Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
Otto, ever the dutiful father-in-law, wasted no time preparing for his son-in-law's coronation. However, Aeonar, understandably grieving the loss of his father, placed greater importance on arranging his funeral rites before any other official matters. In the meantime, each of Otto's grandchildren stepped up to oversee repairs to the city's damaged infrastructure and provide humanitarian aid to those in need. The Blacks successfully solidified their authority over King's Landing through their tireless efforts. Despite the success, the toll of the conflict weighed heavily on Otto's mind, prompting him to ask the somber question. "How many did we lose?"
"I'm afraid the civilian casualties are estimated to be in the dozens," Farrier grimly reported. "But that's not all. The small council has lost many members, who fled with Queen Beatrice. I've already sent word to our agents to track them down, but it won't be easy with Larys Strong in their ranks. It will take time. In the meantime, we're already fielding a list of suitable candidates to replace them on the council and having their backgrounds checked thoroughly."
"Good. This time make sure they stay loyal to the one true king. And what of the Kingsguard?"
"The Kingsguard must soon be restored to its full complement of seven," Ser Harrold reported. "So far, there are only five of us - including myself. Those who chose to follow the would-be usurpers have brought shame and dishonor to the Kingsguard."
"That's Beatrice's fault, Lord Commander. Not yours," Farrier expressed doubt and skepticism as he awaited further information. Shortly after that, a member of his inner circle arrived with a securely sealed scroll bearing the address of Dragonstone.
As Aeonar listened to the endless chatter of his advisors, his mind drifted away. His pale lilac eyes looked almost devoid of life. The only thing that truly mattered to him at that moment was giving his father a dignified funeral. The thought of his upcoming coronation and all the appointments that would follow seemed trivial in comparison. Even though he hadn't been crowned king yet, it felt as though the courtiers were already circling like vultures, eager to pick at the remains of his dead father's corpse. "There will be no plans until I give my father a proper service." Aeonar knew that he had to take matters into his own hands and make preparations himself.
"Your Grace―"
"What, Farrier?"
"It's… from your sister, Princess Rhaenyra."
King's Landing ― Street of Sisters…
Jaehaerys and Baela took it upon themselves to traverse the city, braving the aftermath of the devastating Caltrops' coup attempt. They offered their invaluable assistance to those who suffered from the calamity, putting their own safety on the line to lend a helping hand. With unwavering commitment, they tirelessly worked to remove the debris and care for the injured, offering hope and comfort to those most vulnerable during this trying time.
Aemma's benevolent and empathetic nature propelled her towards dedicating herself to the noble cause of tending to the widowed and orphaned, offering them solace and unwavering support in the face of their profound loss. Meanwhile, Aegon and Viserys' hearts overflowed with kindness and compassion as they toiled tirelessly alongside the city's chefs, serving meals to those in dire need of sustenance. Lastly, Daeron took on the responsibility of overseeing the queue, ensuring that everyone received their fair share of food without any cuts or disruptions while carrying out his duties with an unwavering sense of accountability.
With a reassuring wave of his hand, Aegon tried to soothe the anxious crowd. "Hey, hey. Easy now, easy," he said reassuringly. "Let's not get too excited." His words slowly had a magical effect as everyone began to feel a sense of calmness and composure.
Viserys mirrored his twin's sentiments with a gesture of his hand. "Relax, there's plenty enough for everyone," he said, reassuring all present to unwind and enjoy the abundant resources available for everyone's benefit.
Daeron, on the other hand, was not happy with the situation. He forcefully pushed back someone who tried to cut in line, shouting at them to wait their turn like everyone else. "Back in line, you! Wait your turn!" But he didn't stop there. He noticed someone pushing a smaller and weaker person to cut in line and decided to take action. "Pick on someone your own size!" he said, shoving them back. "And don't let me catch you doing it again!" Daeron was not one to be messed with, and he ensured everyone knew it. "Hey! I said get back in line!" he yelled, determined to maintain order in a new chaotic world.
Baela, having witnessed the harshness of the new reality up close, shook her head in disappointment. "The current situation has been quite tumultuous," she sighed before turning to her betrothed, Jaehaerys. "How are you holding up, tough guy?" she asked with a hint of genuine concern in her voice. It was evident that she was alluding to what she was referring to.
