Dust Settles, Lightning Strikes

Alicent stood on her chambers balcony, staring over the wounded city, a scene mirroring the desolation within her. In her trembling hands rested a small stone dragon, a memory of Viserys following her mothers death, anchoring her to a time before she felt the weight of blame for the city's suffering. Placing it tenderly on the balustrade, she used a nearby stool to stand next to it at the brink, her tear-streaked face exhausted, bearing silent turmoil.

"MY LADY!" Ser Harold's voice broke the silence, a deep, guttural cry filled with fear as he entered the room, his eyes wide with dread at the sight before him. He advanced carefully but urgently, his expression etched with raw concern.

Alicent's voice shook as she wept, "It did this… The king… it's all because of me." Her sobs came in waves, each more intense than the last, her grief threatening her balance on the ledge.

"No, my lady," Ser Harold said, stepping closer. "The King loved you like his own; I had seen this from the time you were a girl. His love was as true for you as it was for the Prince and Princess. He did what he did to protect you, to protect your child. If you are lost, my lady, then they are all sure to follow." Tears welled in his own eyes, for the ache of losing Viserys, the man he loyally served for over a decade, like a wound that wasn't soon to close.

Alicent whispered apologies, not to anyone in particular, but to some part of herself, her voice lost in her grief. Slowly, she crouched on the ledge, a sight that drove Ser Harold to swift action. He rushed forward, his hands hovering close, yet giving her space as she processed it all.

"Come now, my lady," he said softly, extending a hand. "The Lady-in-Waiting will see to you personally." After a long, quiet moment, she looked up at him with tear-filled eyes, finally accepting his hand. Gently, he helped her down, calling on the servants to attend her. He remained vigilant in the corner, guarding her as he always had, fulfilling Viserys's last unspoken command to protect his family, guarding Alicent in particular by Rhaenyra's request from the other side of the erected stone wall once he regained consciousness. 

Aegon walked through the ashen streets, blood-streaked and barefoot, a trail of dirt and soot marking his path as he walked alongside Daemon. Harwin stepped in, wrapping his cloak around Aegon, the prince barely noticing, lost in a haze of pain and fatigue. His once brilliant silver hair was matted and dull, dirt and blood turning it nearly unrecognizable.

Smallfolk and Gold Cloaks alike stopped to call out to him, reaching for their battered prince, their cries of loyalty and concern filling the air. Daemon placed a hand on his shoulder, urging softly, "They need to hear from you, nephew. Just a few words. They need to understand their struggle is not in vain."

Aegon looked up, his eyes distant and hollow as he surveyed the faces around him. Reluctantly, he continued toward a vast square where hundreds of people had gathered after the chaos, handing out food and mending wounds among other ways of helping each other. The chatter swelling into a loud murmur as they saw him approach. He handed Blackfyre to Daemon, dagger still in his right hand as he climbed onto the fountain's edge, letting the icy-cool water wash away some of the blood from his face, enough to return clarity to both eyes, ignoring the vertical wound across his eye that was now more visible across the clean skin. 

The crowd quieted as they sensed he was about to speak. His gaze swept over them, noting the mix of hope, sorrow, and fear etched into their faces. Somewhere at the edge of the courtyard, Rhaenys stood with a solemn, unreadable expression, watching her nephew as he took in the enormity of what he had become.

One voice called out, "WHY ARE THE GODS PUNISHING US?"

Another snapped back, "THEY WASN'T GODS, YOU DAFT BITCH! THEY WAS MADMEN!"

A third cried out, "AND THE PRINCE BROUGHT THEM LOW ALL THE SAME! WITH FIRE AND BLOOD!"

Aegon slowly raised his hand, and the crowd quieted. His voice, though weary, carried a fierce strength. "You're right. In some of your eyes, I have betrayed the gods, the faith that has held so many strong for so long," he began, his tone measured.

"But these fanatics were not the Faith, nor did they speak for the gods. They were men wearing familiar faces and colors, twisting sacred beliefs to serve their own maddening ends. To those of you who have lost something this day, whether it be your homes, loved ones or very way of life, I regretfully cannot return any of it. All I can say, at this precipice, is this: if you follow me down this path, together we will tear them all out, root and stem. I have made these choices, no matter how they may appear to some, not out of cruelty, or lust, but with love and necessity. My great grandsire gave birth to an age of prosperity, and I intend to do the same. We will not be bound to this nightmare. Whether you have heard these words before or not, I say them now. If the world hates you, just remember, it hated me first. THEY are the scum of the earth, and they shall all be the objects of our VENGEANCE!"

"THE KING IS DEAD! LONG LIVE THE KING! LONG LIVE KING AEGON!!" Ser Harwin proclaimed from the outskirts of the courtyard with intent to rouse the crowd. 

A surge of cheers broke through the cold air as the people shouted his name, echoing it again and again. "LONG LIVE THE KING, LONG LIVE KING AEGON!!"

