Aegon Blackfyre, newly knighted and standing before the Iron Throne...I could feel the collective gaze of the assembly fixated on me. Nobles, knights, and courtiers leaned forward, their expressions a mixture of anticipation and curiosity, eager to witness the unprecedented judgment about to unfold.
King Robert, seated on the Iron Throne, observed the assembled crowd in the great hall. The testimonies for Oros, now known as Aegon Blackfyre, seemed to be replaying in his mind. The air was heavy with anticipation as Lord Tully concluded the proceedings.
King Robert leaned forward, his gaze assessing the newly knighted Aegon. The room fell silent, every eye on the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.
"Ser Aegon Blackfyre," King Robert commanded. A murmur swept through the hall as the attendees exchanged glances, uncertain of what the king's reaction might entail.
As Aegon stood before the Iron Throne, King Robert's expression shifted. There was a hint of anger in his eyes. He spoke, his voice carrying the weight of authority that came with the Iron Throne.
"You've been lauded for virtues that every true knight should uphold. Courage, mercy, justice, and the rest. Noble deeds indeed." King Robert paused, his gaze narrowing slightly.
"However," he continued, "I am a king burdened by a realm recovering from war. Your true name carries a weight, a history that cannot be ignored. The Blackfyre legacy has sparked rebellion many times over. History has seen good men turn traitor in support of that name."
The hall held its breath as King Robert deliberated. "Here's my decision. Ser Aegon Blackfyre, you will not face the headsman's axe, for victory and valor in battle deserves recognition. Nor will you be offered the Black, for that would only make a martyr and lead to more strife from those that would challenge my throne."
King Robert's eyes locked onto Aegon's. "You will swear, here and now, that you renounce any claim to the Iron Throne. Your house will be again recognized as a house of the Seven Kingdoms. You will be landless, with only the hope of your future deeds earning you a holdfast of your own. Any future transgressions, and I won't hesitate to revisit this judgment."
I, now officially recognized as a knight and head of House Blackfyre, felt the weight of the king's words settle upon him. I quickly spoke the words renouncing my claim on the Iron Throne and was dismissed. The audience parted as I made my way out of the great hall, most recovering from shock as I passed. As I cleared the doors a paige was already on hand with a summons from the King.
To say the atmosphere in King Robert's solar was tense would be a gross understatement. Lord Stark, Lord Tully, Lord Arryn, and Lord Bracken stood uneasily, exchanging guarded glances. Lord Commander Selmy also present, stood stoically in attendance, his presence a silent reminder of the Kingsguard's watchful eyes.
As I stood before King Robert Baratheon, his face a storm of conflicting emotions, his voice thundered through the chamber as he addressed the gathered lords, "You dare bring me news in such a way, and you expect me to dance to your whims, eh? A dragonspawn, a Blackfyre, raised to knighthood by acclaim. What choice did I have but accept him?"
Lord Stark stepped forward, his voice measured, "Your Grace, we understand the weight of this revelation, but—"
King Robert interrupted with a growl, "Understand? You ask me to understand that I've a Blackfyre in my court? Seven bloody hells, Stark! Tully! Explain yourselves."
Lord Tully spoke next, "Your Grace, Aegon Blackfyre has shown virtues that any knight should aspire to. He's been recognized by his peers for courage, mercy, and nobility. His actions on the battlefield speak louder than his name."
Lord Stark added, "And we thought it prudent to recognize those virtues, to bind him to the realm and prevent any chance of a future rebellion. The man who stood before you is not his ancestors. He fought for you, for the realm, fought by my side for Lyanna."
Robert leaned back on the Iron Throne, a scowl etched on his face though slightly tempered compared to moments prior. "Aye, the dragonspawn fought for me. Aye, count your blessings, Blackfyre, that Stark and Tully vouch for you. Now, what will you do next?"
My gaze shifted to Lord Commander Selmy as I spoke, my voice steady, "Your Grace, I plan to find my family's ancestral swords. Dark Sister, last heard, was taken north of the Wall by Bloodraven. Blackfyre, lost on the Stepstones. I aim to reclaim them."
Lord Stark stepped forward, concern etched on his face. "Aegon, this is a foolish quest. The Wall is no place for a Southron, and the Stepstones are rife with dangers. We did not go through this just to see you march off to your own death."
Lord Tully nodded in agreement as Lord Bracken added, "There are greater goals than lost swords. A few years of service could see you landed and truly rebuilding your family."
King Robert, however, leaned back with a hearty laugh, "If he is hell-bent on dying like that fool Lannister who went seeking Valyrian steel in Valyria, so be it. Blackfyre, I do not wish you luck and this is the last time you should find yourself in my presence for a long time. But mind you, step a foot out of line and you will join in on your cousins fate."
