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Chapter 11: Chapter 10: The End of an EraChapter Text

"Tradition is good, but it must adapt with the times, or die a slow death."

-Archmaester Vaegon Targaryen

104 AC, King's Landing City Sept

Now that I'd given Viserys a pep talk and cheered him up, he was eager to live up to his grandfather's legacy. The solemn man whom gave a moving eulogy at Jaehaerys' funeral was a far cry from the broken one that just two days prior, was pounding on the floor where he stood, crying that he wasn't ready.

It wasn't just the King that gave an eulogy. Uncle Vaegon, Daemon and Rhaenys each gave eulogies as well, but none were as well received as my father's. Rhaenys was followed by Laena, whom fondly recounted our experiences taking care of him in his dotage, and his final flight to Dragonstone. I was pleased that she was following my script, emphasising the years we spent looking after him and how he was happy and proud of us unto the end.

Me taking care of the Old King wasn't just out of familial duty. Oh don't get me wrong, filial piety was a big thing for an Asian like me, not only because of culture and tradition, but as a personal value of mine. However, I will confess that a large reason why I took care of Jaehaerys was for the superb PR that came with it, as well as showing Vaegon how to slow the progression of Alzheimer's. He and Runciter were going to publish individual treatises on it, both maesters validating my methods, which would be a great boon for my reputation as a learned and intelligent princess. Runciter was reluctant to tack my name onto the paper, but Uncle Vaegon had browbeaten him into submission. That, and I'd had Lady Jonquil pickpocket the Red Keep's library key off him and refused to return it unless he knuckled to Vaegon.

Now that Laena had finished her tale of riding Vermithor with him one last time, I stepped up to the podium beside the coffin. My eulogy was meticulously planned. I repeated what Laena said of our time taking care of him, bringing him to see Vermithor for one last ride, and him blessing my claiming of his late wife's dragon. A few more anecdotes about the Old King, before I unleashed my hidden weapon.

"In my hand, I bear the last will and testament of King Jaehaerys the First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhonyar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm." I solemnly said, producing the document. "Dictated by him and signed by his very own hand. As the scribe that wrote it down for him, when his vision failed, I request the right to read it to the assembled Lords and Ladies of the Realm."

My father nodded, and granted me the right to speak. The first parts were mundane, pledges to be honoured, wealth distributed and a wish for his ashes to be interred with Queen Alysanne's at the family mausoleum in Dragonstone. Amusingly enough, there was a chiding reminder for House Bracken and House Blackwood to remember the peace he forged between them and a plea for them not to start squabbling again. And then came the interesting bits.

"To my granddaughter Rhaenys Targaryen, I apologise for passing over your claim to the throne, not once, but twice. In apology, I hereby grant the children of Rhaenys the right to take dragons for themselves, to be passed down to their own children, with a maximum of four, not counting Meleys, unless more are granted to your house by my successors."

There were gasps at this. Even with how closely related House Velaryon was, there was a certain boundary. Dragons were the sole province of House Targaryen after all. Even dragonriders that married into the family, like Rhaenys herself, were expected to return their dragons to House Targaryen upon their deaths. What I had talked Jaehaerys into handing over, while not the Iron Throne, was still a significant amount of power.

"It is my fervent wish, that House Velaryon forgives the slight against them, and continues to serve House Targaryen as our oldest, and most loyal bannermen."

At that Lord Corlys Velaryon bent the knee to the Old King, the rest of his family doing the same, paying tribute to their former liege. They did not say a word, yet they were understood perfectly. House Velaryon forgave House Targaryen.

"To my great-granddaughter Rhaenyra Targaryen, I name you Princess of Dragonstone and heir to your father, the King Viserys I. The castle and all attendant lands and titles will be yours until he selects another heir to the throne."

This was far less shocking. Despite what Daemon will tell you, I was already the de facto heir to the throne. Nobody wanted Daemon as King, apart from a small group of warmongers, whom were mostly landed knights and impoverished lordlings desperate for glory in battle. Still, the acquisition of Dragonstone was my plan. Even before I learnt of Aenar's vault, I wanted the castle for myself, as I strongly suspected that there were hidden secrets of Valyria inside. And lo and behold, I was right.

