The Council of 101

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The Following 15 Chapters are available for Patrons.

Chapter 27 (Jaehaerys and Alysanne), Chapter 28 (A Last Talk), Chapter 29 (Set Your Wings Free), Chapter 30 (The Young Dragon), Chapter 31 (A Song for A Lady), Chapter 32 (The Calm Before), Chapter 33 (Lady Hightower), Chapter 34 (The Storm), Chapter 35 (A Dance Under The Full Moon), Chapter 36 (Magic is Dark and Full of Lies), Chapter 37 (A Prince and A Princess), Chapter 38 (A Tourney of Sacrifice), Chapter 39 (Words are like an Arrow), Chapter 40 (Viserys's Decision), and Chapter 41 (Aenar's Answer) are already available for Patrons.

Jaehaerys Targaryen

As his weathered, aged finger slowly closed around the cold, metal armrest of the imposing iron throne, Jaehaerys, a man who had ruled with dignity and strength for countless years, summoned every ounce of resolve he had left within him to rise from its lofty seat. His loyal and dedicated kingsguards, standing like statues at his side, were ever ready to rush to his aid, yet their assistance was swiftly dismissed with a mere flick of his hand. A steadfast conviction filled his thoughts as he descended the worn stone steps, his limbs trembling with the weight of his years. Each successive step became an arduous struggle, as if the world conspired to test his endurance, relentlessly reminding him of his frailty. With each passing day, the once-profound honor and privilege of reigning over the Seven Kingdoms became increasingly burdensome. Initially, a faint hint of breathlessness would greet him as he assumed his rightful place on the illustrious throne. I'm the King; as long as I draw breath, I won't shame myself, he thought.

Now, Jaehaerys found himself constantly gasping for breath as soon as he settled onto the iron throne. It had been a grueling two months since Baelon's untimely demise, and yet Jaehaerys had hardly had a moment to mourn the loss of his beloved son. Entrusted with the weighty responsibility of ruling the realm, Jaehaerys knew he had to suppress his grief and focus on fulfilling his obligations as the King. Initially, he had dismissed his mounting fatigue as a mere consequence of the ruling, but as time went on, the weariness became increasingly overwhelming.

What had started as mild bouts of weariness had now transformed into all-consuming exhaustion that plagued Jaehaerys relentlessly. Doubts began to gnaw at the corners of his mind, tempting him to relinquish his duties and allow Otto, the trusted Hand of the King, to oversee the realm's affairs. Otto was well-versed in the intricacies of governance, and it seemed only logical to delegate some of the burden to him. However, Jaehaerys' brief experiment with relinquishing his responsibilities was swiftly interrupted when Alysanne, approached him with an unwavering demand to shoulder his responsibilities as the King once more.

Caught in the throes of physical and emotional fatigue, Jaehaerys pondered the battle waging within him. On the one hand, he longed for respite from the crown's weight, yearning to spare himself from the unrelenting drain it imposed. Yet, a sense of duty loomed over him, reminding him of the countless lives he held in his hands as the ruler of the realm.

' "Leave me Alone," Jaehaerys spoke, not looking at Alysanne, his voice fragile and much weaker than it used to be. Despite being a king, his voice didn't carry the commanding presence expected from a ruler of his stature. His trembling hands tightly grasped an aged drawing of Daenerys, created just a week before her untimely illness. The portrait depicted the young girl with a radiant smile, a sight that now brought an overwhelming wave of sadness to Jaehaerys' grieving heart. In that moment, lost in his memories, he lamented the loss of his beloved daughter, the weight of his anguish crushing his regal spirit.

"Jaehaerys, you can't let Otto to sit on the throne, you're the King, you should-" However, her words were abruptly interrupted as Jaehaerys slammed his hand down forcefully onto the table, sending a resonating thud throughout the room. The unexpected gesture caught Alysanne completely off guard, causing her voice to trail off into silence.

"One month," Jaehaerys said, his voice filled with a delicate blend of sorrow and longing, resonating with emotions he could not hide. His gaze remained fixed upon the hauntingly beautiful drawing of his beloved lost daughter as if etching her image deeper into his heart. With a heavy sigh, he eventually shifted his attention towards his old wife, the woman who had stood by his side through every triumph and hardship, their shared history painted on the lines etched across her face.