"You mean grandfather," Jaehaerys acknowledged. "I've been… coping a bit better lately. It hurts and always will for a while, but I am managing to move forward. Time has a way of healing all wounds, or so they say. The scars may remain but are a small aspect of life's intricate canvas. They add depth and color to our character, shaping us through life's experiences."
"You're an optimist, Jay. Times like this, I'm glad I'm not. The Caltrops are used to being the most entitled bunch of kids thinking the world is their playground. They don't want to believe someone else out there who's bigger than them―and could knock them down a peg or two, I guess. I suppose we'll have to consider this as part of our learning experience."
"There may be a possibility of worse violence in the aftermath should we have arrived even a moment later. We must ensure that we respond promptly to prevent any potential harm should it ever happen again."
"That's one way of putting it. Haah… I know I can be a bit of a tough nut to crack. But listen, just between you and me, whatever you come up with, you can count me in. If you ever find yourself in a difficult moment and need someone to lean on, I'm here for you. And hey, sometimes even the bravest of us have a vulnerable side. Just be yourself, and I'll always accept you for who you are." Baela then rolled her eyes. "There, you made me say it, tough guy. So much for my 'wild, fearless tomboy' persona."
Jaehaerys found himself quite amused by the situation. "By the grace of our ancestors, it has been quite an endeavor to decipher your intentions and beliefs, Baela. Nonetheless, your words and unwavering support hold great significance for me. I assure you that any aid you offer will not go unrecognized or unreciprocated. I am prepared to go to great lengths to repay your kindness tenfold, if necessary."
"You better."
As the Targaryen children dutifully carried out their civic responsibilities to improve the livelihoods of King's Landing's commoners, the wounds and recollections of the Caltrops' attempted coup remained fresh in the minds of those who had lived through it. King Viserys's death, the city's reconstruction, and the public condemnation of those who participated in the insurrection were overshadowed by a somber aura that enveloped the capital.
But then, the sound of a dragon's roar echoed through the air, accompanied by the shrill cries of two young dragons.
All eyes turned skyward to witness Syrax's arrival, her yellow-gold scales glistening in the light as she danced through the updraft, soaring and diving and spiraling in her flight. Rhaenyra was secured in her harness strapped to Syrax's back, but she appeared to be unwell. Accompanying Syrax were Vermax and Arrax; Jacaerys's sub-adult dragon had grown to an impressive 70 feet in length, while Lucerys's dragon, Arrax, had risen to 40 feet. Based on their flight pattern, the trio appeared to be heading toward the Red Keep.
"Aunt Rhaenyra?" Jaehaerys noticed.
Red Keep ― Maegor's Holdfast…
Alicent, with a sense of duty weighing heavily on her heart, briefly excused herself from her regular duties to confront her father, Ser Otto. Her concern for Aeonar's well-being was paramount in her thoughts; his present state of mind following the king's death made it clear that he was not yet ready to bear the weight of the additional responsibility Otto had been so willing to heap upon his shoulders. As the Young Dragon's consort, Alicent felt a strong moral imperative to intervene. "None of this is a game, father," she told him.
"My dear Alicent, the king is dead. In a brazen act of treachery, the queen dowager attempted a coup to seize power from Viserys's rightful heir not long afterward. It now falls upon Aeonar to prepare himself for the weighty responsibilities of rulership – whether he is ready or not," Otto firmly stated. He stood up from his chair and walked around his desk, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "We have relied on one another these many years. And now it is the good of the family that we both desire. Whatever our differences, our hearts remain as one."
"Our hearts were never one. I see that even after twenty years. Rather, I was nothing more than a piece you tried to move across the board to fit your grandiose schemes."
"If that were true, then I have made you Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."
"I'm sorry, father, but I have to disagree with you," Alicent declared firmly, shaking her head. "Your intentions were solely focused on tying our bloodline to the Iron Throne, but that's not how I viewed my marriage. I chose to marry Aeonar because I love him, and he loves me in return. It's as simple as that."
"Would you have desired it otherwise?"
