ALICENT
"The King is dead."
The Lord Hand ensures his words have settled before continuing. "We grieve for Viserys the Peaceful: our sovereign, our friend. But there is much to be done." All the men nod. Her father continues, certain and direct in his words. "Now, there are two among the captains of the City Watch that remain loyal to Daemon. Let us replace them."
The dread which had receded with her father's reassurances comes creeping back.
"The treasury is well in hand," says Lord Tyland. "The gold will be divided for safekeeping."
"Good," her father says. "Let ravens be sent to our allies, Riverrun and Highgarden."
No one says. No one says it. They take it for granted . Alicent finally speaks. "Am I to understand that members of the small council have been planning secretly to install my son without me?" Lord Beesbury and Ser Harrold, who'd remained in confused silence, both look up at this.
"My Queen," says Lord Wylde. "There was no need to sully you with darkling schemes,"
"I will not have this," Lord Beesbury declares. "To hear that you are plotting to replace the King's chosen heir with an imposter!"
"His firstborn son is hardly an imposter," says Lord Tyland.
"Hundreds of lords and landed knights swore fealty to the Princess!"
"That was some years ago. Most of them now dead."
"And that was before Aegon was born," says Lord Wylde. "By not repeating it after his birth, the King gave his assent."
Lord Beesbury will not be swayed. "I am six-and-seventy years old. I have known Viserys longer than any who sit at this table. He fully intended for his daughter to inherit his seat. He's been preparing her since she was named."
Lord Wylde continues. "Alas, good intentio—"
But Lord Beesbury will not be interrupted. "This is seizure! It is theft! It is treason! At the least, it is—"
"Mind your tongue Lyman," the Grandmaester cautions.
He does not. "The King was well last night, by all accounts. Which of you here can swear that he died of his own accord?"
The mood of the room turns. But Lord Beesbury is no Vaemond; he speaks out of naivety, not defiance. But he speaks also from a devotion to law and fairness and tradition. He is Alicent's best chance at a bloodless transition.
"Lord Beesbury," Alicent says. "The Princess and I both said goodnight to the King; in hindsight, he acted like a man at his end. I can assure you that he was ready." She needs to diffuse this now. "Lord Commander, please take Lord Beesbury to his office so he might get everything in order for the funeral. I will follow you shortly."
Ser Harrold, who'd been silently observing, catches on and makes his way to Lord Beesbury. He rises to meet him.
"I will have no part —"
"Come," orders the Lord Commander, dragging the master-of-coin by the arm.
"No!" her father commands. "The door remains shut until we finish our business."
The danger of the situation is starting to register; the Lord Commander's tension must be rubbing off on him. They hover by the door. Both clearly wish to flee but are reluctant to test the Council's resolve.
Ser Criston draws his blade. "I will not suffer insults to Her Grace the Queen."
"There was no insult to me, Ser Criston. Put aside your blade."
Ser Harrold's hand hovers over the hilt of his own blade. "Has it come to this?"
"Lord Commander, enough!" her father commands.
"What of Rhaenyra?" Alicent demands.
Her father answers too quickly, too casually. "The former heir cannot, of course, be allowed to remain free and draw support to her claim."
"You mean to imprison her."
"She and her family will be given the opportunity to publicly swear obeisance to the new King."
"She will never bend the knee, nor will Daemon; you know this."
She'd had a nightmare, once, where her father had asked it of Daemon and he'd replied ' I'll do better, I'll bend two ,' and broken both her father's legs. Her lord father knew who Daemon was more than anyone; it was he who had despaired the most when Rhaenyra and Daemon announced their marriage. But Viserys was resigned — the last embers of the fourteen fires; I should have known it was inevitable , he'd said. Viserys should have known a lot of things were inevitable. She should have known what she now realized was inevitable: "You plan to kill them."
No one speaks. Ser Harrold shifts. Lord Beesbury is wisely quiet. She looks to the conspirators. "And all here accede to this?"
"Your father is correct, Your Grace," the Grandmaester says. "A living challenger invites battle and bloodshed. It is unsavoury, yes. But a sacrifice we must make to secure the succession."
