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Princess Daenys Targaryen, born to Queen Rhaenys and King Aegon the Conqueror, was the first dragonborn of the new realm. Golden-haired and purple-eyed, she was a vision of Valyria reborn—raised as heir to the Iron Throne, beloved of her father and favored by the realm.

A year later, Queen Visenya gave birth to Prince Maegor, strong, solemn, and shadowed—yet inseparably drawn to Daenys from the cradle.

They were companions in the court, then partners in dragonriding, twin terrors of sky and flame.

Though Aegon had raised Daenys to rule, the Faith of the Seven protested a female monarch with increasing fury. The High Septon, backed by the Faith Militant, threatened unrest and rebellion should a queen be crowned.

Aegon, ever a pragmatist, yielded. In 24 AC, he named Maegor, now 16, as Prince of Dragonstone—his heir.

Daenys was devastated. But at the urging of Visenya and Rhaenys, Aegon agreed to betroth them. It was a compromise: Maegor would rule, but Daenys would remain a queen in all but name.

They wed in 25 AC, aged 18 and 17—not just in duty, but in love.

King Aegon I died in 37 AC, and Maegor ascended to the Iron Throne with Daenys as his Queen.

In the first five years of their reign, peace bloomed; Daenys proved a gifted ruler—merciful, just, and deeply loved by the smallfolk. Maegor remained a loyal husband, a fierce warrior, and the protector of the realm.

Together they had five children by 42 AC:

Rhaena, fierce and wild; Aegon, solemn and strong; Viserys, clever-eyed; Jaehaerys, quiet and kind; Alyssane, sweet as snow.

Every child was born healthy, every cradle had a dragon egg nestled within. The realm whispered that Daenys brought a second spring.

In early 42 AC, Queen Daenys, now 35, became pregnant with her sixth child. She had ruled beside Maegor for five years, and though tensions with the Faith had not disappeared, open conflict had been avoided.

That peace shattered on a stormy night in late 42 AC, when Queen Daenys was taken by sudden labor. The midwives were unfamiliar. The septa attending her were new.

The Queen bled to death in childbirth, and her infant daughter was stillborn.

When the midwives were questioned, they vanished. When the septa were interrogated, they were found to be agents of the Warrior’s Sons—the Faith Militant had struck.

Maegor's grief was unimaginable.

He had loved her not only as wife and mother of his children, but as his other half, the softer voice to his fire.

After Daenys’ death, Maegor was never the same.

“The man who once loved became the man who only ruled.”

He blamed the Faith entirely, vowing vengeance for Daenys and their unborn daughter.

The Sept of Remembrance was burned to ash. The Faith Militant outlawed, their knights hunted down.

All septas, septons, and holy brothers were viewed with suspicion. Hundreds were executed—some innocent, some not.

Maegor took multiple wives, hoping to recapture something of what he lost, but never produced another heir.

He forced the lords of Westeros to bend the knee anew, threatening fire upon any who whispered Daenys should have ruled alone.

He constructed the Black Cells, expanded the Red Keep, and ordered the creation of Maegor’s Holdfast—a fortress within a fortress, where he slept with sword in hand.

By 48 AC, Maegor was king in name only.

The lords hated him. The people feared him. Even Balerion was said to grow restless beneath his command.

One morning, Maegor was found dead upon the Iron Throne, its blades piercing his arms, throat, and back.

No one saw who did it.

Some say it was the sons of Daenys, seeking vengeance. Others claim it was Rhaena, riding Dreamfyre into the Red Keep in the dead of night.

Still others believe it was the Iron Throne itself, rejecting the man who had murdered its true queen.

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"The Sons and Daughters of the Cruel."

A Chronicle by Archmaester Runciter of the Citadel, composed in the reign of King Jaehaerys I. 

“It is said the dragons died not from sword nor spear, but from the pride of their masters and the blood of their bastards.”

On the Legacy of King Maegor I Targaryen. 

King Maegor the Cruel, third to sit the Iron Throne, left behind a reign written in fire and blood. Yet among his many brutal deeds, perhaps none proved more consequential than the fruit of his six marriages.

Though history long whispered of his curse—wives barren, babes stillborn—this proved untrue. In truth, six children survived Maegor’s reign, each born of a different mother, each destined to stake a claim in the ruin their father left behind.

These children would later be known by septons and maesters alike as "The Black Seeds" or, in less forgiving tongues, “Maegor’s Spawn.”

1. Prince Maelor Targaryen. 

Born 43 AC – Son of Queen Ceryse Hightower. 

 "The Crown's True Flame."

Raised in the Red Keep but educated by septons and maesters sent from Oldtown, Prince Maelor bore the golden hair of the Hightowers and the stern discipline of the Faith. As the eldest son, Maegor proclaimed him heir in 48 AC, naming him Prince of Dragonstone.

Maelor was dutiful, if reserved, and many hoped he would heal the wounds left by his father. He rode the dragon Greenfyre, and commanded quiet loyalty from the Riverlands and the Reach. Upon Maegor’s death in 48 AC, Maelor's claim was immediately challenged—by blood, ambition, and dragons.

2. Prince Alyn Targaryen. 

Born 44 AC – Son of Queen Alys Harroway.

"The King's Shadow."

Rumors clouded Prince Alyn’s birth. Whispers accused Queen Alys of infidelity, but Maegor kept the boy and raised him in the shadow of the court. Charismatic and cunning, Alyn won the hearts of smallfolk in King’s Landing and the admiration of the Gold Cloaks.

He never sat upon a dragon in youth, but claimed the elusive Grey Ghost in adulthood. Alyn later styled himself Protector of the City, and seized the capital in 49 AC. His claim was bolstered by many who hated both Maelor’s piety and Jaehaerys’s distant claim.

3. Princess Lysara Targaryen. 

Born 45 AC – Daughter of Queen Tyanna of the Tower

"The Witchling Flame."

Born in the Tower of the Hand under the full moon, Lysara’s first cry is said to have shattered a stained-glass window. Tall, dark-eyed, and mysterious, she was raised under the tutelage of her mother, the feared Tyanna of Pentos.

Lysara claimed Nightwing, her dragon, at age 10. She vanished from court after Maegor’s death and reemerged five years later with a fleet of Essosi mercenaries and shadowbinders. Some claimed she sought the Throne. Others say she sought vengeance for her mother’s death.

Her fate remains uncertain, though tales of a “Silver Sorceress” ruling in the ruins of Valyria are oft told in Lys.

4. Prince Gaemon Targaryen. 

Born 45 AC – Son of Queen Jeyne Westerling.

"The Hammer of the West."

A knight in the truest sense, Gaemon was trained by Westerland armsmasters and fostered at Casterly Rock. Fiercely proud and brave, he bonded with the fierce dragon Sheepstealer, whom none before had dared approach.

When Maegor died, Gaemon returned from the Westerlands with a host of bannermen. He openly challenged Maelor’s right, declaring himself the last will of the dragonlord, claiming his father named him heir with his final breath.

His death in the skies above Bitterbridge—torn from his saddle and devoured by Maekar’s dragon—marked the first major casualty in the war of succession.

5. Princess Eleyna Targaryen.

Born 46 AC – Daughter of Queen Elinor Costayne.

"The Silent Sister."

Gentle, gracious, and brown-haired, Eleyna was the least known of Maegor’s children. Raised in the court’s quieter wings, she bonded with the dragon Whiteflame, whose serene temperament matched her own.

In the years after her father’s death, Eleyna sought peace between her brothers, advocating union and diplomacy. She was offered in marriage to both Maelor and Alyn, but accepted neither, fearing to become a pawn in a game of dragons.

Eventually, she wed a knight from Velaryon side branch, in hopes of binding the warring branches. Her line would later become known as the White Flame, remembered for mercy in an age of ruin.

6. Prince Maekar Targaryen. 

Born 47 AC – Son of Queen Rhaena Targaryen.

"The Bloodborn Flame."

Of all Maegor’s children, Maekar bore the truest Targaryen blood—born of niece and uncle, dragon and dragon. He was fierce, proud, and cold-eyed,  later claiming a beast—Terrax, a beast hatched in secret on Dragonstone.

Maekar named himself The Last Son of Valyria, scorning Maelor’s Faith and Alyn’s populism. His forces swept the Crownlands in 50 AC, clashing with Maelor at Duskendale, where the skies were black with dragonfire.

His death at the hands of his cousin Jaehaerys (with Vermithor) ended the War of Maegor’s Spawn.

Aftermath: The Cleansing of the Flame. 

The civil war that followed Maegor's death, known as "The Cleansing of the Flame", consumed the realm from 48 to 51 AC. All six children of Maegor perished or vanished. Jaehaerys I, son of Aenys I, emerged as King in 51 AC, vowing to heal the realm.

In his edicts, Jaehaerys struck the names of Maegor’s children from the royal lineage, forbidding them from being honored or remembered in court chronicles. Only in the Citadel and in private histories does their tale endure.

“Had Maegor’s children ruled, perhaps dragons would still soar over the realm, or perhaps Westeros would be nothing but ash. From their blood came fire, from their fire came ruin, and from their ruin, peace—brief though it was.”

– Archmaester Runciter.

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The wind off Blackwater Bay clawed at the ancient towers of Dragonstone like a ghost denied its rest. The sea below roared its endless chorus, a song of salt and fury, but Prince Aegon Targaryen barely heard it.

He stood alone on the high balcony of the Stone Drum, a scroll crumpled in one hand, his silver-blond hair whipping around his face. Behind him, the chamber was warm and filled with the soft, slumbering breath of his wife and son. But Aegon could not sleep—not tonight.

Tonight, he had dreamt of fire.

Again.

He exhaled slowly, his breath misting in the cold air.

"Do you ever wonder if the dragons dream of us, as we dream of them?" he had once asked Daenerys in their youth. She had only laughed, soft and sweet, and kissed his cheek. “We are theirs, Aegon,” she’d said. “As much as they are ours.”

But that was before the burden of his name began to bite at his shoulders like a crown of iron.

Below, he could see the great courtyard where his dragon, Morghul—the black-scaled son of the Black Dread himself—slept curled like a molten coil. The beast’s breaths were deep and steady, its wings twitching in slumber. Its eyes, when open, were old and full of things men were not meant to understand.

The maesters whispered that Aegon had the look of his grandsire, King Aenys, and the heart of his great-uncle Maegor. Others said he was too quiet, too still, too thoughtful for war or rule.

Let them whisper.

He had seen the way his father, King Jaehaerys, stared at him sometimes—like a man watching a flame too closely, wondering if it would warm the hearth or burn the house to ash.

Aegon did not begrudge his father’s doubts. The realm was large, its weight immense. The peace Jaehaerys had carved from chaos had not come cheaply. And now that burden was passing to him.

Inside, his son Aerion lay in a cradle carved with dragons. His hair was already silver-gold. His eyes—Violet. A child of Valyria through and through.

Aegon stepped back into the chamber and moved to the crib. For a long moment, he simply stared down.

"You will carry the fire after me," he thought. "And the fire must never die."

But what kind of world would Aerion inherit?

Would he rule in peace, or would the old flames rise again? The Faith still whispered behind closed doors. Lords still grumbled of incestuous unions and dragon tyranny. And his brother Aemon—duty-bound and righteous—had begun to draw the eyes of the court, quietly but surely.

Aegon did not fear Aemon. He loved him, even. But he understood power, and what it demanded. Aemon had Jocelyn Baratheon. Soon, they would have their own child. The bloodlines would tangle. Claims would brew. The old stories told him how such tensions ended.

“Do you think he’ll have a dragon?” Daenerys’ voice stirred from the bed behind him, drowsy and warm.

Aegon looked up from the cradle. “He must,” he said.

She rose on one elbow, her long hair tumbling like silver silk. “And if he doesn’t?”

He said nothing.

Daenerys rose and joined him at the cradle. Her hand found his. “You’re not your uncle,” she whispered. “You are you. And he will be better, because you are better.”

Aegon stared at his sleeping son.

“I will give him a world worth ruling,” he said softly. “Even if I have to burn it clean.”

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92 AC. 

The bolt came hissing through the humid Lyseni air — fast, hungry, and fatal. It was aimed true, whistling toward the breast of the man in black-and-crimson plate.

But fate, as ever, bent its course.

It struck Aemon Targaryen high in the shoulder, glancing off a ridge of dragonbone-enforced steel. Pain exploded in his arm as the bolt tore through the flesh and muscle, but it did not pierce his heart.

The crown prince did not fall.

His sworn sword, Ser Ryam Redwyne, roared and leapt from his saddle, cutting down the Myrish sellsail who’d loosed the bolt. Another rider pulled Aemon back from the fray, his blood soaking into the saddle, but his eyes remained sharp — furious and alive.

He would carry the wound for weeks. It would fester. He would scream in the night with fever.

But Aemon lived.

For days, he burned with fever. For weeks, he lingered near death, clinging to breath as his wife Jocelyn wept beside him and their daughter Rhaenys refused to leave his side.

But in the end, the heir to the Iron Throne rose from his bed, scarred and changed — but unbroken.

98AC.

The solar was thick with tension.

