Daenys heard everything and nothing at once.

She was on her knees, she knew that. Dressed in armor, her sword in her hands. She gripped the hilt to hold herself up and still she could not stand. She listened to the steel scrape between the grooves of stone. Alyssa was shouting, Bertram was crying, Rolf was begging them to stall the lords a little longer– Daenys was not ready to enter the throne room, not yet, not now.

She'd readied herself before reading the letter, because she knew if she absorbed it beforehand, she'd never be able to move from that bed. But as soon as she finished it, she collapsed. Right outside the throne room, it was so close yet so far to her. She did not want to go in there, she did not want to sit that throne and think that it was truly hers now. It shouldn't be. She never wanted it. No, no, no.

They turned on her, Baela had managed to write from Dragonstone. They turned on her the moment she made it to the island. All because she couldn't wait for the Velaryon ship. Lady Meredyth told her she'd overstayed her welcome. Ser Harrold Darke told her to go to the Vale, Ser Medrick Manderly told her to come with him and Ser Torrhen to White Harbor. She refused. She took a Braavosi ship, paid for with her crown.

I made it to Dragonstone first, at her request. I left her with Ser Alfred Broome and the forty men that remained to protect her, Jace, and Aegon. The castle was as we left it, but I felt something amiss. When I tried to go down and greet her, my door was barred. I heard the fight, I heard them coming for me. I slipped out the window, I scrambled on the rooftops and down walls until I made it to the yard. Thank the gods for the years I spent climbing with Cliff and Alyssa.

I made it to Moondancer, unsure who it was that pursued me. That was when I saw them. Aegon and Sunfyre, they were flying. I knew Moondancer would be quicker even if Sunfyre was larger. I could see his wing was malformed. It wasn't enough for me. We fought and I was ready to die like my father if it meant killing Aegon and Sunfyre. It wasn't enough. We did enough to hurt Sunfyre anew– he will never fly again. Aegon broke his legs. But I lost my Moondancer. I fell with her, burned and battered, and they captured me. Ser Alfred Broome– the traitor– would have slain me if one of Aegon's own men hadn't spoken to my usefulness as a hostage.

So I learned then that Larys smuggled Aegon to Dragonstone to hide right under our noses. How could we have tracked him there? How could we have known? He was quick to find ways the men who remained resented Rhaenyra. We did not kill Sunfyre, and he recovered enough to fly to Aegon. He took advantage of our ignorance and he used it to kill my Jace and our Queen.

Jace tried to fight. He was strong enough to. He wanted to protect his brother Aegon. But he was slain. Bastard blood shed at war, they kept saying. Aegon the Usurper didn't care to keep him as a hostage. He only thought little Aegon a good hostage. Then, he commanded Sunfyre to kill Rhaenyra. He didn't want to, I think, he hesitated. But they made her bleed and he burned her. He ate her. I couldn't cover little Aegon's eyes, they had me restrained. Elinda Massey gouged her eyes out when she saw it.

They had tried to seize the ravens to stop messages being sent, but I was able to sneak this message on one the moment they wished to let letters fly to the whole of the Realm, to say that Rhaenyra is dead and that Aegon comes to take the throne. Stop him. I will be alright here, I will keep little Aegon safe. You must take the throne for yourself, Aunt Daenys. You must be Queen now.

It couldn't be, it shouldn't be. Daenys still remembered when Aemma first told her she was pregnant with Rhaenyra. She'd spent months talking to Aemma's belly, telling Rhaenyra stories of what she did that day, sometimes boiling down to what she had for supper.

She remembered when Rhaenyra was born. Gods, Daenys hadn't ever known a babe could be so small. So beautiful. That day had changed her perspective on everything. Her life hadn't been the same once she had a little niece to play with, a niece she taught to walk and fly.

Daenys could still recall the first time she took Rhaenyra into the skies on Vhagar. She'd been four years old, and Daenys had carefully secured her to the saddle in front of her. Rhaenyra had squealed in delight, she'd laughed and lifted her arms, begging Vhagar to spin around. Two years later, after Daenys's first marriage ended, Alicent had joined them.

She'd watched Rhaenyra— her first child— grow and learn. She'd watched her get married and have children. She'd lived with her and loved her her whole life. How could she be gone?

Daenys leaned her head against her sword hilt, shaking and whimpering, trying to stay steady. She felt Rolf's arms around her, felt him lifting her up and hugging her. She felt Bertram wiping her tears away with a handkerchief, she felt Alyssa fixing her hair.

