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Silence hung over the Red Keep, heavy as the shadow of the Iron Throne itself. Maegor the Cruel was dead. His body had been found upon the throne he had both feared and claimed, pierced by the very swords that composed it. The realm was without a king, and the matter of succession had to be decided.
Jaehaerys Targaryen sat in the council chamber, watching the lords and great men who had gathered to determine the fate of Westeros. At fifteen, he already knew that this moment would define his life. His heart pounded, not with fear, but with conviction. He would not be like Maegor. The realm needed peace, and he would be the one to bring it. But before he could speak, he knew he would face resistance.
Across the room, Visenya Targaryen studied the faces of those present. There was no mourning for her father in her heart only resentment. She listened to the whispers of the gathered lords, speaking of the obvious choice: Jaehaerys, the rightful heir, the king of peace. But why not her? She was Maegor’s eldest daughter, she bore his name and his strength. Yet, deep down, she already knew the answer. Because she was a woman. Because the lords feared Maegor’s blood.
While Jaehaerys saw the council as a necessary step to prevent war, Visenya saw it as a farce. Her claim had never even been considered. Not even her half-brother, Aerion, had been seriously discussed. The realm would rather have a boy raised by Alyssa Velaryon than anyone who carried Maegor’s blood and that burned inside her.
Jaehaerys rose to his feet, his voice firm yet measured. "I am not Maegor, and I do not intend to rule through fear, but through loyalty and respect. Westeros needs stability, not more bloodshed."
Visenya clenched her fists. What he called stability, she called weakness. Their eyes met, and in that instant, the first spark of a silent rivalry was born. Jaehaerys sought a realm where she had no place. And she would not let that pass without a fight