Daemon looked murderous, and his fingers twitched towards Dark Sister, but even he was unwilling to draw steel in the funeral of the single most beloved king in recorded history. Well, I was going to piss him off even further.

"To my grandson Daemon Targaryen, I beseech you to return to the Vale of Arryn and Runestone, to return to your wife and make peace with her. I also wish to remonstrate you for your whoring and philandering, and bid you offer recompense to the maids you've deflowered and the women you've impregnated. Your bastards will be adopted by House Targaryen as wards of the crown, so that they may grow up into good men and women."

I used to be fundamentally against the Dragonseeds, as out of the four, Hugh and Ulf were traitors and would-be usurpers, Addam was loyal, and Nettles was... something else. Regardless, we uplifted four strangers off the street solely for their tenuous claims to our family, and of that four, only one proved trustworthy. But King Jaehaerys made me reconsider, pointing out that the need for more dragonriders for my many many plans outweighed the risks. He thought that my Canon son's idea was brilliant as proof-of-concept, now was the time for refinements.

My Dragonseeds would be raised personally by my family, where we could vet them, purging the unworthy and keeping the loyal. I was hoping to follow the example of Edward Stark and Jon Snow, where a Lord raised his (supposed) bastard as a son of his own, teaching him duty and loyalty, and receiving the same in turn.

"While I understand that you may be disinclined to follow the words of a dead man, I will exercise my right as the head of House Targaryen and strip you of Dark Sister, to be held in trust until you have done your duty to your wife, lovers and bastards. My son Vaegon, as an impartial maester, will judge when, and if, to return Dark Sister to you. I also grant him the right to appoint another impartial judge of his choice, should his health fail before you finish doing your duty."

Daemon was furious now, looking as though he wanted to strangle me where I stood. He took a few steps forward, hand on his sword, but there was a ring of steel, and the Kingsguard stepped between us, blades bared at Daemon. He seemed to consider his odds at first, but sanity returned to his eyes, and he stepped back in line, the seven knights sheathing their blades with a hiss.

"To my grandson and heir, Viserys Targaryen, I urge that you be good and just. Look after your brother's illegitimate children like your own. Raise them well. Teach them out history and traditions, for they too are the blood of the dragon. And I advise you to listen. Listen to your Small Council and advisors. Consider what they have to say before making a decision, and trust in their wisdom. And above all this, I beseech you to listen to your daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen. She is the future of the realm, and I can think of no other man or woman whom I'd rather see on the Iron Throne."

I paused and told everyone present that it was Vaegon, not I, that wrote this section of the will, which the Archmaester confirmed. The Old King had slapped a whole load of legitimacy onto my shoulders now. My father was nodding his head as I spoke, apparently easily swayed into believing what his predecessor wrote.

"And last but certainly not the least, to Lady Jonquil Darke, I apologise for taking you for granted. My wife, Queen Alysanne, frequently recommended you the Kingsguard, but I demurred every single time. I should have given you the white cloak after Ser Lucamore was given a black one. Or before that, when Ser Victor the Valiant and Ser Samgood of Sour Hill were carried off by the Shivers. No man or woman, not even Lord Commander Ryam Redwyne, has served my family for as long and as loyally as you." I read out, the woman in question stoically standing. "In recognition of your over fifty years of leal service and duty, I hereby appoint you a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, an honour that is long overdue."

Gasps rang through the sept at that. Lady Jonquil Darke stared disbelieving at me, her stoic mask cracking. I saw a trembling lip and watery eyes shining on her wizened face.

"As I am unable to perform the ceremony, may the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard please do so in my stead, using Blackfyre." I read, pausing and beckoning Ser Ryam Redwyne forward. The man stepped forward, followed by Lady Jonquil, whom seemed disbelieving that this was actually happening. I gently prised Blackfyre out of the dead king's hands and offered it up solemnly to the Lord Commander, carefully touching only the flat of the blade.

