Chapter 206: Another Heir

The road back to King’s Landing felt shorter than the road into the Riverlands. Perhaps that was because no one was disappearing along it anymore.

Merchants had returned to the routes between Harrenhal and Stone Hedge within days of Marq Bracken’s death. Wagons once again travelled in groups small enough to suggest confidence rather than fear, village gates remained open after sunset, and the patrols Oscar sent through the countryside returned with reports of scattered thieves rather than organised companies. The remnants of Marq’s band had either surrendered, fled, or broken apart into groups too small to threaten anything larger than an isolated farmstead.

Oscar could deal with those himself. The two thousand Unsullied had never been intended to become a permanent garrison. I left six hundred behind for several weeks, divided between Harrenhal and Stone Hedge while Oscar reorganised his patrols and investigated the remaining supply network. The rest began the march south under Blue Bat. There had been some discussion about whether I should return ahead of them.

Blue Bat thought I should. "You are no longer needed here," he told me in High Valyrian while we stood beneath Harrenhal’s gate on the morning of departure. "Lord Oscar has soldiers, the Freys have soldiers, and Marq is dead. If another large band appears, they can send for us."

"You are becoming remarkably eager to remove me from my own campaign."

"The campaign is finished."

"That has never prevented commanders from remaining several unnecessary weeks so they can claim responsibility for peace."

Blue Bat’s expression remained serious enough that I almost believed he had missed the joke. "You already claim responsibility for everything."

"That was unkind."

"It was accurate."

I looked towards the column forming outside Harrenhal. Unsullied moved into ranks while wagons carrying wounded men and captured supplies prepared to follow. Oscar stood nearby speaking with one of his captains, and the Frey banners hanging above the gate moved lazily in the morning wind.

Blue Bat was correct. There was nothing left for me to command personally.

Marq Bracken’s rebellion had never reached the size he imagined for it. Nearly half his followers had been veterans who served the Brackens during the civil war and disappeared as defeat became inevitable. The rest had been gathered from the ordinary debris of conflict: deserters, criminals, displaced farmers, and men who discovered that stealing grain beneath an old banner sounded more respectable than stealing grain for themselves.

Once Marq died and his main force was destroyed, there was no second leader capable of holding those people together.

Oscar had already begun separating those who could return peacefully to ordinary life from those who had committed crimes demanding judgement. He understood that executing every former Bracken soldier would create the resentment Marq had failed to turn into rebellion.

I trusted him to finish it. Before leaving, I found Oscar in the old map chamber where the hunt had begun. Most of the markings had already been removed.

"You are certain you do not require more men?" I asked.

Oscar looked up from a collection of reports. "If I need two thousand Unsullied to deal with every thief who survives Marq, then the Riverlands should probably have someone else as Lord Paramount."

"You are learning."

"I have also learned that asking you for assistance produces considerably more soldiers than expected."

"The second raven was persuasive."

"The first one was accurate."

"The first one described bandits. The second described an army pretending to be bandits."

Oscar smiled faintly before becoming serious again. "There will still be trouble around Stone Hedge. Marq found supporters because some families believe the crown punished everyone who ever served the Brackens."

"Then make that belief harder to maintain."

"I intend to. Men who committed no crime beyond serving their former lord will not lose farms or livelihoods merely because Marq tried to recruit them. Those who supplied his raiders knowingly will be judged individually."

"That is the correct approach."

Oscar rested one hand upon the map. "I used to think ruling these lands would become easier once the war ended. Instead, every decision seems to contain part of the war inside it."

"That lasts longer than battles. The banners disappear before the loyalties beneath them do."

He nodded.

I had little else to teach him. Oscar Tully was still young, but the Riverlands had given him the sort of education no maester would recommend. He had inherited authority during war, received Stone Hedge through victory, and now discovered that being granted a castle was much simpler than convincing the people around it that your rule belonged there.

Marq had given him a warning. If Oscar learned from it, the warning might prove more useful than the rebellion had been dangerous.