Queen Alysanne stood at the window, her hand wringing a kerchief that had once been lace. King Jaehaerys sat at his writing desk, quill still, eyes dark with thought. The only sound was the flick of the fire.

Aemon stood before them, his wounded arm in a black silk sling, silver hair tied back in a warrior’s knot.

“She is a woman,” Jaehaerys said, not for the first time. “A fine one — proud, valiant — but a woman all the same.”

“She is more than fine,” Aemon said evenly. “She is a dragonrider, a commander, and mother to the king’s blood.”

“Her daughter is half Velaryon—”

“And entirely mine,” came a voice from the threshold.

Princess Rhaenys stepped into the solar, tall as her mother, her violet eyes hard as cut glass. She wore a gown of black and red, and her crown of braids was adorned with dragonbone pins. Behind her, Lord Corlys Velaryon loomed like a shadow — proud, watchful, silent.

“My daughter is Laena Velaryon,” Rhaenys said. “She rides Vhagar. She has more dragonfire in her than half the men of court.”

Jaehaerys’s jaw clenched. “And will the realm bend the knee to a girl? Or will they tear each other apart debating it?”

“I have seen no tears in their eyes when bending the knee to me,” Rhaenys replied coldly. “And I do not intend to be passed over.”

Aemon turned to his father.

“You named me your heir. You trusted my judgment with blood and fire. Then trust me now. I will have no other. Rhaenys is my heir — and through her, Laena after her.”

Jaehaerys looked between his son, his granddaughter, his queen.

“I named you because I believed the realm needed a steady hand,” he said at last. “Not fire and pride.”

“And I have given you both,” Aemon said. “But I will not give you cowardice. Not when it comes to my daughter. Not when it comes to her daughter.”

A long silence fell.

Then Alysanne, her voice barely a whisper, said: “If you deny Rhaenys, what was all my work for?”

Jaehaerys said nothing.

The Great Council of 101 AC never met.

Prince Aemon lived long enough to see Rhaenys rise as heir, to watch Laena soar on Vhagar’s wings, to hear lords call them Princess of Dragonstone and the Flame of Driftmark.

Viserys ruled the Stepstones. Daemon carved a kingdom in the east. But the Iron Throne passed, as it should, from Aemon to Rhaenys… and then to Laena Velaryon.

The dragons still flew.

And the war never came.

Because one bolt missed — and a father stood for his daughter.

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"The Children of Driftmark."

A Chronicle by Grandmaester Gerardys of Dragonstone, composed in the reign of Queen Rhaenyra I. 

In the reign of King Viserys I, when dragons still ruled the skies and Valyrian blood shaped the destinies of kings, none were more prominent—or more closely watched—than the children of Princess Rhaenys Targaryen and Lord Corlys Velaryon.

From the great halls of High Tide to the black stones of Dragonstone, the names Laenys, Laena, Laenor, Aethan, and Addam were spoken with admiration, envy, and—on occasion—fear.

Laenys Velaryon, the First Flame. 

Born in 93 AC, Laenys was firstborn of the five and groomed from the cradle to inherit Driftmark. Tall, silver-haired, and grave beyond his years, he bore the weight of expectation with a quiet certainty. He had the commanding presence of his father and the sharp mind of his mother, though it was said he rarely raised his voice—only his brow, which often proved enough.

At ten and three, he bonded with Vermithor, once the mount of Old King Jaehaerys. The dragon had grown temperamental in his riderless years, yet Laenys tamed him with a steady hand. By his teens, many in the court of King Viserys whispered that Laenys might prove a more fitting heir than the king’s daughter.

But Laenys bore no hunger for crowns. When he wed Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, it was not ambition but loyalty that guided him. Their marriage united Dragonstone and Driftmark, and it was agreed their firstborn would bear the name Targaryen, and their second, the name Velaryon.

In Laenys, the blood of Old Valyria ran thick, and through his union with Rhaenyra, he became the cornerstone of the realm's hopes for a peaceful succession.

Laena Velaryon, the Driftmark's Beauty. 

Born in 94 AC, Laena was flame given form—a bold, willful girl with wild curls of silver-gold and a spirit that refused to be tamed. She was the first of the siblings to ride a dragon, and not just any dragon: Vhagar, the oldest and fiercest living wyrm of the Conquest.

At just twelve, Laena climbed atop Vhagar’s great saddle in the skies above Driftmark, earning her place in the annals of dragonriders. Her laughter echoed from the skies and struck awe into those who watched from the castle walls below.

In 111 AC, she wed Ser Clement Celtigar, heir to Claw Isle. Though some questioned the match—Celtigars were proud but modest in power—Laena saw in Clement a kindred flame: a man of Valyrian blood, brave and loyal.

Their union strengthened ties between the Targaryen, Velaryon, and Celtigar lines, and their children, born under red banners and salt winds, bore the name Celtigar, heirs not only to a house but to a legacy of dragons.

Laenor Velaryon, the Lord of Seasmoke. 

Born in 96 AC, Laenor Velaryon was known for his charm, finery, and easy laughter. He bonded with Seasmoke in his youth and was often seen soaring above Driftmark in glittering armor, his silver cloak streaming behind him.

His marriage to Lady Jeyne Arryn, Lady of the Eyrie and head of House Arryn, was not arranged by lords, but conceived in private between Laenys, Rhaenyra, Laenor, and Jeyne—a coalition of heirs determined to secure the realm through shared blood and mutual respect.

Their children, who bore the Arryn name, secured the Vale's allegiance. Yet, rumors clung to them like fog on the Fingers. It was whispered in corridors and courts that Jeyne’s bond with Lady Jessamyn Redfort exceeded propriety, and that Laenor’s affection for Ser Joffrey Lonmouth was more than that of a knight and sworn companion.

The legitimacy of their offspring was never challenged openly, but the whispers never truly ceased. Even so, the Vale remained loyal, and Jeyne Arryn ruled with steel and grace.

Aethan Velaryon, the Blade of Storm's End. 

Born in 97 AC, twin to Addam and second youngest, Aethan Velaryon was built like a warhammer—broad-shouldered, bold, and boisterous. From an early age, he showed prowess in the yard, favoring the sword over scrolls. Though gifted a dragon egg at birth, it never hatched, and Aethan never bonded with a dragon.

Yet his lack of wings did not diminish his ambition. In 116 AC, he married Lady Cassandra Baratheon, heir to Storm’s End. Their children bore the Baratheon name and hair, but inherited the Velaryon features and bloodline, binding the storm to the sea.

Aethan took to the Stormlands with ease—leading hunts, riding thunder down the Kingsroad, and commanding garrisons with a martial zeal. His warriors loved him, and the smallfolk feared and respected him. He became the shield of the south, a prince of war without a dragon, but not without fire.

Addam Velaryon, the Quiet Storm.

Addam, the younger twin, was lean where Aethan was broad, quiet where his brother bellowed. Though born minutes later, he always seemed the elder—watchful, careful, and contemplative. He, too, was gifted a dragon egg, and like his brother, it never hatched. Yet his was not cold or hardened to stone. Some said it pulsed with warmth, others claimed he spoke to it in High Valyrian at night.

Addam never wed. He chose instead the path of the mind: sailing as envoy for House Velaryon, mapping currents, trading with distant ports, and studying histories of Old Valyria. In court, he was a ghost of purpose, always present, rarely speaking, yet always watching.

And yet, a single rumor clung to him more stubbornly than any tale of war or policy: that he once loved his niece, the daughter of Laenys and Rhaenyra. Born of fire and crown, she was betrothed to her elder brother, heir to the Iron Throne, a match designed to secure the royal line. But Addam’s gaze, it was said, lingered too long.

They were often seen walking the cliffs of Driftmark alone, speaking in hushed tones. When the betrothal was announced, Addam withdrew from court, taking ship for Lys and returning a year later, thinner and silent.

No proof of affection was ever found. The Princess herself spoke of him fondly, but distantly, calling him “my dear uncle".

Together, the children of Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys forged a new Valyrian dynasty, bound not only by dragons and blood, but by ships, oaths, and shared destiny.

Though not all bore dragons upon their backs, each carried the legacy of Old Valyria in different form: the crown, the fleet, the flame, the sword, the silence.

And though the realm praised their unity, the truth of family is never so simple. For beneath every great house lies a hearth, and within every hearth, a secret never told aloud.

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The Legacy of Princess Daenerys of the Vale. 

Penned by Maester Othmer of the Eyrie, in service to Lady Jeyne Arryn. 

Few unions in the latter years of the reign of King Jaehaerys I proved as fateful as the marriage of Princess Daenerys Targaryen, second-born child of the King and Queen Alysanne, to Lord Rodrik Arryn, Defender of the Vale, in the year 70 AC. It was a match forged in wisdom, for Queen Alysanne had long wished to see her children wed to the great lords of the realm, binding crown to kingdom not through steel alone, but through kinship.

Princess Daenerys, though once betrothed to her older brother who die young and later considered for a match in the Westerlands, found a steadier life amid the mists and mountains of the Vale. The marriage to Lord Rodrik was by all accounts contented, and their union bore fruit.

The five children of Princess Daenerys Targaryen and Lord Rodrik Arryn were born between the peaks of the Vale and the embers of old Valyria. Though raised far from the dragons of Dragonstone, each child bore within them a spark of their mother’s blood — proud, willful, and fierce in heart. Their lives, bound by blood yet often severed by fate, shaped the Vale and touched the Iron Throne itself.

Roland Arryn (b. 71 AC – d. 97 AC). 

Heir to the Eyrie, Lord Presumptive of the Vale.

The firstborn son, Roland, was a solemn and dutiful heir, said to resemble his grandsire Jaehaerys in both manner and mind. Groomed from birth to rule, Roland preferred books and the counsel chamber to swordplay, though he bore arms when honor demanded. In 91 AC, he wed Lady Alayne Royce, uniting two of the Vale’s oldest bloodlines.

Their union bore only one child, Jeyne Arryn, in 94 AC. Roland doted upon her, and it is said he wept openly at her naming. His lordship was not to be — in 97 AC, he was slain in an ambush by Stone Crows alongside his father and brother. He died defending his kin, sword in hand.

Edmund Arryn (b. 72 AC – d. 97 AC). 

Second Son, the Ambitious Falcon. 

Where Roland was calm and cautious, Edmund was passionate and proud. The twin of Lady Elys, Edmund was ever in motion — dueling in the yard, hunting mountain goats, or debating points of law with his tutors. He wed Lady Jyana Templeton in 93 AC, a match arranged by Princess Daenerys to bind the Templetons firmly to the Eyrie.

Their only son, Arnold Arryn, was born in 95 AC, and inherited his father’s fire. When Roland and Edmund perished together, it was said they had not spoken in moons — a quarrel over succession, perhaps, or pride left to fester.

Arnold would twice rebel against his cousin Jeyne. That tale is told elsewhere.

Elys Arryn (b. 72 AC – d. ?). 

Lady of Strongsong. 

Twin to Edmund and the only daughter to remain in the Vale, Lady Elys was fair of face and clear of voice, with a mind sharp as mountain frost. She wed Lord Gareth Belmore in 90 AC, and bore him twin sons in 91 AC: Galberth and Gaven Belmore. A third child, a daughter, was born later, though her name is lost to record.

Elys served as a quiet but constant pillar in the troubled years that followed the deaths of her father and brothers. Neither she nor her sons took arms during Arnold’s rebellions, but her counsel likely helped steer wavering houses toward Lady Jeyne’s cause.

Some say the Belmores hoped to marry into the Arryn line again, should Jeyne remain without issue.

Amanda Arryn (b. 75 AC – d. ?). 

Lady of Seagard.

Ever thoughtful and reserved, Amanda was often overlooked in her youth — a scholar, a dreamer, a quiet presence beside her louder kin. In 95 AC, she wed Lord Lyman Mallister of Seagard, sailing west to the Riverlands with little fanfare. Their union was said to be one of quiet affection rather than political ambition.

She bore at least two sons: Lymand Mallister (b. 96 AC) and a second whose name is now uncertain. Though far from the Vale, Amanda remained close with her mother and sisters through letters, fragments of which still survive in the Eyrie’s rookery archives. She wrote of rivers and sea spray, of distant moons, and of dreams where dragons still flew above the Fingers.

Aemma Arryn (b. 79 AC – d. 105 AC). 

Queen Consort of The Seven Kingdoms. 

The youngest of Daenerys’s children, Aemma was her mother’s shadow and pride — silver-haired, poised, and thoughtful beyond her years. In 92 AC, at the age of thirteen, she was betrothed to Prince Viserys Targaryen, who would become king in 103 AC. 

Their only child, Princess Rhaenyra, was born in 97 AC, on the very day Daenerys returned from the funerals in the Vale. Aemma’s life at court was marked by grace and sorrow. As Queen, she wielded little open power, but quietly influenced her husband’s choices, including Rhaenyra’s naming as heir.

Her death in 105 AC during childbirth — a stillborn son — would shatter Viserys and become a turning point in the history of the realm.

