The bells of King's Landing tolled as if the giants of folklore were ringing them, their deep brass throats bellowing across the rooftops and up into the bright, cloudless sky. The sun, golden and proud, loomed overhead as if it wished to elevate the day of glory of House Targaryen. Below, the city swelled with life, surging like a tide of colour and motion through every square, street, and alley.
Jaehaerys Targaryen stood upon the high balcony of the Red Keep, hands resting on the carved guardrail of red stone. Below him, the city pulsed with joy. Banners hung from every window, bright with house sigils, the most prominent of which was undoubtedly the heraldry of House Targaryen. From the highest towers to the humblest stalls, King's Landing had dressed itself in festive garb. Vendors hawked roasted boar, honeyed nuts, and spiced wine. Children dashed through the crowds with painted faces and a merry step in every stride. Laughter and excitement rolled like waves through the streets of King's Landing, unlike any day.
Across the streets, septons and septas sang praises of the good deeds of his grandson. Aegon the Liberator, many called him. The Sept of Remembrance was lit with many candles till the light of dawn outshone them all. Still, the bells tolled in honour of his grandson.
"He left a boy but now returns a legend." Jaehaerys murmured.
Beside him, Rhaenys offered a quiet smile. Her hands were clasped behind her back.
"The men need heroes. After so many years of peace, they need tales to stir the blood. Rather predictable of them." Rhaenys said with a roll of her eyes.
"He slew the most notorious khals with his sword and scattered khalasars that had brought terror to the cities of Essos with dragonfire. That tale will be sung for a thousand years." Jaehaerys said with a smile.
'After a year of grief, some festive was good for the soul.' Jaehaerys thought.
Trumpets blared.
From the southern gate, a silver dragon rode the wind.
Vhagar, ancient, immense, and terrible, flew into the city like a colossal mount of power incarnate. She was followed by a dragon as black as night, the ferocious Fiendfyre called the Cannibal. Then came the bright blue dragon with silver wings, Dreamfyre.
The dragons' wings beat with the strength of storms. Their scales shimmered in the sunlight, every movement a mirror of fury and majesty.
The city roared.
Tens of thousands chanted Aegon's name as Vhagar, Fiendfyre, and Dreamfyre circled the city's sprawl, casting enormous shadows that brought awe and terror in equal measure.
The dragons descended slowly, gracefully, until they settled in Visenya's Hill close to the Dragonpit, where Dragon Keepers were ready to care for the three dragons.
"I hear the High Septon might venerate Aegon for his pious work of freeing slaves from bondage and protecting the holy land of the Seven from barbarians." Rhaenys commented.
"A not-so-small part was also played by your husband, which he constantly reminds the realm at every opportunity." Jaehaerys said, casting a fleeting glance at his granddaughter.
"My husband is a proud man, and he spoke no falsehood." Rhaenys immediately defended her husband without hesitation.
"A proud man–yes," Jaehaerys sighed. "That's the crux of the problem, is it not?"
"Is it so wrong that my husband seeks what is rightfully mine?"
"Rightfully yours!" Jaehaerys thundered with eyes darkening in anger. "Remember your place, girl! You serve at my pleasure, not the other way around."
Rhaenys involuntarily took a step back at the anger in her grandfather's eyes.
"Have you lost your pride as a Targaryen enough to sell off our House's dignity and power to a lesser house?" Jaehaerys snarled with disgust in his eyes.
Jaehaerys took a deep breath and calmed down.
"Do not think I'm blind to the moves your husband is making. Keep in mind that only a Targaryen will ascend the Iron Throne, not a Velaryon."
"I wonder whether you said this to my father when he was alive." Rhaenys bit out with her eyes reddening in anger.
"Yes, I did. It was my greatest mistake to allow your marriage to that ambitious fool of a man who does not know his place." Jaehaerys said without hesitation.
"My husband does not seek power for his sake. He is only seeking what is rightfully mine and my children's."