"How would I know? But by the gods, he just lost his father. Give him the space he needs to grieve in peace," Alicent asserted with unwavering conviction. She refused to be manipulated any longer, knowing all too well the ulterior motives of those around her. As a mature adult who had seen her share of political games, she could see past her father's facade and discern his true intentions. She might have fallen for his tricks if this happened when she was younger and more naive. But now, as a wife, mother, and grandmother, Alicent was wise to his ways. "But I cannot stand by and watch my husband crumble under any additional weight you may place upon his shoulders. It is simply too much for him to bear."
"It's a sacrifice every king has to make for the realm's stability," Otto countered. "No king has ever lived that hasn't had to forfeit the lives of a few to protect the many. Though I understand your desire to protect him from being taken advantage of―"
"Being human is not a weakness! The well-being of my family is more important to me than any other, as a wife, a mother, and a grandmother. Call it what you will, but I know my place here. However, you've clarified that I am to be queen, father. And we will proceed as we see fit," Alicent decided to assert her influence in her new role. "As my lord husband made it very clear, we will have Viserys's funeral in a few hours. Ser Harrold Westerling will remain as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. And when the time comes, Aeonar will be anointed at dawn on the steps of the Grand Sept before the masses. From there, he will assume authority. And there will be no more undermining. My husband will take the crown of the Conqueror and carry Blackfyre, his sword. Let the people remember the ancient strength of House Targaryen. In these dire times, there must always be a glimmer of light to show them the way to salvation, as a shepherd who watches over his flock."
In a state of awe, Otto stood silently as he observed Alicent's unwavering confidence. Evidently, his daughter had grown into a woman of great strength and dignity, a true queen guided by her unwavering moral compass and steadfast faith. For a fleeting moment, Otto saw a glimmer of his beloved wife Evelyne within their daughter, and it filled him with a sense of pride and wonder. "You look so much like your mother in certain lights," he commented. As you wish, Your Grace.
As Alicent made her way down the hallway, her mind was preoccupied with the numerous tasks ahead of her. She felt the weight of responsibility bearing on her shoulders now that Alicent was to assume her new role as queen consort, and the thought of the limited time she had to complete everything only added to her stress. However, just as she was lost in her thoughts, her father's words echoed in her mind, causing her to pause. She couldn't help but feel frustrated at his words, but at the same time, Alicent knew he was right. With a sigh, she glanced down at the medallion in her palm, which had been given to her by her son Jaehaerys. He had told her that Otto had instructed him to give it to her whenever he could. The pendant was a beautiful green stone attached to double, gold-tone rope chains. Alicent recognized it immediately as the one her mother, Lady Evelyne, used to wear before she died. The sight of it brought back memories of her mother, who had always been a source of comfort and strength for her. Despite the chaos and uncertainty surrounding her, Alicent couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over her as she held onto the medallion.
Upon entering the courtyard, Alicent's keen eyes immediately caught sight of Rhaenyra and her three sons, Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. They were surrounded by a group of handmaidens who appeared to be quite despondent.
"Rhaenyra?" Alicent looked confused.
Neither Jace nor Luke could look at her.
Rhaenyra presented herself in a disheveled and unkempt manner. Her usually pristine Valyrian hair was now tangled and messy, exhibiting a lack of proper grooming and care. Her garments were rumpled and creased, indicating a disregard for her usual poise and elegance. Even her personal hygiene seemed to have taken a backseat, neglected in the face of her overwhelming grief. Alicent leaned in for a closer inspection, noticing the telltale signs of distress on Rhaenyra's face - her cheeks were streaked with dried tear stains, and her eyes were bloodshot from constant weeping. As Alicent leaned in for a closer look, she couldn't help but observe the tiny bundle in Rhaenyra's arms, wrapped in somber funeral cloth. The sight of it only confirmed Alicent's suspicions - something truly terrible had happened.
"Oh no…" Alicent was overcome with shock and dismay upon realizing the gravity of the situation. Her heart ached for her dear childhood friend, Rhaenyra. The experience she went through mirrored the emotions she felt after losing Alaena. "Oh, Rhaenyra… Come here." Without hesitation, she enveloped Rhaenyra in a warm and comforting embrace, hoping to offer some solace in this difficult time.