"And then there is Daemon to consider," her father reminds her. "The King wouldn't wish for any unsavoury—"
She slams her hand on the table. "But the King did not wish for the murder of his daughter! He loved her. I will not have you deny this."
"And yet—" Lord Wylde tries to interrupt.
"One more word and I will have you removed from this chamber and sent to the Wall!"
Lord Tyland raises his hands in exasperation. "Then what do you suggest, Your Grace?"
Her Lord father disregards them all. "Time is of the essence. Lord Commander Westerling, take your knights to Dragonstone. Be quick and be clean."
"I am Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. I recognize no authority but the King's. And until there is one... I have no place here." Ser Harrold reaches for the door and Ser Criston moves toward them.
"Let him go Ser Criston," she orders. "Let him escort Lord Beesbury to the treasury office and remain there." He nods and follows them out the door, no doubt to stand sentry outside the treasury office.
Alicent turns back to the council. "I will not have this either. Rhaenyra is the heir. I was there the day Viserys named her. I was there every day he kept her as heir, for near twenty years."
"Yes," her father says. "The day she was named. To prevent Daemon from ascending the Iron Throne, which he will now do, if we stand by."
"Is it the stability of the realm, that so concerns you, My Lords, or the stability of your positions? I will not support treason and possibly start a war so a table of second sons might protect their pride!"
He leans over her seat like she's a child once more. "It is not my position as Hand that concerns me so as the position of my hands. Of my head. Of your childrens' heads Alicent! Mayhaps the memories of a childhood friendship two decades lost will soften Rhaenyra's resolve; mayhaps she even believes she will be merciful. But what of the men that surround her? Of her husband who will happily take my head for no other reason than that he'd enjoy it? He murdered his wife and Lady Laena's betrothed just because he wanted to. And when she passed, he murdered his good-brother to claim his wife!"
She looks away. "We do not know that for certain, Father."
"It may not be certain, but it is certainly obvious."
"I do not believe Rhaenyra to be a cold-blooded murderer. She did care for Ser Laenor."
"It does not matter how she was involved, daughter. That was how her pet dragon behaved on its leash; what do you think it will do now that she lets it go rogue? And she will, I guarantee you. It is the very reason she chose him: to keep her own hands clean come this day."
Alicent has no rebuttal. She went of her way to avoid the Rogue Prince, ostensibly because she was worried about his influence on Aemond. In truth, Daemon had always terrified her. The thought of him sitting on the Iron Throne, presiding over the Seven Kingdoms with her family at his mercy, made her sick.
Her father sees her resolve weakening and continues. "And what of her heirs? Three of them illegitimate, the others sired by Daemon; there is no good option. Even should her reign go smoothly, when she passes Jacaerys will be forced to secure his own position."
"Jacaerys would ne—"
"Have you so quickly forgotten that he attacked your son over only a jape of his true heritage? What happens when the men-at-arms answer to his side of the family? When he's married to the daughter of Daemon and the granddaughter of the Sea Snake?"
What if it had been Rhaenyra's guards at supper, and not our own? She looks back up at her father, who still looms over her.
"We must intervene before the marriage can take place," Lord Tyland says. "Lady Baela is heir to Driftmark by birthright and we cannot risk offending the Velaryons."
Her father nods. "And the matter of Lucerys, who took your son's eye in defense of his claim that Aemond had not even contested! Do you think they will want Aemond atop the largest dragon in the world? Syrax is fertile and still Lady Rhaena has not been given a hatchling; she has not even claimed her late uncle's dragon! Can you not see that they're waiting to seat her on Vhagar? How do you think they intend to do so?"
Lord Tyland believes he knows. "He means to put his blood on the Iron Throne, on the Driftwood Throne, on every dragon saddle there is. The only way to make room is for Hightower blood to spill."
"That is how men like Daemon operate, dear daughter. We cannot allow Rhaenyra and Daemon's branch poison the family tree any longer."
"They'll turn the Red Keep into a brothel!" Lord Wylde says. "House Targaryen will be forever disgraced. The realm will descend into depravity."
She means to interrupt, to comment on the irony of a table full of Andals claiming authority over Targaryen legacy. Daemon and Rhaenyra are as much the blood of the dragon as they are of men, after all.
