CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
❛the price of being a queen.❜

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

EARLY 130 AC ⸻ Kings Landing   ⸻

AEGON HUFFED around his chambers, ranting to an enchanted Maerella who was sprawled across the bed.

"They treat me as if I'm some— idiot!" Aegon roared, the dragon fire that was in his blood lit aflame.

"You're not who they make you out to be," Maerella sighed, sitting up and letting herself rest on her hands as she leaned back into the bed. "They wish they were King; that is why they pick at you."

"They say I can't go to war—," Aegon continued, pacing, giving no mind to his Targaryen mistress. "They say I must sit here and do nothing while they plan everything behind my back!"

"Shhh," Maerella coo'ed, standing from her comfortable spot and walking over to him. "You'll show them." She confirmed, placing a soft hand against his chest. Aegon took her hand in his own, glancing down at her. "I will."

"Speaking of things you will do . . . " Maerella playfully continued.

Aegon nodded his head, "Yes, yes I know." Resting his troubled forehead against hers, he continued. "I will tell Helaena of us soon."

"Do you swear it?"

"I do." Aegon concluded.

⸻

"Still no word from Daemon." Rhaenya mentioned, a heavy sigh escaping from her lips as she stood around the council. "I trust him." She concluded, ignoring an aching part in herself that told her otherwise.

The council immediately began to bicker. Words of Daemon and Cole's movement on Rook's Rest began to unravel.

Rhaenyra cleared her throat, reining them in.

"We need to send a dragon." A council member confluded.

"I will go." Rhaenyra nodded, ready to act as Queen.

"My queen . . ."

"You cannot . . ."

Rhaenyra shook her head, wanting to hear no more of their nonsense. "I will not lose dragons to war while I hide here in this castle!" She was ready to act. She was ready to fight for her namesake, for her family, for her people. She was beyond tired of idling while people did her bidding.

"Our allies raise their banners for you, Mother." Jacaerys added.

"Yes they do."

"If you die, all will be lost." Jacaerys concluded, hoping to persuade his mother.

Before Jacaerys could continue the argument, offering himself to go, Rhaenys took one step forward. "You must send me, your Grace. Meleys is your largest dragon and no stranger to battle."

Rhaenyra looked over to Rhaenys with sorrowful eyes. Yes, this was their best option, but something in her hesitated in agreeing to send her. She was her hand— she was family. If anything happened to her, Rhaenyra would never recover nor forgive herself.

This was the terrible price of being Queen.

⸻

Jacaerys and Basalia were married and shared a marital bed, yet no tender moments have been shared between them yet.

Basalia sat back against the iron headboard as she rubbed her plump belly. Jacaerys sat by the fire, anxiously awaiting news of Rooks Rest.

"Jace." Basalia questioned, causing him to look toward her.

"Yes, Basalia?"

"What will happen," She began, carefully. "When I have the babe."

Jacaerys stood from his seat, walking towards Basalia as he sat on the side of the bed, eyes falling to her stomach.

"I have vowed to you to raise the babe as my own." Jacaerys concluded, not sure where she was going with this conversation.

"Will you ever let them know of Leon?" Basalia questioned, not daring to meet his eyes. "Not as their father, I understand, but as a person."

Jacaerys sat quietly, thinking of a response as he nodded. "It would be wrong for them to not know such a heroic man."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked at him. "Thank you."

Jacaerys spoke nothing as he inched forward to her, closing the gap as her thighs brushed against him. "I promise you will never be left alone again."

It was an odd thing to say for such a conversation, but it was something that she needed to hear. Trauma wounds were fresh, and he knew that.

"Thank you, Jace. I will always stand with you," She added, placing a hand against his cheek, "No matter what."

They got lost in each others eyes as something stirred between them . . . an unfamiliar feeling. The gap that held their faces apart was slowly ceasing.

The doors to their room flew open, revealing a guard. "My prince, you must come, quick."

Jacaerys pulled away from Basalia after giving her one last gaze. Grabbing his sword, he rushed from their chambers and down the long hall. The guard didn't have to reveal the news, something in him knew.

Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen who never was, had fallen.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

𝘴𝘢𝘣𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘻𝘴𝘭𝘷𝘵 & 𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘢𝘱𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 © 2024