Viserys let out a long sigh as he gazed at the winding mountain road stretching before him.
He and Aemma had departed King’s Landing for the Vale and had now reached the High Road.
As for the purpose of their journey?
It was simple enough—they were here to clean up the mess left behind by his impossible younger brother.
It was hardly a dignified way to put it, but it was the truth.
Daemon Targaryen had publicly humiliated his own wife and, in the process, insulted one of the oldest, noblest, and most powerful houses in the Seven Kingdoms.
To soothe the fury of Lord Yorbert Royce, Prince Baelon had dispatched Viserys and Aemma to the Vale under the pretense of visiting Aemma’s maternal family.
On their return journey, they intended to stop at Runestone and formally apologize for Daemon’s reckless conduct.
They had already accepted the hospitality of the Lord of Darry.
Lord Walder Darry had warmly welcomed the prince and princess, preparing a lavish feast in their honor.
Because the elderly lord was now advanced in years, the banquet had been organized by his heir, William.
Viserys had found William to be pleasant company, but he had also noticed something fleeting in the man’s eyes.
Disappointment.
At first, Viserys hadn’t understood why.
Only as the conversation continued did the answer become clear.
“Your Highness,” William finally said after setting down his wine cup, carefully choosing his words, “forgive my boldness…
did you fly here from King’s Landing on dragonback?”
Embarrassed, Viserys admitted that he had yet to tame a dragon of his own.
The look in William’s eyes changed.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” William replied quietly, unable to hide the disappointment in his voice.
“When I was a child, my father once took me to King’s Landing.
I saw a great black dragon with my own eyes.
Its wings blotted out the sky.
When it flew overhead, it swallowed the sunlight itself.
Those scales…
those eyes…
I can still remember them to this day.”
Balerion?
Viserys had tried to claim the Black Dread.
But Balerion had grown too old.
When Viserys had stood before him, even the Dragonkeepers, straining with all their strength, had been unable to wake the ancient dragon from his endless slumber.
Dreamfyre had rejected him as well.
The memory still stung.
As for Syrax…
He had already decided to leave that young dragon to his daughter—Rhaenyra.
Not every Targaryen was destined to become a dragonrider.
Perhaps I simply wasn’t meant to fly with dragons, he thought bitterly.
Enough of that.
They had now crossed the Trident and were approaching the Bloody Gate, the only passage into the Vale along the High Road.
Something felt…
wrong.
There were far too many soldiers stationed atop the walls.
Their ranks packed the battlements shoulder to shoulder, polished armor gleaming beneath the afternoon sun.
Narrowing his eyes, Viserys made a rough count.
At least fifty men.
Perhaps more.
The Bloody Gate was indeed the throat of the Vale, but because it guarded such a narrow mountain pass, only a modest garrison was usually needed.
A handful of defenders could hold off an army many times their size.
As the procession neared the fortress, Viserys signaled for everyone to slow their pace.
A voice rang out from the battlements.
“Who seeks passage through the Bloody Gate?”
One of his guards answered loudly.
“His Highness Viserys of House Targaryen, son of Prince Baelon Targaryen, Prince of Dragonstone!”
There was no immediate reply.
Viserys felt his stomach sink.
After a brief hesitation, he raised his own voice.
“And Lady Aemma Arryn of House Arryn.”
This time the response came immediately.
The heavy portcullis groaned upward with a harsh metallic screech.
Together, Viserys and Aemma rode beneath the gatehouse.
Aemma glanced sideways at him and smiled teasingly as she reached over and lightly pinched his wrist.
“It seems my brother’s household isn’t particularly delighted to see you, my husband.”
Something was wrong.
He ignored the joke.
The unease only deepened.
There were too many soldiers inside the castle as well.
More than two hundred, by his estimate.
And every one of them watched him with unmistakable caution.
“Lady Aemma.”
A knight stepped forward.
Viserys recognized the sigil embroidered across his surcoat—the hunting horns of House Hunter of Longbow Hall.
“And Your Highness…
forgive us.
