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🕑 Added 2025-03-23 18:01:10 +0000 UTCADS 30
Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it.
Chapter 30: The Queen Who Never Was
92 AC
Ser Otto Hightower
Ser Otto contemplated the recent events as he observed Prince Baelon stepping before the Iron Throne after doing something the usually calm and talented prince would have vehemently opposed under normal circumstances.
Ser Otto had been called back to King’s Landing by the king in 91 AC to serve as an assistant to Lord Beesbury, the Master of Coin. The true purpose, however, was to counter the growing influence of the Sea Snake, who had been appointed Master of Ships in 87 AC. . His family had almost thrown a tourney at him being called to king’s landing. It was always joyous when your years old plan becomes successful. All the money and favours owed to the Lord Redwyne was truly worth it for his squireship under Ser Ryam.
Also, they were thankful to the ambitious Sea-Snake too, eventhough no one will admit it. Only the rising influence made the king call him for countering it. Even the betrothal and marriage between the Sea Snake and Princess Rhaenys had come as a surprise to many, and the fact that the princess had chosen him herself was widely known.
Ser Otto had attempted to lend an ear to Prince Viserys, who was more disappointed than heartbroken. The prince had fully expected to marry the princess and spend his life as king consort, only to be betrayed by his cousin, confidante, and childhood companion. Otto had considered whether there was any political potential in Viserys, but the prince remained steadfastly loyal, willing to serve the heir and princess without ambition of his own.
Otto was disappointed that Prince Baelon’s second son, Prince Daemon, had not been born first. It would have been interesting to see how events would have unfolded had it been Daemon—who had believed for most of his life that he would marry Rhaenys—who was spurned. Even now, both Daemon and Aegon were enraged by Rhaenys’ choice, though the presence of their elders forced them to swallow their anger and grief in silence.
Ser Otto had first heard of Prince Aemon’s death from Lord Beesbury after a disastrous Small Council meeting. That the king had dismissed his entire council—except for Baelon—and decided the matter in private did not sit well with him at that time. Otto had expected the king to reprimand Baelon for ordering the destruction of an entire noble family, the Conningtons, in private. But when, three days later, he heard that the king’s dragon, along with Baelon and Vhagar, had flown to Griffin’s Roost to turn it into another Harrenhal, he was both shocked and alarmed. He had to completely reconsider everything he thought he knew about King Jaehaerys. He was numb from the shock and fear as the images of a burned down Hightower came in his nightmares for a couple of week.
And at last, he understood why Maegor the Cruel had not killed Jaehaerys when he had the chance. House Hightower understood the truth about that infamous king—the truth of his greatness bordering madness. Maegor had ensured Targaryen rule, by breaking a thousands-year-old system of Faith to do so and he was clever enough to make sure atleast one male of the family survived, to be the king after his death. Ser Otto despised Maegor with all his heart and took comfort in the thought of the cruel king suffering in the Seven Hells, yet even he could not deny Maegor’s will and tenacity in establishing Valyrian traditions for the royal family and curbing the Faith’s power so drastically.
The only truly monstrous act Maegor had committed, in Otto’s mind, was the massacre of the Red Keep’s builders to conceal its secret passages. And yet, because of that act, no one knew those passages. The Hightower archives held secret maps of half the castles in Westeros, thanks to the maesters—but not a single one for the Red Keep. Only Maegor had ensured that by eliminating every last builder and engineer.
When word reached him of Myr and Tyrosh being burned, and when the king proclaimed that Myrish men, disguised as exiles, had been sent to Tarth to test an invasion plan, Otto recognized the king’s cunning. He knew Myr and Tyrosh had nothing to do with the attack on Tarth. The escaped exiles had merely sought refuge and, in desperation, attacked the island. The king knew it. The Small Council knew it. The leaders of Myr and Tyrosh knew it. But no one would dare speak the truth, not when the king had ordered his son to burn the manses of Myr’s ruling class to the ground.
How had Prince Baelon known exactly where the leaders were? That was another matter entirely. Otto had reached the answer after a moment of thought then;
Magic. Glass candles.