"If that's what you think your husband is doing, then you're an even bigger fool than I thought." Jaehaerys said with a derisive snort.
Rhaenys shook with anger, but she didn't act on it. Instead, she made to exit her grandfather's chamber with rage boiling in her veins.
"One more thing before you leave, granddaughter." Jaeherys said, making Rhaenys freeze at the doorstep. "Your daughter's name is Velaryon, not Targaryen. Teach her that before she develops ideas far outside her station from her father."
He wasn't surprised his granddaughter stormed out of his chambers immediately following his quip. Whether Rhaenys had the foresight to see the truth of the matter in the future remains to be seen. However, he had to say this without hesitation because the situation demanded it.
It was true that he remained bedridden most days. But his wits had yet to leave him altogether. His ears could hear far, and his eyes could see far beyond the Red Keep. There were still those loyal to him and House Targaryen across the Seven Kingdoms who kept him well informed of Corlys Velaryon's foul schemes. The man had been constantly at work, fuelling Aegon's stay in Essos with men, coin, and gathering more support. At the same time, Lord Corlys was also the beneficiary of Aegon's good fortunes in Essos. Lord Beesbury had informed him that the Pentoshi merchants were once again favouring Driftmark over King's Landing for trade with Lord Corlys, using Aegon's actions to fuel his ambitions.
If he knew for a fact the Sea Snake had no designs for the Iron Throne, Jaehaerys would've appreciated the man for his shrewdness. It wasn't every day one met a dedicated lord intent on raising his house's fortunes and succeeding at it beyond leaps and bounds.
Jaehaerys' issue with Lord Corlys was that the man sought to elevate House Velaryon over House Targaryen using the blood ties and favours he bestowed upon his distant kin in High Tide. He felt that lesson had to be taught to this ambitious fool about the follies of thinking himself equal to the House of the Dragon.
He had already given several warnings to Lord Corlys, both indirectly and now directly through Rhaenys herself. If the man still persisted in his foul ambitions, Jaehaerys felt like the man had to be taught a lesson that future generations would seldom forget.
'I'll make an example out of the Seasnake so that every next ambitious fool would think twice before challenging the might of House Targaryen.' Jaehaerys thought, his eyes lighting up with a fire that had been lacking since the passing of his wife.
Already, he could feel half the strength he thought lost returned to his aged body. He cast one last look at Visenya's Hill, where his grandson had landed – the one who inherited the fierce spirit and willpower of his daughter Alyssa. He was also heartened by the knowledge that Gael was now at his side. He felt that he was not long for this world, and before he left, he wanted to spend his last days of mortal life in the company of his daughter.
With a breath of relief, Jaehaerys sank into the cushion and rested his back against the soft silk-covered pillows. He rang the bell placed on the table near the armrest, summoning the servants to his chamber.
"I have need of my wardrobe." Jaehaerys said shortly, and his servants sprang to action.
It took some time, but he managed to ascend the Iron Throne in full regalia to receive Aegon and Gael in full view of the court. The large oaken doors were pushed open, and in came Baelon, his son and heir. While most of the recent grief in the family could be attributed to his son's stubbornness and foolish actions, he was relieved to see Baelon capable of making amends with Aegon.
Already, many maesters were calling it the Great Reconciliation or Dragon's Peace, depending on who you ask.
While he appreciated his son's capability to put out the fire he created, he was still disappointed in his son. He had such high hopes for Baelon when he named him the heir and future king of Westeros over Rhaenys. The last few months had made him doubt his choice, and now a little of his faith had been restored in Baelon.
"Your grace. I have returned from Essos with the task you entrusted to me completed." said Baelon, with his head dipped low.
"Announcing Prince Aegon Targaryen, rider of the fearsome dragon Fiendfyre and patron of the holy hills of Andalos." the crier announced loudly for the whole court to hear.
