Chapter 212: The Next Prince

News of Aerion’s betrothal travelled through King’s Landing considerably faster than the formal announcement.

By the time Rhaenyra received the court three days after we spoke with Larra, half the hall already knew what she intended to say. Courtiers had become remarkably skilled at discovering royal decisions before anyone officially made them, particularly when those decisions involved marriages.

Aerion’s behaviour hardly helped. He had spent the previous two days looking so pleased with himself that anyone possessing the slightest interest in royal affairs could have guessed the answer.

Larra concealed her happiness better, although not by much.

She stood beside Aerion when Rhaenyra formally announced that Prince Aerion Targaryen would marry Lady Larra Rogare, youngest daughter of Lysandro Rogare, upon terms agreed between House Targaryen and House Rogare.

The marriage settlement protected Larra’s dowry independently of the Rogare Bank, while making equally clear that the union imposed no obligation upon the Iron Throne to involve itself in the internal politics of Lys.

Vaeron had written that portion with enough precision that even Lyman Beesbury admitted there was little room for creative interpretation.

The hall applauded. Aerion looked towards Larra rather than the assembled nobility. That pleased me more than the applause.

For all the weeks spent considering banking arrangements, Lyseni politics, inheritance, and the uncertain future of House Rogare, the two people actually being betrothed appeared delighted with the result. Aerion had attempted dignity through the first part of the announcement, but whatever princely composure he possessed disappeared once Larra smiled at him.

Rhaegar noticed. He leaned slightly towards me while the court continued offering congratulations. "He has been trying not to grin since breakfast."

"He has failed."

"Completely."

Aerion glanced in our direction, immediately understood that we were discussing him, and narrowed his eyes. Rhaegar smiled back with the particular satisfaction available only to a twin.

The official congratulations occupied most of the morning. House Rogare’s wealth ensured that even lords with no particular connection to Aerion suddenly discovered strong opinions about the wisdom of closer ties with Lys.

Merchants praised the commercial possibilities. Crownland lords praised Larra’s Valyrian ancestry. Men who had spent the previous month warning that Lyseni politics were unstable now explained that Drazenko Rogare’s recent victories demonstrated the family’s enduring strength.

Courts had short memories whenever a decision became irreversible. The disappointed fathers were less difficult to identify.

Several had sent daughters to King’s Landing over the previous months under increasingly transparent excuses. Some had hosted Aerion at hunts, tourneys, or dinners. Others had written directly to Rhaenyra offering alliances that ranged from genuinely useful to so ambitious that I wondered whether the men responsible believed we had forgotten our sons were people.

Those possibilities were now gone.

Lord Mooton endured the announcement with admirable grace despite having spent several months positioning one of his nieces near Aerion whenever opportunity permitted. Two Reach lords appeared considerably less pleased. A western delegation remained polite but withdrew from court earlier than expected.

None complained openly. There was little they could complain about. Aerion had chosen a girl he liked, House Rogare remained prestigious enough to make the match politically respectable, and the queen had approved it. No lord possessed a right to a royal marriage merely because he had imagined receiving one.

Their disappointment quickly found another direction. Rhaegar. I noticed the shift before supper.

One evening Aerion was the most sought-after unmarried prince in the Red Keep. The next, Rhaegar discovered that three different noble families suddenly considered his interests fascinating.

He endured it with considerably less amusement than his twin. "They have not even waited a week," he complained during a family supper several days after the announcement. "Lady Charlton asked whether I intended to spend more time in the Riverlands this year, and then informed me that her daughter had always wanted to see Vermax."

Jace looked up. "Vhalalor."

Rhaegar stared at him. "That was my answer."

Sara laughed into her cup. Aerion was enjoying the situation far too much. "You should appreciate the attention. Several of those families spent months trying to marry their daughters to me."

"And now that you are unavailable, I am apparently the remaining product in the stall."

Larra, seated beside Aerion, looked towards him. "There are worse things than receiving too much attention."