"I dragged myself into every meeting needed since Baelon left us. I didn't have the chance to, I was too busy to even grieve properly," Jaehaerys felt a wave of emotion engulfing him, his eyes filling with tears. However, despite this profound sadness, he resolved to maintain his composure and avoid shedding a tear.

"Let me grieve for my son," Jaehaerys pleaded, his voice filled with a deep sorrow that echoed through the chamber. Alysanne, feeling a heavy weight of guilt settle within her, couldn't bear to meet his gaze. As her tear-filled eyes welled up, the pain in her heart mirrored that of her husband's. In a poignant display of empathy, she turned away, her face reddening with both empathy and remorse, before eventually mustering a solemn nod to convey her unspoken understanding.

"I'm vaoreznuni lēkia (I'm sorry, brother)," Alysanne apologized sincerely before looking at Jaehaerys, wanting to stay with him, but he quickly shook his head, unlike her; he preferred to grieve by himself; he didn't want anyone else to be with him, his wife said nothing but turned around, and left the bedchamber.

Once the heavy, wooden door clicked shut with a distinct finality, Jaehaerys, feeling a wave of weariness washing over him, let his tired body sink down on the soft, plush bed. Perched on the edge, he carefully lowered himself, cautiously avoiding disturbing the neatly arranged sheets. As his hands reached out, trembling slightly, he delicately took hold of the well-worn drawing depicting his beloved Aemon and Baelon. Being fully aware that he was now entirely secluded, an overwhelming rush of sorrow seized him, prompting tears to slowly trickle down his wrinkled, weather-beaten cheeks. The salty droplets journeyed down, falling silently onto the once pristine surface of the mattress, leaving behind small, damp marks in their wake.

"I'm vaoreznuni. Nyke jaelagon nyke could emagon issare konīr tolī syt jemome. (I'm sorry. I wish I could have been there more for all of you.)" Jaehaerys grieved for his beautiful children; many of them were gone, one daughter happy and married, one boy at the Citadel, and the other daughter never wanted to see them again. '

After that day, Jaehaerys continued doing his job as the King, not missing a single day; Otto would often suggest that he rest in his bedchambers, but Jae would dismiss his words, saying as king, he needed to do his job, and he would do his job until his body could no longer walk.

'What's the point of the King, if someone else does all the ruling for them,' Jaehaerys had said those words, and after that, Otto had not suggested again that he should rest, simply keeping quiet and doing what the King told him to do.

King Jaehaerys, with his steps resonating with unwavering poise and deliberate slowness, strolled along the illustrious corridor of the resplendent throne hall, a triumvirate of loyal Kingsguards closely trailed behind him, diligently protecting their esteemed sovereign. While physically traversing this regal path seemingly autonomously, King Jaehaerys's contemplative mind meandered towards a forthcoming conversation that held an unappealing allure – an impending discourse with his beloved wife that he approached with a sense of trepidation and unease.

Jaehaerys knew what everyone else said behind his back; he knew his days were numbered, and as King without an heir, everyone wanted to know who the King would be after his death.

Jaehaerys had no reason to make a decision; the laws of god and men made it clear who should rule the Seven Kingdoms: Viserys should be the King. He was married and had a good claim and quite a few kingdoms backing him up, but Jaehaerys knew where Alysanne's opinion stood; he knew she wanted Rhaenys to become Queen and for Lord Corlys to become King consort until Laenor Velayron came of age to rule.

Jaehaerys knew he needed to make a public vote to make sure his family wouldn't tear each other apart when he passed away; for this reason, a week ago, he had sent a raven to every Paramour Lord in the Seven Kingdoms; they all were ordered to travel to Harrenhal, there they all would decide who would rule the realm.