Rhaenyra silently sobbed into Alicent, finally crying her eyes out. Alicent hushed and gently stroked her sister-in-law's hair as she mourned the loss of her sixth child. The pain of losing an unborn child as a stillborn reopened old wounds as Alicent wept with Rhaenyra. It was that shared grief that only served to strengthen their already strong bond.
"Rhaenyra."
Aeonar appeared in front of Alicent and Rhaenyra, both surprised by his sudden presence. His somber expression suggested he had received news of Rhaenyra's stillborn and malformed child. The Young Dragon's sudden yet unannounced visit to the courtyard was to see his sister and offer comfort and support during the family's time of sorrow. It was as if fate was playing a cruel joke on them, first with their father's death and now this. Despite his grief, Aeonar reached out to Rhaenyra, holding her tightly as she mourned the loss of her child, joining Alicent to offer Rhaenyra support in her time of need.
But Daemon could only watch from afar as the realization hit him.
King's Landing ― Rhaenys' Hill…
On the city's outskirts, a somber gathering takes place to mourn the loss of King Viserys. His body lies peacefully on a stone platform, shrouded in pure white fabric. As per the long-held traditions of the Targaryen family, the ceremony involves burning the deceased rather than burying them. The evening sun slowly descends beyond the horizon, casting a low light upon Rhaenys' Hill. The mournful tolling of the bells from the Grand Sept can be heard in the background, serving as a poignant reminder of the loss felt by all those in attendance.
A vast congregation of mourners has assembled on the hill, clad in somber attire. Aeonar and Rhaenyra, like how they stood at their mother Queen Aemma's funeral twenty years prior, must bid farewell to their sole remaining parent. In close proximity to their father's bier lies a second, tiny funeral shroud so small that it could be easily missed. The members of the Young Dragon's family stand at the forefront of the crowd, flanked by the lords and ladies of all the households present in King's Landing to aid in the rebuilding efforts following the failed overthrow attempt, including Celtigar, Massey, Bar Emmon, Hightower, Darklyn, Connington, Blackwood, and a multitude of knights and men-at-arms in House Targaryen's service.
Otto Hightower stands off to the side with his four sons, including Gwayne.
Princess Rhaenys Targaryen stands apart from her relatives with her granddaughters Baela and Rhaena.
Vaelor and Syrax, Aeonar's and Rhaenyra's dragons, stood at the top of the hill, attended by a group of four Dragonkeepers. Among them are two experienced elders and two acolytes. The scene is awe-inspiring, as the dragons are surrounded by a magnificent circle of other dragon companions: Vermithor, Silverwing, Corxes, Maelyx, Gaemon, Vermax, Arrax, Meleys, Moondancer, and Caraxes are all present, each with their own team of Dragonkeepers.
Aeonar himself, dressed in the black of his house, stands over a funeral bier. The Young Dragon is bereft, totally lost in somber. I'm sorry, father. For everything I've said and done over the years. He exhaled shakily. Go. Rest with mother. I'm sure she's waiting for you. With him was his wife, Alicent; their five children, Jaehaerys, Aegon, Viserys, Aemma, and Daeron; and their granddaughter, Saena.
Rhaenyra stands in a solitary manner, distinct from her brother. The color red has been drained from her eyes from the tears that have been shed, and yet another feeling lingers on her countenance - remorse. Accompanying her are her sons Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, and Daemon, alongside their own sons Aemon and Baelon.
Both Aeonar and Rhaenyra stare ahead. They don't say anything.
"Iksis keskydoso syt lanta? (Is this what it was like for you two?)" Rhaenyra asked in High Valyrian, her voice broken.
Alaena. "Qubykta. (Worse.)" Aeonar answered somberly. "Īles riñītsos, iksin ziry? (It was a girl, wasn't it?)"
"Mmm… Visenȳs. Ñuhus talus meres, hae hōzalbrot sittus. Kostilus hen jaehoti gīmēdenon iksos. (Visenya. My only daughter, born an abomination. Perhaps she is a warning from the gods.)"
"Skoros vestri bona? (Why do you say that?)"
