10

"A Lord and Lady's duty never ends."

-Regent Stannis Baratheon, to his niece, Lady Paramount Mya Baratheon

104 AC, Dragonstone

The Dragonstone household staff were well trained, and used to hosting royalty who showed up unannounced on dragonback. As such, as soon as the guards on the watchtowers spotted us, the castellan of Dragonstone was swiftly informed and a welcome was prepared. Great troughs were filled with water and placed in the massive courtyard of the castle. Outside the walls, on a nearby cliff, pigs and sheep were stuck onto pikes and roasted over bonfires. Cranes were unfolded from the walls and carts brought forward to hold the saddles.

The dragons landed one at a time. Vermithor landed first, Laena gracefully stepping onto land and helping Great-Grandfather down from the saddle. As the Bronze Fury stuck its head into a water trough and drank deeply, Dragonstone's Dragonkeepers brought the crane forwards and hooked the saddle before releasing it from Vermithor's back. The saddle was quickly placed onto a cart and pushed away. After drinking, it flew off into the air, heading for the food, Caraxes coming down next. Then Silverwing.

As soon as we landed, the steward of the castle, a certain Ser Ebert Blackberry, informed us that our quarters were prepared and a bath already drawn. After which, we could sup together in the dining hall. There were many longing sighs at the thought of a nice warm bath and a hot meal.

As we walked down the corridors of Dragonstone, I couldn't help but notice the changes in Jaehaerys. It was subtle, his steps a bit more unsure, his gait unsteady. When we reached our quarters, he tried to open the door by pulling instead of pushing, and frowned in confusion when it didn't open. By supper, his eyes were unfocused and he couldn't remember who we were.

We had to guide him to his rooms. I tucked him into bed like a child, placing a kiss on his forehead.

"Goodbye. Grandpapa." I softly said, biting back tears.

"Alysanne. Mother. Father." The Old King said, staring past me. "I've missed you all so much."

"And I will miss you too." I sincerely said, placing an arm around a softly weeping Laena and guiding her out of the room.

———

The very next morning, it was announced that King Jaehaerys the Wise had passed in his sleep. He was seventy, outlived by two children, four legitimate grandchildren and three legitimate great-grandchildren.

The mood was somber throughout the castle. Servants and knights openly wept at the King's passing. Outside, Vermithor roared in grief, spewing a massive pillar of bronze flames into the sky. 

Still, there was work to be done. The Silent Sisters, Vaegon and Dragonstone's Maester Timn garbed the Old King in his trademark robes of black inlaid with gold thread. They placed his crown on his brow and him into an ebony coffin carved with our sigil with crimson felt lining. The Dragonkeepers mounted the coffin onto Vermithor and we began the flight back to the King's Landing in utter silence. Laena and Vaegon riding with me, Vermithor trailing his mate back home.

When we reached King's Landing, there were crowds all cheering for us, but the cheering died when we rode out of the Dragonpit with the coffin. Wails of sorrow filled the city. Women tore at their garments in grief as men bowed their heads, tears dropping onto the cobblestones below. Knights in the crowd all raised their swords in salute, the blades bare and shining in the sun. Septons, Septas and other men and women of the Faith began singing hymns.

To the Father, may he judge this man true and worthy.

To the Mother, may she welcome him into her merciful embrace.

To the Warrior, may he protect his realm and descendants.

To the Smith, may he allow all that he had built to last.

To the Maiden, may she guard the maids in his family.

To the Crone, may she allow his wisdom to remain in this world.

To the Stranger, may his rest be peaceful.

A man fell to his knee as they passed, and like a pebble causing a landslide, the levees were broken, men and women on either side of the street taking a knee for the King. Even the Dornish and foreigners from across the seas did so, respecting him for his wisdom, fairness and justice.

We travelled slowly through the streets, before reaching the City Sept atop Visenya's hill, which in fifty or so years, Baelor the Blessed would build his Great Sept atop it. The local head Septon met us at the gates to the Sept, and his Faithful swiftly let us in, to place Jaehaerys' body in the center of the Sept, where he would lie in repose for seven days and nights, for all to pay respects to.

———

104 AC, Red Keep

Every bell in every sept in the city rang for a day and night for the Old King's passing. Ravens were sent out to every holdfast, town and castle with the news. While many would not be able to reach King's Landing in time for the funeral, near every Lord and Lady in Westeros was expected to show up for the coronation of King Viserys I.

There was so much to do, and so little time. Nearly every single member of the Small Council was running around managing things. Even Daemon had temporarily stopped his philandering as he ordered Gold Cloaks to maintain order at the City Sept, where the queues to see the late King stretched for miles. He'd also been forced to arrest many, as there were scumbags whom saw the mourning of an entire city, as a chance to scam and steal coin form the grievers. While I suggested sending the thieves to the Night's Watch, Lord Otto ordered them crucified in the city squares, to discourage other would-be criminals, Daemon gleefully complying.