Soon, Jaehaerys reached his bedchamber, the fatigue from the day's events weighing heavily on him. As he stepped through the door, the comforting sight of Alysanne sitting on the balcony washed over him, bringing a sense of tranquility to his weary soul. Two chairs were thoughtfully placed in the corner of the balcony, inviting them to rest and enjoy each other's company. Adjacent to Alysanne, a small table displayed her cup of tea, its steam rising gracefully from the delicate porcelain surface. The teapot is intricately designed and emitting a gentle hiss from its spout. Closing the door softly behind him, Jaehaerys walked silently toward Alysanne, his footsteps echoing in the quietness of the chamber. As he neared the center of the room, she gracefully turned her head, a welcoming smile blooming on her lips, her eyes filled with love and understanding.

Alysanne, feeling a surge of compassion and empathy, briskly stood up from her seat and swiftly approached him. With thoughtful concern evident in her eyes, she approached him and gently offered her support, allowing him to lean on her for stability as they slowly made their way toward his designated seat. As he eased himself down onto the cushioned surface, a tangible wave of relief washed over him, escaping through a grateful sigh that spoke volumes about the weariness that had burdened him throughout the day.

The weariness that had accumulated over hours of arduous work seemed to melt away as he finally found respite in the simple act of sitting down. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, causing them to sag and settle into a more relaxed posture. With each deep breath he took, inhaling the cool and invigorating air around him, his lungs seemed to expand with a newfound sense of freedom. The refreshing sensation of fresh air circulating within him brought a renewed sense of vitality and rejuvenation, penetrating into the depths of his being.

For a fleeting moment, Jaehaerys experienced a surge of nostalgia that transported him back to the exhilarating moments spent astride Vermithor, who had been his fierce companion in times of triumph and peril. As the wind rushed past his face, filling his senses with an invigorating rush, Jaehaerys couldn't help but long for the bygone days of boundless liberation. Despite the passage of over five long years since their last shared flight, the profound bond between Jaehaerys and Vermithor continued to resonate within him, an enduring connection. Every fiber of his being became infused with the knowledge that this profound link would endure, accompanying him on his journey until the very end of his mortal existence, when he would draw his last breath.

Jaehaerys's eyes were immediately drawn to Cannibal. Despite the wall that encased him, Cannibal's figure remained visible, with his massive head occasionally peeking out from behind the barrier. However, it was a stroke of luck that Cannibal preferred to spend most of his time slumbering peacefully in the vast expanse of the King's Wood. Considering their immense size and power, the dragon's need for rest was understandable. As such, Cannibal would often indulge in extended periods of slumber, lasting not just days but whole weeks at a time.

To say Jaehaerys was wary of Cannibal would be an understatement; before Vhagar would often roar at Cannibal whenever the latter would be anywhere close to King's Landing, Cannibal didn't try to enter the city when Vhagar was around, but after Baelon's death, Vhagar had left to Dragonstone, back in the same cave she used to stay before Baelon claimed her.

But now, there was no Dragon larger than Cannibal around King's Landing. Vermithor was close, but even he wasn't as big as Cannibal, so Jaehaerys felt dread, knowing that Cannibal could decide to attack the city; he just hoped that Aenar would be enough to change his mind, despite not yet riding Cannibal, something Jaehaerys wished he would be able to see before Death claimed him.

In the tranquil atmosphere of the spacious balcony, overlooking the breathtaking vista, there was a serene serenade of birdsong and seagulls gracefully gliding through the clear blue skies. Amidst this symphony of nature, Jaehaerys found solace in the rhythmic melody of the waves crashing against the rugged rocks beneath him. As a gentle breeze caressed his face, he surrendered to the moment, allowing the warm golden rays of the sunlight to kiss his closed eyelids, evoking a deep sense of contentment and sheer bliss.

Jaehaerys, lost in his thoughts, was clueless about the passage of time as he sat there, engulfed in silence, tightly grasping Alysanne's hand. In this peaceful lull, Alysanne would intermittently take delicate sips of her tea, both of them relishing the tranquility that enveloped them. Despite their shared solitude, the conversation was absent as they found solace in basking in each other's presence, choosing to revel in the stillness surrounding them.

Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity of silence, the air in the room was shattered by the sound of Jaehaerys breaking it. With determination in his eyes, he leaned forward from the plush chair, his every movement deliberate and graceful. In one swift motion, his hand extended towards the teapot, gracefully grasping its handle with a sense of familiarity.

