15 Cassandra Baratheon I/Aegon Targaryen I

I managed to eke out a chapter, I was -and still am- very busy currently so I never had much of a chance to write. I had to deal with a broken leg, then after it healed, the other leg, then losing my apartment to poor maintenance, then exams, then an earthquake, and now I'm here, finally able to deliver.

BTW, if I make a Patreon with five advanced chapters, how many of you are willing to pay? (Not that I WILL, just curious.)

I made Cassandra older than canon, so she is the same age as the MC.

I found a drawing of Jasper that made him a Stannis expy so I thought "fuck that!" and just changed his personality to kinda smart and charming. Felt more comfortable.

Aegon is kind of depressed because of his kinda bad upbringing and teenage moodiness.

Also changed the story picture to an older version of Baelon, hope you like it.

[5016 words]

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-Cassandra Baratheon I-

She sat next to her mother in the carriage while she and her father's retinue went through the city towards the Red Keep, they had arrived yesterday, in anticipation of the Daynes and their official admission into the Seven Kingdoms as a Lord Paramount.

It was her first time in a city, so her eyes wandered the streets as the merchants sold their wares, the smell of spice drifting to her nose.

It was so strange, so different from what she used to see at Storm's End, with its tall grey walls and stormy seas. She loved her castle, but she often felt that it was too depressing, too tame.

Her mother stared at the side of the carriage. "This city truly is quite busy, you'd think people would perish should they stop moving." She commented.

"I heard that the Prince has been quite busy ever since receiving his new position, new work is aplenty and the city is seeing countless renovations, my Lady." Replied her mother's lady-in-waiting. "Rumors say that his Grace has moved most of Flea Bottom's able-bodied men to work on some project atop Visenya's hill, while his men are rebuilding the shoddy street in their absence." She finished.

"Flea Bottom... That is the slums, yes?" At the woman's nod, she continued. "Truly magnanimous, our Prince." Her hand shifted to hold her own, looking at her with a knowing smile. "Whoever our future Queen-to-be is sure to be very fortunate."

She felt heat on her cheeks as she hid her blush with the hem of her sleeve."Do not be coy, Mother." She answered while rolling her eyes.

"Do not deny me my entertainment, sweet Cass." Her mother's hands softly rubbed her back, bringing her comfort that she refused to acknowledge. "Besides, you'd make a beautiful Queen, his Grace would be lucky to have you."

A huff escaped her lips. "I do not enjoy your japes, Mother." She lied. "It is inappropriate to speak so degradingly of royalty."

Before her mother could answer, the carriage stopped abruptly, three knocks resounding from its door. "We arrived, my Ladies." Said one of their escorting guards.

The sun blinded her eyes as she stepped outside. The first thing she saw was the back of her father, he stood imperiously, his back unbending next to his pitch-black steed.

The sounds of the populace almost faded at the sight of the red castle, the pale red stone reflected light in an eerily sinister manner in her eyes, while Storm's End was an unpenetrable fortress, rigid in its look and standing solemnly in its solitude. The Red Keep provoked a strange mix of dread and awe from its spectators, its illuminated parts seemed to be glowing, while their shadowy corners gave the illusion to be bloodstained.

She was broken out of her trance by the coarse touch of her father's hand on her shoulder. His solemn face looked down at her with the slightest touches of concern.

A shy smile seemed to assuage his worries, as he approached the opening gate of the Red Keep, a man in green and yellow livery greeting them amidst a modest number of golden cloaked guards.

The man bowed to her father, even though the people at his side remained standing. "My Liege, it is a pleasure to meet you once again." He spoke.

"Stand up, Lord Jasper." Spoke to her father. "It is uncomfortable to be bowed to in the presence of a Prince." Her father's steely eyes shifted to the pouty young man to his right, sporting the usual Valyrian traits.

'This must be Prince Aegon.' She thought.