We left Harrenhal before noon. I travelled with the Unsullied for the first two days before finally accepting Blue Bat’s argument that my presence added little to an orderly march. At a crossroads south of the Gods Eye, I took a smaller escort and rode ahead while Blue Bat continued at infantry pace.

Dravvaxx had remained in King’s Landing. That choice seemed wise while hunting bandits. It seemed considerably less wise once I spent several days on horseback remembering why I usually preferred flying.

By the time the walls of King’s Landing appeared ahead of us, I had developed renewed respect for every messenger who crossed the realm without possessing wings.

The city looked exactly as I had left it. No smoke rose from districts that should not have been burning. No armies surrounded the walls. The harbour remained crowded with merchant vessels, while fishing boats moved between larger hulls beneath the afternoon sun. From a distance, the Red Keep sat above the city with all the quiet arrogance of a place unaware of how frequently its inhabitants found reasons to panic.

I realised how accustomed I had become to looking for disaster before looking for home.

The gates opened without ceremony. That suited me. News of Marq’s death had arrived days earlier, so there was no need for a triumphal entrance because several hundred bandits had finally discovered that murdering farmers carried consequences. I rode through streets filled with ordinary noise and found myself enjoying the fact that no one appeared particularly interested in me.

The Red Keep was less restrained. Aemma arrived, followed by Rhaegar and Aerion. Both older boys had clearly come from the training yard, while Aemma had ink upon two fingers and the expression of someone dragged from lessons quickly enough to consider it worthwhile.

Rhaegar clasped my arm. "We heard Marq Bracken was killed."

"He was."

Aerion looked interested. "Did you kill him?"

"Blue Bat did."

"With a sword?"

"A spear."

Aerion waited. I knew the question before he asked it. "He threw it."

That satisfied him considerably more.

"Through Marq’s head," I added.

Aemma grimaced. "You did not need to tell us that part."

"Your brother was going to ask."

"I was."

Rhaegar shook his head as we started towards the inner keep. "You return after dealing with nearly a thousand bandits, and somehow the first conversation becomes about the manner in which one man died."

"That is because your brother possesses refined interests."

Aerion ignored the insult.

Rhaenyra waited inside our solar. I knew immediately that something had happened. Not because she looked worried. The opposite. She stood near the windows with a letter in one hand and the sort of expression she had worn when Jace first told us Sara was pregnant. That narrowed the possibilities considerably.

I closed the door behind me. "The city appears intact, so I assume this is not a political crisis."

"It depends upon your definition of crisis."

"If Vaeron has found another legal dispute involving vineyard boundaries, I am returning to Harrenhal."

"This is considerably more personal."

I crossed the room. Rhaenyra gave me the letter instead of explaining immediately. The seal belonged to Dragonstone. Luke. I read the first few lines and understood why she had been waiting.

Lucerys and Rhaena were expecting a child. I read the sentence twice. Not because it was complicated, but because some news deserved a second reading before the mind moved on.

"How long have you known?"

"The raven arrived yesterday."

"And you did not send a rider to meet me?"

"I considered it. Then I decided informing you that you were becoming a grandfather again while you were covered in road dust and surrounded by Unsullied lacked the dignity the occasion deserved."

"I am relieved my dignity survived."

Rhaenyra smiled. "They believe Rhaena is perhaps two months along. The maester at Dragonstone sees no cause for concern."

I lowered the letter. "So soon."

"They have been married long enough that I am uncertain why this surprises you."

"It does not surprise me. Gaemon still feels new."

"He is new."

"Now there will be another."

Rhaenyra came closer and rested one hand against my chest. "You sound troubled."

"I am not troubled."

"You are thinking."

"That is not usually considered unusual."

"With you, the difference depends upon the expression."

I looked back towards the letter.

Jace’s son had barely begun discovering that screaming produced immediate attention. Siren had not yet learned that curtains were not intended for climbing. The concept of being a grandfather still felt faintly absurd whenever I examined it too closely.

Now Luke was going to become a father as well. "He is seventeen," I said.

"So were many fathers before him."

"I know."

"You were not much older when we began having children."

"I was considerably less sensible than Luke."