As the hot liquid began to flow, the tea was captured in an elegant silver teacup, its polished surface casting mesmerizing glimmers of light that danced playfully against the backdrop of the sunlit room. It was the handle, however, that truly captured one's attention – meticulously carved to resemble the scales of a dragon.

Bringing the cup to his lips, Jaehaerys allowed the fragrant tea to pass through them, relishing its delicate and soothing taste that was neither overly saccharine nor devoid of sweetness. Savoring the moment, he took another quick sip, feeling a sense of tranquility wash over him. Finally, as the cup gently found its place on the intricately designed table, Jaehaerys turned his attention to Alysanne, his companion who had silently observed the scene unfolding before her.

"How is Aenar? Did he like the tale I choose?" With a small smile gracing his weathered face, Jaehaerys eagerly inquired about the well-being of Aenar. Deep down, Jaehaerys yearned to know if the story had managed to captivate their imaginations.

"They both did, Aenar asked if it's true that you once jumped from the top of your dragon to another Dragon," Alysanne said sweetly, letting out a giggle.

"Only a madmen would try something like that,"

Jaehaerys asked more questions about Aenar; he wanted to know everything he could know. Alysanne was more than happy to tell him everything; she told him how Aenar had talent with a sword and one day could become just as good as his father; Jaehaerys had no doubts about it. His great-grandson had taken Daemon's talent with a sword and, thankfully, Lyanna's heart.

Jaehaerys knew it was perhaps too early to talk, but he believed that Aenar could one day become a good lord, someone who would support Viserys's future son, maybe even become Hand of the King in the far future.

They continued talking for two hours; Jaehaerys wanted to know everything about Aenar, and then he started asking about Rhaenyra. While Alysanne said she was sweet, Jaehaerys could tell from her tone alone that Alysanne's favorite was Aenar.

Eventually, and unfortunately, the discussion turned towards the upcoming council that would be held in Harrenhal.

"Jaehaerys, the council in Harrenhal-" "I don't want to have this discussion again, the council will decide who becomes King and Queen, whoever they decide, I will approve of it," Jaehaerys interrupted whatever Alysanne had wanted to say, he didn't want to have that discussion again.

"Why? She would be a good Queen," Alysanne questioned, her voice laced with genuine curiosity and a hint of sadness. Jaehaerys, on the other hand, found himself in a state of overwhelming weariness. The weight of his responsibilities seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, causing fatigue to settle deep within his bones. A wave of exhaustion washed over him, threatening to drown his already fatigued mind. He clasped his temples, feeling the beginning of a sharp, throbbing pain that veered towards a headache of epic proportions. It was as if his skull were about to give way, splitting apart to expose the turmoil within his thoughts.

"Maybe, but Rhaenys is too prideful, and Corlys is even more prideful than her; they both are stubborn. You might not see it, but Corlys wants the throne for his children, and both of his children have the name Velayron, not Targaryen. Corlys is too prideful to be placed on the throne, and whenever his pride is hurt, he will throw a tantrum instead of acting like a proper lord." Jaehaerys said with a bitter tone. He wanted to say more, but in the end, he kept his mouth shut; the last thing he wanted was to have another heated discussion with Alysanne.

One Month Later - Harrenhal

Aenar Targaryen - 101 AC

The last time he had seen people from so many different houses was a momentous occasion that echoed the grandeur and significance of the time he, Daenerys, and Rhaenys were gloriously crowned in King's Landing. While their reign, although regrettably short-lived, provided them with a magnificent span of nine months, during which their realm was akin to a paradise. However, this idyllic period came crashing down in a calamitous manner when the formidable Wall eventually succumbed to devastation and despair.

Aenar still remembered the moment the Horn was blown; even people from Dorne had heard the Horn. Melisandre had warned them that the Horn could be heard from the entire world; it sounded had made even their dragons let out whimpers as if they knew what Blowing that Horn would do.

The giants had woken up all around beyond the Wall, some even underneath the Wall, serving the Night King and his army; the giants had large bows, with arrows large and made entirely out of Weirwood.