Jasper Wylde, the Master of Laws laughed with a tinge of nervousness. "You are still my Liege, Lord Borros. For all the time I spend in Kings Landing, I must admit to being a Stormlander at heart." At her father's slight upturned smile, the man turned towards the Prince. "I assume you have never met Prince Aegon, my Lord? The King gave me the task of teaching him the tools of my trade, in a manner of speaking." He finished, urging the Prince to take a step forward.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lord Borros." Softly spoke Aegon, to Cassandra he seemed to struggle under the attention, but he managed to stare her father straight in the eyes.

'I heard the second Prince was belligerent and self-indulgent, either the rumors were wrong, or something changed.' She wondered.

At the Prince's introduction, everyone bowed in recognition, her father included. Although his bow was meager in comparison to the rest.

"Your Grace." Spoke her father, ever the poet.

At the Prince's nod, Jasper interjected. "The Hand asks for forgiveness my Lord, either he, the Crown Prince, or the King would have greeted you instead of myself, but there is a trial to be that requires their presence. I wish I could lead you to your quarters, but as I am one of the judges I need to go back swiftly."

"Then you take us with you." Spoke Borros. "A trial such as this one must be important, in addition, this will serve as a decent introduction of the court to my daughter." He reassuringly tightened his grip on her shoulder.

"If you wish so, my Lord. I'll lead the way."

As they walked, their discourse continued.

"If I may ask, what is this trial for, Lord Wylde?" Asked her mother.

"Please call me Jasper, My Lady. As for the trial, ever since his Grace's new position as governor, the purple mantles scoured the city for any sign of corruption, uncovering worrying establishments in the city's underbelly." He sheepishly scratched his cheek. "I must admit to being ashamed of not being able to do so as my previous duties overwhelmed my ability to investigate such occurrences, but the list of crimes is damning, my Lady. Not for the ears of such company."

"We are to hear them anyways, Lord Jasper. You may as well soften the blow." Her mother prodded.

"The minor ones are smuggling, selling contraband, and taxing the populace without the right to do so." It wasn't the Master of Laws that answered, but the Prince. "The major ones are breaking the King's Peace, and... peddling flesh." He finished.

She lost a breath, slavery was- is one of the highest sins!

"Ah... yes, I'm afraid so, my Lady." Jasper pointedly stared at the Prince, eliciting a shaky smile in return, before turning his gaze back to them. "It is the gravity of their crimes that require such attention."

"Yes, It explains much." Spoke to her father.

They finally arrived in front of the Throne Room, the door was left open as courtiers went in with abandon, chatting with each other as courtiers do. The King sat awkwardly on the Iron Throne, softly conversing with a man on a smaller chair to his right, the Hand, she presumed. She saw Lord Jasper shimmy through the crowd to sit on the King's left.

While she was gawking at the Throne Room, her father softly guided her through the mass of nobles.

'The place sure is crowded, so many Lords are visiting for Dorne's Conquest' She mused.

They finally pierced through the crowd, at the front stood many of the most influential Lords and Ladies of the realm, Lord Corlys Velaryon with his family along with Princess Rhaenyra, her husband Daemon, and her sons stood solemnly on one side, while the Queen, her brother, and their allies on the other in perceived opposition.

At the center, Lord Jason Lannister and his twin Tyland were in a heated conversation with the aging Lord Grover Tully, it seems that these two have been quick friends ever since the Canal of Ironman's Bay. Right next to them, she heard the pleasant laugh of Lady Jeyne Arryn as she reacted to some sort of jape, but the one who held her attention was the Prince.

With an easy smirk that seemed to actually reach his eyes, he would have looked affable if it weren't for the scar on his cheek. His knightly attire made him appear martial. And if that didn't convince you, then the presence of Blackfyre on his side would paint the picture well enough. He wore a half-cape that she heard the maids gush about, made of purple velvet.

As his eyes shifted to her father, his smile widened considerably as he approached their group.

"Lord Baratheon!" He raised his arms in welcome. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you! I must say, your letters weren't able to match your stature."

An almost inperceptible twitch made it to her father's mouth while he ever so slightly bowed to the Prince. "The pleasure is mine, your Grace."

