The House of Ice and Fire

Death of an Old Dragon

Red Keep 103 AC

Jaehaerys Targaryen

In the dimly lit chamber of the Red Keep, the air hung heavy with the scent of age and impending departure. Jaehaerys, the Old King, lay on his ornate bed, draped in the regal trappings of a lifetime spent ruling the Seven Kingdoms. The room echoed with the whispers of memories dancing through his mind, a tapestry woven with triumph and tragedy.

How many times had he whispered jests and jokes to Alysanne in these walls? How many times had she told him of court gossip when he had just been crowned at four and ten years of age? How many times had they vowed to one another that the convent they vowed before gods and men would be the foundation that the Targaryen family would see as the greatest reign of King and Queen, dual dragon-riders, to ever be? How many days since he last heard his late wife's voice?

Jaehaerys had been a monarch of unparalleled insight, a ruler whose reign spanned decades, marked by accomplishments that left an indelible imprint on the annals of Westerosii history. He had unified a fractured realm, fostering peace and prosperity through shrewd diplomacy and strategic alliances. His fingers had deftly danced across the cyvasse board of politics, forging bonds that held the Seven Kingdoms in a delicate balance. While also forging the executioner's sword that now lay before his head. That is what king is now, isn't it? A man who forges the sword that protects his realm and yet is used to end his days. He had learned this lesson long ago: a man is the reason for his own death, whether by not knowing, not preparing, or making a mistake.

The Old King had faced threats from within and without, navigating the treacherous currents of courtly intrigue with a wisdom that earned him the epithet of the Conciliator. His rule had seen the construction of the mighty Dragonpit, a testament to the taming of the once unruly dragons that had wreaked havoc upon the land. The realm flourished under his just governance, and Jaehaerys had earned the respect and admiration of lords and commoners alike.

Yet, for all his achievements, the Old King's personal life had been a tapestry of sorrow. He had outlived most of his children, watching with a heavy heart as the torchbearers of his bloodline flickered and faded. The death of his beloved wife had cast a long shadow over the latter years of his reign, leaving him with the haunting echo of her laughter and the ache of her absence.

As the final chapter of Jaehaerys' life unfolded, the once vigorous ruler now lay frail and feeble on his bed. The oppressive weight of time bore down upon him, rendering his once-mighty frame a mere reflection of its former glory. The majesty of his regal attire and clothing could not conceal the inevitable truth – the Old King was no longer the invincible force that had shaped the realm's fate.

Each labored breath was a reminder of mortality, and the rhythmic pulse of a weakening heart echoed through the chamber. His once-commanding voice now a mere whisper, Jaehaerys could barely move his limbs, the once-mighty muscles now betraying him in his twilight hours. Trapped in the confines of his regal bed, the monarch was a prisoner of his diminishing vitality.

Amidst the shadows that clung to the room, the solitary figure of Stranger himself materialized. A venerable presence, he bore witness to the final moments of a storied life. The old man's eyes, reflecting the wisdom of ages, met Jaehaerys' gaze with empathy and reverence. Daily, he offered companionship to the dying king, a silent witness to the ebbing of a once-mighty flame. The Stranger was nothing more than death, and Jaehaerys had heard it had many faces, and yet it chose the face of a skull. Why would death be anything less than a skeleton? Yet another in his large closet. How he wished death greeted him with the face of his wife; at least then he could pretend it was welcoming, and at least then he could fall for its trap. But he stared at the empty sockets, the abyss with knowledge older than Jaehaerys's very ancestry; he looked at the Stranger and wondered how long the Stranger had been waiting to embrace the Old King.