Aenar took a deep breath, getting rid of such thoughts; he was in his bedchamber with Ghost, and his father assured him they wouldn't stay long in Harrenhal.

After arriving, his father told him to stay inside with Ghost until he returned; Aenar figured his father was talking with Uncle Viserys and Aemma.

Aenar wondered if this Council would have the same outcome as last time. Gael and Alysanne were still alive, and Aenar knew for sure his great-grandmother wanted Rhaenys to win instead of Viserys.

Aenar escaped his thoughts as the door creaked open. Anticipating his father's arrival, he turned his gaze towards the entrance, only to be taken aback by the sight of Laena gracefully making her way into the room. Her cautious and deliberate steps seemed almost stealthy as if she was attempting to enter unnoticed. Aenar, perplexed by this unexpected turn of events, furrowed his brow in mild confusion, struggling to understand the situation at hand. However, any traces of confusion quickly dissolved into amusement, as he couldn't help but let out a chuckle, thoroughly entertained by Laena's entrance.

"Laena, why are you sneaking inside? I hope you're not hiding a knife somewhere," Aenar playfully joked, earning an exaggerated eye roll from Laena. She closed the door behind her, her eyes briefly glancing towards Ghost. Ghost met her gaze for a moment before redirecting his attention towards his own tail, which seemed to be bothering him, causing him to turn in circles to catch it, an amusing sight to witness.

"How are you feeling, Aenar?" Laena, as she walked up to him, questioned with evident concern, lacing her voice. Aenar, facing her, attempted to muster a smile, but Laena, perceptive as always, immediately sensed that it was not genuine. She knew all too well that Aenar had not genuinely smiled since the devastating loss of his mother. Laena's heart ached for him as she contemplated the heaviness of his grief that still lingered, casting a shadow over his every expression. Despite her best efforts to bring joy back into his life, the genuine smile that had once adorned his face remained elusive, reminding Laena of the immeasurable pain he had endured.

"I'm fine, why are you asking?" Aenar questioned, his voice laced with a dismissive tone that attempted to hide his true emotions. However, as Laena stared into his eyes, she could sense a certain unease that contradicted his words. Although she yearned for him to open up and be truly honest with her, she understood the delicate nature of his guardedness. She didn't want to push him into confessing or sharing anything he wasn't ready to reveal. Deep down, though, she held onto the certainty that there would come a time when he would share every secret with her willingly.

"I will always be here for you, Aenar," Laena said with a warm smile on her face, her eyes shining with sincerity. She wanted Aenar to truly understand the depth of her commitment and support. It meant more to her than words could express. Aenar couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness and gratitude washing over him as her words sank in. He had always cherished their deep connection, but hearing her reaffirm her unwavering presence in his life brought him an even greater sense of joy.

The genuine happiness that filled the air between them was palpable, and it felt like their hearts were singing in unison. Slowly, they both wrapped their arms around each other, their embrace growing tighter. At that moment, time seemed to stand still as they found solace in each other's arms, sharing a profound and meaningful hug that conveyed a multitude of emotions. As they eventually pulled away, their smiles lingered.

"Thank you, Laena. But shouldn't you be with Aunt Rhaenys?" Aenar questioned as he looked at Laena, who rolled her eyes. Aenar knew his aunt was trying her hardest to get what she saw as her rightful throne, but even Aenar could tell that she didn't have as much support as she had wanted. House Lannister had already made it clear they would support Viserys.

"All my parents have been talking about since uncle Baelon's death is the throne and how much my mother and brother deserve to sit on it, being around them is the last thing I want right now," Laena spoke with slight irritation in her voice. Aenar couldn't help but frown slightly. He wondered if Rhaenys had grieved for her uncle or maybe she had been happy to receive the news of his death, but Aenar quickly rejected such thoughts. He doubted Rhaenys was that heartless.

"I thought you would be happy for your mother to become a Queen?" Aenar inquired. Laena, taken aback by Aenar's query, swiftly swiveled her head to meet his gaze, her mesmerizing violet eyes locking firmly with his own radiant purple irises.