He then softly nodded to her mother before turning towards her.

She felt herself freeze under his gaze, and before she knew it, she forgot to breathe. "And this must be the daughter I heard about, Lady Cassandra. She looks as brilliant as the rumors say." He said.

She ignored the heat crawling up to her ears as she curtsied towards him. "Your Grace."

After nodding back, the Prince stood next to her father, a mischievous smirk on his face. "I must say, Lord Borros. The letters do not do you justice, many men have joined my men-at-arms during the contest, hedge knights and sellswords alike, yet while they do not speak of you with fondness, their fear and awe of your prowess was certainly a feature of their stories."

"You flatter me, your Grace." Her father paused. "For all my achievements, I did not conquer Dorne."

He only received a dismissive wave in return. "That was but a case of being at the right place at the right time, Dorne would not have been so easily brought to heel without these special circumstances. I do not believe myself superior to my predecessors."

Her father stared at the Prince for a while.

"Maybe." He said.

Their attention was diverted, as the beginning of the trial was declared by the Kingsguard.

"Bring forth the accused!" Declared the King.

Usually in trials, the suspects are brought in one by one, she was present in her father's enough to know that, but this was no ordinary trial, as the criminals were brought at once, pushed into a row by the guards to the front of the throne room. Most of those left, leaving but two people guarding the chained lawbreakers.

The King reads from a worn parchment. "Jonos Bracken, Nigel Piper, Ben Darklyn, Josen Mootoon." He speaks with disdain. "You are accused of countless crimes, including but not limited to smuggling, overtaxing the populace, breaking the king's peace without just cause, illegally owning properties, and... peddling flesh." The King's face almost painfully contorted in rage, she had heard that his Grace was jovial and cheery, that he enjoyed feats and tourneys, and that he almost never lost his temper.

What she has seen today couldn't be more wrong.

"How do you plead?" He asks.

The convicts simply averted their gaze, too afraid to speak, she has seen many expressions in her life, mainly from men and women who were guilty, and they knew it.

Before someone else would surely spur them into speaking, an especially meek member speaks out. "It was Ben! Your Grace. He was the one who approached us for support!" He exclaims.

It was the breach that opened the floodgates, as everyone -but poor(not) Ben- started putting the blame on him.

Ben Darklyn was a fairly handsome man, he had the look of someone who often trained in the yard, but most of it was marred by his increasingly mortified expression.

"Oh was it?" Viserys I muses. "What would be your excuse then, Ben?" He asks.

Ben looks fearfully to his sides as if looking for something, and then a look of conviction flows into his expression as if he came to a decision.

"It wasn't me! I was used! I was tempted by the devil, that despicable man! It was-" Chaos infects the room and a horrified gasp escapes her lips as one of the guards stabs the man before he can utter a name.

The other one seems to be in cahoots with his companion, as he lifts his crossbow and aims directly towards the Prince, his arm visibly trembling. The bolt surges out with an audible snap, but the man seems to have terrible aim, as his hand shifts at the last possible moment.

Instead of heading for the Prince, she could see her life flash before her eyes, her vision covered solely by the tip of an arrow.

She closes her eyes, waiting for the inevitable. But no pain comes, she opens her eyes to jubilant gasps, as the prince grabs the arrow with his hand before it can penetrate her eye.

He was faster than anything she had ever seen, one moment he stood before her heroically, a crossbow bolt in his hand, the second he had already reached the first guard, and bisected his body in half while drawing his sword.

The other one definitely tried to retaliate, but he wasn't able to do much, as his throat was grabbed by the almost inhuman Prince, and slammed on the ground with a deafening impact.

And so, the situation where assassins openly infiltrated the Throne Room ended before it began, while the Prince stared at his captive so hard she could smell the piss.

"Who sent you." He asked so matter-of-factly as if speaking of the weather. But the assassin could do nothing but open his mouth, showcasing the lack of a tongue.

"Useless." Grunted Prince Baelon, while he crushed the man's face with his boot, causing a lot of winces to catch people's faces.

'That was a gruesome death.' She thought.