"Gīmēdenon issa. Kepa ñuha morghūltas. 'Visenȳsa' ziry brōston. Yn sagon ziry sytilīptos daor.(She is an augury. Born on the day our father died. I would have called her 'Visenya'. But she was not meant to be.)"
Aeonar shook his head, never breaking his gaze. "Ȳdra bona pāsiles daor. Se gaomagon mirre ao. (I don't believe that. And neither do you.)"
Daemon finds himself standing in a delicate position, standing between his nephew and niece-turned-wife, as he feels caught between two worlds. The funeral proceedings seem all too familiar to him, reminiscent of the past funerals of Aemma and Baelon. However, this time, the roles have been reversed, and he is left to observe the mourners' faces. His heart goes out to Rhaenyra, knowing that Visenya was their daughter, and he, too, deserves to grieve her loss alongside Rhaenyra. "Come. They're waiting," he gently offered his arm.
Rhaenyra wouldn't look at him. She does not take it.
"My love," Alicent approached gently, "I know you're hurting inside, but it's time. I'll come with you."
Aeonar remains silent, accepting his wife's comforting presence. He gazes at Rhaenyra and then at Daemon, refraining from his usual stern reprimands towards his uncle. The Young Dragon acknowledges his own responsibility in the situation. Eventually, he turns his attention back to his sister. "Come," he offered his hand.
Rhaenyra took her brother's hand in hers, and together all four stalked up the hill.
"D…" Aeonar choked. He felt his throat tighten. Why? He knows the High Valyrian words for 'dragonfire', but he couldn't get the words out. He did it before. Why couldn't he do it again?
Rhaenyra noticed her brother's emotional distress and felt her own sadness. She squeezed Aeonar's hand, trying to show her support. Despite their pain, they would face it together as siblings. Full of emotion, both Aeonar and Rhaenyra gave out the commands.
"Dracarys!"
Vaelor growled and descended the hill, with Syrax accompanying him in vocalizing clicks. Like he did twenty years ago, the Swiftrunner snapped his jaws at the Dragonkeepers on his left and right flanks, warning them to get out of his way. Once both dragons were close enough, Vaelor and Syrax opened their maws and expelled a column of dragonfire, which lit the funeral bier of King Viserys as well as a second bier carrying baby Princess Visenya beside it as the stillborn's corpse was rapidly consumed by fire, bent by a strong evening wind, smoke rises from the twin funeral pyres.
A single tear glided down Alicent's cheek, evoking memories of her own loss of Alaena. Witnessing Rhaenyra endure the same heartache only amplified her heart's ache. Jaehaerys, Aegon, Viserys, Aemma, Daeron, Jacaerys, Lucerys, Baela, and Rhaena all come forward to offer their condolences.
"Halt!" a voice called out.
Aeonar, Rhaenyra, Alicent, and the other bystanders quickly pivoted their attention to the sound of swords being unsheathed by the five remaining Kingsguard. The sudden display of weaponry caused all of the Targaryen dragons to growl menacingly and bare their teeth in a state of heightened alertness. The intruder appeared to be a member of the Kingsguard, but his voice had a hint of familiarity to it. Strangely enough, no one could discern his identity even after he removed his helmet. Some speculated that he may have been one of the Cargyll twins. However, even the Kingsguard themselves appeared to be unable to distinguish between the two.
"I mean you no harm, brothers," the knight raised his hands in concession.
With a deliberate motion, Aeonar lifted his hand, poised to issue the signal to Vaelor. The dragon's jaws glowed brightly with renewed embers, a sign of the power that lay within. After the recent events in his absence, Aeonar found himself unable to trust anyone fully, so he proceeded with caution and a watchful eye.
"Stop! Hold on a moment!" Jaehaerys urgently exclaimed. "Father, not him. That's Ser Erryk! He's the one who helped me and Princess Rhaenys get away from the Caltrops! If it weren't for his warnings, King's Landing would have fallen by now."
Aeonar remained silent, his gaze shifting from his son to Rhaenys, seeking confirmation. The Queen Who Never Was nodded slightly, affirming what Jaehaerys had declared. With a measured motion, the Young Dragon slowly lowered his hand, signaling for Vaelor to stand down. The Swiftrunner obeyed, but his piercing crimson eyes remained fixed on the solitary Kingsguard knight who approached his master.