In the throne room, the Iron Throne loomed like a frozen storm of steel. Forged from the swords of vanquished foes, it waited in shadowed silence as the doors opened and Aegon entered to deafening cheers. Aegon walked into the throne room amidst the cheers of the court, tall and lean, his silver-gold hair falling like silk past his shoulders. His cloak lined in crimson silk, fastened at the shoulder with a brooch shaped like a silver dragon mid-flight. His sword hung at his hip, its hilt wrapped in black leather and the pommel shaped in the likeness of a snarling dragon. The dragon within him did not roar but smouldered, and that fire lit his eyes as he walked with measured steps.
Jaehaerys smiled at his grandson and nodded ever so subtly while keeping his decorum in the full view of the court.
"Announcing Princess Gael Targaryen, rider of Dreamfyre." the crier immediately followed as Gael stepped into the throne room.
Jaehaerys' eyes lit up as his daughter, Princess Gael Targaryen, clad in a flowing gown the colour of garnets and midnight. Her hair was a crown of soft, silver curls; her expression was radiant yet modest. She held her head high, though her hands trembled slightly beneath the folds of her sleeves. The applause struck her like waves — thunderous and sincere — but she did not flinch. Instead, she smiled.
"Your grace." Aegon and Gael knelt beside Baelon at the foot of the Iron Throne.
Jaehaerys rose from the Iron Throne, the glint of his crown catching the light. He looked upon them as a father might, though the years had made him their elder more than their grandsire and sire. He came down the steps slowly, robes trailing, the weight of years behind every motion — but he did not falter. When he reached them, he looked first at Aegon, then Gael.
"You return to us in glory," he said. "And brings great honour upon House Targaryen. The blood of the dragon flows strong in you both. Let all the realm see your achievement of peace in Andalos through strength."
He offered his hands to Aegon and Gael, who took them gracefully as they rose to their feet.
"Come, my children." Jaehaerys pulled Aegon and Gael to stand on both sides beside him. "Let the realm rejoice and be merry at this finest hour."
Jaehaerys turned to the court, his voice rising.
"Behold the legacy of House Targaryen! Aegon and Gael — the flame and the light. Let their names be sung not in shadowed halls, but in every corner of the realm. Let their deeds be a measure to those who follow the light of the Seven and common decency. Be it in the battlefields of Westeros or Essos, the House of the Dragon stands supreme."
A lone cheer went up, loud as thunder in the throne room.
The court soon erupted in applause, and this time, the applause was not merely for a king's command. It was for what they saw: the unified strength of House Targaryen and the supremacy of the last family of dragonlords in the known world.
Later that night, the feast would begin. Bards would sing of the great deeds in Andalos, and lords would drink to Aegon and Gael. But in the throne room, beneath the long shadows cast by torchlights, Jaehaerys Targaryen looked upon his grandchildren and saw something greater than celebration.
He saw hope for the continued rise of his family.
And in his mind, for the first time in many years, the Iron Throne seemed just a little less heavy.
******
The chamber was quiet save for the crackling of a hearth fire, the warm light glinting off the polished marble and casting long shadows across the stone floor.
Jaehaerys Targaryen, the Conciliator, sat upon a cushioned chair near the flames, a fur-lined robe draped over his aged shoulders. His hair, once a river of silver-gold, was now faded and thin, his face marked by the years—yet his violet eyes remained sharp, searching, and full of wisdom and strength.
Before him stood his grandson, Aegon, newly returned from Essos. He had proven himself in the Free Cities and beyond, and though young, there was a pull to him that many men thrice his age lacked. He could see it and recognise it because he once had wielded that same power over the people around him. He felt as though he saw his younger self staring back when he looked at his grandson.
Jaehaerys gestured for him to sit.
"You have made me proud, my boy," the old king said, his voice low but steady. "What you did across the Narrow Sea, the strength you showed, the choices you made—these are things no sword can teach. You have shown great temerity in the face of greater odds."
"I did what I could given the situation with the best of my ability." Aegon bowed his head slightly.