Of Daenerys’s five children, three were buried before her. The Eyrie passed to her granddaughter, Lady Jeyne, whose rule would later define a new age of female lordship in the Vale. Arnold, son of Edmund, rose twice in rebellion and fell twice, finally left to rot in the sky cells — a warning against ambition untempered by duty.

Through Amanda, Daenerys’s blood touched the Riverlands. Through Aemma, it crowned a queen and birthed a claimant to the Iron Throne. Yet it was through Jeyne — a girl born of quiet Roland — that Daenerys’s legacy endured longest, not on dragonback or battlefield, but in stone and wind, where falcons soar.

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Queen Aemma Arryn and Her Issue. 

An excerpt from The Targaryen Lineage, Volume IX: The Reign of Viserys I, by Maester Rorick of Oldtown. 

Queen Aemma was the youngest child of Princess Daenerys Targaryen and Lord Rodrik Arryn, born of dragon and falcon in equal measure. Though never a dragonrider herself, she bore more dragonriders than any other woman in the history of the realm. Wed to her cousin Viserys in 93 AC, their union was a match of peace and stability — warm, if not legendary in passion — and produced five living children, each of whom would shape the realm in their own right.

Her death in 107 AC, in childbirth with her sixth child (a stillborn daughter), marked the end of a golden chapter. Yet her legacy endured in the children she raised with unwavering grace and sharp instinct.

Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. 

Born 97 AC — The Realm's Delight. 

The firstborn child, Rhaenyra, was Aemma's mirror in both beauty and bearing. She was the crown jewel of the queen’s motherhood and her intended successor from the cradle. Aemma herself oversaw Rhaenyra’s early education, ensuring she received lessons not only in courtly graces, but also in governance, heraldry, and law.

Rhaenyra became the youngest dragonrider in Targaryen history, bonding with Syrax, a hatchling from Silverwing’s clutch, at the age of seven. She would later be named heir to the Iron Throne following her mother’s death — a decision that both shocked and divided the realm. It is worth noting that all of Aemma's children, particularly her sons, stood in loyal support of their sister, affirming the bonds Aemma had forged among them.

Princess Visenya Targaryen. 

Born 99 AC — The Radiant Princess.

Visenya, Aemma’s second daughter, was softer in nature than her name might suggest. Thoughtful, introspective, and inclined toward music and prophecy, she was said to have a gift for dreams — whether of foresight or poetry remains debated. She bonded at age five with Dreamfeather, a silver-blue dragon from Dreamfyre’s line, and became a calm presence in court, often shadowing Rhaenyra with quiet devotion.

Though never wed, Visenya served as one of Rhaenyra’s closest companions and spiritual anchors during her early years of courtly struggle.

Prince Baelon Targaryen. 

Born 105 AC — Noble Baelon.

Baelon, the elder of the twins, was the more temperate and measured of the two. Known for his gentle voice and keen memory, he was a quiet boy, slow to anger and quick to observe. His dragon, Whisperwind, was named by Rhaenyra and hatched from another of Silverwing’s eggs — a silver-white creature said to be so silent in flight it could pass over armies unnoticed.

Baelon was groomed for the sept, then later redirected toward command, particularly in logistics and supply — an uncommon, but critical discipline. He was a natural mediator, respected by lords for his tact and humility, and by his siblings for his steadfastness.

Prince Baelor Targaryen. 

Born 105 AC — Steadfast Baelor. 

Baelor, the younger twin by moments, was in all things the storm to Baelon’s whisper. He was willful, bold, and given to gallantry from a young age. Where Baelon preferred to study maps, Baelor preferred to ride, to spar, and to lead. His dragon, Greystorm, was a large, steely-grey brute also from Silverwing’s clutch, known for its booming roars and unpredictable moods.

Baelor was said to burn with the fire of Aegon the Conqueror — and it was often whispered in jest that he had inherited his mother’s fire more than her feather. While his twin brokered peace, Baelor inspired loyalty and fear, and would later become a formidable commander in times of unrest.

Prince Daeron Targaryen. 

Born 106 AC — The Daring. 

The youngest of Aemma’s living children, Daeron was a bright and curious child who took to books as swiftly as to swordplay. His dragon, Tessarion, hatched when he was three — a dark blue she-dragon from Dreamfyre’s line. It was Daeron himself who named her, a precocious act that would come to define his early identity: independent, quick-witted, and thoughtful.

Though youngest, Daeron was never overlooked, for he charmed his tutors and his kin alike. He was often called the bridge — the sibling who kept the others bound in laughter and shared purpose.

Queen Aemma’s children were not merely heirs of fire, but heirs of her discipline, dignity, and inner steel. That they stood together — dragonriders born of one womb — became a cornerstone of Rhaenyra’s early claim and a rare show of unity in Targaryen history.

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Queen Alicent Hightower and Her Silent Legacy. 

From The Wives of Viserys the Peaceful, by Archmaester Omer of Oldtown (c. 180 AC). 

Queen Alicent Hightower came to court with ambition sewn into every seam of her gown, and with the blessing of Oldtown and the Faith behind her. She was not a girl, like the queens who came before or after, but a woman of pride, discipline, and purpose — attributes her detractors called “coldness” and her supporters “virtue.”

She married King Viserys I in 106 AC, a year after the death of Queen Aemma Arryn — and from that moment, saw herself not as a replacement, but as a correction to the Targaryen line. When she bore a child following year, the court prepared for the cry of a prince.

But it was a daughter.

Princess Aegelle Targaryen. 

Born 107 AC — The Realm's Rose. 

Alicent had no joy at Aegelle’s birth. The queen had prayed, schemed, and nearly starved herself in pious offerings for a son. The birth of a girl was a public humiliation, especially as Aemma's daughter still bloomed at court — Rhaenyra already named heir and riding her dragon.

For the first years of her life, Aegelle was raised not by her mother, but by nurses and septas. It was only after Alicent’s second and third daughters were born, and no sons came, that the queen turned her gaze back to Aegelle — not with affection, but with calculation.

If she could not have a king of her son, she would make a queen of her daughter.

Aegelle was reshaped: her lessons sharpened, her garments chosen to echo Aemma’s dignity, her court appearances rehearsed. Alicent called her “the Realm’s Rose,” though others whispered she was merely her mother’s pawn.

But Aegelle was not her mother’s mirror. She adored and admired Rhaenyra, and when asked in court to speak for her mother’s faction, she publicly refused, saying, “I am no sword to be drawn.” It was her first act of independence — and her last as Alicent’s favored child.

Princess Helaena Targaryen. 

Born 108 AC — The Dreaming Dove. 

Helaena was not the daughter Alicent could mold. Strange in youth and stranger in womanhood, Helaena drifted through court as if in a dream. She spoke to bees, embroidered sigils no one understood, and whispered prophecies into the wind.

Though Alicent tried to place her in roles of ceremonial grace — blessing harvests, hosting noblewomen — Helaena resisted formality. She loved Princess Rhaenyra, her half-sister, and was often found by her side, whether reading scrolls, riding gently near the dragonpit, or speaking softly in High Valyrian.

Alicent considered Helaena a disappointment, though others saw her as a gentle counterbalance to court cruelty. She was not used, not wielded, and not broken. She was a quiet act of defiance, and in her own way, the most courageous of the three.

Princess Aemara Targaryen. 

Born 111 AC — The King’s Memory. 

Aemara was born last, and her name — Aemara, not Alyssane or Alyrie as Alicent expected — was chosen not by her mother, but by Viserys, in memory of his first queen: Aemma.

This naming was a wound Alicent would never speak aloud, but it festered. She saw in Aemara her husband's grief and loyalty to another — a ghost Alicent could never banish. As the girl grew into a sharp, thoughtful child, Alicent kept her at a distance, offering cool guidance but little warmth. Aemara, in turn, grew distant from court and closer to her studies.

Aemara would go on to refuse marriage, retreating to Oldtown where she became a benefactress of learning, and ensured her mother’s legacy would be remembered in full — both its light and its shadow.

Queen Alicent built her life upon the idea that she would one day rise above Queen Aemma. Yet Aemma’s daughter ruled, loved, and remembered. Alicent’s daughters — despite her wishes — did not. 

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Lord Corlys, in a deviation from expectation, wed not a Westerosi noblewoman but Lady Veleya of Lys, a lady of refinement and rumored Valyrian descent. Their union produced one son, Cornerys, born in 73 AC. Where Lord Corlys brought spice and silk across the Narrow Sea, young Cornerys was raised in a court flavored with both salt and shadow—a sailor's cunning matched with Essosi grace.

In the year 90 AC, Cornerys wed Princess Rhaenys, the granddaughter to King Jaehaerys. The match, long hoped for by Lord Corlys, was a union of sea and flame, silver and gold. Their court at High Tide glittered with dragon banners and the elegance of the east.

Yet joy was short-lived.

Within three years, both Lady Veleya and Prince Aemon perished — Lady Veleya perished of a wasting illness, and not a moon's turn later, Prince Aemon was slain by a crossbow bolt on the island of Tarth during a campaign against reavers. These twin deaths would have deep consequences, for with the loss of Aemon, the succession of the Iron Throne became uncertain.

The following year, Princess Rhaenys gave birth to her firstborn son, Laenys Velaryon, but celebration was once again shadowed by loss. Lord Corlys, known as the Sea Snake, fell in battle on Tarth, avenging the prince whose death had so embittered him. Thus, young Cornerys, not yet one-and-twenty, assumed the lordship of Driftmark. That he did so with composure and command speaks to the strength instilled in him by both his parents.

By 96 AC, the couple had welcomed three children–Laenys, Laena, and Aethan–each blessed with the silver hair of Old Valyria and raised between the towers of High Tide and the marble halls of King's Landing. The children's upbringing in court and Driftmark alike would make them as comfortable among maesters as mariners, knights as nobles.

When the Great Council of 101 AC convened to determine the royal succession, many expected that Princess Rhaenys—or her son—might be chosen, for she was the only child of the late Prince Aemon. Yet the lords of the realm, wary of a woman's rule, and even more so of Essosi blood in her children, passed her over in favor of her male cousin, Prince Viserys.

In 103 AC, when King Viserys I ascended the throne, Cornerys was recalled to court and named Master of Ships. His appointment was not simply legacy—it was earned. His fleet was the finest in the realm, and his reputation as a tactician and courtier grew quickly.

Those who served beside him in council chambers described Cornerys as measured and exacting, rarely speaking unless it was to redirect the king’s attention to practical matters of trade, war, and defense.

His wife, had once been a contender for the Iron Throne herself. Though passed over at the Great Council of 101 AC, she did not turn bitter. Instead, Cornerys and Rhaenys turned their hopes to their son, Laenys—a dragonborn of noble bearing, raised beside Princess Rhaenyra, King Viserys’s only child.

The bond between Laenys and Rhaenyra grew into betrothal. It was a match Cornerys cultivated with quiet tenacity, knowing that their children would carry unshakable claims to both throne and sea.

The tragedy of Queen Aemma's death in 105 AC, and the subsequent naming of Princess Rhaenyra as heir, marked a turning point. Many lords whispered of instability and division, but it was Princess Rhaenys who lent Rhaenyra her strength-counseling her, guiding her through courtly tides, and securing allies for the storm ahead. The betrothal between Laenys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenyra was quietly affirmed during these years, with the approval of both the King and the Late Queen.

When war came—and it did—the realm would come to see just how deep his influence ran, and how tightly the tides of Driftmark pulled at the fate of dragons.

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Daella Targaryen Blackwood, The Riverlands and The Crown. 

From "The Lives of Targaryen Princesses" by  Archmaester Pate, compiled at the Citadel in 165 AC. 

In examining the influence of the great Riverlander houses during the final century of Targaryen dominance, it is essential to recognize the singular union that reshaped the character and legacy of House Blackwood: the marriage of Princess Daella Targaryen, daughter of King Jaehaerys I and Queen Alysanne, to Lord Royce Blackwood of Raventree Hall.

Wed in 82 AC, the princess and the riverlord’s heir were a match few expected. Daella, the eighth child of the royal pair, was known for her timid nature, gentle disposition, and steadfast devotion to the Faith of the Seven. Royce Blackwood, by contrast, came from a house that worshipped the Old Gods of the Forest and had long been considered proud, grim, and insular.

Yet theirs was a marriage of remarkable affection and balance. Royce, deeply devoted to Daella, constructed a private sept within the walls of Raventree Hall to honor her faith, and the couple wed in both traditions — beneath the weirwood and before the Seven. This dual ceremony was seen by some as symbolic of a new age of tolerance, though it remained rare.

Their union, beyond its harmony, infused House Blackwood with Valyrian blood, linking one of the oldest houses of the Trident to the royal line of House Targaryen. Their children — raised in both traditions, educated in both godswood and sept — would come to shape the house’s legacy in unexpected ways.

Lord Samwell Blackwood (b. 84 AC). 

Succeeded Royce and ruled Raventree with moderation and fairness, devout yet pragmatic, Samwell is raised to honor both the godswood and the sept. He was remembered for his fairness, his scholarship, and for maintaining both the raven standard and the seven-pointed star on his personal seal. During the Dance of the Dragons, Samwell declared early for his cousin Princess Rhaenyra, earning him admiration from the Black council. Though he remained behind the lines, his levies and influence in the Trident were vital.