With caution, Ser Erryk advanced, aware of the close scrutiny he was under from all directions. Appreciating Prince Jaehaerys speaking up in his defense, the Kingsguard knight drew his sword and genuflected, laying the blade at Aeonar's feet. "I swear to ward the king," he recited his oath, hoping to prove his loyalty, "with all my strength, and give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his command, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor."
With a commanding presence, Aeonar stood tall and regal, casting his gaze down upon Ser Erryk, who remained humbly kneeling before him. The assembled crowd made up of Aeonar's loved ones and supporters, knelt beside him in recognition of his rightful claim to the true King of the Seven Kingdoms. The flames danced behind him, casting an ethereal and captivating glow upon the scene. As the sun began to set, Aeonar's eyes gleamed with a particular intensity, revealing the fierce determination that burned within him. Where he had given others a choice to decide their destiny, Aeonar would forge his own path again, heedless of any obstacles that might stand in his way. The air was thick with anticipation as Aeonar prepared to take his rightful place on the Iron Throne, a leader with a fierce spirit and unwavering resolve.
Gripping Blackfyre in his left hand, Aeonar vowed to uphold his father's legacy…
…or die trying.
King's Landing ― Grand Sept…
"Move it! Go! Go!"
"Make way for the royal wheelhouse!"
The resounding tolling of the Grand Sept's bells echoed through the streets of King's Landing, heralding the momentous occasion that was set to take place that day. The coronation of a new king, the sixth of the esteemed Targaryen dynasty, was set to commence. Aeonar, the rightful heir to the throne, donned the traditional Targaryen colors of black and red, adorned in regal attire befitting his royal status. His training for this momentous day had begun at the tender age of 10, and now, at 37, he was finally taking his father's place on the Iron Throne. Accompanied by loyal knights and men-at-arms in the service of House Targaryen, the gold cloaks of the City Watch, and his trusted Lykirī Mēre agents, the Young Dragon made his way towards the grand coronation ceremony. Beneath his majestic ensemble, Aeonar donned a leather tunic, complete with a shirt of black scales intricately engraved with a striking three-headed dragon embellished with dazzling emerald rubies. His draconic gauntlets, each finger adorned with a razor-sharp carbon steel blade, added the final touch to his impressive regalia.
Aeonar examined the Valyrian steel dagger he held closely next to him. This dagger, once owned by his ancestor Aegon the Conqueror, had been passed down from king to heir, and now it was in his possession. Looking at the blade, he could still see the Valyrian runes, whereas others could not. 'From my blood will come the prince that was promised, and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire.' He then felt the wheelhouse slowing down. Father, mother… I will do everything I can to honor your memory.
"We're here, Your Grace," the rider called out.
"Are you ready, lad?" Ser Harrold implied.
"Yes, Lord Commander," Aeonar replied.
As Aeonar emerged from his wheelhouse, the vast expanse of King's Landing stretched out before him, with eager crowds already gathering near the steps of the Grand Sept. The City Watch and the Kingsguard stood guard at the top of the steps, keeping a watchful eye on the assembled masses. Aeonar's father-in-law, Ser Otto Hightower, stood alongside Septon Eustace. Because the High Septon had become too old and frail to travel from Oldtown to King's Landing, Eustace has taken his place. As Aeonar approached, he saw his beloved family members waiting for him, including Alicent, Jaehaerys, Aegon, Viserys, Aemma, and Daeron. Nearby, Rhaenyra, Daemon, Jace, Luke, Joffrey, and the little ones Aemon and Baelon were gathered, their anticipation palpable. All eyes were on Aeonar now as he approached them.
"People of King's Landing," Otto announced, "we mourn the loss of our beloved king, Viserys the Peaceful. In light of such unfortunate tragedy, the coup attempt by Queen Dowager Beatrice Peake and her followers, have failed. But it is also the most joyous of days. For today we honor the wishes of His Grace, King Viserys. Today, his firstborn son, Aeonar, shall take his place."
The crowd began to murmur. Before long, they began applauding.