Jaehaerys smiled faintly.
"So did I, once. But now, duty lies heavy upon us all. The realm grows restless. I might be old, but I hear the whispers of conflict and treason spread like wildfire through the halls. Some see Baelon as my true heir. Others cry for Rhaenys, emboldened by the poison spat by the Seasnake and the divisions within House Targaryen. The lords will not all agree, and when the day comes that I draw my last breath, I fear their swords may speak louder than their words."
He leaned forward, eyes narrowing. "This realm must not fall to ruin when I am gone. House Targaryen must stand strong—united, unbroken, vigilant. The dragons must never again wage war in the skies as it was in my time. We cannot afford another Maegor in the House of the Dragon."
He reached beneath his cloak and withdrew a small, dragon-headed brooch of obsidian and gold, shaped in the sigil of the spymaster.
"I have not had any need for a spymaster, for I led with the philosophy that a leader who didn't know what was happening in his realm was not worthy to sit on the throne." Jaehaerys said with a flinty smile. "But I'm no longer younger, and I need to borrow your strength, Aegon."
"I name you Master of Whispers," Jaehaerys declared. "The eyes and ears of the Iron Throne. But more than that, I charge you with a higher purpose: keep our house intact. Shield it from the treacheries of court and kin alike. Watch the lords who smile too easily and the ladies who listen too closely. Should fire threaten to consume our bloodline from within, you will be the one to see it quenched no matter what it takes."
Seeing Aegon open his mouth, Jaehaerys immediately talked over his grandson.
"I'm not giving this post to you so that you may favour your father and Viserys. When I close my eyes these days, all I see is dragons dying and the Seven Kingdoms consumed in unholy fore of war. You, Aegon, shall stand apart from any side and stand firmly for the realm and the best interest of House Targaryen."
Aegon promptly closed his mouth and swallowed any comments he had to say.
"You want me to act independently?" Aegon asked.
"Yes. I believe you can act impartially and make decisions for the betterment of the family. After all, you came back when your family needed you the most, despite having every reason to reject my wish." Jaehaerys said with an appreciative look at his grandson. "You have shown the strength of your character for me to trust you with this perilous task."
Once again, Jaehaerys offered the pendant to Aegon.
"Take it. I do not give you this position lightly or without thought, Aegon. Serve me and the realm faithfully in the small council."
Aegon took the brooch and studied it for a moment before fastening it to his cloak.
"I will not fail you," Aegon promised.
Jaehaerys's eyes lingered on him with something like sorrow—and hope.
"I pray you never must." he said gently. "The peace I have managed to usher in on the Seven Kingdoms depends on the strength of our house. If our strength is challenged and our position grows weak, the peace our family bled for will be for nothing. The Conqueror's dream would mean nothing."
Jaehaerys closed his eyes, and once again he saw dragons fighting in the sky and dragon blood turning the soil red.
"Such a situation should not come to pass." Jaehaerys said with a shiver.
Perhaps it was a prophetic dream, or he was going senile in his old age. Either way, he refused to do nothing when he had the power to ensure House Targaryen remained strong.
"There is a ledger in that safe." Jaehaerys said, pointing to a safe beside his wardrobe. "It contains all the names of my spies across the Seven Kingdoms, their locations, their capabilities and past work to make an informed decision to use them however you see fit."
"This is… unexpected." Aegon said, a bit overwhelmed by the few pages he flicked through.
"There are some revenue streams that should sustain the spy ring even without support from the crown's coffers. Maintaining them and finding alternate sources of revenue should be a priority if you mean to expand the reach of your spies."
"I… I'll try my best, your grace." Aegon said.
"I know. Now, be on your way and send Gael. I wish to spend some time with my daughter."
Jaehaerys let out a breath of relief as he saw Aegon exit his chambers with new responsibilities in his hand. His mind felt at ease now that he had parted some of his duties to someone he could trust.
AN:
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