As I left, the king's laughter reverberated through the solar, likely assuming that my foolish quest would lead to my demise soon enough. However, the joke is on him because I am confident about who knows the secret to one of the blades. Whether he will disclose it to me remains to be seen.
The next morning, I stood before the Lord Commander's Solar, as I prepared to meet Lord Commander Barristan Selmy. As the door creaked open, Lord Commander Selmy rose from his desk, a knowing look in his eyes.
"Ser Aegon," Lord Commander Selmy greeted, gesturing for me to follow. "I was wondering when you would seek me out."
The two knights walked down a short hallway, the White Sword Tower standing tall around them. Ser Selmy led Aegon to a nondescript door, which he unlocked to reveal a small strongroom.
"The Kingsguard treasury," Ser Selmy explained, his voice amplified by the close walls.
The room contained several approached a larger chest, and there, nestled among carefully arranged items, lay Blackfyre. My breath caught in his throat as I beheld the legendary sword.
"The last known Blackfyre wielder, Maelys the Monstrous, fell to my blade during the Ninepenny Wars," Ser Selmy began, his gaze fixed on the sword. "After his defeat, King Jaehaerys II decided that this blade should be hidden away, buried in secrecy until the realm forgot the name Blackfyre. It was to prevent it from being used as a rallying point for yet another rebellion."
A hint of uncertainty crossed Ser Selmy's face. "King Jaehaerys passed away early, and I do not know if King Aerys was ever aware of the sword's presence here. Lord Commander Hightower took charge of this matter."
With those words, Ser Selmy stepped back, allowing me to approach the chest. The air in the room seemed to change as I reached for the hilt of Blackfyre, my fingers trembling with anticipation. The leather-bound grip felt cool and reassuring in my hands, a stark contrast to the weight of the blade itself. As I slowly drew the sword from its scabbard, a metallic whisper echoed through the air, sending shivers down my spine.
The first glimpse of Blackfyre emerged, catching the ambient light in a dance of reflections along the razor-sharp edge. The blade seemed to pulse with a quiet, dormant power, as if it held the echoes of a thousand battles within its steel. The craftsmanship was impeccable, the edge honed to perfection, and the dragon-shaped hilt felt like an extension of my own will.
As the sword fully left its sheath, a rush of emotions surged through me. A mix of awe, reverence, and a subtle awareness of the responsibility that came with wielding such a legendary weapon. Blackfyre felt alive in my hands, resonating with a history that echoed through the ages.
All to quickly, I returned Blackfyre to its sheath and set it back in the chest. Turning to Ser Barristan, I spoke, "Ser, I entrust Blackfyre to your care. It is far safer here than north of the Wall."
Ser Barristan nodded, his expression grave. "Aye, and it would not sit well with King Robert if he hears of your discovery so soon. Best keep this to yourself for now as well."
Later that day, I sought out Ser Lewyn Martell, who was making preparations for his journey to the Wall. When I proposed that we travel together, he agreed, and we planned our route by ship to Dragonstone, then on to Whitewater, and finally, by land to Castle Black.
I reassured him that I would secure passage within the week. With our plans in place, I communicated my intention to stay at the Broken Anvil inn until departing for the North to Lords Bracken, Tully, and Stark. I extended the same message to Robar and Jack, inviting them to join me that evening. Hastening to my guest quarters, I swiftly gathered my belongings into my saddlebags before leaving the Red Keep and venturing into the city.
As I pushed open the heavy wooden door of the Broken Anvil inn, a wave of noise hit me like a physical force. The air was thick with the scent of ale, mingling with the savory aroma of roasted meat. The flickering light of candles struggled to pierce through the dense haze of pipe smoke.
The common room was a chaotic symphony of sounds—boisterous laughter, clinking tankards, and the occasional clash of a mug hitting the floor. A group of minstrels played a lively tune in one corner, their instruments competing with the rowdy conversations of patrons. The innkeeper shouted orders to the bustling serving staff, attempting to be heard above the din.
The wooden floor groaned beneath my boots as I traversed a labyrinth of tables, each occupied by patrons immersed in their merrymaking. Reaching the innkeeper, I secured a room for the week before proceeding to my lodgings to stow my saddlebags. Upon unlocking and entering the room, I was met with an unexpected presence...Varys, the Master of Whispers.
Author note: I know the pace has greatly slowed down within the story, after this chapter there will be time jumps with the intent of keeping the narrative moving at a solid pace. I also understand that not everyone likes how early or the circumstances of Oros revealing who is truly is. To this I will say, whoever said Aegon wants the throne?