Prince Baelon looks up to the throne. "Your Grace, I believe we must send trustworthy guards to search the others." He picks up the upper half of the first one, opening his mouth to show another cut-off tongue. "We have a common thread between the assassins." He says.

As he showed his face to the throne, a scribe next to the Master of Laws gasps in recognition. "I recognize that man!" He claims.

Jasper Wylde turns to his subordinate. "Where from?" He asks.

"I do not remember clearly, but I remember adding him to the lists, my Lord." He states. "I believe he was meant to be sent to the Lord Confessor for questioning." 

"And where, pray tell, is the Lord Confessor?" Questions the King, who has looked very calm all considering.

"Not here," answers the Prince. "Quite a coincidence, huh?" He wonders.

"Quite, your Grace." Interjects Jasper. "I think we may have a bigger problem on our hands, your Grace." He looks to the King. "Ever since Prince Baelon had taken his position as Governor, I had been able to free up a lot more acolytes, which allowed me to notice a lot of discrepancies in Lord Strong's ledgers as of late, I had meant to question him later today, since I noticed no relation to the trial of today, and had suspected incompetence instead of corruption, there was neither gold nor riches to be made from doing so, after all."

He then bowed his head, chagrined. "I seem to have been very wrong, forgive me, your Grace."

The look on the King's face turns grave. "I will overlook it this once, Lord Jasper." He then pushes on his cane to stand. "By Decree from your King! I declare that Lord Larys Strong is henceforth a wanted man in the name of the crown, with a fifty thousand gold dragon bounty on his head." He takes a breath. "Any man who offers him either clemency or hospitality is to be treated as an accomplice to his crimes. Spread the word, people! Your King has spoken!"

Things seemed to calm down quite smoothly afterward, the guards were replaced by purple cloaks, and the Kingsguard tightly held their weapons, being even more vigilant than usual.

To be honest, to her, it seemed like a mummers play, as if an assassination in the middle of the throne room was a common occurrence.

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-Aegon Targaryen I-

Aegon, at four and ten, is very used to lies. 

His mother lies to him, every time she declares him her most precious jewel. 

His grandfather did the same when he spoke about duty, and how important it is to honor one's ancestors.

His father lied, every time he proclaimed to equally love every member of his family when he always seemed to favor Rhaenyra, Daemon, and -lately- Baelon. 

Ever since he breathed his first, he was used to lies and deception, petty schemes and insignificant plots, people trying to use him for their nefarious plans, to climb up the ladder of power.

Lies always left a nasty odor lingering around him, and as much as he was used to it, he really didn't enjoy the scent of lies.

And as Aegon stared at his smiling mentor, happily sipping a cold glass of Dornish Red, he knew without a shred of a doubt, that this trial stank like sh$t.

Jasper Wyle, the "Iron Rod", looked askance at yours truly. "What is the matter, your Grace?" He stood up. "I understand if the events of the trial left a bad taste in your mouth." He almost flinched back at hand landing on his shoulder in comfort, but he forced himself to stand still. "That wasn't a vision meant for most."

Aegon steeled his will, this wasn't his mother, who would strike him for any "slight" that she felt he directed at her reputation, but a man for all intents and purposes tried his best to teach him, while he wasn't always honest, he was no sycophant.

"That trial was a mummer farce." 

The Master of Law's eyebrows jumped up to his forehead, and before Aegon knew it the man let out a hearty laugh that echoed through the room.

Aegon felt shame, initially, but then he realized that the laughter was in no way directed at him, as it had no hint of mockery in its tone.

The man wiped a small tear off the side of his eye. "Your brother was right, you truly are observant." He sits back on his table, gesturing towards the next seat with his left, while pouring an empty cup with some more Dornish Red. "Please sit, I believe you are owed an explanation."

Jasper takes another gulp from the red liquid. "Ah! Thank the Seven for Prince Baelon, before his conquest I had to drink my Dornish Red in secret. Now I get to openly share it with friends!" He exclaims.

