Aegon calmly accepted the Sevenstar Crown from the High Septon and, under the gaze of all present, placed it upon his own head. In that instant, the crown's radiance seemed to merge with him, proclaiming his supreme authority.
The royal family, the great lords of House Targaryen, and the mighty lords from across the realm stood in silence, bearing witness. By tradition, the High Septon's coronation was always followed by a grand feast lasting seven days.
Hundreds of lords, both great and small, had already gathered in Oldtown. At the banquet, each would approach Aegon's throne, kneel upon one knee, and solemnly swear allegiance, pledging their loyalty and respect to the new King.
Yet behind the celebrations, urgent matters still awaited—such as the armed leaders of the Faith Militant who had also come to Oldtown: the self-styled Commander of the Warrior's Sons, Ser Joffrey Doggett, known as the "Red Hound of the Hills"; and the leaders of the Poor Fellows, "Ragged" Silas and "Lame" Denys.
Within the vast base of the High Tower's black stone fortress, the banquet hall blazed with light. Carved beams and painted ceilings shimmered brilliantly in the glow of countless candles.
Duke Hightower strode with measured grace to the platform at the center of the hall. His posture was tall and commanding as his gaze swept the chamber. Then, raising his voice, he declared the feast begun, warmly inviting all to eat and drink their fill.
At once, the nobles of Westeros lifted their cups of wine or juice, relaxed smiles breaking across their faces as they laughed softly.
Lord Hightower then spoke a few words of reflection, recalling years past and expressing hopes for the future. With composed dignity, he descended from the platform and returned to stand beside King Aegon.
A well-trained orchestra filed neatly onto the stage, striking up a lively melody that filled the hall with festive energy.
At that moment, Grand Maester Bennifer stepped onto the central platform, his pace measured yet dignified. Clearing his throat, he raised his hand for silence.
"Ladies and gentlemen… everyone, please quiet down."
The hall gradually stilled, and only then did he continue with satisfaction:
"The coronation of the High Septon is one of the most important days in all of Westeros—a moment worthy of our shared celebration."
He lifted his goblet high, turning to the gathered lords.
"Raise your cups! Let us all toast His Grace the King!"
His eyes fixed upon Aegon above, brimming with reverence.
Aegon smiled, rose gracefully, and lifted his cup in reply. The lords raised theirs in unison and drained them dry.
When the cups were lowered, Aegon spoke, his voice carrying clearly to every corner of the hall.
"Today, with the armed leaders of the Faith present, I have an important matter to announce."
All eyes turned to the "Red Hound of the Hills" and his companions standing at the edge of the feast.
Aegon's expression remained calm as he declared in a steady tone:
"The Kingdom shall revoke Maegor's bounties on the Warrior's Sons and the Poor Fellows. As King, I will not make war upon my own subjects."
Applause erupted instantly, echoing throughout the hall. Many of Westeros's lesser lords were devout followers of the Seven, and the thought of renewed conflict between crown and faith had weighed heavily upon them. Aegon's decree brought them immense relief.
He nodded slightly, still composed, then spoke more sternly:
"But rebellion will never be tolerated."
"It was not only I who rose against your father—it was you as well."
The "Red Hound of the Hills" shot back, fearless and defiant. His voice cut through the noisy hall, drawing countless eyes his way.
Rogar, the Hand of the King, smirked inwardly at the sight. If I hadn't known the two of you staged this beforehand, I might almost believe you truly dared to defy the King in public.
"Indeed it is," Aegon admitted calmly, his face showing no trace of anger but rather a hint of admiration. "And it cannot be denied that you fought with great valor.
However, from this day forward, the Warrior's Sons shall cease to exist."
Ser Joffrey paled at these words, blurting out, "Your Grace, are you actually dissolving the Knights of the Sacred Sword and the Warrior's Sons?"
The Warrior's Sons referred to the Knights of the Sacred Sword, merely another name.