Jumping from the fountain, Aegon moved through the throng, people reaching out not to harm or hinder him and Daemon, but show their sympathy for his loss many felt that day, each voicing words of hope and loyalty, each touch, a reminder of their trust in him, drained him even as it steeled his resolve. When he reached the edge of the courtyard, Rhaenys stepped forward, saying nothing as she gently took his hand, guiding him with a reassuring touch.

As they neared the front gate to the keep, a shadow fell over them. Vermithor, emotionally worn but unharmed, descended from the sky, landing before Aegon and his small company, kicking up a veil of dust and ash from those that burned that night. The bronze beast emitted a low, reverberating bellow, mourning, sensing the weight in his rider's heart. Aegon stepped forward, stroking the great dragon's hide, whispering in High Valyrian, "I'm glad you came. I will need you again soon, old friend. We have much more to burn and tear before it's done." Vermithor emitted a firm coo, one of understanding. Beating his wings faster and faster, he eventually lifted off into the sky once more, blowing a mighty gale across the streets, threatening to knock some men over. He flew beyond the city with a thunderous roar, a proclamation of victory to those few amongst the streets didn't yet know it.

In the keep, Rhaenyra waited, a knot of anxiety in her chest as she cradled Visenya, her gaze darting to Baelon, who slept quietly in his crib after his meal. The air was thick with foreboding, the silence broken only by the sound of Aegon's stone wall collapsing back into the ground. She turned, startled to see him, a haunting shadow of the man she loved, battered and bloody beyond recognition.

She gently placed Visenya down next to her brother, adjusting her gown before rushing over, her eyes scanning his face with silent horror. She reached up, pressing both hands to his face as he met her gaze, a sorrow so profound passing between them that words felt empty.

Daemon and Rhaenys followed closely behind, only to witness Rhaenyra crumble into Aegon's arms as he spoke the words they had all dreaded. Her scream shattered the silence, a heart-wrenching cry of despair that echoed through the halls of the Red Keep. Aegon held her, his arms barely strong enough to keep her from falling, his own heart breaking anew. It was anyone else, she would have the last layer of comfort denial could have brought, but she knew her brother too well to know that he'd lie about such a thing, let alone anything to her.

Rhaenys moved swiftly, softly picking up Baelon and handing him to his uncle before taking Visenya into her own arms, swiftly taking their leave to spare the couple the privacy they needed for this shattering moment. For hours, Aegon and Rhaenyra remained entwined on the floor, bound by grief, the silent weight of their loss pressing on them as they mourned a father, a king, and the world they'd lost with him. 

Aemma and Alicent, each having taken their time as the twins did, eventually made their way to them, understanding that they had emotionally anchored themselves to their chambers, the two of them having only made their way to the comfort of their bed by day break. Each took the little solace each others company could bring, eventually finding themselves sleeping the rest of the day and following night away.

In the quiet warmth of the provided chambers, Rhaenys and Corlys sat by the fire, silence stretching between them except for the steady crackle and pop of the hearth. Rhaenys's gaze lingered on the doorway, as though expecting Aegon and Rhaenyra to return at any moment to ask her some innocent question or share a small story from their day, as they often did when she found time to stay in the keep. She sighed softly, gripping her wine goblet a little tighter, the gravity of Viserys's absence settling over her.

Corlys studied the fire, the glow highlighting the lines of weariness and grief etched deeper into his face. After a moment, he looked to his wife. "I disagreed with him more then I would perhaps like to admit," he said, his voice a low murmur, "But that made him no less then the man I was honored to serve. Not many see the world the way he did, with such intelligence and peace...even if it did some times get in the way. There was never any bitterness in his disagreements, only thoughtfulness. I think in time, I will come to miss that." 

Rhaenys nodded slowly, her eyes softening with memories. "He always made time for everyone, even as a boy," she said, a faint smile crossing her lips. "When we were children, he was the one who took the time to listen, to share whatever wisdom he had, even when it seemed we should have been laughing about simpler things. While other boys chased dreams of war and glory, he pursued knowledge and compassion. He never took up sword or lance like the rest of them. No, he always chose wisdom as his weapon. It was what made him... different. Better."

Corlys gave a small nod, his expression a mix of sadness and pride. "I had seen his compassion, intelligence, sense of duty and loyalty in them both during the Stepstones. Any dragonlord would have burned their enemies and left to revel...but not them. They sat amongst the desolation, feeling every weight of their decisions. Never did I think I would witness such feelings from youth, mourning enemies who would have gladly struck them down." Corlys looked back on those days all those months ago.

Rhaenys swirled the wine in her cup, taking a deep breath as she leaned back. "They have the best chance of carrying his legacy, in every way. We must help them protect it."

Corlys reached over, placing his hand on hers. They shared a long, quiet moment, both finding comfort in the familiar strength of each other's company. The wine warmed them, but it was their years of shared life, shared griefs and triumphs, that made the silence companionable, healing even. The silence returned, but it was lighter now, filled with memories, shared grief, and the resilience that had seen them through a lifetime.

