THE TRAITORS TO THE REALM
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132 AC, King's Landing
Aegon could not claim he'd ever been particularly close with his younger brother Aemond. The two didn't have much in common other than their parents. Four years might not seem like much of an age difference when you're old, but as two young men it felt like being decades apart. To Aegon, Aemond was simply an annoying child for most of their childhood and as they grew older, his younger brother became the symbol of everything Aegon wasn't.
The perfect son...
Always the serious and dutiful prince that had much more ambitions in life than Aegon ever did. Despite being born to a King with a named heir, the expectations of being a firstborn son had been placed on Aegon's shoulders since his birth. All those nobles — and his own family – that refused to accept Rhaenyra as the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms looked at him as the next heir. A position he never asked for and definitely never wanted.
Not like Aemond did. A second son bored with a fiery internal drive to succeed his father as king. The only reason Aegon ever studied or listened to the maester's lessons was that he wanted to make Valyria proud of him; he knew she'd never judge his achievements or think him a lesser person for failing, she simply wanted him to try. Aegon made an effort to learn but never the way Aemond did. He who studied history, philosophy and trained to become a fierce warrior worthy of a crown that never would be his.
Many times, Aegon convinced himself that he hated his younger brother. Hated him for buying into their mother and grandfather's whims about putting a Hightower on the Iron Throne. Hated how everything Aemond did seemed to make their mother think less of Aegon.
Only Aegon could never truly hate his brother... not really.
Deep down, the only thing Aegon felt was regret for not being a better brother to him. For not helping his younger brother instead of pushing him away. If he had, Aemond might have seen the wrongdoings of their mother and grandfather a long time ago. He might not have become so blinded by his hatred for their nephews that he pushed everyone other than their mother away.
Now Aemond was dead and he'd never be able to mend their broken relationship...
When the battle had been won, Aegon had been overwhelmed by relief that it was over. That his wife, the woman he loved like a mother and everyone else he cared for would be safe now. Now, however, when the smoke had cleared Aegon was left with his own guilt for not only failing to save his brother, but also for the part he played in his death.
Taking down Vhagar took the combined effort of four younger dragons. Daemon would probably proudly declare to have delivered the final blow when Caraxes bit into Vhagar's neck and while Aegon gladly could blame his uncle for the death of his brother, it didn't lessen his guilt
Aegon felt the bed dip down beside him as Cyrenna sat down but his gaze remained on the floor. Though, his shoulders relaxed and he felt a sense of comfort when Cyrenna rested her cheek against his shoulder, an arm wrapping around his shoulders in a gentle hug. Sometimes, he wonders what he did to deserve such a wonderful wife.
Cyrenna who had a golden heart and a breathtaking beauty that made her a woman countless men would fight for. Men with lands and titles that could give her much more than Aegon ever could. A prince he may be, but Aegon stood to inherit nothing. Only Cyrenna never cared about any of that.
As a young man, he always had a small crush on Cyrenna. He grew up with the twins taking care of him and while he always viewed Elara as an annoying older sister, he felt something more towards Cyrenna as he grew older. What Aegon never expected was for Cyrenna to feel the same towards him.
"Aemond made his choices," Cyrenna mumbled and without even having to turn around to face her, Aegon knew she shared his pain. "I wish he'd made different ones — I truly do — but no one could stop Aemond once he set his mind to something."
"I killed him-"
"I played as much of a part in Aemond's death as you did," Cyrenna gently grabbed his chin, forcing Aegon to look into her beautiful orchid coloured eyes. "Daemon and Elara too. And we will all live with that knowledge for the remainder of our lives. What we have to remember is that Aemond climbed up on Vhagar's back and attacked us. He had the choice to surrender — mother would not have hesitated to forgive him – but instead he tried to kill us all."
Finally looking at her properly, Aegon saw how glazed over her eyes were, like she was fighting to hold back tears. Just like he had now for hours. Helaena had been devastated by Aemond's death and while Aegon never had been the best older brother to his sweet sister, he understood how much she needed him now that their mother and grandfather had been made prisoners and their brother laid on the bottom of Blackwater Bay.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, Aegon forced a small smile, "I am just glad everyone else is safe now. Valyria is the Queen and all will be well."
