Dragon's flame

Year 106 AC

The throne room was alive with energy, lords and ladies milling about, exchanging whispers and curious glances. The air was thick with anticipation, for today King Viserys I Targaryen was set to make a decree that would undoubtedly shape the future of the realm.

"KING VISERYS TARGARYEN, THE FIRST OF HIS NAME, KING OF ROHYNAR AND THE FIRST MEN, AND THE PROTECTOR OF THE FAITH!" the white-cloaked knight's voice boomed, his words ringing through the vast hall.

Viserys Targaryen strode forward, his steps firm and measured, a king resolute in his resolve. The murmurs from the court quieted as all eyes turned to the Iron Throne. Behind him, his daughter, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen—known to many as "The Realm's Delight"—followed closely, her expression unreadable, though her posture was stiff.

Viserys made his way to the throne, his every movement embodying the weight of his power. He sat down slowly, his eyes scanning the gathered court as the room fell silent in anticipation.

"Today," he began, his voice carrying across the room, "I have gathered you here to make two important announcements. As you all know, I have recently lost my queen in childbirth..." His words hung heavy in the air, the grief in his voice palpable.

Rhaenyra's gaze hardened, a flicker of emotion passing through her eyes—betrayal, perhaps? She could not suppress the anger welling within her. This was not just a matter of duty for her father. This was Alicent Hightower, the woman who had been her friend. The woman who now stood beside her father, smiling as though she were his true queen.

Viserys glanced briefly at Alicent, his lips curling into a faint, almost sorrowful smile. "I am to be remarried to Alicent Hightower," he announced, his words causing a ripple through the room.

The court erupted into applause, a mixture of relief and joy evident in the faces of the noblemen and women. Otto Hightower stood, his expression one of triumph, his shoulders finally easing after years of scheming. But not all faces reflected this joy.

Lord Corlys Velaryon, ever the diplomat, had a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes. His gaze remained fixed on the king, though it was clear his thoughts were elsewhere. Beside him, his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, held his arm, her grip tight, as though preventing him from speaking his mind.

Viserys continued, his voice rising with authority. "And… my firstborn child, Rhaenyra Targaryen, will remain my heir, as I had previously declared. There will be no change to that." His eyes briefly flicked to Aelyx and Daenerys, who were not present in the throne room, still too young to understand the gravity of his words. "While my son Aelyx, born blind, and my daughter Daenerys, are both my children, Rhaenyra is the one I have chosen to lead this kingdom when my time comes."

A deep, stunned silence washed over the room. Rhaenyra's heart skipped a beat at the declaration. This was it. The moment she had both feared and desired: the confirmation of her place, her destiny. But despite the pride she felt, she couldn't help the sharp pang of unease that followed.

Aelyx, her younger brother, was only one year old—just like Daenerys. They were twins, but Aelyx's blindness had already placed him on the backfoot. Even as a babe, his chances at ever leading the realm had been dismissed by many. Rhaenyra, however, had been groomed for this moment since her childhood. It was a path she had fought to secure, but it had also come with a weight, one that now felt heavier than ever.

"And Aelyx and daenerys will marry each other when they are 13 years old"said the king

As soon as he said that the room eurpted in murmurs

"Your Grace," Otto Hightower spoke cautiously, his voice laced with diplomacy. "Perhaps it would be wise to allow Princess Daenerys and Prince Aelyx to decide their marriages, when they are older. They are too young to be promised to one another."

Viserys turned his gaze sharply toward Otto. The room held its breath.

"I WILL NOT hear a word on this," the king snapped, his voice colder than winter. The sudden shift in his tone sent a shiver through the court. He leaned forward, the aura of a king who had ruled for years settling over him. "Aelyx will marry his sister and this will not change. Not now, not ever. No one—and I mean no one—will question my decision."

A tense silence filled the room.

Viserys closed his eyes for a moment, his shoulders slumping, as if the burden of kingship had grown too heavy. He looked… relieved.

Suddenly, a flashback overtook his thoughts.

Flashback:

The chamber was dim, lit only by the flickering light of a few candles. On the bed, his queen, Aemma Targaryen, lay pale, her body stained with blood. Her breathing was shallow, and her face was ashen. Aemma's once strong and vibrant presence now seemed to fade before him.

"Aemma... I am sorry... I am sorry," Viserys whispered, tears streaming down his face as he knelt beside her.

Her hand weakly reached out, trembling as she clasped his.

"Aelyx and Daenerys are their names... Promise me one thing, Viserys..."

"Anything," he replied, his voice cracking.

"Marry them to each other... Never separate them...and...Protect Rhaenyra..."

With a final breath, Aemma's hand fell from his grasp.

"No… NO!!!" Viserys cried out in despair, his anguish echoing through the room.

"Your Grace," the maester's voice was calm yet firm. "Prince Aelyx… He is born blind."

Flashback ends.

Viserys's eyes snapped open, and the weight of the promise to Aemma settled heavily upon his shoulders. He had made a vow, a solemn vow to protect his children and unite them. But the reality of Aelyx's blindness and his inability to inherit the throne weighed on him every day.

His eyes turned toward Rhaenyra, his daughter—his heir. He had chosen her . But the burden of this decision was not one he took lightly.

Rhaenyra felt the weight of the room's gaze upon her. Her father had chosen her, she realized. This was the path she had always known was meant for her. But it was not without its cost. She had to wear the crown her father was passing to her, even if it meant seeing the disappointment in his eyes every time s he looked at Aelyx, who would never wear it himself.

Her heart, despite the pride she felt in her father's declaration, ached with guilt. She loved Aelyx and Daenerys, and the idea of them growing up in a world where they were so clearly cast aside made her uneasy.

Would they understand why their futures were bound together, even if it was only through marriage? Would they ever forgive her for being the one to take the throne, leaving them to be seen as lesser?

She glanced again at the empty space where her siblings should have been. They are too young to understand, she reminded herself. Yet, the thought that their fates had already been decided, while they were still mere children, haunted her.

Rhaenyra swallowed hard, pushing down the mix of emotions roiling within her. There was no turning back now. The realm had its heir, and it was her.

But as she stood beside her father, she couldn't shake the thought that the road ahead would not be an easy one.