“Here comes the carriage, open wide,” Aegon hummed playfully, lifting a tender piece of roasted meat and flying it through the air in a grand, dramatic arc toward Helaena’s lips.
Helaena smiled faintly as she reluctantly accepted the “carriage,” chewing slowly.
“I don’t care much for meat, Aegon. I will have my own prepared food,” she murmured, her words slightly muffled around the food.
“Well, I for one think we both would have a far better appetite if we sat in the dining hall instead of out here in the garden with all these stupid flies and insects,” Aegon muttered, leaning back and adjusting his posture on the stone bench.
“But I like the garden. And the insects, they are my friends,” Helaena protested softly.
She reached down, gently scooping a fuzzy caterpillar off a nearby petal onto her open palm.
Aegon leaned in, reaching over to snatch the creature right off her hand.
“This thing looks fat and plump. It would make a fine snack,” he said, dangling the squirming insect directly above his open mouth.
“No! Don’t eat Lady Jocelyn!” Helaena said, reaching out her hand.
“Then eat,” Aegon smiled, lifting another piece of meat.
“Your Grace,” a guard’s sharp voice cut through the garden air, utterly shattering the moment.
For fuck’s sake, Aegon thought, letting out a heavy, annoyed sigh.
He tossed the meat back onto the silver platter, carefully set Lady Jocelyn back onto her petal.
Helaena immediately gathered her skirts, and stood next to him.
“Lord Larys Strong, Your Grace,” the guard announced, stepping aside.
A figure in a dusty, travel-stained brown cloak stepped forward, dragging his clubfoot over the grass.
Aegon leaned back against the bench, smiled, and said nothing.
Larys bowed his head slightly, leaning on his cane.
“Your grace” New chapters come out on g.com first.
“Larys the Callous, how long has it been?” Aegon asked with a smirk.
“Do you know what they call Tyland now?”
Larys sighed softly.
“Yes, Your Grace. I have heard.”
“Tyland the Dragonrider,” Aegon said with a teasing smile.
“It could have been you! But you get to stay Larys the Callous. Welcome back.”
Aegon stepped forward and pulled the spymaster into a sudden, firm embrace.
Larys went completely stiff, caught entirely off guard by the physical contact.
“You honor me, Your Grace,” Larys said, leaning back on his cane as Aegon released him.
“I did my duty to you, and I will continue to do so as long as you allow me.”
“Of course,” Aegon said.
“I need my Master of Whispers more than ever. You know, if you’d stayed missing much longer, I had half a mind to drag the White Worm out of the dungeons to take your place.”
“Then thank the Seven I arrived in the nick of time, Your Grace,” Larys replied.
“I need guards, maids and servants,” Aegon said.
“Wait, let me make it clearer. I need guards, maids and servants who don’t report my every word to the Hightowers, the Lannisters, or anyone else for that matter. Do your magic, Larys.”
“Aegon!” another voice interrupted them.
“By the Seven, Larys! You look as though you’ve been dragged through all seven hells. What in the world happened to you?”
“It has been a long journey, Ser Tyland,” Larys replied dryly, not even turning his head.
“That is all.”
Tyland was not about to miss the chance.
“Do you know what happened after you left us that day? It was the stuff of legends!” Tyland declared, stepping right into Larys’s space.
Larys closed his eyes, silently enduring the torture.
“Me and Aegon,” Tyland boomed with a smile, gesturing with both hands.
“The two of us against a thousand men! I shielded my king with my blade while he delivered a speech that shook the entire army to its core, right before Sunfyre descended to burn them to ash! And then we flew on Sunfyre straight to Harrenhal! It will be passed down in song and legend for centuries… if only you had been there to see it, Larys!”
“A grand tale, Ser Tyland,” Larys said softly.
“The bards will surely weep with joy.”
“Tyland,” Aegon called out, stepping in before Tyland could bully his much-needed Master of Whispers any further.
He turned to Larys.
“It is good to have you back, Larys. Go, bathe, rest, eat, do whatever you need to do. You will have a mountain of work waiting for you soon enough.”
“Your Grace. My Queen,” Larys said, bowing respectfully to Aegon and Helaena before turning around and limping away down the stone corridor.
“Your Grace,” Tyland spoke up as soon as Larys was out of earshot, stepping closer to Aegon.
“It has come to my attention that you wish to build a great sept in honor of your late son, Prince Jaehaerys. A noble endeavor, Your Grace… but a terribly costly one while we are still at war. With half the realm in open rebellion, our treasury will last another two years at best. I strongly advise we postpone such a grand project until after the war is won.”
“I don’t see the problem, Tyland,” Aegon said.
“The treasury will last two years, and I have no intention of letting this war stretch on for two years. Besides, once we crush them, every single rebel will pay for their treason, in flesh, in lands, or in gold. As Master of Coin, you need never worry about us running out of coin. Let the traitors draw breath for now. But once the celebration is ended and my sentence is spoken aloud, there will be no mercy. From the Marches to the Wall, every traitor will bleed, and all of Westeros will remember what Fire and Blood truly means.”