So guys… the final chapter of Part 1. I mean… I'm kind of happy I could complete this story – it's a bit of a rarity.

First off, let me just say thank you to everyone who's submitted characters. Honestly, I can tell when someone's put in time and care and effort into their characters, and it really does make up this story. Sure, I come up with the storylines and put the characters in situations, but you guys have made tremendous contributions to this story.

I want to start the next story on Wednesday, but I need a special character – The First Sword of the Sealord of Braavos. That's pretty much it, though I'm always in need of Northern lords. I'm also planning on including the Lannisters and Arryns more in the next story, so you can jump on that if you want. Braavosi characters are also appreciated.

Anyway, onwards with this. I really hope you guys enjoy this chapter. Enjoy a meaty finale.

Viserys Targaryen – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

I used a counter-riposte, knocking Ser Richard Dayne's greatsword out of his hands and onto the stone slabs. I moved to point my blade at his throat, when he produced a small dagger, which grated against my own blade until it reached the hilt. He hooked his blade around the crossguard of my sword and tore it from my grip, pointing the dagger at my throat. I held up my hands with a laugh, pushing him away.

"Yield, I yield…" Ser Richard laughed and removed his helm, "Gods, you're quick."

"Speed trumps strength in any fight, Your Grace."

"I found that endurance is effective against both." I reasoned, thinking back all those days to the Ironborn raid on the fishing villages. I could still remember that bearded face roaring as he thrust his sword towards my eye.

"Endurance is important, that is true," Ser Richard sheathed his dagger, "but sooner or later, it runs out." Ser Richard bent down to pick up his greatsword, "Sap a strong man of his strength and he has nothing left."

"What if it's several strong men?" I smiled, removing my own helm and walking with him to the table.

"Then make your peace and hope it's for a good cause." Ser Richard picked up a cup of wine, clinking it with my own, and sipped. I nodded, drinking as well.

"Prince Viserys." A knight of the Kingsguard, Ser Howland Swann, walked into the courtyard. "Ser Richard." He bowed his head and Ser Richard returned the gesture.

"Ser Howland." I placed my helm on the table. "Would you join us for a cup of wine? Ser Richard has been schooling me in the art of war. I look forward to telling my children I was taught by the Sword of the Morning." Ser Richard couldn't help but smile at this – I knew that was what he wanted. And, by the Gods, I believed he would earn that title.

"I'm afraid I must decline. Your brother, the Prince Aeron, has summoned you to the throne room."

"Summoned me?" I furrowed my brow. Since when did Aeron summon anyone in our family.

"It's a matter of the utmost urgency, Your Grace."

"Of course." I nodded, setting down my cup of wine. Ser Richard placed his on the table as well.

"You are not needed, Ser Richard." Ser Howland held out a hand.

"Am I forbidden from accompanying the Prince?" Ser Richard chuckled.

"The Prince is not in any danger."

"Ser Richard is a member of the Kingsguard, is he not?" I asked Ser Howland.

"I… Yes, Your Grace."

"Then he is as welcome there as any other man." I stated. Ser Howland opened his mouth, eyes darting between Ser Richard and me, until he finally nodded, turning around and leading the way to the throne room.

Ser Howland opened the doors to the throne room, ushering in me and Ser Richard. It was empty of the court. Instead, there were four members of the Kingsguard and Aeron, who sat, lounging, upon the Iron Throne.

"Aeron?" I asked, walking down the long walkway, past the vine-carved pillars. "Why are you sitting there?"

"Come, brother," Aeron stood up from the throne, behind the four Kingsguard knights that stood together like an impenetrable wall, "it saddens me greatly to tell you that both our father and our brother have passed from this world tonight."

Everything stopped. Father's death… I had come to terms with that already, but Draegor? The man who taught me to wield my first sword? He used to call me 'Ser Viserys' just to make me smile when I was a child. And now… gone, so early into his third decade.

"Draegor?" I couldn't seem to fathom it. It was more than grief; I couldn't understand how Dreagor could have died. "How?"

"I fear that, in grief of our beloved father's death, he took his own life." Aeron looked down at the ground, eyes swelling as he swallowed hard. There was some comfort in knowing that Aeron felt the same pain that I did. There wasn't much, but there was still some. "I want you to write to Visnya, and call her back to King's Landing for the funeral."

"Of course, of course." I nodded. "If Draegor's dead, I suppose that makes you the successor?" I asked.

"It does." Aeron rubbed his chin, eyes examining me with great attention. There was something about it, the amount of focus and lack of emotion on his face… it unsettled me. "Does this sit uneasily with you?"

