POV: Prince Raegon Targaryen – 111 AC
The Red Keep's celebration of King Viserys's hasty marriage to Alicent Hightower was a bitter charade. Gold cloaks stood guard, musicians played lively tunes, and lords feigned smiles, but beneath the veneer of gaiety, a chill wind of uncertainty blew. My father, in his grief and loneliness, had chosen comfort over stability, a personal balm over the realm's future.
I found him in his private chambers, the morning after the feast. He was already awake, looking drawn but with a strange, almost defiant, glint in his eyes. He expected me, I think, for his guards were absent.
"Father," I began, my voice low, but vibrating with a fury I struggled to contain. "What have you done?"
He turned, his face hardening. "Raegon. Your mother's passing has weighed heavily on us all. A king requires a queen. The realm requires a queen."
"Not this queen," I retorted, stepping closer, my hands clenching at my sides. "You have set a viper in the heart of our family. You have fractured the very foundation Grandfather Jaehaerys sought to preserve! He chose me, Father! He set the line, with Rhaenyra by my side, to avoid this very chaos!"
Viserys straightened, his eyes narrowing. "My word is final, Raegon. I am the King. Alicent is Queen. The matter is settled."
"Settled?" My voice rose, a dangerous edge creeping into it. "You speak of settlement when you have just plunged a dagger into the stability of the crown? Do you think the lords will not see this? Do you think your new children with her will not be seen as rivals to Rhaenyra? To my line?"
"Aegon is a babe!" Viserys roared, slamming a fist on his desk. "Rhaenyra is the heir! You are my heir! My word is final!" He stood, meeting my gaze, his royal authority pushed to its limit. "I will hear no more of it. Alicent is Queen, and my decision stands."
I stared at him, my fury a cold, hard knot in my gut. He was lost in his grief and his stubborn adherence to his own will. Arguing further was useless. "As you command, Father," I said, my voice now devoid of all emotion. I bowed stiffly and left the chamber, leaving him to the comfort of his new queen and the inevitable consequences of his choices.
As I walked away, a grim resolve settled within me. Otto Hightower, the puppet master behind this farce, had orchestrated this. His ambition threatened everything. He was the true poison. It would not be swift, it would not be obvious, but in the next five years, I would systematically dismantle him. I would take him out.
My thoughts turned to Daemon, my rogue uncle. Banished he might be, but he was a valuable piece on the board, a dragon unbound. I sent a discreet message to Dragonstone, carried by a trusted rider from my Dragon's Teeth, a man who knew the secret paths. A few weeks later, a raven arrived in my solar, its message brief: He will meet.
Our rendezvous was on a desolate stretch of coast, far from prying eyes. Daemon arrived on Caraxes, a streak of shadow against the sunset sky. He dismounted, his silver hair wild, his eyes glinting with a familiar mischief and resentment.
"Nephew," he greeted, a smirk playing on his lips. "So the old man finally bowed to the Hightowers. I always knew Viserys was too weak for the throne."
"He is lonely, Daemon," I corrected, watching him carefully. "And grief made him vulnerable." I spoke of my father's decision, of the new Queen Alicent, and of the precarious future. "This threatens us all. The realm will splinter if the succession is unclear."
Daemon scoffed. "Then let it splinter. I will carve my own kingdom from the pieces."
"Or you will be crushed beneath them," I countered, my voice firm. "You desire greatness, Uncle. True greatness lies not in destruction, but in securing your place in the tapestry of our House. You need an alliance, a powerful one. Corlys Velaryon seeks to marry his daughter, Laena, to a true dragon. You would do well to consider it. A union with the Sea Snake would make you formidable."
Daemon's eyes narrowed. "Laena is a child. And Corlys is a vainglorious fool."