Ser Willem Blackwood (b. 86 AC).

Samwell’s younger brother and a knight of calm dignity, gained prominence at the royal court during the reign of King Viserys I. He was briefly considered a suitor for Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, his first cousin once removed. Though she chose another, Willem’s loyalty never faltered; he served honorably in her household and later became one of the most trusted companions to her son, Prince Jacaerys. His character was noted by contemporaries as “noble without ambition, steadfast without pride.”

He fought and died in defense of her cause, and his body was buried with honor at Dragonstone. His death marked the end of the crown’s Targaryen-Blackwood bloodline in the male line.

Lady Della Blackwood (b. 86 AC).

Willem’s twin, Lady Della, never wed. Though some sources suggest she was once considered as a lady-in-waiting to Rhaenyra herself, Della chose to remain at Raventree during the war. She upheld both her mother’s gentler traditions and her father’s stern resilience. Her preserved letters — particularly with Queen Rhaenyra — reveal a keen political mind and subtle influence on the court through her kinship with the Blacks.

Some whisper of lost siblings — stillbirths, babes who died in infancy — but only these three entered historical record.

Princess Daella died young, possibly in her late thirties or early forties, though no definitive record survives of her death. It is said that Royce Blackwood never remarried, and the private sept remained undisturbed for the rest of his life — kept pristine, its candles lit daily, even after Daella’s passing.

Though of gentle soul and devout heart, Princess Daella defied tradition and expectation when she wed Lord Royce Blackwood. In doing so, she brought the light of the Seven into the shadows of Raventree, where gods old and new watched in uneasy peace. Their union bore fruit not only in children, but in an age of rare concord between crown and river.

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Upon the deaths of his sons Aemon (92 AC) and Baelon (101 AC), King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, now well into his twilight years, faced the grim truth that none of his direct male heirs remained. In the realms of precedent, this would lead to debate — and in the version known to many maesters, the king called the Great Council of 101 AC to settle the question.

But in this retelling no such council was convened.

Instead, Jaehaerys chose with absolute finality and clarity. He named his eldest surviving grandchild — Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, daughter of Prince Aemon — as his heir.

Though Rhaenys’s claim had long been recognized as sound by those close to the court, there remained loud voices among the nobility who questioned the idea of a ruling queen in her own right. Some expected the king to name Prince Viserys, son of Baelon, or even Prince Daemon, the Rogue Prince, as heir.

But the king wrote:

“My sons are gone, but their lines live on. Shall I not honor my eldest son by passing the flame to his daughter? She is Valyrian of blood, of bearing, and of wisdom. In her I see my granddaughter, yes — but also the Queen I once thought Westeros might never see.”

To silence any doubts, he also crafted a Succession Pact:

Princess Rhaenys would be named Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Iron Throne.

Upon her coronation, her eldest son — Laenys Velaryon, born of her union with Lord Corlys Velaryon — would take the name Targaryen and inherit as her successor, ensuring the royal name endured.

The Velaryon house name would continue through her other children and Driftmark, but not the throne.

What surprised many was the quiet and immediate support of Prince Viserys Targaryen, with no ambition for the crown. It was said that Lady Aemma Arryn, his wife, reminded him of the closeness he once shared with Rhaenys in youth — and that “to see her crowned is to honor both Baelon and Aemon.”

Even more surprisingly, Prince Daemon Targaryen gave his support without contest. Known for pride and unpredictability, Daemon shocked the court when he publicly knelt before Rhaenys at the Feast of Fire, held in her honor in 102 AC.

“The Iron Throne is hers by blood and fire,” Daemon was recorded as saying, “and I'd rather see it blaze with her than rust in weaker hands.”

Some claimed this was done out of genuine respect — others whispered it was because Daemon had already fallen in love with Lady Mysaria, a dancer of Lys, and had little interest in courtly rule.

While many later lords insisted on downplaying this moment — especially after the turmoil of the Hightower treason in 120 AC — it is clear from every royal record that Rhaenys’s succession was chosen, not imposed, and that it was accepted by her peers, especially her cousins.

Her reign (104–132 AC) is now remembered as the Golden Fire of the Crown, with a Small Council unmatched in breadth, and a royal family that defied the boundaries of gender, custom, and love.

The Small Council of Queen Rhaenys I, convened from 104 to 132 AC, has long been regarded by historians as one of the most diverse and dynamic ruling bodies in Westerosi royal history. Where previous monarchs leaned heavily on lordly favor or family rank, Rhaenys balanced blood, merit, loyalty, and insight—often to controversial effect.

Her table included veteran statesmen, learned lords, beloved knights, a foreign-born spymistress, and even women in public office—an innovation that drew whispers in the sept but delivered peace, prosperity, and pragmatism.

The council was shaped not by fear of tradition but by a shared loyalty to the crown and its vision: that dragonlords need not rule by fire alone.

Key members included:

• Corlys Velaryon, her husband, as Master of Trade. 
• Lyonel Strong, a wise Master of Laws. 
• Daemon Targaryen, Master of War, and Viserys Targaryen, Master of Diplomacy. 
• Lady Aemma Arryn, pioneering Mistress of Public Welfare. 
• Mysaria, the Queen’s trusted Mistress of Whisperers. 
• Tyland Lannister as Master of Ships. 
• Harrold Westerling as Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. 
• Orys Baratheon as Master of Infrastructure. 

Though Otto Hightower briefly served as Hand, his betrayal led to his execution in 120 AC.

The council’s strength came from debate without division, reflecting Rhaenys’s rule: bold, inclusive, and stable. It helped preserve peace, reform law, and hold the realm together through crisis and change.

The children of Queen Rhaenys I wove a web of flame, salt, and loyalty that outlasted wars and whispers. They were rulers, riders, and rare souls, shaped by a mother who believed strength could be many things—tenderness among them.

Prince Laenys, the firstborn child of Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon, was a prince shaped by both bloodline and burden. Thoughtful and introspective, he was trained in statesmanship from a young age and was known for his measured counsel, even in youth. Though never as flamboyant as his sister Laena nor as vivacious as his younger brothers, Laenys commanded loyalty through quiet strength.

His union with Lady Rhaenyra, arranged early and marked by deep affection, was one of shared rule and mutual trust, and his bond with Prince Baelon Targaryen—his cousin and lifelong companion—further anchored him. Together with them, and his sister Laena, he formed a household bound by something beyond marriage, though the nature of that connection remains the subject of gentle speculation and court poetry alike.

Princess Laena was fire-born and sea-souled—a dragonrider of remarkable skill and a noblewoman of ambition and boldness. Though born second, her spirit often eclipsed her siblings in the eyes of the people, who loved her for her laughter and command alike.

Her marriage to Prince Baelon was celebrated across the realm, not merely for its symbolism but for the true companionship it yielded. Those who watched her at court often noted her closeness to both Rhaenyra and her brother Laenys—a trinity of trust, perhaps more than the realm had words to define. Her children, especially her twin sons and daughter Laenora, continued her legacy through Driftmark and the skies above.

Prince Laenar, Laena’s twin, was born in quiet contrast. Where his sister was fire and flourish, Laenar was dusk and depth. He loved music, maps, and lore, and while he fulfilled his duties as a dragonrider and nobleman, he preferred the company of scrolls and shipwrights to feasts.

Though once beloved of Lady Maris Baratheon, her untimely death left a wound Laenar never sought to fill. He remained unwed for the rest of his days, choosing instead to serve as guardian, teacher, and comfort to his siblings’ children. His bond with his family was profound and unwavering, even in silence.

Youngest of the four, Prince Laenor was a man of brilliance and ease—a dragonrider who danced, sang, and delighted in the beauty of all things. Though courtly tongues long murmured about his unconventional heart, Laenor walked his own path with honesty, never seeking to deceive nor deny who he was.

His marriage to Lady Prunella Celtigar was one of understanding and friendship, a rare and remarkable alliance that weathered the court's expectations with grace. That no children came of the match mattered little; Laenor's legacy lived on in song, diplomacy, and the quiet loyalty he inspired in his kin and retainers alike.

Otto Hightower proved an effective, if rigid, Hand. He advocated tradition, central authority, and political caution—often clashing with the more dynamic vision of Rhaenys’s court. He had little fondness for the presence of women in council or foreign-born whisperers in positions of trust.

But it was his quiet plotting and attempts to sow discord—chiefly by positioning Alicent to charm the royal children and divide their loyalties—that eventually brought about his fall. The attempted assassination of Rhaenys’s grandchildren in 120 AC, which resulted in the death of Lady Maris Baratheon, was traced back to Otto and Alicent’s hand, though neither ever confessed.

After Otto and Alicent’s downfall, many of their kin and co-conspirators were stripped of lands and titles, and some were sent to the wall. The line survived only through Lady Bethany Hightower, a young maiden too innocent to bear guilt, who remained under wardship until she came of age.

Though House Hightower was not extinguished, it was politically broken. Its loss of prestige allowed the Citadel to drift further from noble influence and the Faith to fracture in loyalty. In Oldtown, the bells rang silent for a week.

Some maesters speculate that the fall of the Hightowers marked the end of an era: the last great attempt by the Faith and the south to challenge dragon rule through soft power. Others view Otto’s story as a cautionary tale: that tradition, when wielded as a weapon, can be as deadly as wildfire.

Lady Bethany would later revive her house with quiet dignity. She served as a loyal vassal to King Laenys, and later to King Jacaerys, though she never took the title “Lady of Oldtown”, preferring instead “Keeper of the Beacon.”

“Had the Great Council occurred, as some suggest it nearly did, who can say if the realm would have known such peace in the early years of her reign?”

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In the year 101 AC, upon the death of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, the Iron Throne passed not to his granddaughter Rhaenys, as some presumed, but to his second son, Baelon Targaryen, called the Brave. Long the Prince of Dragonstone and Hand of the King, Baelon’s ascension was swift and relatively unchallenged — save in the hearts of those who remembered the claim of Princess Rhaenys, daughter of the late Prince Aemon.

Baelon’s reign, though brief in years, was rich in consequence. Guided by his sister-wife, Queen Alyssa, and supported by Princess Rhaenys (whom he named Hand of the King after removing Ser Otto Hightower), Baelon endeavored to root out the corrosive factions at court and reassert the old Valyrian bloodlines over political ambition. His most defining act was the disinheritance of his eldest son, Viserys, for attempting to wed Lady Alicent Hightower against his will — a match that Baelon deemed both unworthy and politically dangerous.

Instead, Baelon named his younger son, Prince Daemon, heir to the throne, and Princess Rhaenyra, his only daughter by Alyssa, was soon wed to her elder brother in the Valyrian custom. Though such a match scandalized the Faith, it was widely seen as a consolidation of pure Targaryen power. In the eyes of the court and the dragons alike, this union was a marriage of fire and fire.

Prince Viserys, stripped of his titles and dignity, withdrew from court and took residence in a modest keep near Blackwater Bay, granted him by Baelon out of familial duty — a place known thereafter as Seadragon Hill.

He wed Lady Alicent Hightower there, against his father's wishes, and though the septon blessed the union, no raven carried the news to Dragonstone. The children born of this match — Aegor, Alyrie, and Aerion — were never acknowledged by the Crown, and Baelon forbade Viserys from naming his first son Aegon, a name already bestowed upon and Daemon and Rhaenyra’s heir. Thus was born Aegor, a boy shadowed from birth by the mightier Aegon of Dragonstone.

As the years wore on, Lady Alicent grew bitter, not only from neglect and forced childbearing, but from the endless comparisons drawn between her and the Princess she had once called friend. Her resentment, kindled in silence, would burn brighter in her children.

From the union of Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon sprang a powerful line:

Prince Aegon, born 106 AC — named for the Conqueror, heir to the Iron Throne; Prince Aemon, born 108 AC — named for Rhaenys’s father, a sword with his brother’s fire; Princess Rhaena and Prince Daeron, twins born in 110 AC — whose arrival was seen as a blessing and omen both. 

The realm celebrated these births with feasts and dragon song, while the children of Seadragon Hill were born with no horns sounded and no dragons waiting. The egg laid by Syrax hatched in the children’s crib; none of the Seadragon children would be offered one.

Though King Baelon reigned with strength and unity, beneath the surface grew a quiet divide — one not of swords, but of children, names, and legacy. The children of the crown were bright, beloved, and powerful. The children of the disinherited were bitter, forgotten, and burning. In court, this tension birthed whispers. 

Rhaenyra never spoke ill of Alicent, but Alicent grew to loathe her nonetheless — not for what she did, but for what she was allowed to have. Her children were raised with that bitterness, sharpened by isolation and their father's prideful delusions.

By 110 AC, the court spoke often of “Two Dragons’ Broods,” each growing stronger, and each taught that the other had taken something from them.

It is the belief of the maesters that the so-called Dance of the Dragons, long believed to have begun with disputes of succession and politics, truly began in the cradle — in the unspoken war between Aegon and Aegor, Aemon and Aerion, and the shadows cast on their mothers' faces.