Cyrenna nodded, biting her lip before letting out a shaky breath, "We were wed less than a moon ago but it feels like an eternity since I walked towards you in the Great Sept."
"An eternity ago but at the same time I remember it all clearly," Aegon told her, cracking a genuine smile through all the pain. "Almost as if it was only a moon ago."
Cyrenna laughed and kissed his cheek, "At least we will be able to begin our future now on steady ground."
.•° ✿ °•.
The death of Aemond caught up with Valyria during the night. In the solitude of her temporary chambers, she could cry for the young boy who she'd taken out flying on Ānogara — the little boy she'd comforted when he felt sad about not having a dragon of his own. Taking the throne felt bittersweet somehow. Being inside the Red Keep once more opened wounds that she'd only temporarily managed to patch up.
She'd mourned Viserys's death when she received the news but upon entering the chambers that had been his for three decades, it would be a lie to say that it didn't sadden her to think she'd never speak with him again. Many things had been left unsaid between them. But Valyria also realised that she didn't have time to dwell on the past with so many matters left unresolved in the present.
Her decision to leave Rhaenys to guard Dragonstone had definitely been a wise one because in one last attempt to gain the upper hand, Rhaenyra attacked the island with Jacaerys's help but the two had been easily defeated and captured by Rhaenys and the forces that had been left in their ancestral home to guard the youngest princes and princesses.
Valyria ordered the prisoner to be brought to King's Landing and since she arrived, Rhaenyra had been locked up in the dungeons. Valyria dreaded having to face the woman who she for many years loved like a younger sister because honestly, she did not know what to do with Rhaenyra now. Had anyone else tried to kill her, she'd not have hesitated to get justice but with Rhaenyra it felt different.
Crossing the bridge leading over to the Red Keep's dungeons, Valyria casted a quick glance on the cut off head that had been placed upon one of the spikes. It was not her wish to appear like a tyrant who mounted the cut off heads of her enemies upon spikes for the world to see. Many of the Hightower loyalists that were killed in battle were given a discreet burial but there were a few who's heads she couldn't deny her husband the satisfaction of seeing mounted on sticks upon the walls.
Ser Criston Cole was one of them. A man that she for many years considered a friend. Who actually taught her quite a bit when it came to fighting with a sword during their many secret lessons during the years Daemon fought in the Stepstones. Yet everything changed – Criston changed – after his affection towards Rhaenyra grew into something so unhealthy that he let his rage get the best of him. His hatred towards Rhaenyra led him to loyally siding with Alicent and that became his undoing.
In the end, Daemon had been the one to kill Ser Criston in a duel on the streets of King's Landing, where the dornishman led the Queen's forces, and finally the Rogue Prince got his revenge from the defeat he suffered all those years ago during Prince's Baelon's tournament.
Valyria didn't stop to admire the knight's decapitated head further, instead she continued across the bridge with Ser Erryk and Ser Harrold trailing close behind. The Lord Commander of Viserys's Kingsguard had resigned from his post — refusing to bend the knee to the Hightowers – and came to their aid when they attacked King's Landing.
Therefore, he'd now been awarded the position of Lord Commander of the Queensguard. Ser Harrold had served the Targaryens for many years and there was none more suitable for that role than him. At least not now. While Ser Lorent and Ser Erryk served her well, both stepped down from the competition for the position of Lord Commander since they thought Ser Harrold deserved the position.
Upon reaching the dungeons, Valyria stopped for a moment as the gaoler opened the doors leading into the cell Rhaenyra was being kept in. Then she stepped inside with her head held high, not about to allow Rhaenyra the satisfaction of seeing how uncomfortable this made her. After all, Valyria wasn't the one who should feel guilt.
Rhaenyra stood up when the door opened, her face becoming expressionless upon seeing the new Queen. Clad in a simple black dress with her silver hair styled into a simple braid, she might have looked like a commoner had it not been for her Valyria features. Though, Valyria noted she had it rather comfortable for a prisoner.
"Rhaenyra," Valyria greeted the princess cordially.
"Your Grace," Rhaenyra coldly responded, acknowledging her new title but it was too late.