"My mother is not suited to become a Queen, and my father is simply too prideful, he once had a poor boy beaten simply because he won against Laenor. The boy was a year younger than Laenor and he still won. My father then had a much older and experienced knight fight the boy in a friendly match, but the knight accidentally broke the boy's arm." Laena spoke with a slight anger in her eyes and voice.

Aenar raised an eyebrow; he didn't expect Lord Corlys to be so petty, but then he was intrigued to ask her something else. "You don't want your parents to sit on the iron throne; what do you want?"

"I want to become a Queen, and with a good and powerful King by my side," Laena answered firmly, looking straight at Aenar before she looked away as the door opened, revealing Daemon Targaryen, who cleared his throat to gain Aenar's attention.

"It's time."

.

.

Aenar stood beside his father. His father was standing near Viserys, the wise and just ruler of the realm, who stood proudly with his chest held high, radiating authority and power. By Viserys' side stood Rhaenyra and Aemma.

As Aenar observed the scene before him, three soldiers clad in shining armor approached the grand metallic door that guarded the entrance to the great hall. The soldiers carefully and with utmost precision opened the massive door, revealing the anticipation that had engulfed the packed hall. Each gaze was fixated on the soldiers, their hearts pounding with anticipation as they carried an intricately decorated chest, adorned with jewels and the sigil of the Targaryen house.

The soldiers began their measured walk towards the King and Queen, navigating through the sea of people that filled the hall. The air was heavy with tension and excitement as whispers and murmurs spread throughout the crowd. All eyes followed the soldiers' every step, their curiosity piqued.

Amidst this spectacle, Aenar's gaze shifted to his aunt Gael. Her belly, swollen with the promise of new life, was tenderly caressed by her husband's hand. Aenar couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and joy as he observed the quiet tenderness shared between the expectant parents.

Aenar smiled momentarily, happily to see his Aunt married to someone she loved. His father told Aenar that House Stark had decided to support Viserys due to Gael's influence; Lord Benjen Stark had said that House Stark would always be with House Targaryen. House Tyrell would support Viserys due to Otto Hightower's influence and his wife's words. House Lannister, Tully, and House Arryn also supported Viserys.

As the three soldiers, each clad in their gleaming armor, approached the majestic throne, they reverently placed the intricately designed chest before the imposing figures of the King and Queen. With gentle precision, they unlatched the chest, its hinges creaking faintly in the grand hall. As the lid swung open with an air of anticipation, the room held its breath.

Within the chest, nestled amidst velvety cushions, lay a weathered scroll. King Jaehaerys, his once strong hands now showing the marks of time, extended his aged fingers toward the artifact. His touch was careful and deliberate as if he were handling an irreplaceable treasure. The gazes of all those assembled were fixated on the ruler, their collective hush a testament to their respect and anticipation.

With a deliberate slowness, King Jaehaerys unfurled the scroll, each movement carrying a weight of significance. The once-noisy hall fell into an almost eerie silence as every individual strained to catch even the faintest rustle of parchment. As the King's eyes scanned the words.

"It is declared by all Lords Paramount, and Lord Vessels of the Seven Kingdoms. The heir to the Throne is Prince Viserys of House Targaryen." The King's words echoed throughout the hall. As the words reverberated, every lord present rose from their seats, their hands clapping in a thunderous applause. Prince Daemon and Prince Aenar joined in the ovation, acknowledging the appointed heir to the Iron Throne - Prince Viserys of House Targaryen, whose destiny to rule was sealed at that very moment.

Aenar, cautiously shifted his gaze towards Princess Rhaenys's face, only to witness her jaw tightening and her face rapidly flushing with an incandescent anger. Lord Corlys, positioned nearby, couldn't contain his own fury as he stared daggers at Prince Viserys, his intense glare mirroring the fiery indignation shimmering in Rhaenys's eyes. Meanwhile, Laenor stood silently, confusion palpable on his face as he struggled to comprehend the sudden outburst of rage from his parents. On the other hand, Laena, having keenly observed the entirety of the situation, wore a small but unmistakable smile on her lips. This smile seemed to hint at some hidden satisfaction or amusement.

Aenar took a deep breath, knowing the time had come.

Not again. The Nightmare won't come true again.

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