Aegon obliges the man, gulping a non-significant amount of the liquid, his eyes widening at the sweetness of the drink.

After a pause, Jasper speaks. "You had the right of it, the whole trial was planned by the King, the Prince, and myself." He takes another sip. "But none of the accusations were false, Larys Strong was responsible for most of the reprehensible establishments within the city, he also recruited and cut off the tongues of some the inmates sent to him, keeping their names out of his records." 

His face turns grave. "But what was not publicized is that we believe that he was also responsible for the fires that caused the deaths of Lord Lyonel and Ser Harwin Strong, and had committed Kinslaying in order to succeed Harrenhall."

Aegon couldn't believe the existence of such a despicable man, a flesh peddler is horrifying, and no one is as wretched as the Kinslayer, but both? What sort of monstrosity in human skin would commit such acts?!

"The problem was that Larys Strong had a significant amount of spies on the Crownlands and the Riverlands, he was abreast of any significant news before anyone, and he was cautious enough to both cover his tracks enough to leave no evidence of his actions, but to also know when we would attempt to convict him and escape before we could."

"The Prince in response, had acquired the help of another Spymaster, who, while not as generally influential as the Club Foot, had as much if not more power within Kingslanding as the man, so we managed to acquire names, locations, and properties that bankrolled a lot of his interests, and managed to obtain news of the assassination before it happened."

Jasper shrugs. "So we used it to our advantage, people like Larys usually deal with despicable or greedy men, maybe both, so the Prince suggested making the man choke on his own inability to trust, there is no way he'll find allies now, not after the King's decree. And unless he finds some other backer, the man will probably be found and brought to justice in short order."

"And my grandfather had no knowledge of this?" Aegon couldn't help but ask.

"Can I trust you to keep a secret, your Grace?" He asked.

Aegon mindlessly nodded, but deeply, he made no promises.

"The Hand hides it very well, but he always knows how to take advantage of significant events such as this, especially when he has prior knowledge of them. The plan was too delicate to be altered in any way, and even without his intervention, it almost went badly. I can't imagine how Lord Hightower would have affected the outcome of this trial, and both the King and the Prince seemed reluctant to find out."

Aegon felt he had heard enough, so he headed for the exit. "Thank you, for the enlightenment, Lord Wylde." He said before he left the room.

Aegon wandered through the halls of the castle, his feet carrying him somewhere he didn't know.

He knew Baelon schemed, of course, he did, but his brother never lied to him, ever since he was born Aegon was compared to his brother, it was agonizing at first, and his jealousy grew hot so he said some words to Baelon, words that he regretted.

But Baelon was understanding, he noticed that about him, his older brother was too observant, he always seemed to reach the core of the matter and ignore unnecessary appendages in order to solve problems. This is why he realized his maternal family's attempts at curbing his influence to be both unnecessary and useless.

His brother's favorite quote was the one about knowing one's enemies and one's self, after all. Both his mother and grandfather only thought they knew his brother, but Aegon had a lifetime's training in attempting to do so, and even though he doesn't think he understands completely, he is knowledgeable enough to know how far they were from the mark.

'Do not think like your enemies, Aegon. That is how you stay predictable' He would say when we would play Cyvasse on the Godswood.

And that is exactly where he found himself, the Godswood, where he ironically found his brother playing their favorite game with Aemond, while the newly returned Daeron had a gigantic tome over his knees, and Helaena talked Baelon's ear off while the latter played.

Aegon almost left, but alas, Baelon was too inquisitive, so he waved him over as soon as he was visible. Aegon couldn't allow himself to refuse, so he slowly approached his siblings, each one different from their childhoods, where life was simple and cheery and when he never understood what he did now, but happy nonetheless.

"What has you so glum, Aegon? Come spectate this game, we'll play after I beat Aemond." Said his brother.

Aegon just nodded while Aemond frowned at his brother's comment, as he observed the game, he noticed that Baelon could win in 4 moves, while Aemond could do so in 6. The game was too close for comfort, so he deduced that Baelon either played with a handicap, or he was holding back for the sake of his one-eyed brother.