"I had wished it would not come to this," Valyria calmly stated, stepping farther into the dungeon. But the door remained open so that the Kingsguards could run in if the Queen's life was in danger. "Somehow you've managed to make the wrong choices at every crossroads you've faced since becoming heir."
"We cannot all do the right thing all the time, Valyria," Rhaenyra drily replied, pursing her lips in distaste. "It seems perfection is solely reserved for you."
"It's not about being perfect, Rhaenyra," Valyria sighed in disappointment. Growing up without any siblings her age and with parents who gave her everything she wanted growing up made it difficult for Rhaenyra to handle things not going her way. "It's about thinking before you act every now and then. Sometimes, I almost want to hurt yourself because every decision you make only serves to dig your grave."
"And will you be the one to finally push me into that grave?" Rhaenyra dared her.
"My council urges me to kill you," Valyria confessed, observing Rhaenyra's reactions closely. To the princess's credit, her face remained a mask of cold indifference. "As does Daemon." Either it was the mention of his name or the fact Daemon now was one of those pushing for Rhaenyra's execution, but Rhaenyra's confidence faltered. "They think that for as long as you remain alive, you are a threat to my life."
"Daemon said that?" Rhaenyra said, voice strained. The way she looked at Valyria made her think Rhaenyra assumed that her words were lies to hurt her.
"You tried to kill me before I stood between you and the Iron Throne," Valyria said, revealing that she knew about more betrayals on Rhaenyra's part than trying to seize the throne. "You've broken the law, Nyra, and that is enough for many to call for your head."
"And what evidence do you have of that?" Rhaenyra asked, holding her head high.
"A witness," Valyria responded vaguely.
"Who'd ever dare to witness against the Queen?" Rhaenyra drawled sarcastically. "You could easily create evidence against me-"
"You are right, I could," Valyria said, losing her patience with the younger woman. "Only I don't have to and do not for a second think I get any pleasure from this. We grew up together, Nyra, and never in my worst night terrors did I think that I'd ever accuse you of trying to murder me. Truly – what did I do to deserve this? Was marrying Daemon enough for you to loath me this much?"
This time, Rhaenyra couldn't even come up with a good reply. "I have children," Valyria said with a disbelieving sigh. "Four children who have already lost their fathers and two that are barely out of the cradle. Did you even stop to consider that or are you truly so blinded by your own greed and selfishness that you can't even see who you hurt to get what you want."
"You fault me for being selfish, yet you married the most selfish man in Westeros," Rhaenyra scoffed, once more attempting to shift the blame from herself. "Daemon would burn the Seven Kingdoms down to get what he wants-"
"Daemon is not the one who hired the Second Sons to murder me!" Valyria snapped. To some point, Rhaenyra was right that Daemon had done something similar when he murdered Lucian – not that the former heir knew that – but she couldn't fault him for that – no matter how much of a hypocrite it made her. "And I see now that this visit was a mistake on my part."
Valyria did not know what she'd expected. Guilt maybe. At least some regret. But perhaps it was too late for that. Rhaenyra knew she'd dug her own grave and now the princess fought to at least keep some of her pride. Begging for forgiveness would essentially mean she had to come to terms with the mistakes she'd made.
"Jacaerys is a prisoner on Dragonstone alongside Joffrey," Valyria explained, knowing how concerned she would be for her children's safety if she'd been locked up with no news of their well-being. "Until your trial has passed, that is where they will remain."
"I am to receive a trial then?" Rhaenyra asked. "Who shall be the judges then? I can't imagine any lord passing a verdict against their Queen's enemy."
"If you have such little faith in me," Valyria said apathetically, "ask for a trial by combat. Since you planned on taking the Iron Throne, I assume you have an army of men behind you, ready to fight for your life. It is too bad Ser Harwin is not with us anymore." The harsh glare Rhaenyra sent her didn't stop Valyria from continuing, "Though if you wish for the Gods to decide, asking your lover to fight might not have made them look favourably upon you."
"What will happen to my sons," Rhaenyra asked, changing the topic. "Are they to be punished? Killed for their mother's alleged crimes or for the name they carry?"