But her father does not give her the chance. "And what if his stepsons are good and pious and moral? Too moral to defend their claim with fire and blood. He'll get rid of them in the blink of an eye to seat his daughter at the head of the Velaryon fleet, and his own son on the throne. Do you think Aegon the Younger will be in control? Or his father? If Rhaenyra's bastards are as kind as you seem to think, would you really condemn them to death over a guilt-driven decision from a now-dead man?"
"Was it not you who just suggested we kill them?"
"Only if necessary; those children were marked for death from the day Rhaenyra took Ser Harwin into her bed. You know this to be true, dear daughter."
She does. But she also knows an equally hard truth. "Aegon is not fit to rule."
"He is young," Lord Wylde says. "We can guide him in the right direction."
"He has no interest!"
"Better yet," says the Grandmaester. "The council will rule justly, wisely, and fairly in his good name. For the good of the realm."
Of course. Just as they do now.
"The Iron Throne destroyed Viserys," she reminds them. "What do you think it will do to Aegon?"
"He will be better fit than Daemon, nonetheless," her father says.
Alicent must now admit something worse. "He is not a better fit than Rhaenyra."
Her father does not try to argue. Instead, he redirects. "It would not matter if she were Jaehaerys himself come again. Even if the realm does accept her, they will always follow the King over the Queen. When Orys Baratheon killed the Storm King and took his daughter to wife, who ruled in practice? In legacy? The Queen always stands behind the King, birthright be damned."
"Rhaenyra is no Storm Queen, trust in my words. She is Nymeria through and through."
"If you so liken your friend's temperament to Nymeria, you would not be so convinced she'll press her claim," says her lord father. "Do you truly believe she will pack up her family and sail peacefully away? Do you think Daemon would allow her to do so?"
Alicent is at a loss. Her father presses on. "We don't need to agree right this moment. We keep this between us. Rhaenyra said she will return on dragonback, I suggest we send a raven bearing a request for expediency. We can say that the King has been asking for his brother and daughter without respite. Once we have them in hand we can discuss this without the threat looming over us."
"You mean to use their love for our King against them."
"We mean to prevent bloodshed." The Grandmaester says.
"Your Grace," Lord Tyland says. "If we act swiftly, we can force the Blacks into a surrender. We already have the Princess Rhaenys and Meleys. Without Daemon, Rhaenyra, and their dragons, the Blacks are reduced to over-matched children."
Her father nods. "We can dispatch with the Prince right away and offer terms. The Strong bastards will renounce their claim and go into exile."
"And what of her children by Daemon? There is no disputing their legitimacy," Alicent says.
"Perhaps we could request they bring their two youngest along?" Lord Tyland suggests.
"And what is to be done with them?"
Her father actually takes a moment to consider. "Aegon the Younger might be wed to Jaehaera. They may both be used to ensure their brothers do not return, and that their sisters do not revolt."
"And what of Rhaenyra?" Alicent repeats. She's met with silence and she knows she has lost.
Her turns to the Council. "Send the raven, Grandmaester. Just the one. Until then we must keep this news secret. Gather all the servants who know and make sure the Princess Rhaenys, Lord Commander, and Lord Beesbury are contained. We will discuss this matter further once I've consulted our new King." The other councillors rise and return their spheres.
Whether Alicent wanted it or not, this meeting is over.
But the matter is not over. I must reach Aegon first, she decides. She will light the way down the right path.
The only problem… she does not yet know what path that is.
She stops pacing when Ser Criston enters, but Aemond does not rise or even turn away from the fire. "Prince Aegon is not to be found within the castle walls, Your Grace. Your father has sent Ser Erryk into the city to find him."
It does not bode well; she says as much. "Ser Erryk knows Aegon. He has the advantage." She approaches. "I trust again to you, Ser Criston, and to your loyalty. Aegon must be found, and he must be brought to me. The very fate of the Seven Kingdoms depends on it. Everything you feel for me, as you Queen."
"I will not fail you."
"I will come with you," Aemond says
"That would not be my desire, Aemond. If anything has happened then…"
Then…
He rises from his seat to approach her. "Cole needs me, Mother." And she wishes for not the first time that he'd been born her eldest. "Ser Erryk isn not the only one who knows Aegon's doings."