"Why?" whispered Daenys hoarsely. "Why must I be crowned?"

"She named you Regent," whispered Rolf. "Everyone knows it. Jacaerys is dead." And Aenar died for nothing, gods, even in death I cannot fully forgive this boy. "Aegon is captive. Viserys may never be seen again. Someone must rise against Aegon. The houses loyal to Rhaenyra must know who they fight for now."

He cupped her face when he saw her head lolling, eyes unfocused. "Daenys, my love, please. Please. For Rhaenyra."

Everything I did after her birth was for her. I could have really killed Gareth Tyrell but I dealt with my marriage so as to not set a bad example for her. I stayed in that castle, I protected her, I pushed aside a man I loved because he was hurting her with his words. My girl, my sweet girl, they took her from me.

And yet as empty as she felt (despite Rhaenyra not coming from her body, not leaving the same vacancy Aenar had), she knew she had a duty remaining to Rhaenyra's son. She had a duty to her family, to Viserys's rightful succession, to her father and grandfather and grandmother who would have hated to know this Dance persisted, that someone like Aegon won.

She inhaled deeply to strengthen herself. How many is this now? The weight of their losses was ready to crush her, and still she was expected to stand tall and bear a crown on her head. Her grandparents and parents, her aunts and her uncles, her cousins and brothers, now her nephews, nieces, and children.

Of her blood, few remained. Her children and Daemon's— not even Rhaenyra's three first sons were here anymore. Aegon and Jaehaera were still alive, but what good was that for her? Jaehaera was a frail child, she'd never be alright again. Daenys hardly knew her to begin with.

All that she could do was remember who was here. Alyssa, Cliff, Gemma, and Bertram remained to her. She had to make them proud. She had to face this for them.

Daenys nodded, feeling Rolf kissing her cheek. She drew away from him, heaving a sigh and staring ahead as Alyssa opened the doors for her. What little court they had left looked at her immediately, standing rigid as she strode towards the throne.

She ignored their stares and their contempt. Had I been named heir to begin with, perhaps we wouldn't have lost it all. What would Otto say now if he saw me ascending the throne as its sovereign?

When she reached the throne, she turned to face her people. "Let it be known," she said as firmly as she could, "that the letters sent by Aegon the Usurper speak a sole fact we cannot deny. Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the Black Queen, the Dragon Queen, King Viserys's rightful heir, is dead."

A hush fell over the crowd. "Her son and heir, Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon, was murdered in cold blood by the Usurper. Her second heir, Prince Aegon of House Targaryen, is held hostage alongside my brother's daughter, the Princess Baela of House Targaryen. We aim to rescue them, for though Rhaenyra named me Regent and in doing so has made me Queen now, her son Aegon Targaryen remains heir to the Iron Throne by the rightful line of succession."

She watched Bertram walk up to her, in his hands the yellow-gold crown of King Aenys I, the first crown worn by Jaehaerys before he made his newer band, the same one Rhaenyra had sold to buy herself passage to Dragonstone. Daenys leaned down when Bertram ascended fully, laying the crown over her head.

"All hail," shouted Bertram, voice heavy with emotion, "Her Grace, Daenys of House Targaryen. Queen of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Once Princess and Lady Hand, now Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

Rolf started the ripple first, bending his knee and laying his sword down. Others followed. Daenys held tight in her grasp the hilt of Wildfyre, watching them bow their heads. This moment, it should have made her feel powerful, it should have elated her. All it did was make her feel miserable anew.

"Please, rise." She sat while they stood. "I want letters sent to every one of our allies first, and then to every other corner of the Realm. Remind them of my being named Regent. Remind them of the promises made to Rhaenyra. Remind them that her son, Aegon, lives, and as soon as this war is ended, this crown passes to him. All true men should name themselves now. That is all for now. Ring the bells of mourning all day. No one will forget what they've done to my niece. No one will forget their wretched treasons to our rightful Queen."

It took everything in her to keep a straight face as they exited the halls. As soon as the last man had left— save for her family and the Queensguard, who now guarded her— she removed the crown from her head and rushed down the steps, offering the crown back to Bertram. "Please, my children," she begged to him and Alyssa, "see that word is spread. I need to be alone."

They gave her weary nods. Gemma would be beside herself when she heard. Cliff might abandon any tactical efforts on Casterly Rock and burn them all alive when he heard. Their allies... gods, she had to hope their allies were still hers.