King Baelon would not live to see the storm that followed. But those who did remembered well the years between 105 and 115 AC —

When dragons were born in plenty…

…and each flame knew the other by name.

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The Line of the Stormlords. 

By Maester Olmaren of Storm’s End, writing during the reign of King Daeron I, circa 150 AC.

It was in the year eighty after Aegon’s Conquest that King Jaehaerys I Targaryen, the Conciliator, made one of his great marriages—politically speaking—for his children. The princess Maegelle, third daughter of His Grace and Queen Alysanne, had until that time served in quiet piety within the halls of the Great Sept, intending to take vows as a septa. But the King, ever mindful of realm and blood, recalled her from the Faith and gave her hand to his half-brother, Lord Boremund Baratheon of Storm’s End.

The union was not one of love, but of prudence. It tied Storm’s End yet closer to the Iron Throne, and brought the blood of the dragon back to the stormlands. The Princess Maegelle was no courtly butterfly, but she was pious, dutiful, and gentle of heart. She bore Lord Boremund five children in all: three sons in swift succession—Borros (b. 80 AC), Orys (b. 83 AC), and Ormund (b. 84 AC)—followed by the knightly Barron (b. 90 AC), and at last a daughter, Maelora (b. 91 AC), famed in her youth for her silver-gold hair and pale violet eyes.

Of their sons, it was Borros who succeeded his lord father in the seat of Storm’s End upon Boremund’s death in 112 AC. He was a hard man, unbending and proud, more like a mountain than a storm, yet none doubted his loyalty to the Crown in the early years. In 97 AC, Borros took to wife Lady Elenda Caron of Nightsong, said to be clever and well-schooled in the histories and heraldry of the realm. Their union was fruitful, though it produced no sons. Four daughters were born: Cassandra (b. 97 AC), Maris (b. 98 AC), Ellyn (b. 100 AC), and a last child, Floris (b. 111 AC). A final attempt at a son in 115 AC ended in grief, with Elenda perishing in childbirth and the babe stillborn.

Cassandra, the eldest, was taken to court at an early age and became a lady-in-waiting to Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen. Her presence at Dragonstone and later courtly circles was oft remarked upon, as was her beauty and cool composure. In time, she would become a figure of great note during the latter years of Viserys I and the early days of the civil strife now known as the Dance of the Dragons.

Ser Orys Baratheon, the second son, was knighted young and given to a daughter of House Swann, thereby uniting two of the greatest stormlander houses. From this match came two sons, whose names have regrettably been lost to history, and a daughter, named Elenei (b. 108 AC). Elenei Baratheon was sent to King’s Landing in her girlhood and became one of Princess Helaena’s ladies, a role that would place her on the opposite side of her cousin Cassandra in the years to come.

Ormund Baratheon wed, though the name of his lady has not come down to us. A quiet man, bookish and devout, Ormund remained in the shadow of his brothers but was often said to be their wiser. He fathered several children, whose deeds lay mostly in service to House Baratheon during the Dance and the difficult years thereafter.

The fourth son, Ser Barron Baratheon, known as 'the Pale Stag' for his silver hair and white cloak, never took a wife. He served in the Kingsguard under King Viserys and later Queen Rhaenyra. Fiercely loyal and reputedly chaste, Ser Barron met his end at the Butcher’s Ball in the Riverlands, slain while protecting Prince Joffrey Velaryon.

In her later years, Maelora became known as the ‘Lady of Rain,’ for she often returned to Storm’s End from Tarth, bearing tidings and speaking wisdom to her nieces. It is said Cassandra Baratheon inherited not only her coloring but her poise from Maelora, who remained a quiet pillar of family counsel until her death in 127 AC.

The line of Maegelle Targaryen and Boremund Baratheon was marked by both proximity to power and division within it. While their descendants graced the households of both Princess Rhaenyra and Princess Helaena, they would in time find themselves on opposite sides of the Dance. Such was the nature of the storm—and the dragon. The legacy of Maegelle’s blood flowed not in fire, but in iron and salt, and in the storm-wracked halls of a noble house forever torn between loyalty and ambition.

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In all the long history of House Targaryen, it is said the greatest wars were fought not for honor, nor gold, nor even love — but for birthright. And so it was during the reign of King Viserys I Targaryen, whose daughters would divide a realm that their father failed to unite.

Much ink has been spilled on the so-called Dance of the Dragons, but few look closely enough at what came before — the quiet war of courtiers and queens, the unspoken rivalry that bloomed beneath a single crown worn by two women. 

Viserys I Targaryen was not a cruel king, nor a reckless one. He loved his daughters, adored his queens, and abhorred the thought of war. Yet it was under his gentle hand that the seeds were sown—the roots of blood and fire that would one day strangle the realm. Not with blades, not at first, but with glances across feast tables, with whispers in the godswood, and with the silent rivalry of women bound to one king but not to each other.

Queen Aemma Arryn, the king's first wife, bore him a single child; Princess Rhaenyra, fierce as flame and named his heir. When the maesters declared Aemma’s womb closed, the king did not set her aside. He loved her. And he needed the Vale. So she remained queen. 

But there were other voices in his ear—sharper, hungrier. The Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower, whispered of Aegon the Conqueror and Valyrian ways. “Even he had two queens, Your Grace. You need not choose between love and legacy.” So it was that Viserys took a second wife without casting off the first.

Queen Alicent Hightower, wed to the king without the sanctity of annulment, crowned beneath Seven-pointed Stars and silk banners. Two queens shared the Red Keep, and with them came two courts, two circles of ladies, and two daughters whose very existence divided the future.

Some have called Viserys a weak king. Others, a kind one. What is certain is this: his unwillingness to choose between duty and desire laid the stones of ruin in gold and silence. He named Princess Rhaenyra his heir, raised her in the tradition of dragonlords, and never fathered a son to challenge her claim. But his second queen, Alicent, bore him a daughter as well — the fair and pious Princess Aegelle, who grew beneath the Seven’s gaze and the Hand’s ambition.

Princess Rhaenyra rose in her mother’s light, with dragons and ambition at her back. While Princess Aegelle grew in silence—bright, beautiful, and watchful. Only daughters were born to House Targaryen. But daughters carry knives as sharp as sons.

It was not war at first. It was dinner tables and festivals, prayer circles and whisper chains. It was ladies-in-waiting trading barbed compliments, and lords offering double fealty. It was a king who loved too much, and a realm that could not serve two queens.

A second marriage. A second daughter. A second court. And the slow turning of the wheel that would one day break.

May the realm remember the price of indecision.

Chapter Text

In the year 111 AC, King Viserys the First sent his heir, the Princess Rhaenyra, on a courting progress across Westeros. Lords both great and petty offered sons, nephews, and cousins, each eager to bind their house to the dragon princess and the Iron Throne she was promised.

The suitors were many. A Lannister, a Blackwood, a Bracken, a Frey, a Florent, even young Laenor Velaryon was discussed. But when the progress brought the princess to the cold halls of Winterfell, all plans unraveled.

There she met Ser Duncan Stark, the second son of Lord Benjen Stark and Lady Lysa Locke, a man ten months her elder, solemn in bearing, plain in speech, and iron in principle. No courtly flourish graced his words, but Princess Rhaenyra was drawn to him nonetheless. It is said she told her handmaidens that night: “He does not bow. He does not flatter. He sees me.”

When she returned to King's Landing, the court awaited her choice. And when she named Ser Duncan Stark, there was uproar.

King Viserys was caught between affection and expectation. His lords had assumed the heir would be wed into the Velaryons, to reunite the drifting ties of Valyrian bloodlines and secure the Sea Snake’s fleet.

The match to a Stark, a second son no less, was deemed politically foolish by Grand Maester Mellos, a scandal by Queen Alicent, and treasonous ambition by Ser Otto.

Yet the King, ever indulgent of his daughter, relented. A Targaryen princess had made her choice — and would be obeyed.

The wedding was held not in King’s Landing, but at Dragonstone, before the Black Dread's skull and beneath banners bearing the three-headed dragon and the direwolf.

Duncan wore grey and black; Rhaenyra, crimson and gold. Valyrian rites were observed. The match was solemn, not splendid — but those in attendance recalled the quiet unity between the bride and groom, the way Duncan stood not behind Rhaenyra, but beside her.

Queen Alicent did not attend.

Many in the court whispered that Duncan would be no true consort. He had no dragon, no courtly manners, and no place in the intrigues of the south. But they underestimated him.

Prince Duncan rarely spoke at court, but when he did, his words were measured and iron-clad. He left politics to his wife but commanded the loyalty of the North and the respect of soldiers from every corner of the realm.

He was said to be the only man Rhaenyra trusted without question.

In time, he became known as the Wolf Prince, a quiet figure in black furs and dark steel, often seen in the company of dragons, yet never riding one himself. He ruled no lands, but his presence was felt from the snows of the Neck to the gates of King’s Landing.

From their union came five children, each marked in their own way by the marriage of dragon and direwolf.

Firstborn and heir, Prince Jacaerys Targaryen was every inch the prince his grandsire had imagined. Handsome, silver-haired, and gifted with the charisma of a born leader, he rode Vermax and led the Queen’s cause in the early campaigns of the Dance.

Though yet young when war erupted, it was Prince Jacaerys who brought the Riverlands, Vale, and Stormlands to their knees in the name of his mother. His marriage to his sister Princess Aemma Targaryen—a return to the Valyrian custom of kin-unions—ensured the continued purity of the royal line. Their issue became the foundation of what maesters now call the Second Flame Dynasty.

The Queen’s second son was born of dusk and snow. Prince Edric Targaryen, ever solemn and sharp-eyed, inherited much from his Northern blood. His dragon, Snowbound, was a creature of pale frost and terrible silence, often mistaken for mist until he descended in death.

Prince Edric seldom spoke at court but became the Queen’s fiercest battlefield commander. He wed Lady Baela Velaryon, eldest daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Laena Velaryon, thus reconciling the Black factions of Driftmark and Dragonstone. Their children, named Velaryon by agreement, bore dragons and titles — and went on to rule the seas as fiercely as their grandsire, the Sea Snake.

Named after her grandmother from her mother side, Queen Aemma Arryn, Princess Aemma Tarrgaryen was a creature of grace and dignity. Riding the dragon Arrax, she served as both envoy and keeper of peace among the Queen’s allies.

She was wed to her elder brother Prince Jacaerys, a match made not for ambition but affection, or so court gossips whispered. Their union, though controversial in the eyes of the Faith, proved fruitful. Their descendants would occupy the Iron Throne for the next century, their line unbroken.

Born with the sharp eyes and steel of her namesake, Lady Lysa Locke, Princess Lysa Targaryen rode Silversong, a swift and melodic dragon whose cry was said to foretell storm.

She wed Oscar Tully, heir to Lord Grover of Riverrun. Their match solidified the Riverlands behind the Queen even as the embers of war smoldered. Though their children were not granted dragon eggs — a decision issued by Queen Rhaenyra herself to preserve the sanctity of dragon bloodlines — they were said to have the cunning of the fish and the temper of the flame.

Princess Lysa remained a frequent presence at Dragonstone, splitting her years between Riverlands politics and family rites among the dragons.

The youngest, and perhaps the most feared of the Five, was Princess Visenya Targaryen, named for the warrior-queen. From childhood she was drawn to blades and ghosts, and it was she who tamed Grey Ghost, long thought untamable.

She married Ser Joffrey Arryn, designated heir of Lady Jeyne Arryn, who had no sons of her own. Their match ensured the Vale's unwavering loyalty to Rhaenyra during the worst days of the war. Their children, like those of her sister Princess Lysa, bore no dragons but were raised in Dragonstone’s shadow.

Princess Visenya kept a dagger of Valyrian steel, gifted to her by Prince Daemon, and was said to have once challenged Ser Criston Cole to a duel — a tale whispered, never confirmed.

The Dance of the Dragons, that most bitter of Targaryen civil wars, was born not of sudden ambition but of long festering doubt. Though King Viserys I had named his daughter Princess Rhaenyra heir in 105 AC and reaffirmed her status a dozen times thereafter, the death of the king in 129 AC shattered the fragile peace he had sustained.

Within hours of his passing, Aegon the Usurper, son of Queen Alicent Hightower, was crowned in haste at the Dragonpit by the High Septon himself. The act, seen by many as both usurpation and sacrilege, lit the first torches of war.

At Dragonstone, Rhaenyra crowned herself with her father’s crown—the Conciliator’s golden circlet adorned with seven gemstones to represent the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros—and was hailed by her lords and children. With her stood not only her husband Prince Duncan Stark and her children, but also her loyal supporters. 

It was a court smaller than the one in King’s Landing, yet bound tighter by loyalty, purpose, and blood.

The Queen's children, each bonded to dragons, became known to the realm as the Five-Headed Flame, while their father, Prince Duncan, held the loyalty of the North, whose banners were among the first to march.

At Rook's Rest, the Green cause suffered its first great blow. Ser Otto Hightower, the architect of Aegon’s claim, was slain by a crossbow bolt fired by a sworn sword of House Darklyn, acting on intelligence from Rhaenyra’s loyalists. His death left the Green court rudderless.

