The aroma of freshly prepared dishes filled the grand dining hall of the Red Keep as King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne entered together, their presence commanding immediate respect. The room quieted momentarily, and then, as they took their seats at the long oak table, the clatter of plates and the murmur of conversation resumed. Dinner had officially begun.
The long table gleamed with golden candlelight, reflecting off silver goblets and polished plates laden with roasted meats, seafood, and freshly baked bread. Family members and attendants filled the hall with chatter and laughter—an atmosphere that felt almost domestic despite the royal grandeur surrounding them.
Just as the servants began serving the wine, Prince Gaemon raised a hand, halting everyone mid-motion.
"Wait a moment," he said, a mysterious smile on his face. "Before we eat, I've prepared something special for you all. A new ingredient. I'd like you to taste it first."
Curiosity rippled through the hall. Everyone turned toward him, intrigued.
From the cloth bag he carried, Gaemon carefully pulled out a small glass vessel—simple in design, but clear enough that everyone could see the white granules within.
"Salt?" someone murmured.
King Jaehaerys leaned forward slightly, brows arched in curiosity. "Gaemon, isn't that just salt? What's so special about it?"
"Try it," Gaemon replied, smiling cryptically. "You'll understand."
He handed the vessel to the King. Jaehaerys, always the patient scholar even in simple matters, removed the stopper and dipped a finger inside. He placed a few grains on his tongue, expecting the familiar bitterness that often tainted the best salts of Westeros. Instead, his expression changed almost immediately.
"This…" The King's lips pressed together in surprise. "It has no bitterness at all. Only pure saltiness—clean, smooth, almost sweet on the tongue."
A murmur spread among the gathered family members. Salt was a common enough thing, but everyone knew its importance ran far deeper than taste.
---
Salt and its Meaning
In Westeros, salt was not merely a seasoning—it was life itself. It preserved food, healed wounds, and symbolized sacred trust. To share bread and salt was to invoke the Guest Right, an ancient and unbreakable vow of safety between host and guest. Violating that vow was not only a crime but a sin that drew the wrath of both the Old Gods and the New.
Every noble, priest, and commoner respected the sanctity of salt.
Because of its significance, the salt trade was tightly controlled. Most of the kingdom's salt came from wells or salt lakes, extracted through evaporation or drawn from brine pits. Even the finest kinds—the "well salt" of the Vale or "lake salt" from Dorne—carried traces of bitterness. Impurities were impossible to remove entirely, no matter how much they were refined.
But the salt Gaemon had brought tasted entirely different. It was flawless.
As soon as the King commented on its purity, curiosity overtook the entire table. One by one, his siblings and cousins extended their hands eagerly. "Let us try it too, Gaemon!"
Amused, Gaemon handed out a few more small jars. "Careful," he warned playfully. "It's stronger than it looks."
---
The Taste of Innovation
Each member of House Targaryen took a pinch of the snow-white grains. Gasps of surprise followed almost instantly.
"Oh! It's so clean!" cried Saenella, eyes bright. "No bitterness at all. It's… refreshing." She dipped a thin slice of tuna sashimi into the salt and tasted it. Her expression lit up. "Seven heavens, it makes the fish taste even better! You don't even need sauces!"
Her enthusiasm was infectious. Everyone around the table began imitating her, taking thin slices of raw fish and lightly dipping them into the salt. The moment the salt touched the tongue, the flavor of the fish burst forth—pure, delicate, and savory.
"This is remarkable," said Baelon, savoring a bite. "The salt enhances the flavor without overpowering it."
"The fish tastes alive," said another, chewing thoughtfully. "I've never eaten anything quite like it."
Laughter and exclamations filled the hall as even the Queen took a small taste and nodded approvingly.
Saenella, however, wasn't done. As the others became distracted by conversation, she slyly reached forward, grabbed one of the unopened jars, and clutched it tightly to her chest.
"This one's mine!" she declared triumphantly. "Don't any of you dare take it!"
The entire table erupted in laughter. "Selfish as always!" Baelon teased. "You'd hoard salt as if it were gold."
Ignoring the teasing, Saenella only hugged the jar tighter, a mischievous grin spreading across her face.