Only Rolf was with her the rest of the day as she cried, curled up in their bed. He held her, stroked her head until she fell asleep. When she woke in the afternoon, he had food brought for her and coaxed her into eating alongside him— he hadn't forgotten how they starved themselves after Aenar.

But her time to mourn was not going to be so generously given this time, if it had ever been before. By week's end, they knew where both their allies and enemies stood. Daenys could not take another moment to herself if she expected to rescue Rhaenyra's son and give him the crown.

Corlys promised continued Velaryon support, as did Cregan Stark from the North and Lady Jeyne Arryn from the Vale. Surprisingly, the Tyrells finally spoke openly of raising their banners for her— the Reach would be called to stand behind Queen Daenys Targaryen.

Cliff had sent his reply from Lannisport. He had seized it successfully, with only some minor losses and the worst injuries being to Grey Ghost, Seasmoke, and Goldhorn, all of whom could still fly. He declared the Riverlands still fought for Rhaenyra— now through Daenys— and were prepared to seize Casterly Rock using almost exclusively the dragons.

Part of his army was marching back now, led by Benjicot Blackwood, Black Aly, and Sabitha Frey. Dalton Greyjoy remained their ally. He was glad to continue his plunder along the Mander, and would reach King's Landing before Cliff's army.

The problem was that Aegon's return being unveiled meant Green loyalists had even more reason to fight on now. Aegon had demanded that Alyn Velaryon pay homage or Baela would die. Corlys called his bluff on this, and doubted Baela would let herself be killed so easily, but worried Alyn might rashly attempt to rescue her. For now, they needed Alyn to stay his hand regardless of the threat— so long as Corlys's strength had retreated to Driftmark, Aegon had no hopes of escaping Dragonstone.

Therein lay another problem. At long last, Borros Baratheon was said to be gathering a host to ride on King's Landing. Presumably, he hoped for one of his daughters to replace Helaena as Aegon's wife, and by default replace Jaehaera as heir, for how embarrassing that Aegon would need to name a girl his heir after fighting against his elder sister for her own birthright. Daenys thought Borros Baratheon a coward for barely showing face, only after Rhaenyra's passing.

What's more, the Green allies were trying to convince Aegon to claim Silverwing now that Sunfyre would never fly again, and if rumors could be believed, was about to succumb from the wounds Baela and Moondancer left on him. Though Daenys did not think a second dragon would be possible for Aegon to come across (and she doubted he'd ever ride again with broken legs), she knew the risks if he did succeed.

"You must let me go." Alyssa didn't wish to take 'no' for an answer. "Mother, please. There isn't a dragon guarding Dragonstone and I know the island and castle better than Aegon and his men ever will. Let me rescue Baela and Aegon, then we can roast those fools alive in there."

No, please no, I cannot lose another daughter. "It's too dangerous to go alone, Alyssa," said Rolf when Daenys closed her eyes to think of it, wondering if there was some chance she wasn't seeing out of worry. "You are mighty with your spear, but you are one person."

"I learned from you, from mother, from Uncle Daemon. I fight with the strength of ten people. I can kill Aegon the Usurper, I know I can. Or at the very least, send me to kill this Trystane Truefyre."

"There is less need of that," said Bertram cautiously. "More men desert him each day without his supply of food from the godswood. He's been attacked twice since Rhaenyra's death, once by Gaemon's followers and another by the Shepherd's. He won't last long, it's an unnecessary risk."

"We can wait this out," agreed Rolf. "Dalton Greyjoy will be upon us within a fortnight. His men can help us fully rid ourselves of Trystane Truefyre and will help us with the first defense against whatever army Baratheon musters. We have dragons, more importantly, and we cannot afford to lose them. Three dragons are still better than two."

Alyssa didn't want to hear that. She looked to her mother, gaze pressing so hard that Daenys knew she was looking at her even if she couldn't see. She opened her eyes and saw Alyssa's indignant gaze.

"I don't feel comfortable with it," said Daenys. "Aegon can be dealt with once we've handled Baratheon's host. Together, the dragons can fly. I'd at least prefer if Cliff went with you to rescue them. Between the two of you, you're much better defended. Two dragons are harder to subdue than one. They'll be on high alert for dragons now that the Usurper has none in his yoke."

"We still have hopes of crushing Baratheon's army swiftly even without Cliff's men," added Bertram. "Gemma says her lord husband is sending men to join a party sent by the Tyrells off Highgarden; with them already are Beesburys who remember your help at Honeywine. They can meet Borros from behind while the Ironborn and hopefully Vale men arrive on the front. Even if Lady Jeyne's men don't make it, our dragons will help make quick work of them."