Prince Daemon, with the aid of Caraxes, took Harrenhal, burning its outer halls and scattering the forces of Criston Cole. Though Cole would flee south, the loss of Harrenhal shattered Green hopes of holding the Riverlands.

With the North already bound by Prince Duncan’s marriage to Rhaenyra, his brother Lord Rickon Stark marched south with ten thousand spears. This force, unaccustomed to dragons but unshakable in discipline, swept through the Neck and reinforced the Queen’s forces at the Trident.

Though courted by both factions, Lady Jeyne Arryn, Rhaenyra’s cousin through her mother, ultimately declared for the Black Queen. Ties of blood, shared Valyrian heritage, and a common sense of duty prevailed. When Queen Rhaenyra offered the hand of her youngest daughter Princess Visenya to Lady Jeyne’s heir and chosen successor, Joffrey Arryn, the Vale stood united behind the Queen’s banners. Thus did falcon and dragon fly as one.

The cost of victory was immense. Half the dragons in Westeros were dead, the land was soaked in noble blood. Yet, from the chaos emerged a new royal order.

Queen Rhaenyra ruled for twenty years, until her death. She was succeeded by her son King Jacaerys I, whose long reign restored stability.

The dragon law, established during her rule, restricted dragon eggs and rider rights to the main Targaryen line, preventing reckless dragon proliferation.

Prince Duncan Stark lived into his sixties and died a beloved figure, remembered as the Wolf Consort.

“That the Blacks won is now a matter of record. But what remains debated still is whether the war was truly won — for though the Queen sat the Iron Throne, the dragons dwindled, the Faith festered in quiet resentment, and the smallfolk bore the cost of noble ambition. Yet among the ashes, one thing stood clear: the will of the Queen, who refused to be cast aside, and in doing so, changed the realm forever.”

Chapter Text

The year 104 after the Conquest marked a quiet turning point in the reign of King Viserys I Targaryen. Though the realm remained at peace, grief shadowed the Red Keep with the passing of Queen Aemma Arryn, who died in childbirth alongside the infant she bore. With her death, the king was left with one child—his daughter Rhaenyra—whom he loved above all others. Viserys refused to remarry for many years, devoting himself instead to the care and education of his daughter. He would often seat her at his councils, allow her to watch him rule from the Iron Throne, and even grant her audiences with foreign envoys. It became plain to all that she was his heir in all but name.

By the time she turned eight, Rhaenyra was already being called the Realm’s Delight. In 105 AC, at a great feast in King’s Landing, Viserys at last made it official: before a thousand lords and banners from every corner of Westeros, he named Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen as his heir and ordered the assembled lords to swear fealty to her and her line.

In 106 AC, however, the king wed again, this time to Lady Alicent Hightower, daughter of Ser Otto Hightower, his former Hand. The marriage was greeted with mixed reactions. Some at court whispered that Alicent had seduced the king, others that the match was engineered by her father, who remained an ambitious man even after his dismissal. Whatever the truth, the match produced results: in the years that followed, Queen Alicent bore King Viserys three sons—Aegon, Aemond, and Daeron—and a daughter, Helaena.

The court slowly divided into two camps. Those who favored Princess Rhaenyra and her claim came to be called the Blacks, while those who hoped to see one of Queen Alicent’s sons succeed their father were known as the Greens. As tensions simmered beneath the surface, both factions turned their eyes toward marriage and alliances.

It was in 115 AC that a bold proposal reached the court from an unexpected corner of the realm. Prince Qoren Martell, the ruling Prince of Dorne, offered to unite his house with House Targaryen by wedding his youngest son, Prince Qyle Martell, to Rhaenyra. It was an offer without precedent: no Martell had ever wed into the Targaryen line, nor had a Targaryen ever taken a Dornish spouse. Some in the court were appalled—Ser Otto Hightower chief among them—but Viserys, ever seeking peace and glory for his line, gave the match serious thought.

The proposal was not without its advantages. Dorne, still nominally independent of the Iron Throne, was a land of stubborn pride and rich culture. A marriage would bring it into alliance—if not submission—and strengthen Rhaenyra’s position immeasurably. Viserys consented. And so, in 116 AC, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen wed Prince Qyle Martell in the Red Keep. Qyle took the Targaryen name and was named Prince-Consort of Dragonstone. Queen Alicent, it is said, wore green on the wedding day and wept not from joy.

The match proved a fruitful one. In 117 AC, Rhaenyra gave birth to her firstborn son, Prince Aerion Targaryen, named for the father of Aegon the Conqueror. That same year, Queen Alicent gave birth to her last child, a boy named Daeron. King Viserys doted upon Aerion with unabashed affection, and many at court noted that the king showed more joy at his grandson’s birth than at his own son’s. This slight was not soon forgotten by the queen and her loyalists.

In 118 AC, Rhaenyra again took to her birthing bed—this time, delivering a daughter, Princess Valaena, named for the mother of the Conquerors and, perhaps more tenderly, for Laena Velaryon, her dearest companion and lady-in-waiting, who was still living and held in high regard at court. It was a nod to old Valyria, to strength, and to sisterhood. Princess Valaena, like her brother, was gifted a dragon egg the day she was born.

In 119 AC, Rhaenyra bore twin sons, Baelon and Baelor, healthy and hale. The court rejoiced, and their cradle eggs hatched soon after—another omen of strength. 

By the turn of the decade, the Blacks were ascendant. Rhaenyra was not only the king’s heir, but a mother of four strong children, all with Valyrian features and dragon eggs of their own. Her allies included the houses of Velaryon, Martell, Arryn, Stark, Tully, Darklyn, Beesbury, and Celtigar. Her court sparkled with strength.

In contrast, the Green faction grew more isolated and paranoid. Queen Alicent’s eldest son, Aegon, had grown arrogant and cruel. Aemond was sullen, Daeron restless, and Helaena withdrawn into her dreams. The king, grown weary and soft in his later years, refused to address the mounting division. When lords questioned whether the male line should take precedence, Viserys answered only with silence or with fury.

Then came the year 129 AC. King Viserys died in his sleep, and the realm splintered before dawn.

Despite Rhaenyra’s clear designation as heir, the Greens moved swiftly. While the princess mourned at Dragonstone, Dowager Queen Alicent and Ser Criston Cole crowned Aegon as king in the Dragonpit, using the Conqueror’s sword and a stolen crown. When word reached Dragonstone, Rhaenyra was enraged. She had been denied her birthright.

She summoned her banners. The crown her father had worn—the crown of Jaehaerys the First—was placed upon her head. The Dance of the Dragons had begun.

Over the years that followed, fire and blood swept across the realm. Dragons dueled in the skies, armies clashed, castles burned. The North came south under the banner of the direwolf. Dorne rose behind their prince’s grandson, Aerion. The Vale flew the falcon for their cousin. The Riverlands split, but House Tully, House Blackwood, and others stood with the queen. The Reach, though divided, sent men from Caswell, Rowan, Beesbury, and Costayne. From Driftmark sailed the Velaryon fleet, its sails silver and sea-green.

The dragonriders of the Blacks led their forces with fury: Rhaenyra on Syrax, Laena on Vhagar, Rhaenys on Meleys, Daemon on Caraxes, Laenor on Seasmoke, Aerion on Morghul, Valaena on Tessarion, Baelon on Arrax, and Baelor on Urrax.

The Greens responded with dragons of their own: Aegon rode Sunfyre, Aemond rode Vermithor, Helaena flew Dreamfyre, Daeron on Silverwing, and their children on Greenflame, Greenfyre, and Greenblood.

But dragons are not enough to win a war, and by 133 AC, the tide had turned.

Prince Daeron fell first, killed by Aerion at the Battle of the Redgrass Fields near Oldtown. Aemond, long thought invincible, was slain in single combat against Laena Velaryon over the burning skies of Maidenpool. Helaena, driven half-mad, flew against Daemon Targaryen above the Trident, and fell to her death after Dreamfyre fled the fight. And at last, Aegon the Usurper met his end in single combat atop the Hill of Rhaenys, where Queen Rhaenyra, clad in black and steel, struck him down as their dragons tore at one another above the burning city.

When the fires cooled and the bells rang, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen entered the Red Keep not as a usurper, not as a consort, but as the first crowned and reigning Queen of Westeros.

She ruled wisely. Her enemies were shown justice, but not cruelty. The Iron Throne was reforged, its steps widened and blades trimmed, so none would be maimed as her father once was. Her children were raised to rule with patience, not pride. And when she passed the crown to her son Aerion I, the realm remained whole.

Of the Green children, little remains. The line of Aegon the Usurper was extinguished. But from Rhaenyra’s line came peace — and from her fire, renewal.

The Queen’s flame did not consume the realm—it lit the long road back to justice. Say what you will of dragons and pride, but the Blacks gave us peace after fire. They built what the Usurpers tried to steal.

Chapter Text

In the year 112 after the Conquest, sorrow struck the realm, for Queen Aemma Arryn was taken by the Stranger in her labors, leaving behind but one living child, Prince Rhaenar Targaryen. Then in his fifteenth year, Rhaenar was fair to look upon, tall and comely, strong in limb, with the silver hair and violet eyes of House Targaryen. All who beheld him whispered that he was his grandsire the Old King reborn, though in truth his temper was more akin to Prince Daemon, his uncle, than to mild King Jaehaerys.

The Queen’s passing brought great grief to His Grace, King Viserys, yet unlike what many expected, the King took no second wife. Whether from loyalty to his beloved Aemma, or from fear of kindling envy in his heir, none can say with certainty. Thus it was that Prince Rhaenar remained his sole issue and the hope of House Targaryen.

But if the line of succession was secured, the matter of marriage was not. In those days the Prince was often seen in the company of Lady Laena Velaryon, daughter to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys, and many believed the young dragonrider’s heart belonged to her alone. Their union seemed natural, for it would join the blood of the dragon with the sea snake’s line, healing old grievances.

Yet not all welcomed this match. Ser Otto Hightower, the King’s Hand, sought instead to entwine his own house with the royal line. To that end he pressed his daughter, Lady Alicent, into the Prince’s company, ever courteous, ever attentive. His Grace too lent ear to his Hand, fearing the Prince too much in thrall to his Velaryon cousins.

It came to a head in the waning months of 112 AC, when King Viserys summoned Prince Rhaenar to his solar and bid him take Lady Alicent to wife. The Prince resisted, speaking plainly of his love for Laena, yet the King’s will was firm. “You are my heir,” Viserys said, “but I will not have you rule if you will not wed as befits my design.” Thus was the choice laid bare: the throne of Westeros, or the hand of Laena.

The Prince did not yield at once. Indeed, the chronicles tell us Rhaenar stormed from his father’s presence and raged for three days, threatening to forsake court and take himself to Dragonstone. But at last, he returned to the Red Keep, his jaw set and eyes cold, and offered his consent—yet with conditions of his own.

“If I am to bind myself to Alicent Hightower,” he declared before the King and court, “then House Hightower shall not hold sway both as Hand and as Consort. My bride’s father must be removed, else all the realm shall know my crown was bought by Oldtown’s grasping hands. Instead, let Princess Rhaenys be made Hand, that the Velaryons be appeased and the balance of power restored.”

This demand shocked the court. Many whispered that such words smacked of insolence, yet the King, perhaps weary of strife or fearful of losing his only son’s loyalty, agreed. Ser Otto was dismissed from his seat as Hand, returning in bitter humiliation to Oldtown. In his stead, Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, was raised to the office—the first woman ever to serve as Hand of the King.

Thus was sealed the betrothal of Prince Rhaenar Targaryen and Lady Alicent Hightower. Yet though the match was made, the union was a loveless one, and the seed of discord was sown deep within the royal house. For the Velaryons rejoiced at the elevation of Princess Rhaenys, even as the Hightowers nursed wounded pride. And Prince Rhaenar himself, though he bent to his father’s will, was never known to smile when Alicent stood beside him.

The betrothal of Prince Rhaenar to Lady Alicent Hightower set the court ablaze with talk, and none more so than Lord Corlys Velaryon. For years the Sea Snake had sought to bind the Iron Throne to his house through marriage, first to Princess Rhaenys, then through her daughter Laena. To see the Prince, whom all believed enamored of Laena, wedded to a Hightower maid stung him deeply.

Lord Corlys did not rage openly, but his displeasure was plain. If the Iron Throne would not honor his line, then he would look elsewhere. And so he cast his eyes across the Narrow Sea, to the Free Cities, and there arranged a betrothal between Lady Laena and the Prince of Pentos.

The lady herself wept bitterly, for her heart was known to belong to Rhaenar. Yet Lord Corlys, unbending as the steel of his ships, gave her a choice most cruel: obey his will, or be cast off from House Velaryon. “You are of my blood, but the blood of Velaryon serves not the whims of girls,” he is said to have told her. Reluctantly, and under threat of disownment, Laena bent her knee to her father’s command.

Yet fate proved swifter than marriage contracts. For not half a year later, word came from Pentos that the young prince had died most ignobly—suffocated in a pleasure house, drunk upon wine and smothered beneath the weight of a whore’s flesh. So foul and foolish an end scandalized the Free Cities, and in Westeros many sniggered that the gods had spared Laena from disgrace.