Truth be told, it did. Aeron was not a real Targaryen, not really. And, he was not a just ruler. I'm sure he was the most intelligent, and the most suited to run the kingdoms, but he was no ruler. When I returned back to King's Landing after the Ironborn Raids, Aeron had seen my scar and demanded that the Iron Islands be set ablaze. He was determined to wipe out a kingdom in the blink of an eye. For the actions of rogue men, he would kill women and babes. It was only for my argument against him that the Iron Islands still stood unscorched.

"No," I lied quickly, "it does not. You are the next in line."

Aeron's face remained unchanged. He was different. It was as if Aeron was not there anymore. There was no courtesy or courtly formality. It was as he had shed a mask I'd only ever seen him wear. Here, this was truly him. I knew it in my bones.

And it scared me.

"Back in the Vale," Aeron began to speak, "I grew up in the Fingers with my mother. A miserable little spit of land. You lived in a palace, and I lived in a shack. All because I had the wrong mother. And then I came here. I was so happy; King's Landing – the capital of the Seven Kingdoms. To be raised with a King for a father and to have a whole family. And you squandered me," Aeron's voice turned cold and harsh, "I was treated like a dog! Told to bow and scrape and thank you for the pleasure of serving you." Aeron sat back down on the throne. "Draegor never saw me as a Targaryen. Neither did Laena, or Visenya or you. Even after our father declared me one." He held out his hands. "And who sits on the Iron Throne now?"

It was only now that I noticed the stance of the Kingsguard knights. They all had one hand clasping the sheathe of their swords. You only held your sheathe like that when you were prepared to bare steel. I took a step backwards. "How did my brother die, Aeron?"

"Your brother…" Aeron scoffed, "even now, you still don't see me as family." I took another step backwards, clasping the sheathe of my own sword. "Ser Mikal Drake," Aeron spoke to the tallest member of the Kingsguard, "bring my brother here."

All the members of the Kingsguard gathered behind Ser Mikal, who drew his longsword, the pommel of which was carved into a silver dragonhead, not unlike my own.

"You men served King Rhaegon and his children for decades," Ser Richard spoke beside me, "and now you would turn on him for this pretender? This usurper?"

"You disobey our king, Dornishman." Ser Mikal growled from beneath his steel helm. Ser Richard turned to face me for a moment, and I could see it in his dark eyes. The turmoil. He was a knight, sworn to serve the King in all matters. But he was a Dayne, first and foremost. He would always be Ser Richard Dayne. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before he reached back and tore off his white cloak, letting it drop to the floor.

"Your king," He drew his greatsword, "not mine."

The Kingsguard began to advance. Ser Howland, who I had gone hunting with, or Ser Mikal, who I had fight beside during the Ironborn Raids. They all began to near me like wolves. I drew my own sword – for I was a knight. I may not have had the title, but I had the heart. And I would avenge my brother.

"Your Grace, I'm afraid you have reached the end of my tutelage." Ser Richard moved in front of me. "Get your wife, and leave."

"I am Viserys Targaryen," I stated loudly, so Aeron could hear me, "Rightful King of the Seven Kingdoms, and I do not run."

"You do today." Ser Richard informed me. He grabbed the back of my head, making me face him. "Get your wife. And go." He was only a handful of years older than myself. He had brothers, a mother, a father. A whole life. I'd always imagined him to train my own sons in swordplay. Perhaps even fostering any children he may have on Dragonstone. He turned back to the approaching knights. "I'll attend to this rabble."

I knew he was right. It was a choice between both of us dying or just one. Or perhaps not; Ser Richard Dayne was the finest fighter I'd ever seen. But I couldn't think of myself. What about Haylise? And Visenya? And Laena? With one look at Aeron, I made a pledge to myself. I would kill him before my last breath. I would slit his throat and rest easy, knowing my brother was avenged.

With a heavy heart, I ran.

Haylise Baratheon – The Red Keep, King's Landing, The Crownlands

I sat in my chamber, practicing my embroidery. My wedding night with Viserys had been… surprisingly enjoyable. Not to say I expected much less, but I had expected him to be hesitant and tentative, which he was, indeed, but he was also attentive. Loving. That was something I hadn't experienced in a long time.

A knock sounded at the door, and Lady Ashriel entered. She clasped her hands and remained at the door when she asked, "Ser Florian Hightower refuses to allow me to see the Princess Laena. May I humble beg Your Grace's assistance?" It was impressive, really, how formal she remained while being so aloof.

"You don't want to ask Viserys for assistance?" I raised an eyebrow at her. Ashriel remained quiet, which pleased me greatly. I knew it wasn't the girl's fault, but I wouldn't have anyone question the legitimacy of my own children. Being a bastard was a hard life for a child, I knew that much.