"I have no reason to kill your sons since they pose no threat to my reign," Valyria coldly responded. "One thing that hasn't changed in the past decade is that no one wants to see a bastard sit upon the throne. Jacaerys Waters-"
"Do not call him that," Rhaenyra took a threatening step forward.
"The only thing protecting your sons from the truth was your position as the King's heir," Valyria told Rhaenyra. "Viserys turned a blind eye to your indiscretions which forced the rest of the realm to do the same. Now nothing can protect them from the truth."
"Not even you?" Rhaenyra asked, with a hint of desperation in her voice.
"I will not harm them, but I also refuse to continue this lie," Valyria said truthfully. "I spent a decade playing your game, Rhaenyra, and I will not do it anymore." Casting a glance around the dungeon, she said, "I hope the accommodation is to your satisfaction. With the upcoming coronation, your trial will have to wait and until it is over, I am afraid you'll have to remain in here. Maybe it will give you an opportunity to ponder over the choices that led you here."
She turned to walk out of the dungeon but stopped just as she reached the door. Turning her head, she sadly stated, "You have my condolences — Lucerys – he truly didn't deserve what happened to him." Looking Rhaenyra dead in the eye, she said, "If only it could have been prevented."
.•° ✿ °•.
Valyria took no pleasure in killing.
Not like her husband who held little regard for life – except for when it came to those he loved. Unfortunately, being queen meant she couldn't keep her hands clean of blood. It was simply an impossible task in the world she lived in. Sometimes, it was necessary to maintain the Iron Throne and protect her family.
Otto and Alicent Hightower committed one of the highest treasons by usurping the throne and waging a war against the rightful heir. That crime couldn't go unpunished and Valyria knew that. While she definitely didn't want to look like a tyrant who executed anyone that didn't agree with what she said, her rule would appear weak if she let those that rebelled against her live.
Therefore, they both needed to be executed for their treason. Giving the orders to kill Otto Hightower wasn't difficult. Valyria never cared much about him and none of the few emotions she held towards him were good. Alicent, however, Valyria had considered a friend at some point in her life. She definitely never held the same affection towards Alicent as she did Rhaenyra – but it still felt wrong; Alicent was Aegon, Daeron and most importantly Helaena's mother after all.
Daemon had wanted a spectacle to be made of their deaths. He viewed this as his final victory over Otto Hightower and wanted it to be so humiliating and degrading that the former Hand died a laughing stock to the realm. Valyria reigned him in a bit and in the end they settled for a public execution by the steps of the Great Sept.
Valyria wore a scarlet red dress for the occasion with black scales decorating the sleeves. As she rode through the city alongside her husband, the smallfolk cheered at the sight of their new Queen. If this was how excited they were now, she could only imagine how they'd act during the coronation in a fortnight.
The royal family gathered on the steps of the Great Sept, the Targaryen banners fluttering in the wind as the sun shone upon them. In the days following King Viserys's death dark clouds had gathered over the capital but ever since Valyria retrieved her crown, the cloudy and dark days were replaced by warmth and sunlight — some would claim it was the Gods showing their happiness now that the rightful Queen sat upon the Iron Throne.
Alicent and Otto were led out on the steps, both clad in fine yet simple clothes of dark green. The only piece of jewellery adorning either of them was the necklace with a pendant formed like the Seven-Pointed-Star hanging around Alicent's neck; her red hair was twisted into a simple bun at the nape of her neck, giving her the appearance of a common lady.
There was a limp to Otto's step as he walked, courtesy of Daemon who'd decided to rough him up a bit upon capturing the second son of Oldtown. His normally tidy semblance was long gone and replaced by an untrimmed beard and dirty hair. The crowd booed and spitted in his direction, openly showing their distaste. Otto's face twisted into a loathing scowl as he watched the new Queen stand there alongside her husband and children, ready to secure her victory over him once and for all.
"Before his passing," Valyria said loudly, her voice carrying out across the hundreds of people who'd gathered beneath the steps leading up to the sept, causing all of them to fall silent, "my grandfather, King Jaehaerys, named me his heir. And one year ago, King Viserys did the same. It is the final wish of two King's that I was to become the next Queen, yet Ser Otto Hightower and the Dowager Queen, Lady Alicent Hightower, thought themselves to stand above their Kings. Stand above the Gods who blessed my predecessors with their crowns."