Rhaegar gave her a resigned smile. "You say that because the attention successfully produced the marriage you wanted."

"That does make it easier to tolerate."

Rhaenyra watched the exchange with visible amusement before reminding Rhaegar, "Nothing has changed regarding your own future. Your brother being betrothed does not mean you must immediately follow him."

"I know. I would simply appreciate the rest of the court being informed."

"They have been informed repeatedly."

"They do not seem to believe you."

"That is because ambitious parents consider patience an obstacle rather than an instruction."

There was no avoiding the broader calculation.

Aerion’s engagement removed one possibility, but our family still contained three unmarried sons and a daughter who would eventually become candidates for politically valuable matches.

Rhaegar was fifteen. Viserys was thirteen. Maelor remained far too young for serious consideration at five, though that had not prevented several extremely optimistic remarks concerning future possibilities. Aemma, now eight, had also begun appearing in letters written by families with sons of suitable age.

I ignored those entirely. There were limits to how far ahead I intended to arrange my children’s lives.

Rhaegar was different. He was old enough that legitimate proposals could no longer be dismissed simply because the realm was impatient. He was a dragonrider, a prince, and the next unmarried son after Aerion. He also possessed interests and a temperament that would eventually matter when choosing the woman beside him.

That did not mean a decision was imminent. I had only just finished one marriage negotiation. I intended to enjoy at least several weeks before beginning another.

Across the Narrow Sea, House Rogare was also approaching the end of its own immediate problems.

Ravens continued arriving from Lys, though they no longer carried the same urgency. Drazenko’s pressure upon the rival magister faction had worked. Their principal allies were either defeated, bought away, or frightened into neutrality.

Two sellsword companies had abandoned the rival family entirely after Rogare agents convinced their captains that continued service would probably end with unpaid wages and confiscated property.

Drazenko never needed to storm the principal manse. By the sixth week, the rival magisters had agreed to negotiations.

Vaeron read the latest report aloud during a smaller council meeting. "They will surrender several warehouses, relinquish claims against Rogare-controlled businesses, compensate the families of men killed during the first attacks, and publicly deny that Lysaro’s death was ordered in advance."

Tyland considered the wording. "That last term sounds designed to preserve the distinction between murder and a drunken disaster."

"It probably was a drunken disaster," Vaeron replied. "Everything we have learned suggests Lysaro began the argument himself. Drazenko appears willing to accept that provided the other family acknowledges responsibility for what followed."

Lyman looked over the financial provisions. "He has also taken two properties worth more than anything lost during the fighting."

"That would explain his willingness to become philosophical."

House Rogare had not merely survived. It had strengthened its position.

Several rival businesses had been absorbed, weaker families now depended upon Rogare protection, and Drazenko’s control over sections of the harbour had expanded during the fighting. What began with Lysaro dying in a private dispute had ended with his uncle demonstrating that attacking House Rogare carried an extremely high price.

There was irony in that. The history I remembered described a family moving towards collapse. The family before me appeared stronger than when Larra arrived. I no longer attempted to reconcile the two.

The future had changed. I was better served dealing with what existed than mourning the usefulness of information from a world that increasingly resembled ours only in broad outline.

Drazenko’s letter concerning the wedding arrived several days later. He approved the settlement Vaeron had prepared and thanked Rhaenyra for continuing to protect Larra while the fighting in Lys concluded. Lysandro had apparently been well enough to hear the principal terms read aloud and had given his approval.

The proposed date surprised me. Eight months.

Rhaenyra read the relevant passage twice. "He wants them married that soon."

"Eight months is hardly tomorrow."

"They will still be young."

"They will be eight months older than they are now."

Rhaenyra gave me an unimpressed look. "Your ability to count has not addressed my concern."

I smiled and returned to Drazenko’s wording.