Aeonar, resolute and unwavering, stood firm amidst a sea of Targaryen knights, men-at-arms, and City Watchmen who had cleared a path for him on either side. The Lykirī Mēre, armed with their formidable bo staffs, formed a protective barrier between Aeonar and the rest of the crowd, ready to defend him at a moment's notice. The air crackled with tension as all eyes were fixed on the lone figure in the center, who seemed undaunted by the throng surrounding him.
"Halt! Turn! Present… arms!"
With a commanding presence, Aeonar strode purposefully towards the steps as the blaring horns signaled the start of the procession. His eyes were fixed ahead, unwavering in their focus. Behind him, the clashing of swords echoed through the air, adding to the intense atmosphere. Undeterred, Aeonar ascended the stairs leading to the entrance of the Grand Sept. Every step he took was deliberate, his demeanor exuding a powerful aura that commanded respect from all who witnessed his ascent. Finally, he reached the main door and stood before it, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
Otto nodded. "It is your great good fortune and privilege to be here to witness this: a new day for our city. A new day for our realm. A new king… to lead us," he proclaimed.
As Aeonar gazed upon the picturesque backdrop behind Alicent, memories flooded his mind, taking him back to the Great Council of 101 AC at Harrenhal. It was almost as if he had lived a whole lifetime since that event took place. "My love," he took Alicent's hands in his.
"My love," Alicent reciprocated, kissing her husband's cheeks.
Aeonar surveyed the area, taking in all the familiar faces. He caught Otto's approving nod, and his gaze shifted to Rhaenyra and Daemon, who were both focused on him. His sons Jaehaerys, Aegon, Viserys, and Daeron all gave him a nod of respect while his daughter Aemma cradled her daughter, Saena, on her hip. Even the younger generation, Jace and Luke, acknowledged him with a nod. Only Joffrey seemed uneasy in his uncle's presence, while Baela and Rhaena bowed their heads in respect. Aeonar knelt down, waiting for the ceremony to commence.
"May the Warrior give him courage," Septon Eustace prayed, anointing the Young Dragon's forehead with sacred oils. "May the Smith lend strength to his sword and shield. May the Father defend him in his need. May the Crone lift her shining lamp and light his way to wisdom."
Jaehaerys, who had now become the heir apparent to the throne, carried in his hand the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. Crafted from Valyrian steel, the crown was adorned with large square-cut rubies along the sides and a small circular ruby at the front-and-center. "The royal crown of our esteemed ancestor, King Aegon I of House Targaryen, known throughout history as 'the Conqueror,' passed down from one generation to the next with great reverence," he spoke before gently placing the crown on his father's head. "In the light of the Seven, and in the sight of gods and men, it is with the utmost respect and reverence that my lord father, Aeonar Targaryen, the Young Dragon and Heir to the Flames, ascends to the Iron Throne of Westeros in place of his esteemed predecessor, Viserys the Peaceful."
With a graceful movement, Aeonar stood up, his eyes scanning his immediate and extended family members as he acknowledged the respectful bows of those around him.
"My king," Rhaenyra acknowledged.
"My king," Daemon replied.
Aeonar extended his left hand, gracefully taking Alicent's hand into his own. Together, they turned their attention to the gathered crowd of witnesses who had come to bear witness to their coronation ceremony. The regal couple surveyed the audience with a sense of dignity and poise, taking in the sight of their loyal subjects gathered before them.
"All hail His Grace, Aeonar of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Eustace proclaimed. "Long may he reign!"
"Long may he reign," Jaehaerys and Otto reiterated.
"Aeonar the King!"
"Long live the Young Dragon!"
Amidst the resounding applause and deafening cheers that accompanied the Grand Sept's bells tolling once more, Aeonar Targaryen and Alicent Hightower stood side-by-side, now officially crowned as the new king and queen of the Seven Kingdoms. Opting to rule together, the couple exuded a sense of unity and strength that was palpable to all who witnessed Aeonar's ascent to the throne. As the festivities continued, Aeonar's eyes swept across the sea of faces until they landed on a woman of exotic origins. Her beauty was undeniable, accentuated by her hooded white cloak, dark brown locks, and bewitching brown eyes that gazed up at him.