But while Baelon was kind like that, Aegon very much enjoyed annoying his sibling.

"Loss in 4, Aemond."

Aemond's frown gets more significant, which Aegon didn't think was possible.

"Bugger! You won again, Bael!"

Baelon ruffles the second's hair, laughing all the while.

"You are too young to win against me, Aemond, you still play too aggressively." He then shifts his gaze to him. "Your turn, Egg."

Aegon took Aemond's place as his face contorted with distaste, the rider of Vhaghar just sat to the side, silently observing, Aegon was sure that he wouldn't speak until spoken to, that was how Aemond was, so he tended to ignore him.

Helaena had shifted focus from Baelon to Daeron, as she asked the youngest what he was reading, which seemed to be a tome on the Andals invasion from a northern perspective. He vaguely hears Daeron prattling on about how it paints a different picture of their culture, and how the Hungry Wolf's actions seem way more reasonable from their perspective.

There was no way the Hightowers would have allowed him access to such books, he looked at Baelon meaningfully, who just mischievously smirked at him, and then they started the game.

Aegon knew his brother the most, so his brother always said that he was the most challenging Cyvasse player he played against, Aegon got so used to playing against Baelon that he found himself winning against most grown men at the game by two-and -ten years old.

So he found what was most scary about his brother was his self-awareness, he knew that he knew, and so he adjusted his game appropriately. And unlike against Aemond, he didn't hold back.

Aegon found relief in the fact that he lasted more than last time as he found his king pinned, so he just asked for a rematch, hoping one day, that he'd be able to win.

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-Cassandra Baratheon I-

Cassandra couldn't leave her room until the morrow, as her mother fussed and puffed about her, and acted even more frightened by the happenings of the trial than she herself.

But Cassandra only wanted to thank her benefactor, this wasn't the first time she was privy to bloodshed, but it was the first time someone grabbed an arrow from its path to save her life.

It couldn't help that the Prince was charming and mysterious and that she may have a tiny infatuation with his Grace, but all the ladies were Pining after him anyway, it wasn't particularly uncommon to wish to court a Prince, after all.

Cassandra grew up under very strange circumstances, she had heard stories about knights and princesses, evil dragons and shining princes, and all sorts of romantic tales from her ladylike mother, but was tempered by reality under the stoic love of her warmongering father. It gave her that unyielding quality that pushed her to understand what she wanted and to seek it until she got it.

So she spent most of her morning after breaking her fast asking the servants, the guards, and the knights about the whereabouts of the Prince, she had vowed to herself to thank him for saving her life, but the man seemed to disappear like smoke, as no one but his closest confidants seem to know where he is at all times.

But it was a remark from a distant courtier that spoke of the Prince's fondness for fishing that led her to the private beach of the Red Keep, a space reserved for the royal family and visiting courtiers.

The place was deserted as always, but she knew that if the Prince was in any crowded area, she would have already received news of his whereabouts from the beginning, he didn't exactly look like he was made for stealth, after all.

So she took her short boots off and wandered on her bare feet across the small shore, and soon enough, over a custom platform, sat the solitary prince and his fishing stick!

He noticed her when she was quite far away, her black and gold gown wasn't quite hidden against the beige sand after all, but he didn't seem to mind her presence as she sat next to him, letting out a huge sigh of relief doing so.

She had vowed to thank him, but as she laid her eyes upon his intrigued smile she hadn't the words to speak, so she settled for silence.

The Prince didn't bother to speak either, so he kept fishing. After a while, the rod tugged in his hand, it seemed he had caught something!

So as he valiantly pulled on the string while she silently cheered him on, her face couldn't help but take a blank expression as she saw... an old boot attached to the other side.

There was silence for a while, then laughter, she cackled until she couldn't breathe at the comical sight, while the Prince did the same, she could even hear the distant purple cloaks softly laughing.

After calming down, she finally found the words. "Thank you, for yesterday?" She said.

"You're welcome, Lady Cassandra." He smirked.

And all was well in the world.