Aegon nodded without hesitation, his tone firm and decisive. "The Church has no need for arms!" His gaze fixed firmly on the High Septon as he solemnly declared, "The Church shall be guarded by me, and by the Iron Throne."
The High Septon gave a slight nod, offering no words, thereby tacitly accepting this decision.
And so, within the banquet hall, this momentous decision—one capable of reshaping the future balance of power across the continent—was finalized.
Septon Mattheus, however, wore a dark expression. After all, he commanded a knightly order of the Sacred Sword, and this decree meant his armed forces would soon be forcibly disbanded.
Aegon strode purposefully to the "Red Dog of the Hills," his expression solemn and earnest.
"Your vows to the knightly order end here. But your skills should not go to waste. I invite you to serve by my side as a member of the Kingsguard."
"The King has actually appointed him to the Kingsguard!"
The news instantly sent shockwaves through the assembled crowd. Many stared wide-eyed in disbelief, unable to fathom what they had heard.
The great lords watched the scene unfold in silence. Their composed expressions revealed they were clearly privy to this development beforehand.
After a brief clamor, the banquet hall fell silent. All held their breath, awaiting the next move.
"Red Dog of the Hills" abruptly drew his longsword. This action caused concern to flash across some faces, fearing he might suddenly attack the King.
To everyone's surprise, however, he immediately dropped to one knee, bowed his head slowly, and placed the sword gently at Aegon's feet. Tears now glistened on his cheeks.
Aegon's expression solemn, he slowly picked up the sword, resting it on the Red Dog's right shoulder. His voice was steady and commanding.
"In the name of the realm, I command you to be brave."
With that, he slowly shifted the sword from the right shoulder to the left.
"In the name of the Father, I command you to be just..."
After this simple yet solemn ceremony, an attendant stepped forward and draped the prepared white cloak over the new member of the Kingsguard.
Instantly, thunderous applause erupted across the hall.
Just as Aegon turned to return to his seat, Aly suddenly rose and stepped before him.
Aegon frowned slightly, raising an eyebrow as he regarded his poised and elegant cousin. He inwardly groaned, knowing trouble was likely brewing.
Alysanne tilted her head back slightly, her gaze fixed firmly on Aegon. Her tone carried a hint of resentment and urgency.
"Your loyal adviser has received his honor. What about me?
The service my brother Aegon and I have rendered to the kingdom is no less than anyone else's. Yet now, I don't even possess a single fief where I can find peace and rest."
Her eyes betrayed a hint of grievance, as if these words had been bottled up within her for far too long.
Aegon remained composed, his gaze gentle as he looked at Alysanne.
"Stay by my side," he murmured softly. "Return to the court with me."
His tone carried familial warmth, an attempt to soothe her agitation.
"Live forever in your shadow? No, I will not!" Alysanne raised her voice, her emotions stirring. "I crave a domain of my own—a place where no Lord can threaten me, drive me out, or harass those under my protection.
I need land, men, and a strong Castle."
As she spoke, Alysanne unconsciously waved her arms, emphasizing her words.
The lords in the hall perked up at these words, their eyes turning toward the royal siblings. Naturally, they wouldn't meddle in the affairs of House Targaryen, but now they watched with quiet curiosity, eager to see how the situation would unfold.
Aegon gave a slight nod, his expression turning serious as he guessed his cousin's intentions.
"I can select a piece of land for you and build you a Castle," he said earnestly.
In Aegon's view, such an arrangement would serve as compensation for Jaehaerys' sacrifice for the Targaryen realm.
Alysanne, however, remained unmoved.
"All lands are already divided, and every castle has its master."
She paused, a flicker of resolve in her eyes.
"There is only one place... As a true Dragonblood, I desire my father's domain—the place of my birth: Dragonstone."
Upon hearing this, Lord Rogar, the Hand of the King, could no longer contain himself. He spoke coldly.