The morning air was thick and foreboding, the keep shrouded in a haze of worry. Aegon was missing, having slipped through Maegor's hidden passages, leaving behind only unanswered questions and a growing unease. Rhaenyra, however, did not share in the uncertainty that plagued those who searched for him. Deep within, she knew exactly where he had gone; she could feel it as surely as her own heartbeat. Without hesitation, she slipped into her riding gear and made her way out to Syrax. Their bond, once simply close, had deepened into something far more profound, especially since that night in the Kingswood. Their connection was now instinctual, a tether that guided her as she mounted Syrax and took to the sky.

Whether Aegon had taken Vermithor or gone by his own flame, it didn't matter. The pull she felt was undeniable, and Syrax could sense it too, her golden scales glinting like embers against the dark clouds that gathered overhead. Rhaenyra's heart quickened as they soared toward a solitary cliff overlooking the Blackwater. The flicker of something dim but powerful pulled at her senses like a beacon, a faint but certain thread leading her to him.

As they approached, she saw Vermithor resting quietly nearby, watching over his rider. He hadn't been ridden, yet his loyalty and concern had drawn him here just the same. She dismounted Syrax with care, feeling the electricity in the air, the charged sensation that buzzed against her skin, raising every fine hair. She took in the scene before her as she climbed the slope: Aegon stood barefoot on the cold, uneven ground, clad in nothing but a simple tunic and trousers, seeming almost a specter in the late night, the sun barely an hour away from rising.

The storm churned above them, an unruly gathering of dark clouds and silent thunder, as if it too mourned. His figure was faintly illuminated with a strange glow, the crackling hint of something raw and dangerous flowing through him. A spark danced along his fingertips, leaping from one finger to the next as he stared up into the heavens, unblinking. She called to him softly, "Aegon…" but he did not respond, his gaze fixed skyward, lost somewhere far beyond her reach.

Then, with a sudden and terrifying intensity, a jagged bolt of lightning tore down from the heavens. It struck him directly, but rather than harm, it was as though he absorbed it, his entire body coursing with the storm's unleashed energy. Arcs of electricity shot off him, searing the ground around him, his roar breaking the stillness of the night as he released the it all back to the sky in a burst of unprecedented power, fracturing into a cascade of blazing branches. For a moment, the world was alight, his form a glowing silhouette against the darkness as the storm returned to a quiet simmer. His tunic had been seared to ash, carried away on the cold wind as he fell to his knees, his grief now silent, vast as the ocean he stared out over.

Rhaenyra approached him slowly, the remnants of his display of power buzzing in the air as she knelt behind him, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She could feel his heartbeat, strong yet steady, a silent testament to the intensity he held within. His eyes, more vibrant and luminous than she had ever seen, were locked on the distant horizon, his expression that of someone straddling the edge of this world and another, contemplating something only he could see.

"I thought it would be different," he murmured, his voice raw but quiet, as if speaking to himself. "That I'd feel... something beyond all this, maybe peace, maybe pride. But all I feel is emptiness. I remember all those stories, legends and wisdom he'd speak to us every night. If not for us, it would all be lost, like tears...in the rain" His voice grew softer, each word etched with a weight that seemed to pull him deeper into himself. "He's gone, Rhaenyra. Just... gone."

Rhaenyra tightened her hold on him, her hand finding his as she traced her fingers over his, anchoring him in the here and now. "I know, but he lives on...in us. Just like you, he was more then just a King, he was a father, one who would want his children to be there when the new world calls." 

Aegon's gaze dropped, a spark of vulnerability flashing in his eyes as he looked down at their intertwined fingers, her hand small but firm against his. The pain etched into his expression softened, and his posture shifted ever so slightly. "True creation, requires sacrifice...he taught me that, without ever needing to say it. I thought he could one day look to be sitting on that throne, proud and content, but now...it's worthless." 

"He lives in every decision you make" Rhaenyra said, her voice steady, reassuring. "The wisdom he shared, it's part of you now. And just as he chose peace, just as he led with empathy, we can too." 

He looked at her, really looked at her then, as if only now seeing the full depth of her resolve, her unwavering faith in him. "I am...angry, unlike anything I have ever felt. I vowed to make them all suffer, but I know it too threatens to cloud what he believed in, to be lost in the shadow of a mind not my own, devoid of light." 

"You won't, because I'm here, from the day we were born, to the day the twins will need these words. Please...don't cry...you're perfect!" He said while brushing hair his hair back, keeping it orderly in the turmoil of the wind around them.

He let out a breath, a subtle release of the tension he'd been holding in his frame. He looked back over the cliffs, the dark waters rolling below, reflecting the somber sky above. The storm had quieted, its roar subsiding into distant rumbles. With Rhaenyra beside him, he felt a flicker of peace beginning to settle, a small comfort in the vast chasm of his grief.

"I don't know what kind of king I'll become," he murmured, leaning into her embrace, finding solace in her presence.

"You will be the one he dreamed you to be." 

They sat together in silence, the world around them hushed, the storm lingering in the distance as if paying its respects. Their fathers loss loomed heavy, but so did the strength that would see them through it the strength they drew from each other, from their bond, and from the legacy Viserys had entrusted to them both. And as they looked out over the dark, churning waters, the first hint of dawn touched the horizon, a promise of the light to come.