Chapter 31
RHAENYS TARGARYEN
Queen.
That was what she would have been her title had she not been wronged. Had she not been thought of as lesser just because she was born a woman? She was the eldest child of the eldest son of Jaehaerys Targaryen, born to rule after her father, yet fate had other plans for them both.
It took away her father from her first, and then her rightful position.
It was a bitter pill to swallow, and now more than ever, she wondered just how her life would have been like, had the Old King not robbed her of her birthright. Yet she put such thoughts away, as she sipped her wine and stared at the home that she had gotten in return.
Spicetown, the pinnacle of Velaryon power, stood tall, its streets still lit with fires and lamps as the town bustled with merchants and markets, as spices, wools, and cottons exchanged hands even this late into the night.
A City built in a single generation, Spice Town was the result of the courage and devotion of one man—Corlys Vealryon. The Sea Snake they called him for his nine Voyages, which had turned the fortunes of his House.
He had taken House Velaryon from a House of middling and fading import to becoming the richest and most powerful of all the Great Houses. The Velaryons boasted of the greatest fleet and wealth within the Seven Kingdoms, eclipsing even the fabled Lions of Casterly Rock with their unending mines of gold.
He was a man who had clawed at wealth and fame. He was a man admired by thousands. He was the man loved by her.
She could hardly tell the reason what drew her towards him, yet she was. She found in him an ally she could trust, an ally she could rely on in that den of thievery and politics.
Yet, even together, they were not powerful enough to challenge a King. Their dragon and fleet were made useless in the face of betrayal from her own grandfather, and the anguish and pain from that day still lingered in her heart, as she took a deep sigh as the realm mourned the loss of the Old King.
He was a good King. A true successor to the legacy of Aegon the Conqueror, and though it was Aegon who may have conquered the Seven Kingdoms, one could argue that it was Jaehaerys who had welded them together, uniting them under the King's Law.
He had rebuilt much of the capital and given the realm nearly half a century of peace and prosperity, and yet he had robbed her of her birthright. Kind and old as he was, she did not know whether to mourn the man who had held her as she cried after hearing of her father's demise or celebrate the death of a man who had robbed her of her father's legacy.
She heard the door open behind her, and by now she was able to recognise him by the sound of his steps, and there were few who would dare to enter her room without her permission.
Corlys came and stood beside her, and she did not miss the tenseness and rage boiling inside him.
He had been strained ever since word had come of the Old King's passing, and she knew the reason for the uneasiness well enough. While Rhaenys had long come to terms with the fact that the Crown did not belong to her, Corlys refused to give up on her birthright and ambitions.
She had shared her dreams and ambitions with him, and though she was content just being the Lady of High Tide and mother to their children. Yet he was not so content.
Not at all.
"We have been summoned," Corlys began, and he was a big man, with broad shoulders, and thick dark silver hair that was tied into braids. He was tall and thin, and as she glanced at his face, she saw a fiery rage bubbling in that gaze.
"Summoned?" she questioned, and Corlys' nostrils flared as he took out a scroll from his pocket and pushed it towards her. Rhaenys unfurled the rolled scroll and began to skim over its contents.
Few in the realm were blind to the tensions between the Crown and House Velaryon. Corlys was the Old King's Master of Ships, and yet it was well known that the Velaryons had withdrawn from the court for years, in response to insults and injustice inflicted on her by King Jaehaerys.
Content she may be, but neither Rhaenys nor Corlys could ever forgive the Old King and his kin for what they had done to her.
And yet now they wrote to them, demanding that the Velaryons present themselves at court to swear fealty to the new King. It was a strongly worded letter, containing within it a warning that failure to comply could result in the removal of House Velaryon from their near ancestral and rightful positions as the Crown's master of Ships.
"Daemon Targaryen," she read the name signed at the end, and began to doubt the veracity of the entire thing, and the letter was signed.
"Daemon Targaryen, Prince of the Realm..." she read in full, as Corlys scoffed angrily.
"Prince! He is no Prince. He is the son of Usurper, and now that he wants us to come to Kingslanding and bow to the very man who stole your birthright from you," and it was an insult that she had never expected out of her nuncle.
"You think, the King asked him to write this," and Corlys frowned, as he looked her in the eye.
"Who else has the authority?" he questioned, and despite the shoch, Rhaenys could hardly imagine her nuncle doing so.
She had little love for Baelon Targaryen, but the man was not so petty as to desire such a gesture. Despite their misgivings, the man had loved her father. She could not imagine him ordering such a thing.
"He wishes to intimidate us, while hiding behind his son." Corlys's rage was palpable, and Rhaenys had no words to calm him, for his own blood was laced with rage and betrayal.
"He wants to humiliate us. You. Our House. They fear us for they know that they have wronged you, and now we have nothing at our sides," and she could not imagine the reason behind such a letter.
