Aegon held his hand firmly, forcing himself to stop shaking. His good father, Jaime Lannister, stood before him.
"I understand... your father's death has been an unexpected blow. I understand perfectly the weight that has fallen on your shoulders," Aegon sighed.
Tywin died, supposedly at the hands of Balon Greyjoy. The Ironborn had been missing during the battle, and everyone assumed he was dead or had fled the Iron Islands like a coward. They found his body near a bridge, a dagger in his hand, the ropes of the bridge cut. Under that same bridge was the body of Tywin Lannister. They were lucky that he had fallen on a rocky part of the island, or they would not have been able to recover his body.
"Have you selected the next Hand of the King?" Jaime asked, his eyes tired and hardened.
Aegon had offered the position to Jaime, who declined, citing his duties as Warden of the West.
"Two. Both are equally controversial. Jon Arryn and Stannis Baratheon," said the young king.
A replacement was needed after all; Jaehaerys had promised to be a temporary Hand. At first, Aegon would have liked to keep him in the position; he could have made many concessions to him. But at that moment, he wanted him as far away from the capital as possible.
Jaehaerys had crossed the line several times. Dozens of houses are extinct, thousands men are dead. The reason for excluding him from the final battle was to keep most of the noble houses on the Iron Islands alive. On top of that, Aegon was seen on the battlefield, leading the troops from the front as a king should.
"Both rebels," Jaime commented, but he did not deny the ability of both men. "Neither King Rhaegar nor my father would have agreed," he said in a whisper. "But they are both gone now. Stannis has made an even greater name for himself. He was already well known for surviving the siege of Mace Tyrell, and destroying the Greyjoys at sea puts him in a pretty good position. He fought for his king," he agreed.
"He's a good general, but I'm not sure he'll be a good Hand," Aegon said, rubbing his forehead. "Jon Arryn, on the other hand... he's a capable politician," the man from the Vale retained most of his power even after being the one who took the first step in the rebellion.
"Removing the punishments from the Baratheon House and giving Lord Arryn the position of Hand could heal the wounds," Jaime nodded. "And with Baelish gone... the position of Lord Coin is also vacant. My brother Tyrion... has always been the smartest of the Lannisters, not even our father can deny that," he commented, not so subtly.
"I'll think about it," said the young king, although in his mind Tyrion was already Lord Coin.
He had been seriously considering Wyman Manderly for the position, or one of his sons. That had been thanks to Jaehaerys' opinion, but at that moment, he did not trust his uncle very much.
"I'm going to King's Landing to swear allegiance. I want to see her," Jaime Lannister said and left. Aegon knew that the man had forced himself to be there, talking about politics. He had just lost his father and would eventually have to take his place.
The king's wife, Myrcella Lannister, had fallen ill. She had a fever, one that raised her temperature so high that her body seemed to be smoking. She fell ill quickly, and Pycelle gave her up for dead. He would have doubted the maester, but he was Tywin Lannister's faithful serpent. He would not harm Myrcella and would do everything in his power to keep her alive.
She got the fever a day after Jaehaerys left his group to go to his castle. Aegon did not want to be superstitious at that moment; it was a mere coincidence, his uncle had nothing to do with it.
But it did not seem to be so. Jaehaerys killed Rhaegar, and most likely also killed Peter Baelish. Neither death affected the king, but they showed that Jaehaerys preferred action to the subtle acts of the Game of Thrones. Eliminating Myrcella to take power away from the Lannisters could be part of Jaehaerys' plans.
Strange symbols appeared on Myrcella's skin, but they were familiar to Aegon. He had seen them on Jaehaerys' coat of arms. They weren't exactly the same, but they seemed to belong to the same alphabet.
Now, the young king did not know whom to trust. Myrcella's illness was not common; it was a curse. Aegon believed in magic; any Targaryen who saw dragons would never dare deny the existence of magic. And if anyone wielded magic, it was Jaehaerys.
Or maybe it wasn't him? Maybe his uncle fell prey to a trap. Perhaps someone else had attempted to take Myrcella's life and marked him as the culprit.
"It was him," whispered a voice in his head. It was dark, but not cold, rather fiery.
Aegon knew perfectly well who it belonged to. It was that... god... with whom he made a deal to save Myrcella's life.
R'hllor.
It was a decision he made in the midst of panic, of fear at the possibility of losing the love of his life. Under normal circumstances, he would never have made a pact with that god; he had seen his father consumed in the presence of the red god.
Perhaps in the beginning, his father had been a good man... but he had been corrupted by R'hllor.
"He understood... what was paid, what was gained. He understood the threat of the great Other," said a woman's voice.
Aegon looked up and saw the priestess.
It was part of the deal; she would be his advisor, as Melissandre had been to King Rhaegar. Her name was Kinvara, and she came from Volantis.
The prince's hand went to his chest, where he had stabbed his own heart. He had traded his life for Myrcella's. It was the move of a fool in love, and it was then that he understood his father. Rhaegar cherished the prophecy of the promised prince as much as Aegon loved his wife. But the young king did not remain dead, no. Melissandre, only the gods know where she was, brought him back, then left for another place to fulfill an order from her god.
When she returned, Aegon knew he had made a mistake. Since saving his wife's life, his mind had become more stable, more decisive. That would have been a good thing; Jaehaerys would have considered it a trait worthy of a king. But Aegon knew that his actions stemmed from doubt. It was part of him, a part that was being consumed by the red god.
Aegon could direct his thoughts as much as he wanted, casting Jaehaerys as the victim of a trap. But deep down, he had found him guilty. Had it been him? Or had it been that being he had let in?
"Does it matter?" Aegon thought.
Jaehaerys had become a threat. An uncontrollable being.
It wasn't just Aegon who saw him that way. Other lords were whispering; he knew the Lannisters thought so, but it wasn't the time for them to act against him. Tywin was dead. Perhaps the old lion had also been a victim of Jaehaerys.
"He was," said that voice in his head.
Aegon wanted to send for his uncle. To ask him for an explanation. Although he doubted that even if Jaehaerys told him it wasn't he who cursed Myrcella, he could believe him. He could present the best argument, and Aegon's mind would listen, see the logic, but his heart would not change its mind.
Aegon wanted to punish his uncle, and that seemed illogical to him. There was no evidence or anything incriminating. Only the testimony of a god his uncle hated.
Even so, he had no power to go against his uncle. The war proved it; he gave up. No one would raise a sword against Jaehaerys, against his dragon. And the other two dragons at ArgentStone. Aegon had to level the playing field so that the other lords would follow him. He had to hatch the eggs in King's Landing.
"Forgive me, Jaehaerys," he apologized in his troubled mind.
He apologized while he could still think like Aegon.