Very Important Author note at the end.
##
Dear Diary,
Today I committed a second-degree murder, followed by a first-degree murder, enacted a coup, made my brother king, and watched my father die.
Just another Monday, right?
“I believed we agreed on making it clean,” I said, glancing sideways at Aemond as we walked.
“A sword, perhaps?”
Truthfully, I had half-expected him to pull something like this.
That was why the sight of the aftermath did not surprise me as much as it should have.
All that remained of Rhaenys were her legs, still tangled in the dark stone where Vhagar’s jaws had finished the work.
A clean death by blade would have been neater.
This was an overkill.
‘Maybe Larys would enjoy them as a souvenir.’
“It was a more fitting death,” Aemond replied, peeling off his riding gloves as we climbed the steps out of the lower pits.
“The oldest dragonrider in the realm, ended by a dragon. Poetic, don’t you agree?”
“In some way, I suppose.”
We emerged into the high chamber of the Dragonpit.
The great dome was packed with thousands of bodies pressed together beneath the stone ribs of the ceiling.
Minor nobles, merchants, guild masters, and common folk stood shoulder to shoulder, all eyes fixed on the raised platform where Otto and Alicent stood beside the High Septon.
Goldcloaks cleared a path for us and we took our places quickly: Aemond stood beside Helaena while I was beside Otto and Cassandra standing quietly to my right.
“Where were you both?” Alicent asked under her breath.
“Nowhere, Mother,” Aemond answered smoothly.
I leaned closer to Otto and murmured, “It is done.”
He gave a single, satisfied nod.
“Then we have something else to look forward to now.”
Otto stepped forward to the edge of the platform.
His voice carried easily across the dome.
“People of King’s Landing.” He raised both hands.
“Today is the saddest of days. Our beloved king, Viserys the Peaceful, is dead.”
A ripple of murmurs spread through the crowd.
“But it is also the most joyous of days.” Otto’s expression shifted into something that might have been genuine grief, or a very practiced performance.
“For as his spirit left us, he whispered his final wish to Prince Daeron and the Queen: that his firstborn son, Aegon, should succeed him.”
The murmuring grew louder.
Everyone in the city knew Rhaenyra had been named heir for twenty years.
The sudden elevation of Aegon felt abrupt, until a handful of Goldcloaks began to clap.
Like a herd following the first sheep over a cliff, the rest of the crowd joined in.
‘Classic mass mentality,’ I thought.
‘Show people what a powerful minority is doing and most of them will fall in line.’ This chapter is updated first at g.com.
Suddenly Goldcloaks moved through the press, forming a clear path from the inner chambers to the platform.
And the horns sounded, meanwhile from the depths of the pits the dragons answered with low, rolling roars.
Green and gold Targaryen banners stirred in the draft as Aegon finally appeared.
‘This bastard is aura-farming the entire moment.’
“It is your great fortune and privilege,” Otto continued as Aegon walked the gauntlet of raised swords, “to witness this: a new day for this city, a new day for our realm, a new king to lead us.”
Aegon climbed the steps looking faintly green around the edges.
Alicent met him with a soft smile, cupped his face, and pressed a kiss to his forehead before guiding him toward the High Septon.
Otto placed a hand on his grandson’s shoulder and whispered something too low for the crowd to hear.
Aegon nodded and sank to one knee.
The High Septon stepped forward, dipping his fingers in holy oil.
“May the Warrior give him courage. May the Smith lend strength to his sword and shield. May the Mother—”
“So many people,” Aemond murmured beside me, eyes fixed on his brother.
“So much power. And that idiot never wanted any of it.”
“Perhaps that is why he has it now,” I whispered back with a small smirk.
“The throne often finds those who do not seek it… and rarely stays with those who obsess over it.”
Aemond’s single eye flicked toward me.
“You do not understand obsession, then.”
He leaned away before I could answer.
“—and light his way to wisdom,” the High Septon finished.
He turned, lifted the crown, and placed it in Otto’s waiting hands.
The crown was not Viserys’s.
I had made certain of that when I took it from Ser Luthor’s cooling body.
The one Otto now held was older, heavier, the Conqueror’s crown, black iron and ruby, the same circlet that had once sat on Aegon the First’s brow.
Otto stared down at it for several long seconds, the High Septon shifted uncertainly before deciding to approach him.
The crowd began to murmur again.
Aegon looked up, before the High Septon could reach him.
“Grandsire?”
Otto finally lifted his gaze.
He exhaled, then turned back and mouthed a single word.
‘Daeron.’
…
No.
“Prince Daeron,” Otto said aloud.
“Come here.”
‘Nah.
Fuck that shit.’
Unfortunately my one-eyed brother had other ideas.
Aemond’s hand closed around my wrist and shoved me forward before I could dig my heels in.
“Lord Hand?”
He did not explain.
He simply placed the Conqueror’s crown in my hands and gave me a firm push toward Aegon.
My brother blinked up at me in pure confusion.
‘Don’t look at me, dude.
I don’t know what the fuck is happening either.’
“Do it fucking faster, my knees are killing me,” Aegon hissed under his breath.
I paused just long enough to flash him a grin, then raised the crown high above his head.
His eyes widened as he understood exactly what I was about to do.
“The Crown of the Conqueror!” My voice carried cleanly across the stone.
“It once sat upon the brow of the man who united this realm. It has passed from king to king through the generations. Let the Seven bear witness. Let the spirit of our father, the late King Viserys, watch over this moment.”
Aegon’s legs were visibly trembling.
I took a little longer than necessary settling the crown, just enough to make him suffer.
‘Let’s not embarrass him on day one as king… too much.’
I set the iron circlet firmly on his head and stepped back.
“Rise.”
Aegon stood so quickly as if the word itself had pulled him up, I flinched slightly.
“Aegon Targaryen, Second of His Name,” I declared, “King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.”
He shot me a narrow-eyed look.
I only shrugged and offered a clean, formal bow.
Ser Criston stepped forward and presented Blackfyre.
Aegon took the ancient sword in both hands and turned to face the crowd as the bells of the city began to toll.
“Aegon the King!” I called first.
“King Aegon!” the Goldcloaks answered.
Within heartbeats the entire Dragonpit took up the cry, the chant rising and crashing against the stone like a living wave.
A smile slowly crept over his lips as so many chanted his name in unison.
Aegon lifted Blackfyre high.
The roar that answered him was almost loud enough to drown the dragons.
“Long live the King.” I muttered.
A/N: I know this is a small chapter and pretty much nothing happened or changed except for a few things.
I was busy, with the final episode over and Season three ending, I had to make sure I re-watch it to not leave anything for plot holes.
It might concern Daeron’s dating life.
I plan to make a pre-existing relationship for Daeron and I really need some thoughts on that.
I don’t want to be slandered once the chapter comes out, so this is a fail safe.
I heard they help.
Also… fucking loved the Battle of Tumbleton.
Not the best, doesn’t beat the Battle of the Bastards but it was good.