If Laena thought herself freed, she was soon disabused. Lord Corlys, ever restless, now sought to strengthen his house by westward ties. His choice fell upon Lord Jason Lannister of Casterly Rock, newly heir and not yet wed, five years Laena’s senior. The match was grand in wealth, for Casterly Rock’s coffers rivalled even the Sea Snake’s, yet for Laena it was but another chain.

Songs claim that when told of her father’s intent, Laena stood silent, her face a mask, but that night her maids found her chambers in disarray, her pillows sodden with tears. Still, she gave no protest when the betrothal was proclaimed. She had defied her father once, in her heart if not aloud, and lost. She would not do so again.

Thus was Lady Laena Velaryon bound to Jason Lannister, though her love for Prince Rhaenar was not soon forgotten. And though outwardly the match promised wealth and honor, the heart of the maiden was left to wither, caught between duty to her house and devotion to a prince she could never claim.

In the year 117 AC, Prince Rhaenar Targaryen took Lady Alicent Hightower to wife in a ceremony of great pomp and pageantry, attended by lords and ladies of the realm. The Prince, now twenty years of age, approached the union with courtesy but with a heart hardened by circumstance, for he bore little love for his bride, and none for the Hightower scheming that had bound him to her. Lady Alicent, now twenty-one, assumed her place with measured grace, concealing behind a fair countenance a will as keen as any serpent’s fang.

The chronicles note that the bedding of the royal couple occurred, as tradition demanded, though the Prince showed reluctance to partake. Yet what transpired that night, behind closed doors, became a source of tension unknown to all but the participants. Lady Alicent, it is said, employed means that Prince Rhaenar did not consent to, and the union was consummated under circumstances not of the Prince’s choosing.

In the months that followed, Lady Alicent was found with child. The realm rejoiced quietly at the prospect of heirs, but within the halls of the Red Keep, Prince Rhaenar’s indignation was private and severe. The chronicles hint that he regarded the pregnancy as a stain upon his will, and that his displeasure with his bride was profound.

Three moons into her term, Lady Alicent suffered a sudden miscarriage. The child was lost, and no cause was apparent to the attending maesters. To the eyes of court and the realm, it was a private misfortune, a sorrow shared only between the Prince and his lady. No whisper of design or intent passed the walls of the Red Keep, and Maesters recorded only the bare fact: the child did not live, and Lady Alicent recovered in body, though perhaps not in spirit.

The Prince’s grief and anger remained his own, and the matter passed without scandal. Yet the chronicles note, in subtle observation, that the hearts of Prince Rhaenar and Lady Alicent were more distant than ever, their union formal and dutiful but lacking in trust. The seeds of contention, once sown, would grow in shadow, and all who study the annals may discern the quiet bitterness that marked the early years of this marriage.

In the third month following the royal wedding of Prince Rhaenar Targaryen, Lady Laena Velaryon was wedded to Lord Jason Lannister of Casterly Rock, in a ceremony held with customary grandeur within the western keep. The lady, now nineteen, entered into the marriage under duress of duty, and the lord, five years her senior, was known for his pride and firmness of hand.

The bedding ceremony, as recorded by the attending maester, proceeded with the expected rituals. Yet whispers among the household hinted that Lady Laena did not greet the union willingly. It is said that she bore the weight of her father’s command and her own loyalty to Prince Rhaenar, and in her private thoughts she imagined the hands and voice of another upon her—the prince she truly loved. To the maester, these were matters of the mind, not of record, and none would dare speak them aloud.

In the months that followed, Lady Laena conceived. Though the child’s birth would secure alliances between Velaryon and Lannister, she is said to have received the news with ambivalence, her heart divided between duty and desire. The child was born within Casterly Rock, attended by the keep’s maesters and midwives, and was healthy, though the mother’s eyes betrayed a weariness of spirit that few could name.

Not long thereafter, Lord Jason departed the Rock upon a hunting expedition. Fate, ever swift in its judgment, intervened, and the lord suffered a grievous fall from his mount. His death was sudden, and the realm mourned the loss of the Lord of Casterly Rock. Among the servants and ladies of the house, rumor held that Lady Laena received the tidings with secret relief, though no words confirm such sentiment, and it remains a matter of courtly conjecture.

Thus did Lady Laena Velaryon, now widowed in her twentieth year, find herself mistress of Casterly Rock and mother to her first child. The maester notes only the facts of lineage, health, and succession, though it was plain to those who observed her closely that the lady carried both sorrow and a curious measure of freedom in her heart.

In the year 138 AC, Lady Laena Velaryon returned to King’s Landing, her son grown and capable to take the mantle of Lordship of Casterly Rock. She arrived not as a bride, nor as a ward, but as a mother and lady of experience, her countenance tempered by years of grief, duty, and secret longing.

Prince Rhaenar Targaryen, now thirty-six, received her with a quiet warmth, known only to a few at court. The chronicles note that their meetings were measured, courteous, yet carried a weight beyond words—an unspoken remembrance of what might have been, had fate and fathers’ commands not intervened.

Moved by his old affection, Prince Rhaenar petitioned King Viserys to appoint Lady Laena as one of Lady Alicent’s ladies-in-waiting. To this the King assented, perhaps seeing the benefit in placing such a wise and capable woman near the heir’s consort, though he may have been unaware of the private sentiments that lingered between Rhaenar and Laena.

Lady Alicent Hightower, though outwardly compliant, harbored private ire at the arrangement. The chronicles, careful to record only observable deeds, note that she took no action openly, yet her courtiers observed subtle signs of agitation: tighter lips at council, sharper words to her attendants, and eyes that lingered too long upon the Prince and Lady Laena in shared conversation.

Thus was Lady Laena restored to courtly life, near the Prince she had once loved, while her own marriage bound her in distant duty. And so the Red Keep once more became a place of quiet intrigue: hearts long restrained, ambitions sharpened, and rivalries concealed beneath smiles and courtesy.

Upon the death of King Viserys I, in the year 155 AC, Prince Rhaenar Targaryen ascended the Iron Throne as Rhaenar I, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm. Lady Alicent Hightower, his wife of many decades, was crowned Queen Consort at his side, her eyes bright with ambition and expectation.

Yet the joy of coronation was short-lived. Within a week, the King learned of treachery that chilled the Red Keep: the Hightower family, long ambitious and cunning, had conspired in secret to undermine House Targaryen, seeking to place themselves above crown and dragon. The chronicles do not detail the means by which Rhaenar discovered the conspiracy, only that the evidence was undeniable and swift action required.

Rhaenar, mindful of the perils that history records when the blood of the dragon is threatened, acted with resolute severity. His first decree as king was to annul his marriage with Queen Alicent, declaring the union void upon the grounds of treachery and secret counsel against the realm. The annulment was formal, sanctioned by the High Septon, and the Queen was removed from the court, stripped of her title and influence, though her person was treated with the courtesy due a former consort.

Thereafter, the King ordered the arrest and execution of all Hightowers found complicit in the conspiracy. The chronicles relate that their end was swift and without mercy; lords and ladies of Oldtown were brought to judgment, and the Iron Throne was resolute in its defense of House Targaryen. Many a courtier whispered that the Red Keep had seldom witnessed such decisive retribution, and that the blood of the dragon had been shown to temper ambition with dread.

Thus did Rhaenar I begin his reign, a King unchallenged by Hightower intrigue, yet mindful of the cost of vigilance. The realm watched in awe and fear, for the lessons of this act would be recounted for generations: the dragon does not forgive those who would rise against it, and even those closest by marriage may fall under the shadow of justice.

In the month following the purge of the Hightower treachery, King Rhaenar I Targaryen took as his queen the woman of his heart, Lady Laena Velaryon. The union was celebrated with great pomp, for the realm had long observed the bond between dragon and sea, and at last their love was made manifest before crown and court.

Not long thereafter, Queen Laena gave birth to a son, whom they named Jacaerys Targaryen, heir to the Iron Throne and first of the new line of dragonriders. His birth was greeted with rejoicing throughout the Seven Kingdoms, and bards sang of the fulfillment of the dreams of princes and sea lords alike.

The couple was soon further blessed with Monterys Targaryen, their second son; followed by Aemarys Targaryen and Rhaena Targaryen, their twin daughters; then Aegon Targaryen and Aemon Targaryen, their twin sons; they were next granted another son, Daeron Targaryen; before the birth of Lucerya Targaryen, their youngest child.

Thus was the lineage of House Targaryen firmly restored and secured. The union of dragon and sea proved fruitful not only in heirs but in the forging of a bond that brought stability to the realm. Maesters and septons alike remarked that such harmony between crown and kin had seldom been seen, and that the joy of Rhaenar and Laena’s union brought hope to a realm long troubled by intrigue, treachery, and the burden of dynastic duty.

King Rhaenar I, now father and sovereign, ruled with prudence, tempered by experience, and guided by the counsel of his beloved queen, whose wisdom and courage were praised across the Seven Kingdoms. The line of Targaryen, once threatened by Hightower ambition, now prospered under dragon and sea alike.

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In the year 94 After Conquest, the Red Keep in King’s Landing was host to a second great Targaryen marriage in as many years. The elder of the king’s grandsons, Prince Viserys, had taken to wife Lady Aemma Arryn, the king's granddaughter by Princess Daella, in 93 AC. That match had bound the blood of House Targaryen to the proud falcon of the Vale.

Thus it was that Queen Alysanne, ever mindful of the need for balance in the realm, looked next to her younger grandson, Prince Daemon Targaryen. In her first thoughts, the queen had urged her lord husband to seek a Royce bride for the boy, for Runestone and the Royces had long been counted amongst the proudest and most ancient of the Vale’s houses. “A son of the dragon wedded to bronze,” she was said to remark, “would knit Old Andal blood to Valyrian fire.”

Yet the King thought otherwise. “We are already wed to the Vale,” Jaehaerys is said to have remarked, “for our grandson Viserys already take to wife our granddaughter Aemma. Why knot the cord twice, when once will serve?” In this he persuaded his good-queen to turn aside from Royce.

Thus Daemon was given a freer hand than most princes in the matter of his bride. In those days he lingered often in the company of Deana Darklyn, daughter of Lord Jorgen Darklyn of Duskendale and his lady wife, Denyse. Born in 80 AC, the girl had been sent to court in her youth, for her aunt by half-blood Jonquil Darke, served as sworn shield to Queen Alysanne herself. Bright of eye, quick of tongue, and bold of spirit, Lady Deana was said to meet Daemon word for word and jest for jest, where many maidens shrank before the prince’s temper.

By the autumn of 94 AC, Jaehaerys announced their betrothal, and before year’s end Daemon Targaryen wed Deana of House Darklyn in the Red Keep. The marriage was celebrated with days of feasting, though many remarked upon the contrast to Viserys’s grander nuptials the year before. Still, the match brought the Targaryens closer to the Crownlands nobility, strengthening their grasp upon the lords who encircled King’s Landing.

Maesters differ as to the king’s true purpose. Some hold that Jaehaerys wished to bind the Darklyns more closely to the Iron Throne, for Duskendale’s lords were known for pride and independence. Others suggest that by allowing Daemon some measure of choice, he hoped to curb the boy’s restless spirit and bind him to a wife who might temper his nature.

Whether Queen Alysanne approved is less clear. In her later years she was known to lament that her husband’s compromises had too often sown discord. Yet none could deny that Daemon Targaryen and Deana Darklyn made a striking couple: the prince with his restless fire, the lady with her sharp wit and fearless heart.

In the year 97 After Conquest, joy came twice to the royal House of the Dragon. In the ninth moon, Lady Aemma Arryn brought forth a healthy babe at Dragonstone, a daughter whom Prince Viserys named Rhaenyra. Great celebration was held, for the little babe was hale and well-favored, the hope of House Targaryen’s future shining brightly in her first cries.

Yet not long thereafter, in the twelfth moon of that same year, the younger brother of Prince Viserys, the fiery Prince Daemon Targaryen, was likewise blessed. His lady wife Deana Darklyn, was delivered of a son. The child came forth small yet vigorous, and at once Daemon named him Baelon, for his lord father, whose memory yet lingered strong in the hearts of the realm.

That two babes of the blood royal were born within such short span, and to brothers so near in age and rivalry, was much spoken of in court. Queen Alysanne is said to have delighted in rocking both babes upon her knee, though some in the Red Keep whispered that Prince Daemon’s son, born only three moons after his cousin the Princess Rhaenyra, would one day be a spur and goad to her, for the dragon’s temper oft burns brightest in children so close in years and claim.

In the year 99 After Conquest, sorrow and joy alike visited the blood of the dragon. Lady Aemma suffered a grievous miscarriage, the second in as many years and her health was much weakened by the travail. Though her loss was a heavy one for her and her lord husband, it was not without consequence for the realm, for whispers began to stir among the lords of court that the Arryn match was proving less fruitful than His Grace King Jaehaerys had hoped when he arranged it.