"Kneel, Lady Jonquil." Lord Commander Ryam Redwyne said, taking Blackfyre off my hands. Lady Jonquil did so, the sept as quiet as a graveyard, everyone staring in rapt attention. Women weren't knighted. The concept was as boggling as pigs flying. Women warriors existed, yes, and were considered strange and deviants, but knighting a woman? That just wasn't done.

"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just." He said, tapping Blackfyre on her shoulder.

"In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the young and innocent." Blackfyre tapped the other shoulder.

"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave. In the name of the Smith, I charge you to be strong. In the name of the Maid, I charge you to protect all women. In the name of the Crone, I charge you to keep your Lord's secrets." As he invoked each god, he moved Blackfyre between shoulders. Before finally placing the point beneath her chin, and slowly raising her head up, careful to avoid accidentally cutting her. "In the name of the Stranger, I charge you to slay the wicked."

It had finally sunk in, I realised. I could see it in her eyes. Old and wizened though she was, Lady Jonquil was still spry and strong, like an old unbending oak tree. Now, those unyielding eyes were filled with unshed tears and awe. Her lip quivered and she seemed a step away from having a heart attack.

"Arise, Ser Jonquil Darke, a Knight of the Seven Kingdoms." Ser Ryam declared, the first female knight in Westerosi history doing so. The Lord Commander grabbed her hand, and turned her to face the assembled crowd, raising her hand above their heads. I began clapping immediately, Laena and the rest of the Kingsguard following immediately. The applause slowly spread. Royalty first, then the household knights, the Small Council. One by one, Lords and Ladies applauded the first female knight in history, until the sept rang with noise.

I stepped down the podium, and the funeral moved into its final stages. We closed the casket, removed the crown and placed the coffin into a cart. Then, we mounted up and rode down the streets of King's Landing, travelling from the City Sept to the Dragonpit, where all dragonriders present mounted their mounts.

The casket was placed onto a pyre, and under my father's command, Vermithor, Silverwing, Meleys and Caraxes exhaled fire onto the pyre, sending off the Old King's body.

———

104 AC, Red Keep

I made sure that I was shadowed by a Kingsguard everywhere I went. Daemon was furious that he had been forced to surrender Dark Sister and ordered to return to Runestone, and I didn't want him to do anything stupid. Dark Sister was under lock and key, and carefully hidden away. Uncle Vaegon also had a Kingsguard protector now. The two of us also intended on retreating to my fancy new castle on the morrow, and not retuning until Daemon returned to his wife. At least tonight he didn't seemed inclined to attack us.

The funeral feast was a splendid affair, with dishes from places where the late king had done great deeds. Which given the length of his reign, and the greatness of the man himself, meant countless courses from all across the Seven Kingdoms. While singing and dancing was the primary entertainment, Daemon had recruited Mushroom for a truly sordid act. Which, while repulsive to the girl I am, and the man I was, was entertaining in the worst possible way. They were walking around the Great Hall, going up to Daemon's highborn conquests, and publicly handing them their compensation. It was like watching a tsunami. You knew you should run away, but you just had to watch it.

All things considered, I don't think he was too furious at having to compensate his conquests, as I saw him triumphantly smirking as he handed bags of gold to the maids in court, winking at their betrothed or fathers as he did so. Behind him, Mushroom recited erotic poetry describing the acts that they had supposedly done together, the verses so ribald that everyone was red-faced and uncomfortable.

They went through six women before I returned to my senses and ordered the Kingsguard to remove them from the feast for their indecency. While I was willing to do nearly anything to get the throne, public humiliation was just one step too far for me. It stank way too much of how my old bullies loved embarrassing me in front of the whole class. Still, that was six women whom now had to endure furious questioning from their husbands-to-be or fathers. Six ruined marriages. I was seriously starting to regret writing that clause down in the will. I was hoping to expose Alicent, but Daemon flipped it on me. Goddamn that vicious man.

Once my tiny body complained of exhaustion, I politely took my leave from the feast and Laena and I trotted back to our rooms. I'd opened the door to my quarters and made a beeline for the bed, but a soft voice interrupted me.

"Niece, I think it's high time we had a talk, you and I." Prince Daemon Targaryen said, reclining on my desk.