"It is war. The people will suffer. The people who know them will suffer. And who am I to make them suffer?"
Time with Maegelle was always time well spent. If my existence on this planet was proof that there was something out there with the power of deity, then her existence was proof that said entity was worthy of being considered a deity.
Unfortunately, I could not spend every waking moment with my beloved wife. Were that the case, there was no doubt in my mind that the world would have been spared no small amount of my idiocy. However, that would also deny our children their rightful time with their mother, and that was unacceptable.
Which was why Maegelle and I were hurrying through the halls of the Red Keep in search of the youngest generation of House Targaryen. The youngest generation and among the youngest victims of this war. Well, not really searching. Maegelle knew where they were; All I had to do was follow her.
The door to the apartments swung open, the hinges mercifully well-oiled for a change. The inhabitants' gazes were on us as we stepped in, initially empty and dull eyes becoming full of light and life once they realized who stood before them. The youngest among them, the two youngest, really, were off their feet before the door had been opened even halfway. No, not the youngest; Daemon was seated quite comfortably on his grandmother's lap.
Like a pair of loosed arrows, the twins flung themselves at me. Without missing a beat, I was able to scoop them up and deposit them on my shoulders. A blessing on the masons who had decided to give the holdfast tall ceilings. Truly, it was thanks to their unintentional foresight that joy kept blooming in my heart.
"Papa!" As one, a pair of childish voices assaulted my ears from both sides. But I did not flinch. Even from this close, they were nowhere near as loud as the Cannibal bellowing his excitement for bloodshed and battle. "You made it!"
"That I did!" I said cheerfully. Any further words that would have come out of my mouth, be they boastful or reassuring, were cut off before my tongue could even move. To one of the other occupants of the room, it would have come off as hurtful, almost deliberately so. "Have you two been keeping up with your training? How are Smoke and Sundancer?"
As my children began their fragmentary retelling of how closely they flew over the rooftops, I noticed the other people in the room. Aelys had already reached me and was promptly scooped into my arms. Ever the small one, it took almost no effort to bring him up to the level of his niece and nephew. Viserra approached at a more sedate pace, with little Rhaenys in tow.
But they remained on the ground.
My littlest sister gave a pout once she realized she would not be joining me up above the floor, as was her right, but that was her right as a younger sister. Given time, she would forgive me. As was her duty as a younger sister. But that time would never come, as I caved almost immediately.
With my arms now full, my attention turned to the most senior and junior of the people in the room. Mother, and the toddler Daemon upon her lap. The boy looked as happy as any two-year-old had any right to, burbling giddily at reaching to clutch at anything within his grasp.
Mother did not share the toddler's mood.
In the month since I had left, she looked as though she had aged a decade. Her face sported new lines, her eyes were sunken, and her hair had lost the pale gold glamor it had once boasted. Gone was the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, the woman who had ruled alongside her husband for decades. The mourning mother was all that remained.
But it was my remaining nephew who brought a twinge of pain to my heart.
Viserys had not moved from his seat on the couch. Curled up, his knees to his chin, the boy remained rooted in his place as far away from everyone as he could be. Unlike his cousins, his eyes remained vacant and disinterested. But I did not need a look into his eyes to see that current affairs had left their mark on him.
I stopped in my tracks.
To whom did I go first? To my mother, desperately clinging to a reminder of her lost son? To my nephew, attempting to be alone in a crowded room? They both needed me. No, I realized, that was egotistical- they needed someone, anyone. I was not the only one who could help.
Luckily, I was not the only one there.
Glancing at my Maegelle, our eyes met almost immediately. Without another word, she made her way towards Mother, as I prepared to get the children out of my hair for a little while.
"Alright children, I need to have some words with Viserys," I told them, earning a chorus of disappointment. The retelling of their current adventures in the gardens would have to wait, but that was what dinner was for. "Never fear, you can tell me the rest of the story later. If you're very good, I'll tell you one too."
