Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Children of the Grave

Aegon POV

In the war room of the Red Keep, Aegon II Targaryen, accompanied by his brother Daeron, reluctantly faced the great lords of Westeros to discuss the impending threat of the Others and plan a strategy to defeat them.

He doesn't how to interpret the imminent doomsday. Be proud that he's the prohecized King his namesake spoke about? Or, drink himself into a stupor and lament fighting for a throne he might die for very soon?

It's gratifying knowing just how misguided his sire was. But the nightmare option isn't particularly pleasing.

Decisions. Decisions.

Lords Borros Baratheon and Edric Arryn and Sers Tyland Lannister and Lyonal Hightower, stood before him, their expressions a mix of concern and determination.

The young monarch resisted showing his customary cynical nature and self-deprecating humor to the best of his abilities.

But he failed.

The Seven were taunting him he was certain. At least he can speak openly about it without mincing his words. Thus, he couldn't help but scoff inwardly at the gravity of the situation. "Well, well, my esteemed lords. Here we are, plotting our grand strategy to face the icy menace that threatens to wipe us all out. How delightful."

Lord Borros Baratheon, a staunch albeit irritable loyal supporter - as steadfast as any avaricious noble wishing to have the royals as his good-family - interjected with fervor, "Your Grace, House Baratheon stands ready to face this threat head-on. We'll fight with every ounce of strength we have. Though with the dragons of House Targaryen we might not need to. The majestic beasts will rain destruction upon the Others."

Aegon nearly rolled his eyes at his bannerman's enthusiasm. The nickname Daeron shared with him instantly clicked. Dumb as thunder indeed.
"Yes, my lord, because dragons have always been the guaranteed solution to every problem. I'm sure those icy fiends will just melt away at the sight of our mythical mounts. The only issue is they can't seem to cross the Wall. So any other ideas?"

Edric Arryn, the valiant new Warden of the East, spoke with determination. "Your Grace, if we cannot access the full power of dragons, we must consider the logistics of this war. We need a plan to defend our strongholds, evacuate our people, and ensure the survival of our lands, assuming we even have a chance against the Others."

Optimistism as high as honor. It's interesting to find such hope in the Gods appointed sovereign and his victory. And to think Edric owes his bloodless elevation to his family. Ungrateful turnip.

His cousin Lyonal, the interim spymaster due to Daeron's obstinacy, added his thoughts. "Indeed, Ser Edric. We must explore other avenues as well. I've sent word to the Citadel to locate any ancient magics or weaponry. They will offer something useful."

In Oldtown we trust. Just pray for deliverance and depend on the Maesters to overcome their long-held resentment of anything magical or scientifically inexplicable.

We're royally screwed. Pun intended.

Tyland Lannister, always calculating, voiced his concerns. "Your Grace, House Lannister stands ready to defend the kingdom. We'll do what we can to aid the cause. But should the tide of battle indicate a clear outcome, there must be certain measures taken care of in the North."

His interest was piqued. Would the Master of Coin truly be so ruthlessly pragmatic? "And what might those be Ser Tyland?"

As the room fell into an uncomfortable silence, Aegon's rhetorical question seemed to hang in the air.

Daeron tried to ease the tension but Aegon would have none of that. He needed to hear this.

Lannister's jaw clenched imperceptibly as he voiced his dark ultimatum. "The hoards threaten the whole of Westeros my king. If they breach the Wall and march on Winterfell, unmolested, it can mean our end. The only way to insure that doesn't happen is if ... "