"Baratheon claimed to have the ability of mustering tens of thousands," muttered Rolf. "We'll see if that is true."

Alyssa threw her hands up. "Doubtful, at this rate. We might as well take advantage of their focus on the battle to launch our assault on Dragonstone. Mother, remember, I wanted to kill Sunfyre long ago. I know— I know I have not been at my best since Tumbleton, but remember you sent me on a lone, covert mission to trap Otto Hightower. Not anyone else, me. I am capable of executing this alone. I beg you, give me leave."

Daenys chewed on her lip. Every instinct in her begged her not to, but she knew Alyssa was more than capable of defying her anyway. The problem was that Alyssa didn't seem to remember the terrible lesson she learned come from her defiance at Tumbleton. This time, the Kinslaying would be more dangerous. Alyssa could still lose her life.

"What's your plan?" asked Daenys. "What will you do to get close to enough to them?"

Alyssa's face lit up. "Aegon's always had a soft spot for me, he's desired me since we were children. I don't even need to sneak there, I can openly fly and pretend to surrender on the Dragonmount. I'll ask to see Aegon and I know his men will take me to him, in chains or not. I have a spear hidden in my old room there, in case they take mine on arrival."

"Then what?" To Daenys it sounded like Alyssa intended a long stay to accomplish anything.

Alyssa's lips curled. "I have an audience with Aegon alone. I surmise it would take me little work to convince him I believe in his cause. I need only say the sort of thing he'd want to hear... that I want him to be my King."

Rolf raised a brow. "You've given this a great deal of thought..."

"Because I've been planning his death since Rook's Rest. Now, the circumstances have never been better. I can tell him that I am jealous that my mother has been named Queen and still she named Rhaenyra's son as heir over me, her eldest child. I can say I tire of this war, of being labeled a Kinslayer, of watching Gemma marry before me. All feelings that he would think me capable of having since he only knows how unpredictable I am— he never got to see how loyal I am to my family because of his own behavior towards me. He'd believe that anger is real.

"I'd tell him that Rhaenyra let my name be smeared and never defended me. That my own mother being elevated to the status of Queen didn't even bring me any compensation for losing a brother and watching everyone I know and love shatter before my eyes. I'd say I'm tired of running other people's errands, that I want my just due. That all of this had made me realize I should be Queen.

"I'll pretend to be helpful, I'll tell him we should wed Aegon to Jaehaera and keep her as heir. It will stir whatever love he has for his daughter. I'll tell him I worry Borros Baratheon cares only to replace Jaehaera and dishonor Aegon's blood. That marrying me will give him a strong wife, right grievous wrongs, and ensure his daughter remains his heir. But if I first have an inkling he means to replace Jaehaera, I will promise to give him sons. I will kill him before he can bed me. Trust me, Mother, trust me. Think of this not as my mother, but as a Queen."

She shut her eyes tight. "If you go now, I don't know if you'll make it back for the battle. We are already short on time and allies. The only way to convince Aegon of these things is to drag it out. You'd need at least a fortnight to have him lower his guard."

"Then I will take that fortnight," said Alyssa. "Please, Mother. Let me go."

Daenys looked to her at last, and reached out to cup her face. She knew if this happened, she was not like to see her daughter again. Whether Alyssa died or Daenys, this was going to be the last time... she felt it in her bones.

She hugged her tight, holding the back of her head. "I am ever proud of you, my girl. I could only dream of having been as strong as you."

"You needn't dream, Mother," said Alyssa. "You remain the strongest Targaryen who ever graced this land."

_

She studied the map of the Crownlands each night before bed. It was the only thing that could lull her to sleep since Alyssa's departure, no word having come in a fortnight. No news was good news thus far; it meant Alyssa wasn't dead.

She glanced at a pile of letters, the final bit of information they knew of their allies as Borros Baratheon neared the city. He'd reach them in a matter of days, that was certain. The Ironborn were the only ones within the city walls, and had made glad quick work of Trystane Truefyre as a warm-up. Dalton Greyjoy loved watching blood flow.

From there, it would mean praying to all the gods. Cliff had taken Casterly Rock, at the cost of Seasmoke and Addam Velaryon, as well as half a wing off Grey Ghost, who by force had to remain to guard with Hugh and Cliff's most trusted men.

