Fire.
Pain.
So much pain.
Then nothing.
"All of your dragons will be returned to you, even the one that was lost. But choose better this time. A prince you need."
I woke up with a startle, gasping for air like a dying woman.
However, as my hands wen...
"Such a sad day for House Targaryen," my wife, Elenda, commented, as she handed our youngest daughter, Maris, to a maid. "I just can't think of the pain the Queen Mother and princess must be going through."
"The princess was quite distraught during the mass, a true diligent daughter," I agreed.
Though, you could not find that kind of pain in any other Targaryen member, I thought, with scrutiny. The closest was Daemon, and even the devout younger brother held some kind of hate in his eyes.
"Will you be ok kneeling for the princess during the crowning?" Elenda asked me gently.
"I might have my opinions about women ruling," I sighed. "But she had proven herself worthy and has three sons to inherite the throne from her. Maybe even more in the future, with how young she is. Also, what's the other option? A six namedays boy?"
"I've heard he is quite a smart prince," Elenda pointed out. "Gentle as well... it would have been nice to betroth Cassandra or Ellyn to him."
"Prince Jacaerys and Prince Lucerys betrothal to their cousins, will bring peace to the three lines of House Targaryen. Finally bringing unity and stability to the realm," I shook my head. "It was the smart decision. However, we still have Prince Joffrey, who will inherite Dorne from his father. That is an excellent prize to one of our daughters."
"Maris is his age," Elenda commented with excitement.
"I'll make it happen," I promised her with a smile. "For now, we have a crowning to get to."
Ever since we received the letter of the king's passing, I felt a tension in the realm that I've not sensed since when I was a boy and the decision between King Viserys and Princess Rhaenys happened. My court had been busy for the last four moons, in which the crown made all the arrengements. For what they've been planning, they did not take that much time. Which raised my suspicions, but I kept quiet about the whole thing. There was no proof, after all.
The funeral was private, as dictate by Targaryen tradition, only the Small Counsil and family was there for the burning of the body. Syrax having done the favour, or the Golden Queen as the commonfolk and some nobles have started to call the princess' beautiful mount.
Last week there was a mass and service for the lords and ladies of the realm to mourn and pay their respects for the king. Then there will be the crowning ceremony for the future queen and then a week long tourney celebration. On each night there will be a banquet, with one principal topic. Night one, a celebration to mourn the king. Day two, a celebration for the new Queen and King Consort. Day three, a celebration for the Crown Prince and his betrothed Rhaena Targaryen-Velaryon. Day four, a celebration for the second prince and his betrothed Baela Targaryen-Velaryon. Day five, a celebration for the third prince and to show off the deep bonds the crown now has with Dorne.
Quite smart if you ask me, I thought. The gasp of my wife, caught my attention. I turned to the entrance of the throne room and my eyes widened. Gods!
By the entrace, ready to walk down towards the Iron Throne, stood Princess Targaryen. She was wearing a beautiful carmesi dornish dress, made of the finest silk. A deep v-neck, decorated with diamonds that went around her neck and into the back. Long open sleeves, that fell to the floor and looked as part of the skirt.
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