Before the union of Rhaenyra with Ser Laenor Velaryon, an event etched forever in memory took place when Daemon claimed Rhaenyra's innocence in the hidden corners of a brothel, planting a seed of life within the princess rightful to the Iron Throne...
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Got secrets I can't hide I love the smell of gasoline I light the match to taste the heat I've always liked to play with fire
The sound of horses galloping filled the air around the carriage, the rhythmic thudding a constant reminder of their journey.
"Hyah! Hyah!" the coachman urged the horses on, their pace quickening.
Inside the carriage, Queen Alicent turned to her son, Aegon. Her face was stern, her eyes hard. "Have the decency to look grateful," she admonished. "Do you know what has been done to give you this day? In an hour, you will be king."
"And my father never wanted this," Aegon retorted, his face a mask of defiance.
"That's not true," Alicent countered.
"He had years to name me heir and never did. Steadfastly, he upheld Rhaenyra's claim."
"He changed his mind," Alicent insisted.
"Oh," Aegon chuckled, a bitter sound. "No... He could have, but he never did because he didn't like me."
"And yet, with his final breath, he whispered to me that you should take his place on the throne," Alicent revealed, her voice softening.
Aegon chuckled again, his face incredulous. "Do not toy with me, Mother."
"I speak the truth," Alicent asserted, her gaze unwavering.
The distant chatter from the outside world seemed to fade as Alicent spoke again. "Listen to me, Aegon. Your grandfather, the Hand, will try to impress on you that Rhaenyra should be put to the sword. You must reject this counsel. We must not rule with cruelty and callousness. For all her faults, she is your sister, your father's daughter--"
"Do you love me?" Aegon interrupted abruptly, his eyes searching his mother's face for an answer.
The Queen sighed. "Of course I love you."
"But, do you like me?" Prince Aegon questioned, his eyes watering.
The woman said nothing, and stared at the young prince with a blank expression.
The sun shone brightly over King's Landing, but the mood was somber. Otto, a figure of authority in the city, stood before the gathered crowd, his voice echoing across the square.
"People of King's Landing... today is the saddest of days. Our beloved king... Viserys the Peaceful... is dead," he announced, earning murmurs of sadness from the crowd.
"But it is also the most joyous of days... for as his spirit left us... he whispered his final wish: that his firstborn son, Aegon... should succeed him," Otto continued, a note of triumph entering his voice. The crowd murmured again, this time with a mixture of surprise and anticipation. Applause started to ripple through the throng.
"Guards! Out of the way! Move!" a commander's voice cut through the noise. "Halt! Turn!" The blaring of horns filled the air, followed by the commander's order, "Present... arms!"
Otto resumed his speech, his voice filled with pride. "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."
The crowd fell silent as Septon Eustace stepped forward, his voice carrying a solemn prayer. "May the Warrior give him courage. 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."
The solemn atmosphere was briefly interrupted by a person coughing before Criston took the stage, holding the crown of the Conqueror. Aegon breathed deeply as Criston declared, "Let the Seven bear witness: Aegon Targaryen is the true heir to the Iron Throne."
"All hail His Grace, Aegon, Second of his Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm," Criston finished, his voice echoing across the square. The tolling of bells filled the air, followed by a chant that spread through the crowd like wildfire.
"Aegon the King!" the crowd roared, their applause and cheers filling the air as Aegon was crowned the new king.
Just as the cheers for the new king reached their crescendo, a shadow swept across the square. The crowd's jubilant chants faltered, transforming into gasps of awe and fear. A powerful gust of wind swept across the gathering, the result of massive wings beating against the air. The terrified screams of women, children, and men from the crowd echoed through the building.
At the top of the dragon sat Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was. The dragon's scales shimmered in the sunlight, an almost magical scene, except the bellowing fact that hundred of peasants laid dead on the ground, with others rushing to find salvation.
"Open the doors!" A voice screams, to which Otto Hightower swung the doors to the DragonPit.
A spine-chilling roar escaped the dragon Meleys' long-toothed mouth. The air whipped against the Greens, who stood frightened and scarred by the scene.
As Rhaenys' dragon swung its tail across the room upon the gathered crowd, hundreds of innocent peasants fell victim to her wrath. The induction ceremony transformed into a horrific tableau of bodies and death in a matter of moments.
Amid the chaos, Rhaella stood out. Brave and resolute, she held her ground even as Aemond moved to shield her from the dragon's intimidating onslaught. She broke away from the cluster of Targaryens, her voice ringing out clear and fierce over the pandemonium.
"You're killing the people of our kingdom to prove a fucking point. You value your dragon more than the small folk. You, Rhaenys Targaryen, have killed hundreds of innocents, and you have done so for nothing."
Her words echoed in the room, a stark contrast to the terrified screams and cries. Rhaella's fury was a beacon amid the chaos, drawing the attention of everyone present, including Rhaenys.
"With a single breath of fire, I could have you killed—burnt to a crisp. Yet, you disrespect me?" Rhaenys responded, her voice booming across the giant room.
"Do it. Kill me. We both know none of us will survive this war, not our children, our loved ones, the dragons, not even ourselves. People are dying because of a goddamn piece of iron bestowed on their head, and thorns prickling into their back," Rhaella shot back, her voice filled with a chilling resolve.
"You are truly your mother's daughter. I will spare you all for now, but understand this is not over. Rhaenyra will take back what is rightfully hers," Rhaenys warned, her eyes never leaving Rhaella.
"I will be waiting," Rhaella affirmed coldly, her gaze meeting Rhaenys'. Her words hung heavy in the air, a promise and a challenge, as the room fell into a stunned silence.
The aftermath of the incident was a picture of devastation and shock. Amid the turmoil, Queen Alicent found Rhaella, her face flushed with anger and adrenaline. She moved towards the girl, her eyes blazing with fury.
"You could have caused our deaths! You stupid girl, have you no sense," Alicent scolded, her voice echoing in the room.
Rhaella, still standing tall despite the reprimand, met the Queen's gaze unflinchingly. "I am the reason you are still alive. I must attest to the facts, you are all spineless in the eyes of the Gods."
Her words hung in the air, a stark reminder of the courage she had shown in the face of the dragon's wrath. As the woman's eyes drifted across the Targaryens, she stopped at the sight of her husband. At this moment, the young princess knew the prophecy would begin, and her vivid dreams of the kingdom being burnt to ash would soon become a reality, in this life, or another.