"It was the Old King who chose Prince Baelon over me. I can think of no reason for him to act in such a way," and Corlys scoffed.
"I can," and she raised a brow at the quickness of his answer.
"Power. Legitimacy," Corlys answered, looking at her with an intense gaze, as Rhaenys' lips thinned, and Corlys stepped closer as his voice grew quieter and softer.
"I know that you asked not to mention this agai..." and she already knew what he was about to say.
"Then don't..." But he would not stop, as he continued.
"There are many who believe that you were wronged. Who believe that the Old King wronged you in choosing Prince Baelon over the rightful heir," and she turned away from him, pulling out of his hands, reaching for her arms as she turned towards the city.
Yet Corlys did not stop.
"There are many who would be willing to rise up for you if you were to make a claim," and she would be lying if the thought had never crossed her mind. She had spent years imagining herself as the First Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
She had taken lessons, studied for hours upon hours, all for that day. Only to have her dreams and aspirations taken from her, all because she was born a girl.
The thought of taking it back, and fighting for her birthright had seldom crossed her mind, until she was reminded of her histories.
"I will not become another Maegor," she whispered, and Corlys pulled her by the arm, as he caressed her face.
"Maegor was a usurper. You are the daughter of Prince Aemon Targaryen, and the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. The throne is your destiny, no matter how much you may deny it," and she wanted to nod. She wanted to accept those words, and yet she was not blind to the implications such a decision would have.
War. Death. Pain.
A conflict initiated by a few simple words could unravel forty years of peace, and Rhaenys could not bear to have such a burden on her shoulders.
"Say the word, and I shall do everything in my power to sit you on the Iron Throne," and she reached for his hand, and held it tightly as her eyes watered up.
"I can't," and it tore her apart, breaking his heart like this as his eyes grew hard, as he slowly pulled away his hands.
"Then this shall become the norm!" he said as he held up the missive, as Rhaenys' face tensed.
"They will continue to insult us. Degrade us and our children all because they fear us. They will ask her to kneel, to bend the knee and swear fealty while they rob us and our children of their right," Corlys argued, and she shook her head.
"I will never let anyone wrong our children," Rhaenys assured him, yet he simply scoffed.
"How?" he asked, as he backed away.
"How will you do that, when you can't even stand up for yourself," and with that, he threw the missive on the ground and walked away, leaving her alone on that balcony, as tears dripped down her face.
And as she stood there alone, staring into the skies, she missed her father.
"What am I to do now, father?" she asked, and it would have been so easy to accept Corlys's words.
She knew that she had some support. The Baratheons were her kin, and there as well, who would support her claim, for greed or gold.
Yet, she did not wish to be like Maegor. She did not desire for Fire and Blood to tear apart the Kingdom once more.
Yet she also knew that Corlys was right. She had to stand up and fight. If not for the Crown, then for respect and dignity, for otherwise the Crown would strike to strip away what little she had left of her father's legacy.
And so, she turned around and sat herself on the table, as she rang a bell summoning a servant.
"Bring me some paper and a quill," she ordered, and the servant nodded, and a few minutes later, she grabbed a quill, dipped it in ink, and began to write her response to the missive sent to them by her uncle.
"To Prince Baelon Targaryen...."
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BAELON TARGARYEN
Baelon was not young. He was a man of over forty years of age, and yet in all these years, he had never seen such an expression on his mother's face.
Never for him. Until today.
The old and frail Good Queen sat infront of him, and his father's demise had aged her by decades, and one could now see the frailty and humanity of the woman who had once ruled over the Seven Kingdoms beside her husband, who had flown from the burning deserts of Dorne to the cold wall of the North.
Yet now, she could hardly climb a few sets of stairs, and yet Baelon continued to burden her.
"Do you have any idea what you have done, Baelon?" she asked, and she did not raise her voice, nor did her nostrils flare with rage, yet it pained him more than any of those could, for in that voice was sheer disappointment.
"I do," Baelon answered, as they sat in his father's solar, and he felt so small and inadequate as he sat in his father's chair. He had thought that it would be easy. That he had enough experience at court to build upon his father's legacy, and yet he had underestimated the weight and implications of every small decision.
For a King was not just responsible for his actions. No, he was responsible for the actions of his council and his family.
"It was a mistake giving so much power to Daemon," and in that time of vulnerability after the Old King's death, Baelon had no one but Daemon to rely on.
His second son had always been the cause of many headaches for him, yet he had thought that he responsibility and authority might temper his abrasive attitude. That by giving him purpose, Baelon might be able to make a better man out of him.
Yet, it was all his folly, and Daemon had taken what little power and authority he had given to him, and abused it so much that the entire realm now had to fear a civil war, besides the dubious and deadly plague wreaking havoc over his city.
"Of course it was," his mother answered, as his fist tightened over his cane.
"You should have known better. No King can rule alone. Even your father relied much on his counsel and advisors during his reign, and he would have wanted you to do the same," and yet his father had men he could trust around him.
