So, only 2 more chapters after this. You know, funnily enough, I did like 6 storylines for a GoT story, but when I was planning out my first draft, this was going to be the opening chapter. Anyhoo, enjoy this chapter.

Delyth Tyrell – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

Aeron's chambers were like nothing I had seen before. My chamber back in Highgarden looked out across the briar maze by the battlements, the Three Singers in the godswood and beyond that, the whole of the Reach. Here, Aeron's balcony faced the Blackwater, looking to Dragonstone.

"It's a beautiful view…" I smiled, "I expect we'll be very happy here."

"I'd prefer to see the city," Aeron said, a hand behind his platinum hair, "and not just water."

"So, why do you remain here?"

"Rylon requested it of me." He shrugged.

"Rylon's not a Targaryen."

"He may as well be," Aeron pushed himself up out of bed, "he sits on the Iron Throne, and makes decisions in my father's name."

"But it won't always be that way. Soon, Draegor will sit on the throne."

Aeron simply smiled in response as he walked towards me. His body was free of any grizzly scars like his brothers. No horrific burns on the side of his face. He took me in his arms, pressing his bare skin against my own and caressing my neck with his lips.

"Will we be married soon?" I asked him.

"Within a fortnight." He replied, somewhat muffled as he began to glide his hands across my bust. He held my thigh, wrapping my leg behind his waist and wrapping his arm around my waist. He made ready to hoist me up when an urgent knock sounded at the door.

I leapt towards the bed, jumping beneath the sheets. Aeron let out a groan and grabbed his dark breeches from the floor, pulling them on. "Enter." He leant against the posts of the bed.

Entering, was Ser Mikal Drake. He was a giant of a man, with ginger hair and two mismatched eyes. I have to admit, he was quite frightening to look at, especially with that solemn glare that rested on his face.

"Apologies, Your Grace," he bowed his head, looking over to me, "I did not know you were otherwise engaged."

"But the engagements been made well-known." Aeron sniggered as he poured himself a cup of wine. "I believe I asked you not to disturb me unless the time had come to pass."

"But that is it, Your Grace." Ser Mikal stated. "Your father, the King, is dead."

Aeron froze for so long I thought the red wine may overflow in his cup. "Long live the King." Aeron muttered, with Ser Mikal and myself following. "How did it happen?"

"He passed in his sleep, Your Grace. I believe it to be painless."

"Who else knows?"

"No-one, yet. Save the apothecary."

Aeron nodded, turning around and sipping the wine, "you've done well, Ser Mikal. We need to move quickly. Make sure none of the castle stirs. Summon the City Watch."

"And the Lord Hand, Your Grace?" Ser Mikal growled. He seemed to brew and boil with hatred at the mention of the man. Aeron shook his head.

"Regardless of your feelings to the man, this is a matter of succession. Stay your hand. Assign a guard to each of my family." Ser Mikal nodded, and Aeron turned towards me, handing me the cup of wine. "I'll return shortly."

"Where are you going?"

Aeron sighed, rubbing a thumb across my cheek, "Our father has died. I must go to Draegor in this time of need."

I nodded. Sweet, noble Aeron. He was truer than a thousand trueborn Targaryens. Just as I was worthier than Ashriel to inherit Highgarden. The way he had held me, and the way he had made me feel… it was the love that all the songs were made of.

"This isn't dangerous, is it?"

"Of course not," Aeron laughed, "these are just precautions. Draegor is the next-in-line, and must be protected. As must Laena." Aeron pulled on his boots and grabbed his shirt, throwing it over his head and fitting his arms through. He turned to Ser Mikal and nodded, closing the door with heavy metal clunks of the lock. I sank back into bed, awaiting his return, my mind swimming with thoughts of my sweet Dragon returning to me. How we would walk around court, the envy of women on my arm. And what about any children… perhaps something for Aeron's father. Rhaena? Rhaenys? What about the others after that?