"What doings, Aemond?" Alicent has always attempted not to know those doings, but today she can no longer.
"His secrets are his own... and he is welcome to them."
"Not if he is to be King," Alicent says. "Whatever his doings, they come to an end today."
He looks away. "My brother is my brother, but he's still a wastrel who's never taken half an interest in his birthright. Do you think that will change simply by placing a crown upon his head, one he does not even wish for?"
He is right, but she knows not what else to do. Her only hope is that he truly does not wish for it. If she can have him decline, offer it publicly, perhaps.
But then there is Aemond. Would Aemond stop? Would the Blacks let him live even if he did?
Would Daemon let any of us live, in the end?
Aemond has taken up her earlier pacing. "'It is I the younger brother who studies history and philosophy, it is I who trains with the sword, who rides the largest dragon in the world. It is I who should be…" he stops and looks at the floor. But he has Alicent's attention.
"I know what it is to toil for what others are freely given." Ser Criston says.
He would never swear fealty to the Blacks either, Alicent accepts.
"Mhmm."
These two men whom she cared for most in the world would be lost to her. Her father, lost. But Aegon should not be King. But to deny Rhaenyra's claim is to affirm Aegon's, there is no way around it. But should Rhaenyra ascend…
"What happens if he does not wish to be found?" Aemond asks.
"Why would he not?" Ser Criston asks.
"Because he does not wish to wear the Crown," Alicent says.
"No one wishes for Aegon to wear the Crown, Mother. Least of all Aegon. But this is the survival of our family we are speaking of. He must. We will guide him."
It is now Alicent who paces again. "It's hard to keep a dog on its leash once you've put a crown on its head. The King knew this much. He broke tradition at the advice of your grandsire to prevent…"
Aemond seizes the chance. "To prevent Daemon, who will ascend with her should we not install Aegon," he reminds her. "I know this is unsavoury, Mother, but it's for the good of the realm. The good of our family. Sometimes we're forced to settle for the path least disagreeable to us."
He's grown so wise .
"What if he's allowed to abdicate?" Alicent wonders aloud.
Aemond shakes his head. "That would only further weaken the claim of our branch," he says. "And for what? Give away the Crown because Aegon lives a life of depravity, only to set it on the head of a whore with three bastards and a consort who killed her previous consort? How exactly does that protect the Crown and the realm from depravity, from dishonour?"
"I knew Rhaenyra when we were young. She was good once, she just became lost. No mother, her father always indulged her instead of parenting her, and Daemon was all too happy to show her exactly how to get her way, which was conveniently his way. Without those influences…"
"It is hard to keep a dog on a leash once you've put a Crown on its head," Ser Criston echoes.
But it's not the same thing , Alicent realizes.
Marriage is a prison, Rhaenyra had said, many times, in many words. So often when she was courting she'd expressed her dismay, convinced that her suitors did not want her as Rhaenyra , but as a key to her birthright, her name, her lineage. Because whoever married Rhaenyra would be King.
Whoever marries Rhaenyra will be King.
That cannot be Daemon. But should another, wiser suitor, of good temperament rule in her name instead…
The Grandmaster had likely sent the raven. Daemon's life was forfeit — but Rhaenyra's was not. And neither was the union between the Hightowers and the Crown.
When Orys Baratheon took the Storm Queen to wife, who ruled in practice ?
"Aemond, the council has oft discussed the idea that you wed one of the Four Storms. I imagine they will push the idea again, so you might bring the Baratheons to our cause."
"That is a perfectly agreeable plan, Mother. But we need to focus on Aegon at the moment."
"No, we do not. We don't need to find Aegon right now, because Aegon will not be King."
"Mhmm?"
Hope was rising within. She could fix this. She could fix everything, protect everyone. No sacrifices. No betrayal. She'd save her family from Daemon. She'd save the realm from civil war. She'd save Aegon from the Crown. And she'd save Rhaenyra from herself.
"You're not going to marry a Baratheon."
She was going to have her cake, and she was going to eat it too — with Rhaenyra.