Author note at the end.
The Red Keep was large enough to hold several thousand when fully garrisoned, and it was beginning to awaken.
Minor lords of the Crownlands had sent sons, daughters, and cousins to court.
Those guests were being roused from their beds even now.
The Keep doors that usually stood open were bound shut.
No one left.
No one entered.
Not without the explicit word of the Lord Hand or the Queen.
Ser Erryk (I assume it’s him) fell into step beside us as we hurried toward the throne room.
“Prince Aegon has been confined to his chambers,” he reported.
“Double his guards,” Alicent ordered without turning her head.
“Allow none near his quarters.”
“As you say, Your Grace.”
“Thank you for informing us, Ser,” I added with a polite smile.
“You may return to your post.”
He bowed to me and peeled away into a side corridor.
Alicent exhaled hard as we continued walking.
“You forget your courtesies, Mother.”
“I have too many thoughts to waste on courtesy toward guards, Daeron.” Her voice was tight.
“I did not think your father would name Aegon his heir. There is much that must be done.”
I glanced sideways at her.
“You were hoping for it, though. Praying for it. Dare I say… plotting for it?”
She slowed, then stepped closer, keeping her voice low and cold.
“You and your brothers will never understand the chances I gave Rhaenyra to prove herself worthy of the burden of rule.” There was no warmth left in her eyes.
“I prayed to the gods, year after year, that they would guide her into duty. Every time one of her sons was born I clutched my heart and hoped she had finally grown into responsibility. Every time I was met with disappointment.”
Each word carried a bitter, accumulated venom.
“I saw them the day of Lady Laena’s funeral,” she continued, jaw tightening.
“Daemon and Rhaenyra, laughing, smiling, rolling in the sand and surf, naked as the day they were born. Not a smear of grief for the family that had just been lost. His wife had burned alive in dragonflame, and there he was taking pleasure with his niece. Her husband’s sister lay dead, and she was making merry, whatever love I still held for her died on that shore.”
I nodded slowly.
‘Hmm… Is this some alternate-universe thing?
I mean it is different since the moment I arrived, but this feels like that certain incident caused the show Alicent to finally snap fully into book-Alicent territory.
God, this feels like a ridiculous premise for a fanfic.’
Good thing it isn’t… Right?
“I do understand, Mother,” I said, resting a hand lightly on her arm.
“You did what you believed was right. And now you have Father’s blessing as well.”
She leaned into the touch for half a second.
Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, as if this was the first time anyone had acknowledged the weight she had been carrying.
“Rhaenyra,” she said, the name thick with disappointment, “would have ruined the realm.”
“She would have,” I agreed, and nodded toward the open doors of the throne room.
Otto’s voice was already carrying from within.
“It seems the nobles in the Keep have been gathered.”
Alicent straightened as I guided her forward.
Inside, the throne room was lit by scattered torches and the first pale suggestion of dawn through the high windows.
Otto stood on the steps leading up to the Iron Throne.
“Viserys amended his wishes,” he declared.
“It is as simple as that. You once swore your banners to Rhaenyra. Now you must pledge them to your rightful king.”
Most of the lords and ladies present dropped to a knee almost immediately.
The ring of armed guards around the chamber made the alternative unappealing.
Better the appearance of loyalty than the discomfort of open defiance.
A few remained standing.
“I must confer first with my house on this matter,” Lord Stokeworth said carefully.
“It is a decided matter, my lord,” I said, stepping forward from the edge of the gathering.
“Who did House Stokeworth support during the Great Council of 101?”
The round-faced lord narrowed his eyes and pressed his lips together.
“The prince asked you a question, Lord Stokeworth,” Alicent added, standing beside.
“House Stokeworth stood for King Viserys,” he answered.
“And why was that?” I asked, walking toward him with my hands clasped loosely behind my back.
“My lord father believed His Grace possessed a stronger claim than Princess Rhaenys,” he replied, the words stiff with insincerity.
I smiled.
“And do you consider your father to have been a man of wisdom?”
“Then I believe my own lord father shared that same wisdom.”
Stokeworth blinked, his gaze flicked from me to Otto and back again and he swallowed hard.
“House Stokeworth,” he said, voice tighter now, “keeps its sworn oath to Princess Rhaenyra.”
I gave a small, almost regretful shrug.
The guards moved in at once and seized him by the arms and began dragging him toward the side doors.
He did not struggle overmuch, even he could see the numbers.
I watched him go and exhaled quietly.
‘Well, I tried.’
Around us the remaining holdouts were being given the same choice, one by one.
Most found their knees, a few did not.
The ones who did not were already being removed.
The first light of morning was beginning to touch the high windows of the throne room.
“A brave man,” I commented as Otto and I left the throne room behind.
“And a foolish one too.”
“He was as thick-headed as he was stubborn,” Otto agreed, already adjusting the fall of his sleeves.
“The Queen will meet us at the Dragonpit with the High Septon for the anointment and crowning. She intended to speak with Princess Rhaenys herself, but that is no longer possible. I want you to do it.”
I stopped walking.
Otto took another two steps before realizing I was no longer beside him and turned sharply.
“Why must we speak with Princess Rhaenys at all?” I asked.
The question was genuine.
Her loyalties were not subtle.
“Her granddaughters are both betrothed to Rhaenyra’s sons. She herself stood in open support of their legitimacy during the trial. If Jacaerys ever sits the throne, Baela becomes queen. Neither Rhaenys nor the Velaryons will ever back us. She is a threat that needs to be handled, not negotiated with.”
Otto studied me for a moment.
“And how do you propose we do that?”
I tilted my head slightly.