He was riding hard to reach King's Landing, but Daenys was unsure if Goldhorn would be able to join Sheepstealer and Aegarax in battle. If Frostbite did not return... no, she wouldn't think of that. Nor would she think that Vhagar was nearing her last days; the last time Daenys saw her, she'd barely seemed to sense her there.

The chunk of Cliff's army that had come to their aid was nearest, with Cregan Stark and his men only a few days behind them. The Tarly-Beesbury-Tyrell party had been making extreme haste to reach them and catch Borros Baratheon from behind. Lady Jeyne Arryn's Knights of the Vale were but a day away by sea... It had to be enough, it had to be.

Daenys felt Rolf coming to stand behind her, smiling as he wrapped an arm around her and kissed her shoulder. "You did not sit the throne at court today," he whispered. "Are you alright?"

She shook her head. "You know, it used to be my favorite seat in the world. I used to look up at it with such wonder. But then, I got older... I understood it more... and it all changed. I am Queen. You are my King Consort. And none of it feels right. My grandfather knew it would come to this, and how bloody it has been. There were few moments where I was genuinely happy. I took it all for granted."

She turned to him, pressing their foreheads together. "Every moment with my brothers. With Rhaenyra. My family... I should have known, I should have stopped it. My greatest moments were with all of you. You and our children. And what did I doom them to?"

Rolf pressed his hand on her cheek. Calloused, but still his touch was the most welcome thing. "You couldn't have known. The gods must have had it written in the stars from the first. You did what you could with what was given to you. You remain the most loyal and true, of all House Targaryen. I do not know what this battle will bring... but I am sure that the gods themselves will honor every move you make. For through all this pain, you have kept the same motivation. Love."

Love got me into all of this. Would that I hadn't loved so much, I would have been free a long time ago. I should have run away with you, our children should have been born carefree in Essos. I'd never hurt so bad, then. If I did not love, I would not lose.

Daenys offered him a pained smile. "Love. Too much love, I'd say. But at least, it is love that placed me on the Iron Throne. Not greed. I was not born to be Queen. I was chosen, plucked out from this nightmare..."

She laced her fingers with his, laying her head on his chest. She could hear the faint beating of his heart. And it was then that she most felt like a little girl again, wondering who the Iron Throne would belong to and never having thought it might all end with her.

-

And so, dear reader, as I conclude this chapter on the infamous Dance of Dragons, I will tell you what became of the Battle of the Kingsroad— the final stand of Queen Daenys Targaryen, First of Her Name, who ruled for two months.

The bravest Queen there ever was, she rode out with her army to face the Greens. Baratheon's army was caught on two fronts, with two dragons flying overhead. Vhagar, the only living dragon to have seen the Conquest, fought in her last battle on this day, descending from her cliff to breathe her fire in defense of her rider. It was her shortest flight. She was one-hundred-eighty-six years old, mother to four of the most beloved dragons: Aegarax, Starbeam, Goldhorn, and Frostbite.

Queen Daenys fought in the field, wielding the Valyrian-steel sword Wildfyre, once the Roxton Orphan-Maker. Beside her was her dear husband Ser King Consort Rolf Tully. Overhead, the dragons Sheepstealer and Aegarax, ridden by Rhaena Targaryen and Bertram Tully, burned the Baratheons below until the arrival of Cliff Tully and his dragon Goldhorn.

The battle ended, and so did the lives of those most loved. King Rolf Tully was killed trying to secure the retreat of young Alan Beesbury. Queen Daenys Targaryen died when Vhagar did, her strength failing her after she cut down Borros Baratheon and saved the life of Lady Sabitha Frey. It is said that neither the Queen nor King knew of the other's death before they fell, as they would have desired, for such was their love that they would not have survived without one another.

As the battle was ending— Cliff Tully descending from the skies to lead the Blacks to victory as soon as he realized his parents had fallen, though at the cost of his dragon Goldhorn— the arrival of Lord Cregan Stark overwhelmingly turned the tides against the Green army. When Queen Daenys's soldiers marched to the Red Keep, they found waiting for them Prince Aegon the Younger, son of Queen Rhaenyra. With him was Princess Baela Targaryen.

It was she who spoke of what transpired on Dragonstone. The brave and selfless Lady Alyssa Tully had rescued them from Dragonstone. She infiltrated the castle and tricked Aegon the Usurper into letting his guard down. She struck him down as he intended to marry her, and died killing the traitor Ser Alfred Broome to ensure the escape of Prince Aegon. Her dragon, Frostbite, secured the escape of the hostages and lost her life trying to save Alyssa. She never knew of her mother's death, nor did her mother know of hers.

