A Legacy Reclaimed

A Legacy Reclaimed

Annatar sat by the window in his quarters, watching the sun rise over King's Landing. The warmth of dawn bathed the city's ancient towers and bustling streets, setting the Red Keep aglow in a vibrant array of colors. It was hard to believe that only days before he'd been little more than a stranger in this city, a figure whose only claim to fame was his bond with Silverwing. Now, he was acknowledged as family, a Targaryen, with a rightful place and a land to call his own.

When he rose that morning, a quiet knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts. It was a steward with a message: the king had summoned him once more. Annatar dressed quickly, feeling the weight of his new ring—an heirloom of House Targaryen that Viserys had gifted him the night before. Its ancient rubies gleamed against his skin, a symbol of both his lineage and the charge that had been bestowed upon him.

The steward led him through the vast and winding corridors of the Red Keep. Annatar's footsteps echoed in the silence as he took in the tapestries lining the walls, each one depicting a tale of his family's legacy: Aegon the Conqueror's triumphs, Jaehaerys the Conciliator's wise rulership, and the brutal battles his ancestors had fought to claim their place in history. This castle, with all its glory and shadows, had once seemed distant to him, but now he felt tethered to it in a way that surprised even himself.

He passed Queen Alicent in one of the passages, and she offered him a polite nod and a measured smile. Though her gaze held a flicker of warmth, Annatar couldn't help but sense something reserved and watchful behind her expression. He wondered briefly if she held any suspicions or reservations about him, the newly revealed nephew in her husband's life. But that thought was cast aside as he entered the king's chambers, greeted by Viserys's welcoming smile.

"Annatar," Viserys greeted him, motioning him to sit. "Come, sit. Today is a day for family, not formality."

The warmth in Viserys's voice put him at ease, though there was an underlying tension to the king's demeanor—a weariness that suggested deeper burdens. Viserys poured them each a goblet of wine, and they shared a silent toast before the king began to speak.

"You may wonder why I called you here again so soon," Viserys said, glancing out the window. "There are things about our family that must be spoken of openly, and you deserve to hear them from me."

Annatar listened intently as Viserys told him of Baelon the Brave, the grandfather he had never known. Baelon had been a man of valor and loyalty, deeply loved by the realm, and yet he had been as flawed as any other mortal. In a rare moment of weakness, Baelon had strayed, and in doing so, he'd fathered Aredhel, a daughter born in secret. Viserys recounted how his father, troubled by his own lapse, had made quiet attempts to support Aredhel and her children, yet the demands of the crown had taken priority. In the end, Aredhel had disappeared from the royal family's reach, leaving Annatar to be raised far from the reach of Targaryen power.

"I searched for her, you know," Viserys continued softly, his gaze distant. "When I was younger, I wished to find her and bring her back to the family. But time slipped away. The wars, the rule of the realm—it all became... a haze."

The king paused, looking Annatar directly in the eye. "My father's last words to me, his final wish, were to find you and protect you. He believed in the strength of family, in its ability to endure through hardship. I could not fulfill his wish then, but perhaps... now, we can make amends."

Annatar felt the weight of those words sink in. Here was the history that had been kept from him, the story he had never known yet had always felt in his bones. The Targaryens were his kin, bound to him by blood and fire alike. And Viserys—his uncle—had offered him not just protection but a place in their history.

Annatar's voice wavered as he spoke. "To have a family... to belong somewhere, as you have given me now. I am grateful, Your Grace. I will make you proud."

Viserys nodded solemnly. "You have my faith, Annatar. Blood of my blood. And I have one more gift to bestow upon you."

He reached into a chest nearby and pulled out a rolled parchment bearing the Targaryen sigil. Breaking the wax seal, he unrolled it to reveal a deed.

"This is the title to Oldstones," Viserys said, handing it to Annatar. "A land steeped in ancient power, once the seat of House Mudd, the Kings of the Riverlands. Though it has fallen into ruin, I believe that under your care, it can thrive once again. With this, I grant you lordship over Oldstones and the surrounding lands."

Annatar took the parchment with reverence, scarcely believing the reality of it. Oldstones—a land to call his own, a place to build his future.

"Thank you, Your Grace," he whispered, his heart swelling with emotion. "This means more than I can ever repay."

Viserys smiled. "As I said, this is for family. And now that you have a true home, I will ask you one question: What will you name your house?"

Annatar's mind drifted immediately to Silverwing, his dragon, his companion in solitude and battle alike. "I will name it House Silverwing," he replied, his voice firm. "She is my heart, my strength. Our bond will echo through Oldstones."

Viserys gave him a nod of approval. "Then let it be so. House Silverwing shall rise again, and you shall be its first lord."

They clasped hands in a final gesture of kinship, and with that, Annatar left the king's chambers, his heart alight with a newfound purpose.

As he walked through the castle, Annatar could scarcely contain his excitement. The Red Keep no longer felt cold and indifferent but rather like the heart of a story in which he finally belonged. He imagined the crumbling towers of Oldstones, its stone walls whispering the tales of old. Soon, he would ride there with Silverwing and breathe new life into its halls. He would make it a place of beauty and strength—a home not only for himself but for the memory of his mother, Aredhel, and the kin who had embraced him as family.

That evening, he returned to his chambers, where Aeron awaited him with a wide grin.

"A lord, now, are you?" Aeron teased, clapping him on the back. "And Oldstones, no less. You've always been full of surprises, cousin."

Annatar laughed, a sound rich with unguarded joy. "It seems I am, Aeron. But you'll be right by my side. House Silverwing will be a home for us both."

Together, they toasted to this new chapter, a future bright with promise. And as night fell over King's Landing, Annatar felt for the first time a sense of peace—a certainty that he had finally found his place among the legends, as Lord Annatar of House Silverwing, keeper of an ancient legacy and a loyal heart bound by blood, fire, and a destiny as unyielding as the stones of his new domain.