The Hand of the King Otto Hightower and Master of Coin Lyman Beesbury was running around to plan and finance everything, such as the coronation, which had to be a lavish affair, with great celebrations including the largest tourney in a decade. Hiring mummers and performers, finding a fitting venue for it. These and a thousand other things that was required for the birth of a new reign of a new king. They were so busy, that they rarely showed up for Small Council meetings, sending Alicent in their stead to deliver their instructions and summarise what was planned.

Master of Laws Lyonel Strong spent nearly all his time in his office, barely leaving for more than a few hours, while Mistress of Whispers Jonquil Darke officially tendered her resignation. She'd served as Queen Alysanne's sworn shield, a Kingsguard in all but name, and after the Good Queen's death, was promoted to the Small Council by King Jaehaerys. She'd served my family faithfully for over fifty years, and now sought to retire and rest. She'd stay for the funeral and coronation, and a month after that to train her replacement up, but after which, she was going to leave.

Lord Corlys was theoretically the Master of Ships, but he had resigned in fury at Rhaenys' claim to the throne being passed up in favour of Baelon before my birth. He was nearly close to retaking the office again, but then the Great Council happened and nothing could persuade him to run the Royal Fleet. The interim Admiral, his nephew Ser Vaemond Velaryon, was making noises that he should be given the seat in full as he had essentially run the fleet while Corlys sulked on Driftmark.

Lord Commander Ryam Redwyne had mustered the Knights of the White Cloak. They took turns to stand vigil over King Jaehaerys' corpse. Most of the veteran knights in the Red Keep, including Master-of-Arms Ser Harold Stokeworth and Jonquil Darke joined them in their vigil. I'd spent time with them at the coffinside, asking them about their tales and stories. The Old Guard, were, well, old. Many expressed wishes to die in battle before the ravages of age took them or retire to the countryside to build stout keeps and rest. I promised them all that I'd lean on my father to give them generous pensions for their retirement, but demurred on the whole 'one last fight'. I wasn't starting a war just because some old men wanted a glorious death.

Only Grand Maester Runciter seemed free, once he had finished sending out all of the ravens, but Archmaester Vaegon had other plans. The last surviving son of King Jaehaerys intercepted the older maester and requested that he help independently collaborate what Vaegon intended to write on his treatise on the care for elders whose mind began to slip. The last I saw of them was the two grey-robed old men vanishing into the library, with Vaegon telling me to shadow the Small Council on their duties in lieu of my lessons.

I intended on doing that, but first, there was someone I had to talk to.

———

104 AC, King's Landing City Sept

"Father." I greeted, entering the sept.

"Sweetling." He softly said. The man was a wreck right now, on his knees in prayer before King Jaehaerys' coffin. His hair that was the exact same shade as mine was dishevelled. His moustache wasn't groomed and his eyes were red and puffy, with tear trails on his face. His black doublet was a mess of creases and wrinkles.

"Leave us, please. I'd like a private moment with my father." I instructed the Kingsguard and Silent Sisters standing vigil in the room. They all bowed and left quickly, Lord Commander Ryam Redwyne clapping me on the shoulder firmly as he passed by.

"Sweetling, what is it?" Viserys asked, looking up at me.

I said nothing, quietly walking around the coffin, trailing a hand around the ebony rim. Only once I reached the end of the coffin and turned around to face him did I speak.

"I tried, you know." I wistfully murmured. "I really did. Uncle Vaegon and I did everything we could, but even we couldn't chase off the Stranger forever. Death comes for us all."

"And for that, I thank you, Rhaenyra. You've done a great service to the realm." Viserys praised.

"I was only doing my duty as a Princess of the Realm and great-granddaughter. There is no need to thank me." I dutifully said. "But it's time for you to do yours, father."

"My...my duty?" He stammered, uncomprehending.

"Yes, you are now the King of the Seven Kingdoms. Grandpapa left huge shoes to fill, I know, and his absence will be greatly missed, but now is not the time to mourn." I firmly said, crossing my arms.

"Rhaenyra... I..."

"Father, you have a duty to the realm. You cannot just break down and cry like a babe. You need to stand up and rule. Stand up and take charge." I urged encouragingly.

"Rhaenyra, I hardly think this is the time for that. Now is the time to mourn your Great-Grandfather. Duty can wait until after the funeral, at least." Viserys rebuffed, half-pleadingly.

"On the contrary, Father, this is the best time to rule. You need to busy yourself in work, drown the grief instead of wallowing in it. Channel your sorrow into something more productive than prayer." I was no stranger to funerals. While I was good at getting over the pain and grief, I swiftly realised that not many others were as fortunate. And one of the best ways I knew to get over grief, was to find some form of distraction to take their minds off the lost.

"I can't. I can't!" Viserys sobbed, pounding his fist onto the floor. "I'm not ready for this! I'm not ready for him to go!"

I sighed, pushing myself off the coffin.

"Come with me, father." I firmly said, standing before him.

"What?" He asked, looking up at me.

"Come with me. Let me help you with your pain and sorrow." I said, extending a hand.