He had tried to extract answers from Viserys and Rhaenys, but both had been kept in the dark by the king. They were simply told to grieve, assured that the guilty would be punished. Otto was disappointed that any distance that had formed between Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon due to her marriage to Corlys had been erased by their shared grief. The Dragonkeepers had to restrain Daemon twice when he attempted to claim Balerion—or even Dreamfyre—to join his father in burning Myrish and Tyroshi lands. That the king had not punished Daemon for such reckless behavior was telling. Jaehaerys approved of his ten-year-old grandson’s bloodthirsty nature.
Otto understood the king’s actions. The message to the Free Cities and the creation of another Harrenhal was clear—it was a warning. Though Jaehaerys was a peace-loving king, he had no hesitation in spilling seas of blood if a Targaryen was harmed. Even Otto, who despised the use of magic, had been angered by Prince Aemon’s death and the invasion attempt by slavers. But the fact that the king had so deliberately used magic to enact his revenge was unforgivable.
Still, Otto was patient because he has no other options to achieve his goals. He would serve the royal family as diligently as possible, waiting for the right opportunity for he must be present here in Kings Landing, when it arrives.
His thoughts were interrupted as Prince Baelon unsheathed Dark Sister and laid it before the throne, dropping to one knee.
“My king, I have accomplished what you ordered. Prince Aemon has been avenged. The Conningtons are no more. The slave masters who attacked our lands and caused my brother’s death are ashes. Both in Myr and Tyrosh, the remaining magisters are spilling blood to seize power. The pirate scum of the Stepstones have been burned and looted by our ships.”
There was harsh silence as even now many couldn’t believe the Good King could order such cruelty in his old age. The new generation of nobles was familiar with the Cociliator king who is wise and wants peace. Burning a nobles castle is not an act of conciliator, it is an act worthy of a conqueror or even a cruel. Whispers of Baelon doing what he did without kings permission has been spread by many fools and thus many waited how the king would respond to this.
Ser Otto scoffed at the fools and he saw the king smiling at the news and for a moment he thought the king gave a mocking smile as the king looked through the great hall and the crowds until his eyes landed on his kneeling son.
“Prince Baelon, my son, you have avenged your beloved brother, Crown Prince Aemon, and his assassination. You have avenged the thousands who perished when slavers attacked my lands. You have proven your loyalty to House Targaryen time and again, serving this kingdom more faithfully than most. I thank you for your service. But I have nothing to reward you with, for even I cannot bring back the dead.”
“I have no need for a reward, my king,” Baelon replied, still kneeling. Many noblewomen swooned at the nobility and humility of the handsome, widowed prince.
“That is correct. You have no need for a reward,” the king said with a smirk. “And so, I must punish you.”
A collective gasp swept through the hall.
“I must punish you, for your punishment is a lifetime of service and duty—to me, to this throne, and to this kingdom. Thus, Prince Baelon, I declare you my heir to the Iron Throne and Crown Prince of the Seven Kingdoms. You bent the knee as my second son and a prince of the blood—now rise as The Crown Prince and Prince of Dragonstone.”
The hall fell into stunned silence at the proclamation.
Ser Otto grinned. Even the usually emotionless Prince Baelon looked shocked. But what truly satisfied Otto was the anger and sorrow on Princess Rhaenys’ face. The queen was furious—only years of experience kept her from speaking out. Otto schooled his own expression, watching as Prince Viserys smiled in awe and wonder.
And in that moment, Otto silently thanked the new gods. The opportunity he had been waiting for had arrived sooner than expected.
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Baelon Targaryen
He was beyond angry as he reached the king’s solar, pushing the door open with force. The Kingsguard outside didn’t even react to him, as the king, having anticipated this, ordered them to do nothing. That only made him more furious.
As he entered the solar, he saw the king seated in a throne-like chair, lacking any kingly posture or regal mask. Instead, he saw the weary, old, and tired face of Jaehaerys Targaryen—the man, not the king. The sight of it left him silent, at least until the angry voice of his mother rang from outside.