"She is growing. And Corlys commands the greatest fleet in Westeros, and one of its richest houses. A King of the Narrow Sea needs more than a crown of crabs, Uncle. He needs ships, gold, and powerful friends. And," I added, looking him directly in the eye, "Viserys is a sentimental fool. If you truly wish to secure your future, then talk to your brother. Not as a banished prince, but as a potential ally. Show him you are more than a hot temper and a sharp tongue. Show him the strength of a united House."
Daemon studied me, a flicker of something akin to surprise in his eyes. He laughed, a short, sharp sound. "You play a deeper game than I imagined, Raegon. Very well. Perhaps the Sea Snake's daughter has grown comely enough for a King."
And so, word eventually reached King's Landing of Daemon Targaryen, the Rogue Prince, taking Laena Velaryon as his wife. A victory for the Velaryons, and a subtle piece shifted on my own board.
My next step was to secure my family's future, and with it, the Velaryons'. I sought out Princess Rhaenys in the Dragonpit, where she watched her dragon, Meleys, preen. She was the Queen Who Never Was, and she understood the sting of injustice.
"Your Grace," I greeted, "we must speak of the King's recent decision."
Rhaenys turned, her eyes, sharp and intelligent, already mirroring my own frustration. "He made his choice. A foolish one, in my estimation, but a King's decree is not easily gainsaid, even by his own heir."
"Indeed," I affirmed. "But it has opened a new path. It has made certain things clear. My grandfather, Jaehaerys, saw that the future of our House rested on our children, and on the strength of the pure Targaryen blood. He named me the heir, and chose Rhaenyra to be my Queen to secure that line. Now, with Alicent Hightower as Queen, the realm will seek division, pitting brother against brother, family against family, in the generations to come."
Rhaenys watched me, her expression unreadable.
"This will not happen," I stated, my voice firm with conviction. "The children born of Viserys and Alicent will be princes and princesses of the realm, and they will be protected. I give you my word on that, Princess. They will come to no harm from me, or from my line." This promise, I knew, was vital. It was the first step in setting myself apart, in showing a different path.
"But the future succession," Rhaenys pressed. "What of it, when Alicent bears sons?"
"The future succession is clear," I said, meeting her gaze. "It runs through me. And through Rhaenyra, as my Queen. But the future of our House, the Velaryons and the Targaryens united, is also paramount. My children, born to Rhaenyra, will secure the main line. But to further bind our houses, to ensure the strength of future generations… the next Queen, Princess, will be a Velaryon. My children will marry into your line, or Laenor's, if he has issue. This will strengthen the realm, and honor the ancient bond between our houses, a bond that Viserys has foolishly ignored."
Rhaenys blinked, surprised by the sheer foresight and audacity of my plan. Her eyes, usually so guarded, held a flicker of hope, of recognition. "You speak with the wisdom of Jaehaerys himself, Prince Raegon."
"I speak with the understanding that the future is forged by the choices we make today," I replied. "And I choose unity, strength, and the true blood of the dragon. This means securing not just the Iron Throne, but the very fabric of our family for generations."
The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of quiet, strategic movements. I reached out to the great houses. Lord Borros Baratheon of Storm's End, a formidable warrior, was receptive to my overtures. I promised a marriage pact, securing the blood of the Dragon with the blood of the Storm, envisioning one of my future children marrying a Baratheon descendant. In the Vale, the Arryns, still reeling from Aemma's death, listened carefully as I spoke of shared grief and the need for strong alliances in uncertain times.
All the while, my Dragon's Teeth regiment drilled, sharper and more disciplined than ever. My wider army, a tapestry of sworn swords and loyal bannermen, was constantly evaluated, their supplies ensured, their loyalty re-affirmed. I invested in training, in intelligence, in every detail that could turn the tide of future conflicts. The realm was complacent, but I knew the storms were coming. Viserys had, in his weakness, opened the door for them. It was up to me, the heir Grandfather Jaehaerys had chosen, to ensure the dragons did not devour each other. My father's decision had been made. Now, my own must be as well.