He had his Queen, while Baelon was thrust into the position amidst pain, tragedy, and plague. He had been thrust into it alone.
"He had Barth, and you and a dozen other people. I just hoped that Daemon could be for me what Barth, and you were for him," Baelon answered, but he had been wrong.
"Daemon is no Barth," and it was rare to see the Queen speak of someone like that, for his mother was often careful about how she spoke of people.
"I know that now," for he could not ever imagine Septon Barth, antagonising the most powerful and richest House in the realm, at the most crucial time.
Baelon would admit that he had made a mistake in distrusting Galen. That he may have let the rumors and whispers poison his mind, even though it had been his son who had brought much of them to his ears.
Yet antagonising and threatening Corlys and Rhaenys, this had been an act Daemon had done entirely on his own, and now the entire Crown had to bear the consequences for it.
"You should have known that already," she lashed out slightly, as Baelon had no words to defend himself.
"It just became too much," he whispered back.
"The rumors. The whispers. The plague. The deaths. I simply wished to rely on someone," and her eyes softened as she nodded.
"I know that you are better than this. Your father and I knew that a day would come when you would ascend the throne and need a Barth of your own, for no King can rule alone," she added.
"It was my home that Galen could be that for you," and yet he had antagonised the young Healer, and despite three days of searching, they had yet to find any trace of his whereabouts.
Despite the Crown's assurances, none came forward with any information, for any promises on behalf of the Crown were now seen as bait and traps, and though they had hated him before, his absence had begun to remind people just why they had loved the Healer as they had once.
The Maesters and the whispers had been wrong. The Plague that he had thought a lie and a ploy was indeed real, and without Galen and his Healers to care for the sick, a wave of deaths had brought sheer silence to the entire city, as they all lamented over their actions, much like him.
Gael had begun gathering back much of the Healers to continue Galen's work, yet she was not Galen. She did not inspire people as he did, nor did she have his un-wordly expertise and without them the Crown was left with no choice but to pray, and hope as the plague wreaked havoc.
"Galen would have served you well," and there was regret in that tone.
"He would have become kin," and his eyes widened at that.
"You mean..." and she nodded.
"Your father agreed to the match between him and Gael. He gave him his blessings himself, and yet you had him put into the Black Cells for treason and destroyed all of his life's work, all because of some suspicion," and now with the truth out in the open, and the dead piling up on the streets, the nobles, the merchants, and the small folk all prayed for his return.
"It was a ploy," Baelon argued, and she nodded.
"It was, and you should have seen to that," but he had trusted Daemon more than that healer. He had let grief cloud his senses.
"The Maesters have little reason to love Galen, and it was why they sowed doubt against him. The Small folk, for all their love and gratitude, are an easy prey for whispers and superstitions, and we should have feared for such a plot, and yet..." and she did not say more, as there was hardly anything they could do now.
"We are searching for him," he added. She looked out the window.
"You won't find him," she answered, not adding anything more.
"Then what should we do?" he asked.
"The matter regarding Galen, painful as it is, is no longer our primary concern. Our biggest concern right now is the Velaryons and how your son has pitted us against Rhaenys and the Sea Snake," and his lips thinned at the mention of his niece, for a part of him did feel guilty that it was he who sat the throne rather than her, for she was Aemon's daughter.
Yet her father had been certain that the realm would never accept a Queen, and that he must succeed him to ensure stability.
What an irony it was that his father had chosen him to ensure stability, and yet in his grief, Baelon had nearly ruined forty years of peace and prosperity in but a few moons.
"I have already stripped Daemon of all his authority," and he had placed him into his quarters, and made sure that he would no longer cause more trouble for him.
"But you must aid me in this. Rhaenys and Corlys have taken great offence to Daemon's missive, and for good reason. His son had nearly threatened her children and position while brandishing the Crown's power.
"Daemon has weakened the Crown. If you disown the letter, it would reflect badly on you, for how could the realm trust you to rule over the Seven Kingdoms when your own family acts as such," and she was right.
"Yet endorsing those words would be an even greater idiocracy, and so we must now temper our words," she suggested.
"I shall write to Rhaenys, and you shall do the same for Corlys. Invite him to Kingslanding, and make an offer of Peace," and he nodded.
"I will, but what if they refuse?" and already there was conflict between their two Houses, and now Daemon's letter had inflamed it further. There was a chance that better sense would prevail, that he might be able to mend the relationship between the two Houses.
But they had to be ready for what might happen otherwise.
"Then we pray and prepare ourselves for conflict....." and that sounded ominous, as her mother took a deep breath.
"I grow tired now," and she pushed herself up with the help of her cane, as Baelon rose up, yet she stopped him as she summoned a servant who began to help her to his room.
"And Baelon," and his head snapped at the sudden words.
"Yes."
"You should name yourself a Hand...."
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