“Is the king inside?”
“Yes, Your Grace, and he is expecting you. Princess Rhaenys and Prince Viserys are also allowed inside.”
“What?” came the sound of protest from Corlys, his son Prince Daemon, but they were not foolish enough to openly defy the king’s order and enter.
Baelon saw his family enter and he was further surprised at how angry both his mother and niece looked. His son viserys looked thoughtful and there was apparent gleam in his eyes that Baelon didn’t like at all. Then, he paled as realization struck—he now understood why the king had allowed Viserys to be involved in a major decision for the first time.
“Why?” A quiet voice, trembling with restrained rage, echoed through the chamber. Princess Rhaenys fixed her grandfather with a piercing glare. “My father has not even been dead for a full moon, and already you have betrayed his wishes by naming Prince Baelon as heir.”
Baelon glanced at the king, and in that moment, he no longer saw the weary old man. The kingly mask had returned, sharp and unwavering. Baelon knew well the bite of his father’s tongue, and if Jaehaerys responded now, their family would be torn apart permanently.
Thus before the king could speak, Baelon cut in.
It doesn’t matter why niece. I never accepted the position infront of the court. The king will proclaim I have declined the position and name you the crown princess as per all the laws of gods and men. I will not usurp Aemon’s line and betray his wishes. Do not test me on this father.
“It does not matter why, niece. I never accepted the position before the court. The king will proclaim that I have declined the title and will name you as the Crown Princess, as per all the laws of gods and men. I will not usurp Aemon’s line or betray his wishes. Do not test me on this, Father.”
Baelon felt a new surge of anger as he saw the proud smile on the king’s face—and the bitter disappointment on Viserys’s. He clenched his fists. He would have to teach his son some hard lessons about ambition.
“Brother, please, this is madness!” Rhaenys’s mother, Queen Alysanne, pleaded. “Rhaenys has been our heir’s heir since her birth, and you have never objected to it. Please do not betray her now, not when her father was unjustly killed, and she couldn’t even seek justice because you forbade her from going—because she was with child! This is the rightful succession, upheld by all established laws, Brother! Please, do not divide this family when we are already devastated by our beloved Aemon’s death.”
"Oh, dear sister, I didn’t hear you preaching the laws of gods and men when I usurped our niece Aerea’s claim. You were rather happy to support me and take your place as Queen of the Seven Kingdoms. I wonder where your respect for tradition and law had gone then?"
The Queen, usually unshaken, found herself at a loss for words. The anger in her brother’s voice was rarely ever directed at her, and yet, here it was. She had been exceptionally tired and broke by yet another child’s death and hearing the cruel words really broke something in her.
"And Baelon," the king continued, his gaze dark and unreadable, "I heard a threat in your tone just now. Does burning the slaver scum across the sea made you forget the lesson I imparted to you all those years ago in the Dragonpit or perhaps it’s just my old age making me mishear things." His voice dripped with sarcasm. "Regardless, I will not proclaim Rhaenys as my heir, no matter what. But I wonder—what will you do?"
Baelon clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I could deny my claim, but then you will declare my son, Viserys, as your heir. Since that is the case, I will accept your order and declare Rhaenys as my heir." His voice was sharp, his words deliberate. There was pause as he pondered on whether he should punish The King, and for a moment he stopped, but then he remembered the disrespect shown to his beloved brother and he continued.
"Just as I accept this position before the court."
The king’s smile vanished instantly. Baelon knew he had crossed a line, but he saw no other way for the king to enforce his wishes in this matter. He wanted his father to feel the insult just as deeply—for dishonoring Aemon’s wishes before the realm. And yet, he was sure the king had no choice but to follow through his demands. Even a king needed a capable heir.
The king scoffed. "Oh Son, you just have to go there? You are angry at me for discarding Aemon’s wish, and so you seek to insult me before the realm. You should have kept silent about your own heir and declared Rhaenys heiress when you were king. Then I could have let this matter go—just as I did when Aemon was alive and his declaration of Rhaenys as his heir. His heir and legacy were his to choose, not mine."