“You mentioned there were still two captains of the City Watch loyal to Daemon.”
He gave a single, measured nod.
“I have a plan,” I said.
Gotta do my part of the nasty shit now.
She could hear the commotion rising from the lower levels of the Keep.
She could only hear it, not see it because the doors to her chambers had been locked from the outside.
A prisoner in the very castle where she had grown up.
The thought sat bitter on her tongue.
She did not yet know what had happened in the night, but a cold suspicion had begun to form, one she prayed was only suspicion.
Her husband still labored under fever on Driftmark.
She had planned to fly to him on the morrow.
Instead she found herself trapped behind her own doors, watching through the narrow window as men and women were herded away from the Red Keep in the pre-dawn gloom.
“Princess!”
The door burst open.
A man in a green-and-white cloak strode in, already pulling off his helm.
Beneath it was a young face, brown hair plastered to his forehead with sweat.
“How dare you barge into my chambers?” she snapped, rising.
“My princess, lower your voice,” he hissed, glancing back toward the corridor.
“The King is dead.”
She stepped back as if struck.
“What?”
“King Viserys died in the night. They have named Prince Aegon his heir. The Greens mean to usurp the rightful succession.” His words tumbled out in a panicked rush.
“I will not let this treachery stand.”
He pulled a dark cloak from beneath his own and held it out.
She took it without argument.
The corridors of the Red Keep felt strangely empty as they moved.
In the inner yard they passed the hanging body of Lord Caswell, still swaying gently in the morning breeze.
Rhaenys did not stop.
She followed her hooded guide through the outer walls and into a narrow stair passage that wound downward.
“What is your name, ser?” she asked once they were clear of the main gates.
“Ser Luthor Largent, Princess. Prince Daemon knighted me himself and gave me a gold cloak.”
“It seems the Rogue Prince is capable of something useful after all,” she muttered.
She had never cared for Daemon Targaryen.
She still did not understand what her daughter had seen in him, and she hoped she never would.
The passage opened onto a slope just south of the King’s Gate.
The smallfolk were being driven toward the great dome in thick, murmuring streams.
They watched from the lower tiers of the Dragonpit as, high above on the raised platform, the High Septon and the newly widowed Queen Dowager stood waiting for the ascent of Aegon.
“Princess,” Luthor said quietly, “I do not know the hidden ways into the pits from here.”
“I do.”
She pushed through the press of bodies, Luthor close behind, and led him down the darkened stone ramps that descended into the Dragonpit.
The pits of King’s Landing were rougher than those of Dragonstone, blackened stone, damp air, and deep caves where the dragons made their own nests.
Halfway down the sloping passage, Luthor spoke again.
“I brought the crown of King Viserys.” He opened a leather satchel just enough for her to see the gleam of gold.
“Would you present it to Princess Rhaenyra once you reach Dragonstone.”
“You will present it yourself, Ser Luthor,” she answered, tightening her gloves.
“I shall take you on Dragon back, it would be a mistake to leave you behind.”
“I would hope so, Princess.”
“I would hope so as well.” A new voice, light and almost amused, cut through the gloom.
Both of them stopped.
A boy stood a few paces behind, short pale hair catching the weak light that filtered from above.
He wore blue and red, hands folded neatly behind his back, a faint smirk already in place.
“Daeron,” Luthor growled, drawing his sword.
“The usurper’s brother.”
“Well,” the boy said with a small shrug, “he has not been crowned yet, so he is not quite a usurper. And Princess Rhaenys, I truly wish we might have met under better circumstances. Alas.”
Rhaenys’s lip curled.
Behind the boy, armored shapes were already taking position in the shadows.
A trap cleanly laid.
“Your wretched mother and that traitor grandsire of yours created these circumstances,” she said coldly.
“I would argue my father played his part as well.” Another casual shrug and snapped his fingers.
Blades whispered from scabbards all around them.
Rhaenys took one careful step backward and she felt it.
A deep, rhythmic tremor in the stone beneath her boots.
The heavy, living presence moving through the dark tunnels behind her.
Meleys.
Her girl was coming for her.
She only needed a little more time.
“We will never surrender to you filthy traitors!” Luthor roared, raising his blade.
The boy’s expression shifted into something almost regretful.
“You see… I do not plan on taking prisoners.”
Rhaenys’s eyes narrowed.
“You are here to kill me.”
He let out a long, weary sigh.
“I often say that violence is a coward’s weapon. I still believe that.” He spread his hands slightly.
“But the truth is simpler. I am the greatest coward in this castle. I want no glory. No fame. Only a long life. And cowards, as it happens, tend to live the longest.”
His smile returned, thin and unsettling.
“So no, Princess. I am not here to kill you.” He pointed past her, at Luthor.
“I am here to kill him.”
The tremor in the stone became a heavy, Meleys was nearly upon them.
Rhaenys readied herself to run for her dragon.
“But her,” the boy continued lightly, looking past Rhaenys’s shoulder, “I am less certain about.”
Her feet pushed behind as she turned.
The last thing she saw was the open maw of a green dragon and the rows of gleaming teeth descending.
A/N: So what are we thinking about this chapter?
Also question: who should be the female lead?
Here are the top contenders:
Rhaena Targaryen.
[I see a possibility]
Jeyne Arryn.
[I can make this a Bi situation and give a throuple ending with Lady Redfort.]
Alysanne Blackwood.
[Meh]
OC?
Sara Snow.
[Prince marrying a bastard of the North? Looks idiotic.]
Heleana Targaryen.
[Ok, I’ll let you know, I have seen too much fanfics with her as FL, that’s why I don’t want this.]
Or suggest someone I might have missed.