He leaned forward, steepling his fingers. "We are here to address the militant actions Prince Daemon has taken. Actions that Rome cannot simply forgive and forget, especially in light of the severe damage and loss of life directly caused by his beast."
That was my cue to firmly abandon my awe of this place and don the heavy mantle of the Prince of Dragonstone.
"On behalf of the Iron Throne, we deeply regret the violent actions taken by Daemon Targaryen," I stated, keeping my voice level. "But we must unequivocally clarify that this incursion was entirely unsanctioned by the Crown. We are fully prepared to compensate the Imperium for the loss of life and property attributed to my son and Caraxes. The exact details and the weight of the ransom can be negotiated. We only ask that Daemon be permitted to return with us to Westeros."
"That will be exceptionally difficult to manage, Prince Baelon, considering the sheer number of Roman citizens currently crying out for the Valyrian's blood," Octavian countered cleanly. I suppressed a wince at the undeniable truth of his words. "The political ramifications of his interference must be answered. Merely accepting a ransom would publicly declare that every Imperial life possesses a finite price, thereby demeaning the very foundation of our Empire."
"Are you suggesting that life does not possess a price?" Vaegon challenged, his tone sharply rhetorical. "Seeing as the Imperium maintains a massive standing army, pays its legionaries regular wages, and provides them with extensive civic benefits—all of which can ultimately be filtered down to a strict monetary value—does that not explicitly indicate that every life indeed has a calculable price?"
It was an exceptionally aggressive, cynical stance to take, but the King had ordered Vaegon to attend these negotiations for this exact, analytical ruthlessness.
"Forgive me, Princeps, but we both know this posturing is not about coin," Vaegon continued, his steely voice echoing against the marble pillars. "You wish to make a brutal example out of my nephew. With any ordinary man, that would be a simple execution. But he is not just any man. He is a Prince of the Realm, a Dragonlord, and a Targaryen."
I subtly shifted my gaze upward, looking past the table to observe the Emperor's reaction upon the dais. I fully expected anger, but I found him observing our exchange with an expression of utter, terrifying nonchalance. While it did nothing to cull my deep-seated fear of his reprisal, I took a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that he was not so petty as to strike Vaegon down for diplomatic bluntness.
Octavian did not seem agitated by the display in the slightest. "You are entirely correct, Archmaester. This is not about coin. It is about a commodity far more valuable. It is about reputation. It is about justice, and maintaining the faith of the Roman people in their Senate, their administration, and in their Deus. Prince Daemon must be held publicly accountable before the Senate, and he will be. No force on this earth can curtail that from occurring. What I am offering to negotiate is merely the extent to which he will be held accountable."
Octavian leaned back, his green eyes gleaming with sharp intellect. "After all, if I were to fly across the Narrow Sea, actively participate in a war against Westeros, and slaughter your vanguards... would the Iron Throne allow me to simply walk away if my father tossed a heavy sack of gold at your feet?"
I understood exactly what the Princeps was manoeuvring toward. He needed a grand, theatrical performance for the Roman public, coupled with genuine, lasting consequences, rather than just a stern reprimand and a diplomatic dismissal.
"We understand the sentiment and the political necessity behind your words," I stated, leaning over the table to meet the Roman Prince's gaze. "But as you have so astutely pointed out, this is about reputation. A reputation that the Iron Throne must also fiercely maintain. Hence, we absolutely cannot allow Rome to exercise sovereign power over a Prince of the Blood. We will not allow you to stand Daemon before your Senate to be judged and humiliated as if he were a common criminal. A Dragonlord may only be punished by another Dragonlord. A Targaryen is the only authority on earth who can punish another Targaryen."
"Bold words, Prince Baelon. But are you so certain of being immune to our powers? Has Daemon not informed you of the state of his dragon? Caraxes slumbers outside the ruins of Qohor simply because my father deemed it to be so. What good will Vhagar do you, I wonder, when she too dreams of fire in her sleep?" Octavian's voice echoed through the cavernous hall, entirely deprived of the polite warmth it had held moments before.
My own anger flared at the blatant threat, but I recognised it for the purposeful provocation it was.
"You are correct that Caraxes and Vhagar may be rendered immobile by your magicks," I countered evenly. "Yet I too wonder at the heavy price to be paid for such actions. Vhagar and Caraxes are not the only dragons in this world. You may prevail against the beast directly before your eyes, but what of the ones that strike from the clouds? How fast will you be able to protect your men when Vermithor, Meleys, and Silverwing descend upon your borders and towns? Viserys could bond with Quicksilver or Sheepstealer on the morrow, mounting yet another dragonrider against you. How many Imperial lives will be lost before you arrive to save them? How many cities will be reduced to ash? Let us not resort to threats of war, Princeps, for we both know it will be an endeavour that only leads to mutual devastation."
Octavian did not seem offended by my stark warning. If he was, he did not allow a fraction of it to show upon his youthful features. Instead, a smile finally broke across his face—not the tight, polite curvature of a noble playing the game, but a genuine grin that reached his green eyes.
"I am thoroughly impressed by you, Prince Baelon," he chuckled softly. "The whispers from across the sea name you a hot-blooded warrior. Looking at Daemon, I naturally assumed you would be much like him, perhaps only slightly more restrained by age. But you are quite something else entirely. You have learned to channel your dragon's fire into productive statecraft. I deeply respect that."