"Uncle," Rhaenys called, finally breaking her stunned silence. Her violet eyes burned with disbelief. "You would do that for me? Even when my own grandfather skipped over me in the succession because I am a woman?" She exhaled sharply, then turned to the king. "And what do you mean you ‘let Aemon decide his heir’? You agreed with his choice! You have taught me many lessons, grandfather.”
Baelon merely nodded. "I would do anything for Aemon and his wishes, niece."
The king let out a cold laugh. "What a lovely sentiment, my son. The love you held for your brother is to be appreciated." He then turned to Rhaenys, his expression darkening. "But you, Rhaenys—I never wanted you to be queen. And you have only proven me right."
Rhaenys tensed, but the king pressed on, his voice unwavering. "You were foolish enough to discard an eligible Targaryen for a husband and chose instead a proud fool. I would have forgiven you if you had chosen even your bastard brother, but you chose the ambitious sea snake. I let it go because you are not my problem. I ruled for decades, and I expected Aemon to do the same when he ascended. Perhaps—who knows?—you may not have even outlived him."
His mocking tone cut deep, but Rhaenys did not back down.
"So you would hate me for my marriage to Corlys?" she snapped. "This is madness and unreasonable! At least I know Corlys will fight for me and mine—unlike Viserys here. I have been just prove right, even ten-year-old Daemon wanted to attack our enemies, yet Viserys never once thought of standing beside his father. And do not mock my uncle’s love. At least Uncle Baelon loves me enough not to usurp his brother’s daughter—unlike you, Grandfather."
Baelon caught the flicker of surprise on the king’s face. It had been a long time since anyone other than his wife or children had dared to speak to him in such a manner.
The king ignored Rhaenys and turned to Baelon instead. "Baelon, did you see that? My granddaughter has turned out to be a selfish, arrogant woman who chases after exaggerated tales rather than upholding her duty. I taught you the importance of our blood—that the Targaryens stand above all. And yet, your niece insulted you, your brother, and even your own son by ignoring Aemon’s generosity in allowing her a choice of husband."
His tone grew colder. "Baelon, do you really want to give up power and wealth for a niece who went against her father’s wishes? Who takes your loyalty for granted by not marrying Viserys?"
The room was silent, heavy with tension. Then the king’s voice darkened further. "She should have tied your lines as just the previous generation saw an uncle usurp even a male heir after his brother’s death. And before protests from you all about Baelon’s love to Aemon, let me tell you, Maegor, too, had his own twisted love for his brother. After all, he had Balerion and even with overwhelming power, he respected his brother’s orders and punishments."
Baelon stiffened at that, as his mind pondered the possibilities, but his love for his brother triumphed over the king’s manipulation.
"You cannot change my mind, Father," he said firmly. "I am loyal to my brother first and foremost. It was his wish for Rhaenys to be queen, and I will follow it. More than that, she has the support of the Baratheons, the Velaryons, and the laws. Why create a problem for the future when we could resolve it now?"
The king sighed, exhaustion creeping into his voice.
"Viserys, my grandson," he said at last, "I am sorry that your father is more loyal to his dead brother’s memory than to you and your brothers."
Baelon saw Viserys flinching at that and he would have snapped at the king but before that the king continued;
Straightening his posture, the king shook off any trace of weariness. "Prince Baelon, if you do not swear by Aemon’s memory, here and now, that you will accept the position of heir and declare Viserys as your heir before the court, then I will disinherit you, Rhaenys, and your three sons from the line of succession."
The room held its breath.
"That will be followed by your lines exile from Westeros. I am sure Essos will welcome you with open arms after the destruction you wrought there—on my orders."
Baelon’s heart pounded.
"Then I will call back my firstborn grandson, Daemon Snow, to the south, legitimize him, marry him to Gael and declare him my heir. At least he has done nothing I would disapprove of. And do you really want me to spell out how I will sell Daemon as my heir to the lords?"
