggested.
Aegon, irritated and dismissive, threw on some clothes. "Keep your distance. I'm not interested in a man's appetite," he snapped.
Laenor's preferences were known, but Aegon had not yet explored such inclinations. He was particular about his partners, and men were not among his choices.
Laenor's voice remained soft. "Relax, Aegon. You're my cousin. I'd never touch you unless you wanted me to."
Aegon, clearly still in a bad mood, grabbed the bottle from Laenor. "What good wine can there be on this island? It's not worth washing my cock with," he said roughly. He bit off the cork and, to Laenor's horror, poured the wine over himself to clean up.
"No!" Laenor exclaimed, clearly distraught. "This is Dorne's Summer Red, aged ten years!"
It was too late. The bottle was already empty, and Aegon threw it to the ground, shattering it. He looked at Laenor with dark, empty eyes. "Summer Red? Ten years old?" he repeated, mocking the meaning.
Laenor's face was a mixture of helplessness and frustration. "Yes, a bottle worth a hundred gold dragons."
Aegon's face twisted in a mixture of realization and indifference. "A hundred gold dragons? You should have told me sooner. My cock isn't worth that much."
Gritting his teeth, Laenor replied bitterly, "Then perhaps you should have chopped it off."
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