News of these deaths and the ascension of King Aegon Targaryen, Third of His Name, brought the final blow that killed Lord Grover Tully. He was succeeded by his bold grandson, Lord Cliff Tully, who carried with him proudly the sword of his mother, Bloodrain. He swore that the sword would not pass to the first sons of House Tully, rather, to the second sons oft underestimated, like his father.

The only surviving daughter of Queen Daenys, Lady Gemma Tully, wed Lord Alan Tarly prior to the end of the Dance. With him, she had three children: Rolf, Daeron— the name her mother used as a mystery knight in jousts—, and Aenar, for her beloved brother.

Queen Daenys's youngest son, Bertram Tully, was never heard from again in Westeros. Shortly after King Aegon's ascension, he left for Essos with Princess Jaehaera and young Gaemon Palehair, taking with him only Wildfyre and his dragon, Aegarax— the last of Vhagar's hatchlings, who witnessed the death of all his siblings, while his rider witnessed the death of none of his.

It is from Bertram's text on the Dance of Dragons— written in Essos, and paying heavy tribute to his mother— from which I have acquired my facts. He remains the only studied man with the most accurate account of the Dance of Dragons. No Maester in Westeros can rival the knowledge and influence he had during this critical time. He remains quoted heavily in Essos, for his many books and studies. He retired to a quiet life where Princess Jaehaera and Gaemon could grow unperturbed by the sins of their parents. It is a great shame that Westeros could not continue seeing firsthand the many talents of Bertram Tully.

You may ask, reader, why I have chosen to include this in a book about the events surrounding the death of Robert Baratheon up to the battle against the Night King. I tell you only the significance of all Queen Daenys accomplished in her long life, and the mark she had left behind.

In the next chapter, we will speak of the aftermath of the fight against death. I will pay special attention to Queen Daenys's most easily-traced descendants, and their role in the peace that arrived to the North. Descended from Queen Daenys through her son Lord Cliff Tully: Queen Sansa Stark, Arya Stark, Brandon Stark, Rickon Stark, Lord Edmure Tully, and Ser Brynden 'The Blackfish' Tully (who currently holds her Bloodrain). Descended from Queen Daenys through her daughter Lady Gemma Tully: Maester Samwell Tarly and Lord Randyll Tarly. It is believed Ser Brienne of Tarth is descended from Daenys as well, for it is highly likely that Lady Gemma's son Aenar married into House Tarth.

It is believed that the Valyrian steel sword, Wildfyre, once held in the hands of Queen Daenys, is the same sword brought into battle by one of Queen Daenerys Targaryen's soldiers. The sword found them in Meereen, an anonymous gift that was carried by Ser Barristan Selmy before his untimely death. Queen Daenys's impact cannot be gainsaid, for her sword found its way to defending her distant grand-niece.

Archmaester Gyldayn's account of the Targaryen dynasty is filled with citations from Grand Maester Munkun and the court fool Mushroom, among others. It is a great pity to its readers that he never cited Bertram Tully's volume, for it is agreed upon— endorsed by the survivors of the Dance itself— to be the most accurate (if not a near word-for-word retelling) portrayal of the Dance of Dragons.

Munkun's own texts would have surely been burned at Bertram's command, had he been there to see what he wrote— perhaps, then, the youngest son of Queen Daenys might've been known to be as impulsive as his elder siblings. Munkun neglects to mention Queen Daenys much, and even states that she never counted as a sovereign for how short her rule was. He and others of the time were of the opinion that Daenys was never really Queen, rather, remained Regent and Lady Hand upon Queen Rhaenyra's death, due to the fact her son, Aegon, still lived and as such— by the rightful succession— was a King uncrowned at the time.

This, however, I consider sacrilege. Though not born to be Queen— as many of the best rulers were not— Queen Daenys's influence lives on. She has been the favorite historical figure of girls since the reign of Aegon III and was remembered most fondly by her son Bertram as the strongest member of the Targaryen family. She never failed to fight for what was truly right. Her blood runs in the veins of Westeros's most celebrated heroes, and the swords she defended her kin with continue to do so even centuries later, for those were the two things she was most well known for: her love for her family and her immeasurable strength in the face of all she suffered.

Until next chapter,

Archmaester Ebrose, year 305 AC

-

A/N: Keep reading for the Final Author's Note!