Baelon gaped at the threat. He ignored the scoff from Rhaenys; he knew this was no mere bluff. Rhaenys and his mother were too angry to speak.
But his son was not.
Viserys stepped forward, his voice shaking with fear and anger at his father for the first time. "Father, what are you even thinking for? Please, don’t get us disinherited and exiled for Cousin Rhaenys. I have no illwill towards her for not choosing me as her husband, but this is the King’s order. This is our home—our birthright! Both Daemon and Aegon will be in danger in Essos!"
His desperation finally broke Baelon’s resolve.
‘Forgive me, Aemon.’
Lowering his head, he whispered, "I will follow your orders, my king."
Baelon closed his eyes, unwilling to meet his niece’s gaze, knowing the betrayal and hurt he would find there. A cry of rage tore from Rhaenys’s lips.
Even without looking Baelon knew that The king had that cursed smile on his face as his will had become reality.
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Baelon Targaryen sighed in exhaustion as he gazed out over Blackwater Bay from the balcony of his chamber. It had been one moon since he accepted the heirship and declared Viserys as his heir before the court. To him, it felt as though he had slain Aemon with his own hands—but the alternative, being homeless and in danger in Essos, was unthinkable for his sons.
He cursed his cruel father. At the very least, even the slaver scum in Essos recognized the truth of his nature and named him accordingly—Jaehaerys the Cruel—after receiving his messages.
Almost the entire nobility had supported Baelon, especially after his triumphs in Myr and Tyrosh, celebrating the future king who had three sons. Only the Baratheons and Corlys Velaryon had protested, but their objections were swiftly silenced. Even Lord Baratheon had lost his voice, as it was his own bannerman who had slain Aemon.
But now, one moon later, after the announcement of Viserys' betrothal to Aemma, many ambitious lords were beginning to reconsider their loyalties. The gold and influence of the Sea Snake were flowing into their coffers, swaying their decisions.
In the wake of these events, both he and the king had all but forgotten about Daemon Snow. It was only yesterday that a letter from Cregan Stark arrived in the capital, stating that Daemon Snow had left the North, claiming he was traveling to Essos. Cregan had no idea where he was now.
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93 AC
Dragonstone.
Daemon Snow
I sighed as I sat in a shadowed corner of the tavern. After the events of last year and Aemon’s death, my bitch of a grandmother had moved to Dragonstone after fighting over the inheritance. She had taken Gael with her, and I saw the girl in person for the first time.
She was ethereal, like all Targaryens, but there was something more to her. I understood it when she curiously watched two birds that I had sent to observe her. There was no third time—I was more careful after that, ensuring I only watched from hidden vantage points.
Her fate had been tragic in canon. Suffocated by her heartbroken mother. Seduced by a fucking bard, bearing his bastard. Losing that child to moon tea and then taking her own life.
I wondered if I had seen the bard in question during my travels over the past year. The aforementioned events would take place in 98 AC, during the celebration of the king’s fifty-year reign. I still had time to decide what to do about her and a nobody bard seducing a Princess of the Blood.
For now, my thoughts were consumed by a single being.
The Cannibal.
I had to break the minds of my birds just to get near his lair. I had already sacrificed dozens—one at a time—since the dragon was happy for killing every single one of my spies. Only my own practice allowed me to escape before the bird perished.
The Cannibal was smaller than Vermithor and Vhagar, but even through the eyes of my birds, I could feel its presence. It was like Balerion the Black Dread. I instinctively knew it was far more dangerous than other dragons. But for the life of me I couldn’t find why the two dragons alone was just more. I have tried scrying using the Weirwoods in Dragonstone for the last two centuries trying to see any Targaryens mentioning about this, but I got nothing.
At the moment, I was observing the guards stationed around the Dragonmont. They were well-paid to monitor the paths leading up the mountain and to stop any intruders. It surprised me that King Jaehaerys was paranoid enough to have men watching even the wild dragons.
For me to venture there, I needed to get rid of those idiots. I studied their daily routines, waiting for the right moment. My plan was simple—kill them while they guarded the road, drag their bodies to the Cannibal’s cavern, and offer them as tribute. Perhaps then, the dragon would be more inclined to let me claim him.