Valyria did not care much about the Gods herself, but knew how much devotion many of her subjects had towards the Seven. Therefore, she continued by saying, "These are not only crimes committed against myself and the realm – these are crimes against the Gods."
Once more the crowd began shouting for their heads, spitting profanities towards the two traitors. But when Valyria started speaking again, they all grew silent, "Crimes for which they will pay with their lives," she casted a quick glance over at the Greens. I, Valyria of House Targaryen, the First of My Name, Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, do sentence Ser Otto Hightower and Lady Alicent Hightower, to death."
Merrily the crowd clapped, eager for some blood. Valyria gave a quick nod to the guard standing behind Ser Otto. In the North, executions were done the old way, where the man who passed the sentence should swing the sword. Valyria, however, couldn't rob her husband the opportunity of being the one to kill Otto Hightower, and then it simply would have felt weird if she insisted on executing Alicent.
"Daemon," Valyria said and her husband immediately understood the command. With a smirk twisting his lips, he unsheathed Dark Sister and sauntered forward, circling his longest living rival like a vulture would a carcass.
After all those years of trying to outdo the other. Of fighting for Viserys's approval it had come down to this and Daemon couldn't be more pleased. Seeing Otto brought down to his knees, completely at his mercy brought Daemon a twisted form of satisfaction. Never before had his sword begged for blood more than in this moment.
"Any last words?" Daemon taunted, twisting his sword in his hand. When Otto only gave him a hateful glare, Daemon chuckled, "No?"
Making sure to wait just long enough for Otto to suffer, Daemon easily decapitated him in a single swing. Another wave of cheers echoed across the city as Otto's head rolled down the steps and his body dropped to the dirty ground. A single tear rolled down Alicent's cheek as she watched her father's body be dragged away for her to take his place.
"Lady Alicent, any last words?" Daemon asked her indifferently as the red haired woman was led forward.
"Good people of King's Landing, I have not come here to die," Alicent addressed the crowds, a waver in her voice as she spoke. Now she looked less like a cold and stoic queen and more like the young girl who'd married the king all those years ago. "For according to the law and by the law I am judged to die — and therefore I will speak nothing against it."
Casting a glance over at Valyria who didn't look away nor show any hint of emotion, Alicent continued, "I pray the Gods save the Queen and send her long to reign over you all, for a gentler nor a more merciful has there never been and will there never be again." If Alicent believed a single word coming out of her mouth, no one would ever know. Claiming the woman who'd sentenced her to death to be merciful could very well be one silent attempt to gain favour for her daughter and sons who remained alive.
"And thus I take my leave of the world and of you all, and I heartily desire you all to pray for me," Alicent finished her final words. Silently Alicent took off her necklace and twisted it around her hand since it was then time for her to kneel down on the ground. Only for a second did Valyria look away from the scene to make sure Aegon was fine.
Aegon's face displayed no emotions as he observed his mother kneeling down where his grandfather had been kneeling only a few seconds ago. To the crowds, Aegon appeared completely unaffected but Valyria could see Cyrenna gripping his hand tightly in her own for comfort. After recently losing Aemond, Valyria knew that no matter how much Aegon claimed to hate his mother, this wouldn't be like watching a stranger being executed.
A pool of Otto's blood stained his daughter's dark green dress and Alicent's nose wrinkled in disgust as she fought to not throw up as the scent of her father's blood invaded her nostrils. Deciding to put Alicent out of her misery, Valyria nodded towards Daemon who stepped forward once more, this time with a little less excitement. He may hate Alicent but it did not compare to how much he loathed Otto which meant her death would bring less satisfaction. With a swift swing of Dark Sister, Alicent's head fell to the ground.
The crowds cheered loudly and Valyria couldn't help but wonder if they actually disliked Alicent enough to be happy about her death, or if they simply did it to show support for her rule. Daemon returned to stand by her side. Despite the cold indifference she displayed, Daemon noticed something in her eyes no one else could, "This needed to be done," he said in their mother tongue. "Their blood is not on your hands."
Valyria gave a quick nod, "Skorī dēmalȳti tymptir tymis, ērinis iā morghūlis."