He took it.

———

104 AC, Dragonpit

Silverwing was happy to see me, roaring a friendly greeting at us. Her mate looked up sleepily as we entered, a snort of hot air blowing past us.

"I wasn't sure if I wanted to scold you for bringing your great-grandfather here when he should have been resting, and proceeding to steal a dragon and fly to Dragonstone unannounced, or praise you for claiming Silverwing." My father admitted, a hint of cheer coming back into his voice.

"Father, I will have you know Grandpapa was the one that decided to fly to Dragonstone one last time. We decided to follow him to make sure he didn't accidentally fall off Vermithor halfway across Blackwater Bay." I said defensively. "And Grandpapa himself gave me permission to claim Silverwing."

"I know, I know." He waved away. "But surely you could have at least informed me beforehand."

"Then I shall. Grandpapa promised Laena her own dragon. I'll help her claim one after the funeral, and we'll fly to Dragonstone again." I informed him. Well, strictly speaking, I told the truth. We were flying to Dragonstone again. Just not on separate dragons. And we were going to get Laena her own dragon.

"Agreed. And one for Laenor as well, then." My father decided. "Flying is a joy, and I wouldn't dare deprive any family member of ours the pleasure."

"I agree wholeheartedly." I said, beckoning the Dragonkeepers forward and ordering them to unchain Silverwing and saddle her for me, before turning to face my father. "Shall we?"

He nodded, following me into the chamber. I swiftly climbed onto Silverwing, my father making to follow me, but I shook my head, and Silverwing gently nudged him aside with a wing, striding out into the central chamber alone. When Viserys opened his mouth to protest, I spoke up.

"Don't want to fly?" I teasingly asked, my father getting the message swiftly.

"The Black Dread was enough for me." He answered.

"You're a Targaryen! You are meant to fly!" I encouraged.

"No dragonrider ever claimed two dragons." Viserys protested. "What happens if he throws me off?"

"Then all hail Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name." I declared, my father involuntarily laughing.

"Long may she Reign!" He cheerfully agreed, steeling himself and striding towards Vermithor.

———

I cut through a cloud an hour later, running my hands through the mass of water vapour under a moonlit sky. Beside me, Vermithor fell in beside Silverwing, the two massive dragons gliding through the air, side by side.

"Enjoying yourself?" I called out, turning to face my father.

"Indeed I am!" Viserys cheerfully replied, looking windswept but far better than he previously did on land. "I should have claimed another dragon years ago!"

"You should take Mother up here at some point, let her see this view." I said, looking down at the city beneath us, houses the size of matchboxes. Strangely, I never felt fear while flying. I had a phobia of falling ever since I fell down the stairs at age sixteen. My stomach would lurch and I balked even at the kiddiest rollercoasters. But now, I was calm and composed. I felt like the sky was my dominion. Like I was born to soar over the land and sea.

"I offered her before, you know. Back when Balerion still lived." My father admitted. "She only flew once, and from then on decided that she was keeping her feet firmly on the ground."

"That's strange. She's half-Targaryen is she not? I thought that she'd love the sky." I spoke deliberately, keeping my voice nonchalant and innocent. "On the other hand, Alicent Hightower has not a single drop of dragon blood, but loves it when Uncle Daemon takes her flying."

"You can always ask your Mother yourself." Viserys said obliviously. "Maybe you'll have better luck than I."

Damn, well that hint was a long shot anyway. Viserys could be remarkably blind and deaf to those he loved. Nevertheless, I still accomplished what I set out to do. I had claimed Silverwing and persuaded Viserys to claim Vermithor.

There were multiple benefits to claiming Silverwing and Vermithor. Firstly, they served to legitimise both of our claims to the Iron Throne, being the dragons of the best rulers of Westeros. I liked the associations and connotations of King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne. Secondly, they kept the second and third largest dragons out of unworthy hands. Looking at you, Hugh and Ulf. Potentially also Aemond. I was confident that I could keep Laena alive long enough to see the Dance of Dragons, and by extension, Vhagar, once she claimed it. Aemond would not be able to get any of the three largest and strongest dragons onto his side.

After the big three, in terms of size and power, was Meleys, Caraxes and the Cannibal. Two were claimed, and the third was the Cannibal. At best, Aemond could get Sheepstealer or Syrax. Maybe Dreamfyre. All of which were far more manageable than the titanic Vhagar or the massive Vermithor and Silverwing.

I'd crippled the Greens before they even begun as a faction, secured the biggest guns for my side while simultaneously legitimising my father's and my own claim to the throne. Not a bad haul, all things considered.

Notes:

Rhaenyra will also make great strides in removing the stigma against single mothers and children outside of wedlock in general. As such, after his parents died, Robert was comfortable with abdicating his Lordship in favour of his eldest daughter Mya Stone and putting Stannis as regent.

He then proceeded to cross the Narrow Sea and become a sellsword, fighting and whoring, never marrying or ruling. He dies a happy man.