Yet even as grief cloaked the halls of the Red Keep, delight came from another quarter. That same year, Lady Deana was brought to bed in the last month of the year and bore not one babe, but two: a son and a daughter, hale and hearty, whose cries filled the Red Keep with life. The boy was named Daeron, in honor of his sire, Daemon. The girl, was named Daena for her lady mother, Deana. 

In the year 105 AC, the Seven Kingdoms were struck with great sorrow when Queen Aemma Arryn, first consort to King Viserys I, perished in childbed. Her daughter, the Princess Rhaenyra, was left motherless at the tender age of eight, and the court was draped in mourning. The King himself was despondent, retreating oft into solitude, and in his grief, he is said to have shown little warmth even to the child who survived, consumed instead by his yearning for a son who never drew breath.

In those dark days it was not the King who brought solace to the young princess, but rather her uncle Prince Daemon and his lady wife, Deana of House Darklyn, whom he had wed some years prior. Together with their brood, they gave comfort to Rhaenyra who was oft seen in their company. The princess and her cousins grew close as milk-siblings might, and many at court remarked that Lady Deana doted upon Rhaenyra as though she were her own daughter.

King Viserys, however, was less welcoming of the Prince’s household. Whether from mistrust of his brother’s ambition, or from some private dislike of Lady Deana herself, the King seldom included them in his councils or household feasts, though none could deny their bond with the princess.

Three moons after the passing of Queen Aemma, His Grace declared before the assembled lords that his daughter Rhaenyra was to be named Princess of Dragonstone and heir to the Iron Throne. This proclamation astonished many, for never before had the succession been so openly vested in a maid of eight years. Though Prince Daemon and Lady Deana stood with the princess on that day, their faces proud, whispers in court grew that Viserys’s choice had been made less from firm conviction than from grief and the absence of a living son.

Yet even this did not last long unchallenged, for in the following year, 106 AC, the King took anew to wife Lady Alicent Hightower (b. 82 AC), daughter to Ser Otto Hightower, Hand of the King. The match was met with astonishment in some quarters, resentment in others, for many had thought a more suitable bride might be found among the great houses of the realm. But soon thereafter, Queen Alicent proved fruitful beyond doubt: Prince Aegon was born in 106 AC, Princess Helaena in 107 AC, and Prince Aemond in 108 AC—three babes in three years. Their births delighted the King and brought joy to Oldtown, though they also cast fresh shadows over the prospects of Princess Rhaenyra.

In the year 112 after the Conquest, great celebration was held at King’s Landing. For the Princess Rhaenyra, heir to the Iron Throne, was wed at last. She was but fifteen years of age, yet already famed throughout the realm for her beauty, her boldness, and her dragon Syrax. Her bridegroom was none other than Ser Laenor Velaryon, heir to Driftmark and the richest fleet in the realm, a youth of seventeen summers. Their match was long desired by the king, who sought thereby to bind the blood of the dragon ever tighter, for Laenor’s mother was Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, once herself a claimant to the crown.

The wedding was celebrated with no small pomp. For seven days the court feasted and made merry. The Lords of the realm gathered, and much was made of the kinship between the houses Targaryen and Velaryon. Some whispered, however, that the Princess did not hold her husband in great affection, for Laenor’s nature was ever more inclined to the company of men. Yet none could deny that she loved him as kin, and most especially did she delight in the company of his sister, Lady Laena Velaryon, whose dragon Vhagar was the mightiest of all living.

It was in the following year, 113 AC, that His Grace King Viserys commanded that another marriage be struck, no less momentous than the first. For the king’s brothers's son, Ser Baelon Targaryen, then but sixteen years of age, was wedded to Lady Laena Velaryon, a maiden of seventeen summers. This union was spoken of as a second knot binding the blood of Driftmark to the blood of Dragonstone. Though Ser Baelon had been reared more with her brother than her, and though the Princess Rhaenyra loved Laena dearly as a sister, the match was made at the king’s will and none dared protest.

These unions were much celebrated in their day, and men said that House Velaryon had never stood so high. Lord Corlys rejoiced, for with one daughter and one son wed to the royal blood, his house was more entwined with the Iron Throne than ever before. Yet amongst the women of the court, there was some unease, for Princess Rhaenyra’s fondness for Laena was so plain that it remarked that the bond of cousinship had become a solace.

Thus were the four—Rhaenyra and Laenor, Baelon and Laena—bound by ties of kinship, marriage, and shared youth. They had grown together from childhood, and their marriages, rather than setting them apart, seemed only to deepen their fellowship. Oft were they seen together in the royal gardens, in the halls of the Red Keep, or flying their dragons in the skies above Blackwater Bay. The people, seeing them thus united, styled them the Four Flames, for they were all of dragon’s blood and shone with a brightness that drew admiration.

Yet admiration, as ever in the courts of kings, breeds envy. Queen Alicent, who even then had begun to gather her own circle of loyalists and whisperers, looked upon their closeness with suspicion. To her eyes, the bond between the four seemed more than cousinly affection, more than the fellowship of youth. She would smile sweetly in public and commend their unity, but in the privacy of her solar she gave tongue to darker interpretations.

It was the Queen, if the testimony of later years be believed, who first sowed seeds of scandal by whispering to her ladies that the Four Flames were too oft entwined, too free in laughter, too fond of one another’s company. From her lips sprang rumors that their intimacy was not natural, but rather unseemly — that the unions arranged by King Viserys had birthed not only marriages, but something stranger, more troubling. She did not speak such words aloud in council, nor accuse them openly, for she was not so foolish; yet in shadows and in half-heard jests, she loosed the poison.

So it was that while the princess, her husband, her cousin, and her cousin’s wife cherished one another as family and companions, others began to whisper of them in darker tones. Rhaenyra, it seems, was slow to sense the venom, for her heart was unguarded where Laenor and Laena were concerned, and she trusted them as she trusted few others. Baelon too dismissed such talk as the common spite of courtiers. Only later, when rumor had grown fat upon repetition, did they learn how deeply the Queen’s slanders had taken root.

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In the Year 105 After Conquest, tragedy befell the realm when Queen Aemma Arryn, beloved consort of King Viserys I Targaryen, perished during the birth of their son, who lived but a day. The king’s grief was a matter of public record; he secluded himself in his chambers for many weeks, and the court was subdued by mourning. Princess Rhaenyra, their only surviving child, grew withdrawn, seeking solace among her books, her dragon Syrax, and her aunt by blood, Lady Amanda Arryn.

Lady Amanda, half-sister to the late queen and daughter of Lord Rodrik Arryn by his second wife, came to King’s Landing soon after Aemma’s death. The king received her with courtesy, for she reminded him much of his late wife—though the lady herself bore a sterner wit and a far sharper mind than her gentle sister.

During that same time, it was said that the Hand of the King, Ser Otto Hightower, sought to comfort His Grace in his sorrow. His daughter, the Lady Alicent Hightower, often visited the king’s chambers to read to him from histories and songs. Her presence was noted by many at court and whispered of by even more. It was said that she came without chaperone, and that the king’s fondness for her grew daily.

Yet word of these visits reached Lady Amanda Arryn, who saw the peril in them—not merely to the king’s dignity, but to her young niece, the Princess Rhaenyra. For Lady Amanda was a woman both proud and perceptive, and she understood well the ambitions of men who wore smiles to conceal their schemes.

It is recorded that she went before the king in the gardens one morning, and spoke to him with uncommon boldness.

“If Your Grace should ever seek to marry again,” said she, “do not look to the daughter of your Hand. Consider, how convenient it is that one so young should find herself in your company, unchaperoned. They would climb higher, if you let them.”

The king said nothing then, but those close to him recall that her words lingered.

In the next morning, the King summoned Lady Amanda to his chambers, where she came attended by Princess Rhaenyra. There, the king spoke plainly:

“I will not pretend it is for love,” he told her. “But for Aemma, for Rhaenyra, and for the realm. Would you marry me?”

Lady Amanda did not hesitate, yet she set one condition: that their marriage be delayed three years, to honor the memory of her sister. The king agreed.

In the Year 108 AC, after the mourning years had passed, King Viserys announced before his council:

“I plan to take a new wife.”

It is said that Ser Otto Hightower smiled, believing his daughter’s hour had come. But when the name Amanda Arryn left the king’s lips, that smile withered.

Thus, before year’s end, King Viserys I wed Lady Amanda Arryn in the Great Sept of The Keep. The marriage was quiet, but dignified. The realm rejoiced that the princess now had her aunt for stepmother and that the queen’s blood, though lost once, had been restored again to the Iron Throne.

Of Lady Amanda’s influence thereafter, the chronicles speak kindly: she was a steady hand upon the king’s temper, a watchful guardian of Rhaenyra, and a courteous but unyielding foil to the ambitions of House Hightower.

Ser Otto Hightower, who had long guided the realm with measured patience and quiet cunning, was seen returning to his chambers with a face as pale as milk. Those who served him said the Hand’s composure fractured only once, when the door shut behind him. His temper, so carefully restrained, turned to cold fury.

“Three years,” he was heard to mutter. “Three years wasted in kindness, and she moves but once and wins the crown.”

For Otto had placed his hopes upon his daughter’s marriage to the king. A union that would have secured his family’s influence for generations. He had encouraged Lady Alicent’s gentle visits, her soft words, her piety and kindness, all the traits that might endear a young widow’s heart. And for a time, it seemed he had succeeded.

But the Arryn woman—proud, calm, and sharp-tongued as the mountain winds—had undone it all with a single conversation in a garden.

Lady Alicent, meanwhile, took the news in tears. The young lady had truly come to believe the king cherished her affection—that her nightly readings and quiet companionship had stirred his lonely heart. In her chamber, she wept bitterly, asking her father why it had happened.

“He promised you nothing,” Otto told her coolly, “and you must remember that, child. A king’s heart is not his own to give.”

But even he could not hide his bitterness. For the first time, his careful game had been turned upon him by a woman he had dismissed as harmless.

At court, tongues wagged cruelly. Some whispered that Lady Alicent’s grief was more of wounded pride than heartbreak. Others said she had looked too long at the Iron Throne, and lost sight of her place beneath it.

Amanda Arryn, now Queen, showed neither spite nor triumph. She greeted Lady Alicent with courtesy when they next met in the corridors of the Red Keep.

“You have been a comfort to His Grace,” she said, her voice mild. “Let us both pray that comfort now comes from peace, not longing.”

Those words, recorded by Septon Eustace, were spoken with a serene smile that left Alicent silent. For there was no insult in them, yet every meaning was clear.

Otto Hightower remained as Hand, but his power waned. The king no longer sought his counsel with the same eagerness, and the queen’s steady influence began to balance the court anew.

Where once the Hightowers had thought to rule through charm and quiet ambition, now they found themselves facing a woman who needed neither. For Lady Amanda Arryn ruled through reason, loyalty, and the unassailable memory of her sister.

In the months following the marriage, it became clear that the union was one of mutual respect, not desire. The queen was a woman of intellect and patience, and the king—content and steady once more—found in her not passion, but partnership. Yet, as seasons passed and no royal babe was born, whispers began to stir among courtiers and servants alike.

The most dangerous of those whispers began, as so many did, in the Tower of the Hand.

Otto Hightower, frustrated by his waning influence, began to suggest quietly that the new queen’s womb was barren — that the gods had denied her fruitfulness. He reasoned that a king must have sons to secure the realm’s future, and that Rhaenyra’s claim, though declared, could not stand without challenge from the faith or the lords of Westeros.

When word of Otto’s murmurs reached the king’s ears, Viserys summoned the Hand to his chambers. The exchange was not recorded in full, but fragments of it survive in Maester Orwyle’s letters:

“You would question my wife’s worth?” the king demanded.

“I speak only of the realm, Your Grace,” Otto answered smoothly. “The queen gives you comfort, yes—but not a son. The gods—”

“Enough,” Viserys said, his voice rising like thunder. “Rhaenyra is my heir. She will remain my heir. And I will not let any tongue—not even yours, Ser Hightower—raise to insult my queen.”

The next morning, Otto Hightower’s were quietly removed from his position. Where once he had met the king each dawn, now the queen joined her husband instead, her counsel quiet but ever present.

What few in the realm knew—what even the maesters would not learn until much later—was that the queen’s supposed barrenness was no curse, but a choice.

Amanda Arryn, ever wise and pragmatic, had spoken plainly to the king in the first months of their union. "Aemma’s line runs through Rhaenyra,” she had said. “Let her inherit what is hers by right. To bear you another child would invite only discord.”

Viserys, who loved his first queen still and cherished his daughter above all, had agreed. “Rhaenyra is enough,” he told her. “Through her, Aemma lives.”

Thus, the royal marriage remained childless by design. An act not of failure, but of devotion and foresight.

And though the realm whispered of a barren queen, Amanda bore the rumors with grace. When once asked by a lady of the court whether she prayed for a son, the queen smiled and replied softly:

“I have one already. The daughter of the woman I loved as a sister.”

“Thus it was that Queen Amanda Arryn preserved peace within the Red Keep—not through heirs, nor through ambition, but through wisdom. In her, the king found steadiness; in her, the princess found protection. Though no son was born of their union, no union had borne greater loyalty.”