Rhaenyra raised an eyebrow. "That is a generous assessment of our son."

"It is an accurate assessment of me."

She laughed softly.

Luke and Rhaena arrived from Dragonstone two days later. Arrax announced them before the guards did. The dragon’s roar carried over the city shortly before noon, followed by the bells marking a royal dragon’s approach. By the time Luke and Rhaena reached the family apartments, everyone already knew why they had come.

Rhaenys arrived from Driftmark that same morning. I suspected coincidence had very little to do with it. Rhaena appeared healthy. There was no visible sign of pregnancy yet, though Rhaenyra examined her with enough attention that Luke eventually complained on his wife’s behalf.

"Mother, the maester has already confirmed everything. You do not need to look at Rhaena as though you intend to discover the child yourself."

"I carried seven children. That gives me more experience than your maester possesses in several important respects."

Rhaena sat beside her, amused rather than irritated. "I told Luke there was no point preventing everyone from fussing. They will simply do it when we are not looking."

Luke sat opposite them. "You said that after Grandmother sent three letters in one morning."

Rhaenys did not appear embarrassed. "The first asked whether the maester was competent. The second recommended another. The third corrected something I forgot in the first."

"You recommended two different maesters."

"I was providing options."

Luke looked towards me. "Is this what happened when Sara became pregnant?"

"Worse."

Jace entered carrying Gaemon at exactly the wrong moment. "I heard that."

Sara followed behind him with Siren perched awkwardly upon her forearm. The hatchling had grown quickly and now possessed enough confidence to attempt flights across rooms despite rarely possessing enough control to choose where those flights ended.

Luke looked towards his nephew. "I suppose Gaemon will have someone close to his age after all."

Jace handed the child carefully to Rhaena. "Assuming yours learns to sleep occasionally, perhaps he can teach Gaemon."

Gaemon stared up at Rhaena for several seconds before deciding the unfamiliar position was unacceptable. He began crying. Siren immediately answered from Sara’s arm.

Luke stared between them. "I hope ours is quieter."

Sara smiled. "We said similar things before he was born."

"That is not encouraging."

"It was not intended to be."

Rhaena laughed while adjusting Gaemon against her shoulder. He quietened slightly, though Siren continued making enough noise for both of them. I watched Luke watching his wife. There was nervousness beneath his amusement. I recognised it.

Jace had possessed the same expression when Sara’s pregnancy became real enough to move from happy announcement into the understanding that a child would eventually be placed in his arms and expected to survive his decisions. Luke would learn as Jace had. Not quickly. No one learned parenthood quickly. But he would learn.

Later that evening, when most of the family had gone elsewhere, I found Luke alone upon one of the balconies overlooking Blackwater Bay. Arrax was visible beyond the city walls, resting near the other dragons.

I stood beside my son. "You are worried."

Luke did not deny it. "I am happy. I simply thought those feelings would arrive separately."

"They rarely do."

"What if I am not ready?"

"You are not." He looked towards me. I continued before he could misunderstand. "No one is ready for the first child. Jace was not. I certainly was not. You learn because there is suddenly a very small person who does not care whether you feel prepared."

Luke smiled faintly. "That sounds reassuring when you say it."

"It should not. Children are terrifying."

"Father."

"They are also worth being terrified for."

He looked back towards the bay. "I want to be good at it."

"That already gives you a better beginning than many fathers receive."

We remained there for a while without needing to fill the silence. The capital had produced no great crisis while I was gone. No rebellions had begun. No wildling king crossed the Wall. No lord had discovered a forgotten claim requiring several thousand armed supporters.

For once, the important news waiting for me was good. Gaemon was still small enough to sleep against Jace’s chest. Siren remained barely large enough to cross a chamber without crashing into furniture. Now another child was coming. Another grandchild. Another Targaryen who would be born after the war rather than during it.

I had spent years measuring the future through armies, campaigns, betrayals, and deaths I hoped to prevent. Peace had given me a better measure. One grandson already screaming through the Red Keep. Another child growing quietly within Rhaena.

I could become accustomed to news like that.