Before I could continue speaking, I heard yelling the stone corridor outside. Ashriel and I walked out, and saw Viserys standing in the hallway, brandishing his longsword as he and Ser Florian engaged in combat. Ashriel and I shouted for him, as he darted back and forth, parrying Ser Florian's blade. Seconds later, Ser Florian's movements began to slow, as he threw all his weight behind his blows. Viserys gracefully leant backwards before slashing his sword through the air, spurting blood from Ser Florian's throat across the walls. I covered my mouth in shock as I stifled a scream.

"Viserys!" I cried. "What have you done?"

"Aeron's trying to kill us." Viserys took my hand. "He killed my brother Draegor."

"Aeron?" Ashriel asked, face full of terror. "Viserys, he's to wed my sister."

"I promise, I won't let that happen." Viserys informed me. "I need to get to Dragonstone."

"No, Viserys, we need to get to my father." I reasoned. "He's the Hand of the King. Rhaegon won't-"

"My father is dead. Your father is no longer Hand of the King."

"Then he's not safe here! We need to get him back-" I tried to move past him, but Viserys held me in place.

"Haylise, I've lost a father, a brother, and a friend in one day. Please, don't add my wife to that."

"He's my father, Viserys!"

"I promise, Aeron won't get away with this. But I know Rylon. He would want you to get away."

I felt my chest swell, like a beast had started roaring in my stomach. I wanted to scream, and beat the walls until my fists were bloodied and knuckles were cracked. But I wouldn't. No, I would save every morsel of rage for Aeron the Pretender.

Shouts echoed down the hallway, and Viserys dragged Ashriel and I back into my chambers. At the end of the hallway, I could hear the distinguishable voice of Ser Mikal Drake.

"Find him! Search everywhere!"

Viserys cursed to himself as he pushed back his hair. He gripped the hilt of his longsword as he started to walk towards the door. However, Ashriel held him in place, shaking her head. There was a moment between the two of them where a thousand words had been said between them in one look.

"Ashriel…" Viserys began, but he couldn't find the words. He voice was cracked as he exhaled in search of words. Ashriel placed a hand upon his cheek.

"In another life, we may have been wed."

"I wouldn't have given this life for another." He placed a hand around her neck and kissed her gently. I wasn't angry, I was just upset. Viserys would never love me like that. That was the sort of love that you only have for one person in your life. It reminded me of my own last kiss with the man who took my maidenhead. I could still remember my fingers getting tangled in his dark brown hair. Viserys shared his sharp cheekbones, you'd think you could cut your fingers when they lay so gently upon them.

"There's a body! He's come this way!" A voice sounded from the hall.

Ashriel turned away from him and left the room. I heard her run down, crying and bawling. "Oh, thank the Gods you're here! He's gone mad! The Prince! He's taken his wife and gone to the Blackwater!" I studied Viserys as he bit his lip, eyebrows pulled together in pain as he moved to peek around the doorway. He turned back to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the hallways.

We made our way down to the cellars beneath the Red Keep, pressing up against the walls, with Viserys halting me every now and then. We eventually found a metal gate, which Viserys opened, taking one of the torches and leading my by the hand through a series of tunnels. He was quiet, eyes rushing around as his head darted at the slightest flicker of a shadow.

"Who built these?" I asked, in an attempt to steady his nerves.

"Maegor the Cruel built the Red Keep, as you know," Viserys opened another gate, "but what many people don't know, is that he killed the men who built all these tunnels and passageways."

"It's clever." I nodded. "So only he would know the secrets of the castle."

"Exactly," Viserys threw the torch on the floor as we neared another gate, "Visenya loved exploring when we were younger." Viserys picked up a rock from the floor, and began to hammer his dagger into the lock of the gate.

"Does Aeron know about them?"

"The bastard would've complained about the dark…" Viserys muttered bitterly. The dagger eventually broke through the We emerged into blinding sunlight as Viserys closed the gate behind us. As my eyes adjusted, I could see that we were in a small alleyway, tucked away behind a series of crates and sacks.

"Where are we?"

"A moment's walk from Rhaenys' Hill." Viserys informed me.

"Why are we at Rhaenys' Hill?" As soon as I asked, I knew why. "Moonfyre."

Viserys nodded, unbuckling his belt that held his daggers sheathe. He encased the dagger and handed it to me. "You'll need this."

"A blade?" I asked, taking it in my hands. "Viserys, I don't know how to fight."

"It's not for fighting." Viserys said solemnly. It began to dawn on me what he was offering me here. "It's a mercy compared to what they'll do."