His reasoning was understandable. House Rogare wanted Lysandro alive long enough to know that the marriage he arranged had been completed, but Drazenko did not want the ceremony delayed indefinitely because of the patriarch’s declining health. If Lysandro died before the appointed date, the family would still honour the agreement and proceed with the wedding.

Drazenko had written that point plainly. There would be no demand for a lengthy mourning delay that might leave the betrothal uncertain.

"They want stability," I said. "Lysaro’s death changed their succession once already. Drazenko does not want Lysandro’s death reopening the marriage negotiations."

Rhaenyra placed the letter upon the table. "Do you object to eight months?"

I considered it. The answer would once have been yes. Aerion and Larra were fifteen, and I had spent months insisting there was no reason to rush our younger children into marriage merely because the realm enjoyed royal weddings.

But the circumstances were different now.

Aerion and Larra had chosen one another. Eight months gave them further time together without stretching the engagement for years. We could delay consummation if necessary depending upon their ages and circumstances, though there was no need to decide that eight months in advance.

More importantly, neither of them appeared frightened by the prospect. "We ask them," I said. "If both think eight months is too soon, Drazenko can wait. If they are comfortable with it, I see no reason to create a longer delay merely to prove that we are not rushing."

Rhaenyra agreed.

Aerion’s answer was predictable. "Eight months is fine."

Larra was slightly more thoughtful. "My father may not live eight months."

There was no self-pity in the statement. Only fact. Aerion’s expression softened beside her.

Rhaenyra asked, "Would you prefer the wedding sooner so he has a better chance of living to see it?"

Larra shook her head. "He would not be able to travel regardless. Even if we married next month, he would hear about it through letters. Eight months gives Drazenko time to finish matters in Lys and allows members of my family to come safely."

That settled it.

The wedding would take place eight months from the formal engagement.

The announcement produced another wave of correspondence, though this time much of it concerned invitations rather than candidates. Aerion endured congratulations with considerably greater patience now that the uncertainty was finished. Larra began corresponding directly with Drazenko and Fredo regarding which members of House Rogare would travel west once Lys was sufficiently stable.

Rhaegar watched the preparations with the expression of a man observing a siege engine slowly being turned towards his own walls.

I found him one afternoon reviewing naval reports in the solar, an activity he had increasingly adopted since spending time around Driftmark.

A pile of letters sat unopened beside him.

I recognised several seals. "Marriage proposals?"

"Four this morning."

"That is efficient."

"One father congratulated Aerion for half a page before spending three pages explaining why his daughter and I apparently possess identical temperaments despite never meeting."

"That sounds promising."

"It sounds unlikely."

I sat opposite him. "You do understand that we are not about to choose someone merely because Aerion is engaged."

"I know you are not."

"But?"

Rhaegar looked towards the stack. "The rest of the realm does not."

He was correct. For months, Aerion and Rhaegar had shared the attention of every family hoping to secure a royal match. Now Aerion was unavailable, and those ambitions had nowhere else sensible to go. Viserys remained several years younger. Maelor and Aemma were children.

Rhaegar had become the obvious choice. The next prince. I could already imagine Vaeron assigning another clerk.

"You may have to become accustomed to letters," I said. "That does not mean you have to become accustomed to agreeing with them."

Rhaegar smiled faintly. "Can I send them all to Aerion as wedding gifts?"

"That would be cruel."

"I learned from Mother."

"That excuse is becoming distressingly common."

He returned to his report while I looked at the unopened proposals.

Aerion’s future had finally become clearer. Eight months from now, he would marry Larra Rogare. Across the Narrow Sea, her family appeared likely to emerge from its brief war stronger than it entered it, while Drazenko prepared the ground for Fredo to succeed whenever Lysandro finally died. For the moment, at least, the fears that had nearly persuaded me to refuse the match were receding.

The court had already moved on. There were still princes to marry, alliances to imagine, and daughters to parade through King’s Landing.

Rhaegar was next. Whether he appreciated that fact or not, the realm had noticed.