Mysaria…
Chapter End
Author's Note: In the aftermath, we see repairs are being made to King's Landing overseen by members of the royal family and the funeral of King Viserys. Now that the mantle of king has been placed on him, Aeonar is now the sixth king of the Targaryen dynasty to rule the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros from the Iron Throne. But what troubles await the Young Dragon as civil war is on the horizon? Find out next time and let me know.
TheRagFromTheCrag: Gotta be honest I'm looking forward to that cu*t Unwin's reaction to all this
MichaelBishopone: Will there will be a little Reyne rebellion 200 centuries early? I mean it is the perfect time for the Reynes to rise. If the Reynes have a smart lord.
C.E.W: Aeonar Targaryen finally ascends to the Iron Throne, with Alicent Hightower as his Queen. Also held the funeral for his father and stillborn niece Visenya. Aeonar and Rhaenyra shared the losses together with Alicent and Daemon, and through that, a strong bond was formed. However, Aeonar has inherited a divided realm as the Caltrops mean to rally support for Aegon the Elder in rebellion against Aeonar Targaryen.
With the Blacks in control of the Iron Throne and the capital, the Crownlands will flock to them.
The North has a strong army, and the Starks are known for honor and keeping oaths. They'll support Aeonar Targaryen, although the problem is the North is big and wide which makes assembling their army difficult and time consuming. They'll probably send a couple thousand men ahead just to contribute to war.
The Vale, they process some of the strongest knights in the Seven Kingdoms. Jeyne Arryn will not side against her own kin, and so she'll support Aeonar.
The Riverlands, Lord Grover Tully has been a supporter of King Viserys during the Great Council, and believes in the principles of line of succession. Aeonar is King Viserys' firstborn son, and therefore heir so Lord Tully will likely support him.
The Westerlands, process a large, prepared and provisioned army. With Tyland Lannister siding with the Caltrops, it is likely the Lannisters will join the Caltrops, and without the Lannisters, the Blacks are not likely to find support west of the Golden Tooth.
The Reach, the most fertile and largest population of the realm. The thing is, the Reach is now divided as House Hightower of Oldtown, and House Peake of Starpike are both from the Reach. House Tyrell's current lord Lyonel Tyrell is but an infant whose mother and regents rule, and are not likely to take sides in the current conflict. But that can change at anytime. Given that the Caltrops are in Starpike, it is likely that their dragons are also there including Vhagar which can scare some of the Reach lords in siding with them.
The Stormlands, due to clashes with Dorne, the Stormlands have experienced and capable fighters especially of House Dondarrion. Borros Baratheon is a seasoned warrior, but serves his own interests, and hasn't forgotten Aeonar Targaryen humiliating him, so he might side with the Caltrops. The Blacks have supporters including House Connington and Fell but they won't last long if the Baratheons side with the Caltrops.
The Iron Islands, the Ironborn respect only strength, and they fight whenever they see an advantage.
Dorne, the Dornish hold no love for Aeonar Targaryen. On the other hand, they owe nothing to the Caltrops either, and are unlikely to join them when the Stormlands do given their history of violence with each other. So neutrality is the likely course for them.
Questions:
Has Aegon the Elder been crowned by the Caltrops?
―Not yet, but he will
Are Hugh Hammer and Ulf White still running, or are they joining the Caltrops?
―They're in hiding, but the Caltrops are reaching out to them
Given her appearance at the coronation, I take it we'll be seeing Mysaria in the next chapter?
―Yes
Is Aeonar be both angry and impressed with Larys Strong? Its not everyday he encounters competition in terms of spying.
―Both - he's a formidable adversary as a spymaster
Given the Blacks are in control of the capital, I take a blockade of the Gullet is unnecessary?
―No, not necessary at all
Will there be any attempts to parley?
―One
randomdude24: May King Aeonar I rule long and well. Glad to see he has alot of support so far, lords from the crownlands, reach and the Riverlands, Blackwoods in my opinion are severely underestimated house.
KingInTheNorth27: Lone live the king and let the games begin.
LordDarkness89: long live the king
Goonies117: Long live King Aeonar the first long live the king