I nodded, clutching the cold hilt of the heavy dagger as I steeled my resolve. Could I do it when the time came? I could only hope that I wouldn't have to find out. Viserys wrapped an arm around me and we began to walk through the crowds. Viserys kept his head low as we moved quickly. Out of all the monarchy, Viserys was the most recognizable, with the exception of maybe Visenya. But the Targaryens were easily distinguishable by their hair, skin and eyes. We came closer to Rhaenys' Hill, when I began to realise some flaws with his plan.

"How will Moonfyre know to be here?" I asked, my eyes darting around for guards.

"I can't describe it," Viserys said, watching the people as I did, "Moonfyre knows me. It's like… it's like she can feel what I think. She's a part of me." We rushed up onto the grassy, mountainous hill. It was strange, walking up it this time. The only other time I'd been here, I had arrived in a carriage. It took a good part of an hour to climb to the top of the hill.

Once there, we were greeted by an awful sight. Standing there, was a group of Goldcloaks. They clasped the hilts of their swords, drawing them upon seeing us. Viserys and I, on the other hand, were utterly exhausted from the ascent.

"Bastard…" Viserys muttered to himself.

"By order of Aeron of the House Targaryen," one of the Goldcloaks spoke, "First of his Name, King of the Andals and Lord Protector of the Realm, you are under arrest for treason and kinslaying."

"Treason?" I asked. "Aeron murdered Draegor!"

"Surrender your arms on pain of death!"

Viserys responded by drawing his sword, a thin dark blade. Darksister. I'd heard the tales of the ancestral blade. Gods, I hoped it protected us now. Viserys flourished the blade and changed his stance, ready to fend them off.

They ran towards us, but Viserys stepped in front of me. He ducked away from one spear, sinking his sword through the golden armour of one man and tugging it out with ease. The second man swung his spear, which cut against Viserys' leg. He cried out in pain and swung his sword, severing the spear in half. As he tried to attack, Viserys noticed a man had begun to approach me. I had my dagger ready, moving backwards. Viserys jumped forwards, grabbing the man's head, and slicing his throat in front of me.

I watched the body fall to the ground as the man spluttered and clutched his throat before lying still, eyes staring off in the distance. I heard a yell, and saw Viserys had fallen onto his knee, a long, falcon-feathered bolt protruding from his shoulder. Another one struck his waist as he groaned, his grip on his sword loosening. I looked towards the crossbow, who went to load another bolt. And that was when I saw it.

Plummeting from the sky like a star, wings tucked around it's body as it dove down in the distance. Moonfyre pelted through the sky behind the Goldcloaks. It was only when she let out a screech that the Goldcloaks turned around to face her. By then, it was too late; Moonfyre landing on two of them, beating her wings and sinking her teeth into another one of them. I grabbed Viserys, pulling his arm around my neck as I half-dragged him towards Moonfyre as she breathed great jets of fire upon the Goldcloaks. Viserys and I scrambled up Moonfyre's wing and sat on the saddle, where I fastened his belt to the hilt.

"Hold on tight!" He groaned as I clung to his waist. He grabbed one of Moonfyre's scaled silver spikes and spoke in another language – High Valyrian. Moonfyre bellowed and began to canter off the hill, beating her wings until we propelled into the sky. Arrows flung below us, none of them quite able to reach us. Still, Moonfyre weaved through the sky under Viserys' control.

I looked below at King's Landing. Lyra was still there, as was father. I hoped they wouldn't die, but in that moment, I truly didn't know if they would survive. None of this seemed real yet. King's Landing looked exactly the same as it had ever been. I knew it was dangerous, but I always thought it was so greatly exaggerated. Now, I knew I was wrong. We had lost. Aeron was King, and he had my friend and my father.

But we had survived. And while we were alive, they still had a chance. I had to hold onto that. They were still alive. I promised myself that one day, we would come back here, and I would put my husband on the throne, where he belonged.

And all the Gods above and all the demons below would not save Aeron from us.

Well… that's it. I hope you guys enjoyed this story. I've been nominated for a Golden Pen Award a couple of times but… well, I've never actually managed to finish my SYOCs before. And the reason I did this one so quickly was because I've kinda been planning this for years, but also because you guys gave me so many reviews! Seriously, it's incredible the support I've gotten from this.

So, leave me a review. If you could, sum up what you liked from the story, what you didn't like, what you want to see more of… if you can tell me your favourite moments, I can try and tailor the next story a bit more to make it what you guys want.

Also, feel free to make predictions or fan theories. Because, I mean, I've already laid the groundwork for those signature G. R. R. Martin twists. It's just hard to figure out how to do them… So, if you make a GoT prediction that proves accurate, you get some of those Rougeification brownie points.

Anyway, I'll stop being a sentimental sap. Leave a review and I'll give you all an update when I publish the next instalment.

R.