---
A Prince's Ambition
As the laughter died down, King Jaehaerys turned to Gaemon, still holding the original jar. His tone grew thoughtful. "Where did you get this salt, my son?"
Gaemon chuckled. "Hehe, Father… what if I told you I made it myself?"
Jaehaerys blinked. "You produced it yourself?" A faint smile tugged at his lips. "Don't tell me you've set your eyes on the salt trade franchise. That would explain your generosity tonight."
The King leaned back, amusement flickering in his eyes. "You realize what you're asking for, don't you? The royal treasury relies heavily on salt taxes. Nobles across the realm are constantly scheming to control the trade. You'd be wading into deep waters."
Gaemon sighed dramatically, putting on a mock-sorrowful expression. "Father, have mercy! The fief you granted me is barren—rocks, weeds, thorns everywhere! I've worked myself half to death trying to make something of it. Surely you won't deny your hardworking son just a little support?"
The King chuckled, clearly unmoved. "Oh, please. The land was your choice. I gave you your pick of territories—fertile plains, coastal marshes, river valleys—and you chose lakes and forests. You made your bed, my son. Now you must lie in it."
"Ah, but it's not too late to make amends!" Gaemon said, his tone turning cheerful again. "Just grant me the franchise rights, and I'll turn those 'barren rocks' into gold for the crown."
The table laughed again at Gaemon's shamelessness. Even Queen Alysanne covered her mouth to hide her smile.
Jaehaerys sighed deeply, shaking his head with affectionate exasperation. "Fine. I'll grant you the rights to produce and sell this refined salt—but only on the condition that you pay all taxes in full. No exceptions."
Gaemon's eyes lit up. "Truly, Father? You won't regret this! Long live His Majesty, the most generous father in the Seven Kingdoms!"
The King groaned. "Listen to him," he said to Alysanne, half-laughing. "Our son speaks like a merchant now. I don't know where he learns such shameless flattery."
Queen Alysanne, radiant and serene with her rounded belly, only smiled softly. "He gets it from you," she said gently, earning another laugh from the table.
---
Salt, Family, and Fortune
With the matter settled, Gaemon finally began eating in earnest, a look of satisfaction on his face. The deal had gone better than expected. With the salt franchise, he could now fund the expansion of his lands—build roads, settlements, and ports. What began as a simple dining experiment had turned into an economic revolution.
As he savored the food, he noticed Visenarra sitting across the table, sulking slightly. She had tried—and failed—to wrestle the salt jar from Saenella earlier. Now she sat with her chin propped on her hand, violet eyes fixed on Gaemon, silently demanding: Where's mine?
Gaemon chuckled, raising his voice so everyone could hear. "Don't worry, Visenarra. From now on, all the salt used in this castle will come from me. Everyone gets their own share."
That announcement drew cheerful applause and laughter from around the table. Of course, for the royal family, it wasn't about material wealth—what they valued was the thought behind the gift, the warmth it carried.
Saenella clapped her hands. "Then I'll take two jars, just in case!"
"You'll get one like everyone else," Gaemon said sternly, though his grin betrayed his amusement.
The laughter returned, and the meal continued joyfully. Plates emptied, goblets refilled, and for that one evening, the burdens of rule and war faded away. They were not just kings, queens, and princes tonight—they were a family.
---
As the dinner wound down, King Jaehaerys leaned back in his chair, studying his son quietly. "You've grown, Gaemon," he said softly. "Not just in strength or skill, but in ambition. You've begun to think like a ruler."
Gaemon smiled humbly. "I only wish to build something lasting, Father."
"That," said Jaehaerys, "is the most dangerous wish of all."
He stood, placing a hand on Gaemon's shoulder as he passed. "See to it that your salt brings prosperity—not conflict. The realm has bled enough over things far less valuable."
Gaemon bowed deeply. "I understand."
As the King and Queen retired for the night, the rest of the family lingered, still chatting and laughing softly beneath the candlelight. The table was littered with empty dishes, salt crystals gleaming faintly like pearls under the golden glow.
Gaemon remained seated for a while longer, swirling the last of his wine, a thoughtful smile on his lips. He had not only secured a royal franchise—he had planted the seed of something greater..
In the age of dragons, fire brought power.
But in the age that was coming, salt might bring empires to their knees.
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