We mean no discourtesy, but circumstances have changed unexpectedly…”
Viserys felt Aemma’s grip tighten sharply around his arm.
“What has happened, Ser?” Aemma asked steadily, though he could hear the faint tremor hidden beneath her calm voice.
The knight opened his mouth, only to hesitate.
His gaze drifted from Aemma toward the distant mountains, as though searching for gentler words.
“Please,” Viserys said quietly.
“Tell us.”
At last, the knight forced himself to speak.
“Your brother…
Lord Albert…
and your nephews…”
He swallowed.
“They’ve been murdered.”
…
“Lord Albert and his sons were ambushed and slain by the Stone Crows while hunting in the Mountains of the Moon.”
The man’s eyes were bloodshot with grief and barely restrained fury.
Ser Anlon Hunter, the younger brother of Lord Albert Arryn’s wife, Lady Theola Hunter, took a long drink before continuing.
“After Lord Albert’s death, Ser Harrold declared that, as Albert’s brother, his own claim came before Lady Jeyne’s.
He gathered supporters, seized the Gates of the Moon, and trapped Lady Jeyne and my sister atop the mountain, preventing anyone else from reaching the Eyrie.”
“That is rebellion.”
Viserys reached his conclusion without hesitation.
Aemma nodded immediately in agreement.
She is Lord Albert’s only surviving child.
The Vale rightfully belongs to her.”
Viserys turned back to Ser Anlon.
“We must rescue Lady Jeyne and Lady Theola immediately.
Ser Anlon, send word to your brother, Lord Petyr Hunter.
We need every man he can muster.”
He continued issuing orders.
“And send ravens to Lord Yorbert Royce of Runestone, Lord Michell Corbray of Heart’s Home, and Lord Adrian Redfort of Redfort.
We’ll need the support of the other great houses of the Vale.”
Aemma leaned close enough that only he could hear her.
“You’re more suited to being a prince than you believe.”
…
The suppression of the rebellion proved astonishingly easy.
The battle ended before it had truly begun.
When Harrold’s followers saw the endless banners covering the hills beyond the castle, along with the countless tents and assembled knights of the Vale, their courage evaporated.
They immediately opened the gates, seized the very lord they had sworn to serve—along with his son Arnold—and delivered both men to Viserys and the gathered lords.
Harrold kept his head bowed, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.
His son Arnold, however, stared defiantly back, his gaze burning with hatred.
“Traitor.”
Standing beside Viserys, Anlon spat contemptuously at the pair.
Harrold and Arnold were placed under guard to await formal judgment.
Before the assembled nobility of the Vale, Jeyne Arryn officially inherited her father’s titles as Lady of the Vale.
At Viserys’s recommendation, Lady Theola Hunter, Lord Yorbert Royce, and Lord Adrian Redfort would serve together as her regents until she reached adulthood.
Jeyne Arryn was even younger than Viserys had imagined.
She stood quietly in the courtyard of the Gates of the Moon, dressed in black mourning clothes.
Her tiny frame looked painfully fragile against the mountain wind.
Behind her stood her mother, Theola, one hand resting gently on her daughter’s shoulder, tears still fresh upon her face.
Aemma stepped forward, knelt down, and wrapped the little girl in a warm embrace.
Holding a goblet of wine, Viserys began speaking with Lord Yorbert.
“Lord Yorbert…
on behalf of my brother, I sincerely apologize for his outrageous and disgraceful behavior.
My father has already ordered him back to Westeros.
He will personally come to offer his apology.”
Yorbert studied the young prince for several moments before simply placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“Thank you for your counsel earlier, Your Highness,” he said at last.
“But for now…
let us prepare to enjoy the feast.”
With that, the Lord of Runestone turned and walked away.
He never truly answered me about Daemon, Viserys realized.
In the distance, Aemma was speaking softly with Jeyne.
For the first time that day, the little girl smiled.
Viserys set down his wine cup and walked toward them.
Author’s Note:
Starting from next chapter, the story shifts its focus primarily to advancing the protagonist’s own journey.
The ensemble style approach becomes much less prominent, and the protagonist will be taking center stage far more consistently.