Ever since father had told me I was to wed the silver-haired Aeron, I'd been thinking of names. Aegon was traditional and Targaryen, but neither Aeron nor I were traditional. What about girls? Daenna was nice… as was Alysys. Jaehna, maybe?

I could truly believe I would be happy here, with Aeron.

Aeron Targaryen – The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands

I walked past the royal chambers. Members of the Kingsguard lined the hallway. At the end, stood Ser Mikal, in front of Draegor's room.

"Your Grace?"

"What?" I could feel my heart hammering in my throat. Was it anticipation? I'd have purpose now – no longer the Bastard of King's Landing.

"Viserys and his wife. We've not been able to find them. I believe he's sparring with Ser Richard Dayne."

Damned fucking fortunes! Now I would have to extend men to find him. Though, in this moment, there was indeed opportunity. Ser Mikal was a man driven by passion. It's ironic indeed that he loathed people as similar as the Baratheons to himself. In these times, precision and subtlety were needed, not lumbering bulls like Ser Mikal Drake.

"Ser Richard may retrieve him. Go, and bring the City Watch to the Red Keep." Ser Mikal bowed his head and did as he was bid. I opened the door to Draegor's room and closed it behind me.

The room was as dark as I remembered, and three times the size of my own. Only what I expected, of course. The next-in-line had to expect this. I walked across the room and opened the drapes, letting the sunlight dazzle into the room, the rays pouring over the candles that burnt. Pointless – Draegor had no use for them.

"Who's there?" Draegor drowsily rubbed his eyes.

"A Dragon." I replied, walking towards one of the post of his bed.

"Aeron?" Draegor fell back into bed, "I didn't hear you knock…"

"No time for pleasantries, brother." I tried to stay impartial. To not think about Rhaegon as my father. He was simply a corpse in this situation. "I have grave news. Our father, the King, is dead."

"Father?" Draegor sat up. "How soon? What happened?"

"His sickness has taken him." I moved away from his bed, and towards his chair, where Aegon's legendary blade, Blackfyre, hung in it's sheath, gathering dust. A conqueror's sword in the hands of a cripple. "An awful thing to happen. Alas, plans have been put in place to assure an easy transition." I ran a finger along the hilt, feeling the cold hilt graze against my skin. "King's Landing is a dangerous place. A nest of vipers. So, I took precautions."

"Precautions?" Draegor ran a hand through his knotted silver hair.

"You always were a child, Draegor. Waving a sword around and boasting your skill. You thought it made you a conqueror. Aegon Targaryen reborn." I shook my head, pulling Blackfyre out of it's sheath and walking back towards Draegor's bed. "You were a good knight, brother, I'll admit it, but you will never be a good king."

"Aeron, what are you talking about?"

"I never wanted the throne. I was courtly and respectful, and you greeted me with scorn and sniggers. I told you to remember what you have done to me." I raised the sword.

"Aeron, why are you talking like this?"

"Aegon took the kingdoms. It wasn't his birthright, yet he did so anyway." I swallowed the anticipation in my throat. "And I shall do the same."

I swung the blade through the posts, cracking them in half. The ornate oak of his bed groaned as the other posts creaked until they splintered. And in a flash, the posts fell outwards, and the oak roof of his bed collapsed on top of him, cutting his yelp short.

My heart was still thundering inside of my chest, as it hit me. It was that simple. It was done. I had been meticulous in planning. And now, Draegor the Blind of House Targaryen, first trueborn son of Rhaegon and Vysella Targaryen was dead.

I grabbed the belt that carried Blackfyre's sheath and fastened it around my breeches, making my way towards the door. I unlocked it and moved outside, running my mind through everything. Laena was held in her room, Visenya was on Dragonstone… but the only other claimant here was the youngest. I turned to the quivering Ser Howland Swann, who gripped the hilt of his sword tentatively.

"You're a knight of the Kingsguard, are you not?"

"I am."

I couldn't hide my smile as I felt it all coming together. I turned to exit the royal apartments, but not before turning back to Ser Howland. "Bring me my brother."

Now… let the games begin! Let me know if you saw that coming.