"About Dorne?" Aerion asked as I gently set his uncle down. Only long-ingrained instincts kept me from flinching. They would not know about Dorne. I would sooner burn down the city than expose them to the brutality of war.
"Better," I said instead. "A tale of heroism and adventure. With knights and heroes. With dragons and their lairs." A tale I had been told and participated in. A tale from one of the best times of my previous life.
"Is it better than the last one?" Aerea asked, eliciting a cringe from me.
"Would you prefer the tale of Ser Martyn the Selfless?" I asked with a raised brow. As nice a tale as it was, extolling the virtues of generosity and self-sacrifice, it was a bit short for my liking. And one I told quite often.
"I like that one…" Aelys muttered from the floor.
"Ser Martyn it is, then," I said, crouching low to more safely deposit the twins. "Come on. No doubt the master-at-arms would love for you to hit some targets."
The thought of the activity was enough to motivate them, and they streamed out of the room. There were only four inhabitants remaining inside, now. Maegelle sat with Mother, talking in hushed voices. Little Daemon still sat happily burbling, but oblivious to what was happening.
And Viserys had yet to move.
I did not speak at first, instead choosing to sit next to him on the backless couch. The creaking of the wood was slightly muffled by the couch's covering as I settled into the seat. Nobody ever wanted to have this conversation. And for several moments, simply sat there.
"Viserys," I eventually broke the relative silence, but the boy did not react. Hardly an auspicious start. "Will you look at me Viserys?"
Purple eyes turned in their sockets to glance at me for the briefest moment. Reddened by tears, and mayhaps by a lack of sleep, they were darker than I remembered. Almost immediately, his eyes returned to the front, staring blindly into space.
"You did a difficult thing," I admitted. "You should not have had to do it, but you did it."
The boy did not react, so I kept talking. With a bit of luck, I could coax out at least one word. But for several long moments, he held his silence.
"I'm not going to ask you to tell me what happened, Viserys," I said next. "But I should have been there for you. I may only be your uncle, but I failed in that duty so I could burn some castles in the name of vengeance." My tone softened as I remembered the horrors I had inflicted. Men who had been bathed in fire until metal and flesh had melted together, fat rendering and frying on molten plates of steel… the smell still lingered in my mind. "But you are still here. And you are strong, far stronger than you should ever need to be."
Again, nothing.
"I should have been there for you." The words spilling out of my mouth sounded more and more distant. "But instead, I wasted my time inflicted on others a fate much like yours in the name of vengeance. You'll meet one of them at dinner tonight. I hope the two of you will be able to help each other. It is… it is something only you can do."
Again noth- no, a twitch. Was it out of annoyance? Or was I getting to him?
"Do you want to help?" I asked, hopeful that I might finally help somebody.
"…yes…" The word was merely mumbled and muffled by both the boy's knees and hands. But it was a word. A spoken word. It was a sign of progress.
"Say that again." The order was softly spoken, but an order it was.
"Yes." This time, the words were clearer. A hint of confidence was present too, his head rising up from where he had been slumped. Not simply spoken were these words, no. Those words were declared, a statement to the world that this is what he would do.
"Then I need you to do two things, alright?" Finally, something good had come out of this whole mess! Oh, how I had missed the feeling of knowing what you were doing was having a positive impact! "I will be leaving for the war before too long. I need you to do two things. Help the girl help you and defend the city."
"… can I come with you?" There was a familiar fire blazing in his eyes as he turned to face me. A need for vengeance a boy of almost six should not have. I did not like it one bit, the sight of it nearly breaking my heart. "I'm coming with you."
No, he would not!
"War is something many can do, Viserys," I said gently. There was not a chance that I would willingly bring a child to war, let alone to war alongside the Ironborn. Even I was left uneasy by it. "But people need to be protected and helped. This duty is something I can entrust only to you."
Hopefully, he would remember that message as he grew up.
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