83 Simulacrum
'Here, at the edge of the world, we must go back to move forward.'
-Taken from 'The Travels of Fyrio Fartold'
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It's widely known that King Viserys has allocated multiple rooms in Maegor's Holdfast for his and his son's hobbies — perfectly good rooms that could be lavishly hosting other monarchs.
Yet, in a manner befitting father and son, both have allowed their hobby to spill into their own chambers.
Hence, in the king's chambers, there is a sizable space in the middle reserved for a table.
On this table rests a miniature replica of the Valyrian Freehold.
King Viserys and Prince Rhaenar sat in the king's chambers, admiring the mini city before them. A sprawling metropolis with towering spires, castles capped with gargoyles, and buildings of grandeur unseen since the Doom some 200 years ago.
"We're running out of space to put things," Rhaenar remarked. "Perhaps we need a bigger table?"
The King chuckled, "There's none larger in the Seven Kingdoms. Where would we put it?"
Rhaenar shrugged, "Good point. Maybe we could relocate this replica outside? Or make a new one. We could designate a space in King's Landing. Make it an attraction of sorts, a point of interest for visitors."
The King seemed a bit skeptical, "Then we'd have to leave the Red Keep every time we seek the comforts of our past."
"We could arrange to be carried," Rhaenar said, "I think we'd enjoy it. We could postpone construction until Balon is old enough to remember. Then the three of us can build it together."
"A marvelous idea!" The King exclaimed.
"Speaking of my soon-to-be little brother. How goes on that front?"
King Viserys attention remained on a stone carving of a dragon in his hands, "The tourney preparations are set. All the realm will celebrate the birth of their prince."
Rhaenar smirked, "I do hope you haven't spent too much on the celebrations, Father. We all know how you can get."
"Lord Beesbury been in your ear, has he?"
"When is he never?" Rhaenar said. "Ever the worrywart, our Master of Coin. He seems to think of me as the liaison to dump all our financial concerns onto. I told him he's barking up the wrong tree, and that I'll age old as he if he kept carrying on."
"Apologies," The King said, "I'll have a word with him."
"No need, Father. It's good to have access to our books. Beesbury does a relatively good job at keeping our numbers simple. Theodore seems to think so. Some lords have ledgers so convoluted you can barely tell what's what. The fact the Crown has its books in order is quite impressive."
King Viserys took it as a compliment toward him, how he chose his ministers wisely, "In that case, I'll have to commend his hard work."
Rhaenar nodded, "Yes, Father. I think that's a good idea."
Viserys didn't go to his chambers and play with his mini city to be bogged down by such talk of the realm. This was supposed to be his sanctuary of sorts. He changed the conversation to more frivolous matters.
"Lords from all the realm will attend," The King said, "They will bring their daughters; I do not doubt it. Have you given much thought about marriage?"
"Not at all," Rhaenar yawned, "Would you have us repeat that conversation again?"
Rhaenar had given marriage a lot of thought, actually.
He had his ear to the ground. Who was the homeliest, who was the sweetest, who was the smartest. The algorithmic calculations of personality divided by political gain. Finding a suitor that just so happened to belong to a House with a large army is like trying to find the Goldilocks zone.
In any case, Rhaenar was determined to remain a free man for as long as possible. He surmised he might be able to make it to 17, the same age his father married before things really came to blows. That gave him well over two years to watch which lords would whore themselves and to what extent.
"… Marriages are very important, Rhaenar," The King began, "To insulate ourselves against any who'd dare go against us. I myself was promised to your mother when I was—"
"Ten-and-seven years of age. Yes, Father. The Vale had an army to rival the North. I can recite the story word for word."
"I loved her," King Viserys said, "She made a man of me. A wife will do you good, my son."
Rhaenar remained neutral, "As you say. Whether I'd be good for her is another matter."
Just then, a knock sounded at the door.
King Viserys straightened his posture and used his kingly voice, "Come!"
In strode Ser Otto.
"Your Grace," he said with a bow, "My Prince."
"Yes, Otto. What is it?"
"Forgive me, Your Grace. There's a matter that requires your attention."
King Viserys sighed, "Very well. We shall discuss your prospects another time, Rhaenar. Now, what have you planned for today?"
"I must inspect the new and improved City Watch equipment on the Street of Steel," Rhaenar said. "We can't have Uncle Daemon's men patrolling with shoddy steel."
The King smiled, "I'm sure nothing will escape your scrutiny," he said, striding out of the room. "Good day, my son."
"And you, Father."
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Before he set off to the city, Rhaenar felt inclined to have a moment of respite in the gallery overlooking the royal gardens.
It was always such a peaceful view. He liked to watch the birds swoop and hop from branch to branch, and how the honey bees greedily delved into the flowers.
"It's rare to find you alone, cousin."
"Cousin?" Rhaenar mused. "I suppose you're right on that front. Or is it first cousin once removed?"
Princess Rhaenys, the Queen-Who-Never-Was, smiled and joined Rhaenar in leaning against the rail on the gallery.
"How fares your Mother?"
That was always the best thing to start with to get Rhaenar talking.
"Soldiering through," Rhaenar said. "You know how she gets. The sooner the babe is out, the sooner we can rest easy."
"And our King?"
"Same old," Rhaenar said. Normally, he tired of these courtly discussions, but he enjoyed his spars with the Princess. "What of you, Princess? I take it Lord Corlys is fixed on the Stepstones."
"Yes," she said. "My good husband told me you chat."
"What do you think on the matter?" Rhaenar asked.
Princess Rhaenys had years of Prince Rhaenar taking her opinion seriously. You could tell he was around the late Queen Alysanne growing up.
Though the realm voted Viserys as king, his son resented how outsiders were responsible for matters regarding how the House of the Dragon ran itself.
In a way, Rhaenar still has respect for the fact that were it not for the Great Council of 101, Princess Rhaenys would be running the family.
"I think your father is content to sit on his hands until this Triarchy makes their move."
A devilish grin curved Rhaenar's lips, "I'm inclined to agree. Ironic, isn't it? The surviving 'Free Cities' of our Valyrian heritage, all still smitten with slavery. Meanwhile we are in this strange land adhering to foreign customs.
"There's a saying, Princess: 'Don't poke the bear'. It makes one question: 'What happens when you poke the dragon?' I think we both know the answer to that. Oh, and don't get me started on Dorne. They will join the fray soon enough.
Rhaenys regarded him with poise, "The Crown must remain strong now more than ever."
"I suppose you have a suggestion on how we retain such strength?" Rhaenar said.
Princess Rhaenys was too savvy to take the bait. She would not overstep and subliminally suggest he marry her daughter, Laena.
"Our strength is solidarity," she instead said.
"Ah, solidarity," Rhaenar chuckled. "Targaryen, Velaryon, and Celtigar. We three houses that survived the Doom of Valyria together. May we survive many more to come!"
That piqued Rhaenys' interest. It was not often that Prince Rhaenar so outwardly defined his stance on geopolitics. Did he truly believe in the bonds between their houses, or was he paying lip service?
Before she could finish pondering the fact, Prince Rhaenar was already excusing himself, bolting off with his long strides.
But Rhaenys was content.
Given how little time the Prince gave, conversations like this, however brief, were a step in the right direction.