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I dragged the two corpses up the mountain. I had killed both of them by twisting their necks from behind, without spilling a drop of blood. Later, I would regale the climb was easy even carrying two corpses but even I was breathless as I climbed the mountain. Only my own exceptional strength and balance made it possible to climb the mountains as there were places there was only solid stones and I had to carve footholds while the corpses dangle in a rope behind me.
Finally I reached the cavern where the beast lay. It was like a huge whale size soil and rock was missing in the middle of the mountain. There was a large hole inside the mountain and an open place of almost 60 metres infront of me. I could see the rock pieces lying in the ground which must have caved in from above while cannibal carved his cave, making the open space.
I had both the corpses over my shoulder as I approached the opening. With my night vision, I could see into the darkness of the cave.
The Dragon was black as coal, as expected but its green eyes locking onto me was not something I expected. A chilling terror gripped my body, freezing me in place. Even with my tremendous willpower and mental defenses, I found myself paralyzed—just like I had been when the Night King attacked all those years ago. I could only try to fight the hold over me for a moment.
There was no warning growl, no sound. Just an overwhelming torrent of green fire from a mouth a large lion could walk in comfortably.
The flames engulfed me. For the first five seconds, I felt nothing. Then, the pain hit—unlike anything I had ever experienced. The only good thing was that the sheer agony forced my body to react. Instinct took over, and I launched myself backward with all my strength—a strength far beyond normal human limits.
The earth beneath my feet buckled under the force of my kick, and in an instant, I was nearly two hundred meters backwards from where I had stood. Pain erupted through my legs as my bones shattered under the strain. I had pushed my body past its natural limits of even my enhanced body.
By then, I was already suppressing the pain, allowing me to stay conscious. Fortunately for me, the Cannibal was too lazy to pursue. Instead, it turned its attention to the two bodies I had brought for it which fell from shoulders to the ground when I jumped backwards.
Only then did I realize I wasn’t landing on solid ground and I looked down.
"You fucking fool," I muttered to myself. "You should have chosen any other dragon—fed it your blood, made it powerful."
My frightened jump had taken me outside the mountain edge and I was falling to the ground. The ground was nearly 400 meters below, covered in a dense forest of trees thriving in the fertile soil. Instinctively, I brought my hands up to shield my head.
The first branch I hit snapped beneath me, the impact breaking my legs further. I spun around because of my momentum and it carried me through more branches, each one bruising, cutting, and breaking my body. Finally, I slammed into the forest floor—and everything went black.
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Authors Note: finally it is dragon claiming time and I assure you it is not easy as just going infront of the dragon and then claiming it in case of cannibal...
Also please note that I had run a festival discount of 10% for 1 month for Potter Tier in Dec 1- 31st last year for ALL my readers. Unfortunately pat reon had other settings… it only came to my attention that the discount option is only shown to new, free or cancelled members, not existing subscribers. So many had missed out on it and thus I have scheduled the same discount from March 1 to 31st.
I am grateful to all the support and all can avail the discount by cancelling and restarting the membership!!
Comments
the batman
well, how can i answer that without spoiling it one way or another....
Tariel Khalvashi
As far as I understand, Damon will be the bard who seduces Gael. Will their child play an important role in the story? And will Gael be Damon's wife in the future?
the batman
yeah... the first scene i have written that lead to this fic is meeting between jae and daemon... it will happen.... there is an 25k words that is peak drama, if i say so myself.... it will be definitely before chap 40...
the batman
thanks!!!!
Nikita Shtobert
You underestimate stupidity of most Targs...
Ashywar Bhardwaj
Why does he not just kill Otto. Without Otto there is no dance of the dragons.
evilperson41
Fun chapter
Tariel Khalvashi
Will there be a scene where Jaehaerys tries to bully Daemon with his authority like in this chapter, and Daemon doesn't give in and angers the king even more? I need to read how Daemon mocks the Targaryens.