"Impossible. The ancestral lands of House Targaryen shall never be granted to you."
Rogar's grandfather was Orys Baratheon, the first Duke of Dorne, known as "One-Handed." As the bastard half-brother of Aegon the Conqueror, this close bloodline gave Rogar the self-assured right to comment on the internal affairs of House Targaryen.
Queen Regent Rhaena also looked troubled, gently urging, "Sister, Dragonstone has always been reserved for the heir prince. You should choose another domain."
Alysanne heard her sister Rhaena's words and felt a surge of secret delight, knowing her plan had succeeded. Outwardly, she remained composed, though a faint, involuntary smile played at the corners of her mouth, betraying a hint of joy.
Alysanne's scheme was deceptively simple: first propose an ostensibly excessive demand, then present her true objective. This made achieving her goal far easier.
Alysanne bowed slightly, folding her hands together in a respectful gesture toward Queen Regent Rhaena. Her tone was deferential yet laced with anticipation as she said, "In that case, a domain of Harrenhal's scale would indeed be fitting for one of true Dragonblood.
Sister, I pray you grant it to me."
At these words, Queen Regent Rhaena instinctively turned her gaze toward Aegon, as if seeking his counsel.
Aegon immediately caught the questioning and approval in Rhaena's eyes, but hesitation stirred within him. The lands of the New Citadel held immense strategic importance, their value no less than Dragonstone itself. He had no wish to hand over such a crucial place.
Aegon frowned slightly, preparing to refuse.
Just then, Grand Maester Bennifer stepped forward from the crowd, clearly moving to relieve King Aegon of the awkward moment.
He bowed slightly toward Alysanne and said, "Your Highness, your request is indeed quite reasonable. You and Prince Jaehaerys have made tremendous sacrifices for the new king's accession and the stability of the realm. You deserve generous rewards.
This old servant has a solution—one that would grant you lands more vast than Harrenhal and power second only to the King's. Would Your Highness be willing to hear it?"
Aegon raised an eyebrow at this. Though surprised, he did not interrupt. A faint, uneasy premonition stirred in his chest.
Alysanne, sharp as ever, instantly guessed what Bennifer was about to say. Her eyes flickered with sudden unease, and her voice trembled despite herself.
"Please… speak."
Bennifer gave her a reassuring nod. Then, with steady steps, he walked to the center of the hall. After bowing respectfully to Aegon, he began.
"The Targaryen Pureborn, descended from ancient Valyria, have long upheld the tradition of marriage within the family. Now, among the Pureborn, the only marriageable adults of legitimate birth are His Majesty Aegon and you, Princess Alysanne.
If you were to wed His Majesty, the entire kingdom would be bound to you. Your power would stand just beneath the King's. Dragonstone would naturally be yours, and Harrenhal would follow as well. What say you, Princess?"
The moment Bennifer's proposal left his lips, the banquet hall erupted into uproar. Voices rose in waves as lords broke into chatter. Many had hoped to put forward their own daughters to wed King Aegon, dreaming of a royal alliance to strengthen their houses.
Duke Hightower had even moved early to seize the initiative—but none had foreseen that the Pureborn would favor marriage within their own bloodline.
Alysanne stood frozen in silence. The hall's uproar seemed to fade away, leaving only the weight of countless eyes fixed upon her, waiting for her answer.
At that moment, Queen Regent Rhaena approached with graceful steps. She gently took Alysanne's hand, her face softened by a tender smile. Her eyes brimmed with certainty as she gave a slight, encouraging nod.
Struggle clouded Alysanne's face. She wavered, clearly torn by an intense inner conflict.
Then, meeting her sister's gaze, she hesitated only a moment longer before summoning her courage. Her voice was soft, yet beneath it lay a note of resolve.
"I… I will."
No sooner had the words left her lips than she turned and hurried out of the banquet hall, leaving the guests abuzz in a storm of murmurs and speculation.
...
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