Work Text:
“But now they see you as you are.” Her nearly sibilant hiss drove Alicent to wild rage. What happened next never even crossed his wildest dreams. Pure desperation in her countenance, Alicent pushed forward, her hand still holding that blade as a weapon to her own kin.
“Alicent, no!”
Viserys felt his heart shatter when the blade slashed downward. Rhaenyra’s face was stuck in absolute shock and betrayal as she, as though in slow motion, collapsed on the cold stone floors. Something took hold of them as he and Corlys rushed towards her trying to counter her fall. From the corner of his eye, he could see Daemon heading towards them, Ser Crispin abandoned but he took no notice. In this moment all that mattered was his daughter.
Blood flowing freely from the gash, Corlys caught her and laid her down on the floor. Distant screams rang out all around him from the children, her children. Jace and Luke pushed and tugged till they were right there with him. He could feel the childishness bleed out of them with every pint of Rhaenyra’s blood as they held onto her, begging her to get up, to wake up.
He wanted to protect the children, to ask someone to take them away. Rhaenyra would get up any second now, the maesters would do something of course and it was needlessly cruel for the children to see their mother in such conditions. But he didn't have the heart to push them away, their eyes glittering with tears.
The last few seconds of her life and it all seemed to be a blur of desperation, him urging the maester to do something, Daemon nearly brandishing Dark Sister in threat but it all seemed futile.
When it was all said and done, his daughter, his only daughter, was laid out on the floor. So serene. In her death as she was never in life. It was as if she had just gone to sleep, her body in gentle repose and not in eternal slumber. He wished he could ignore her blood pooled around her, wished he could unsee his kind, fiery/defiant daughter bleed out in front of him. Her life blood. It was her life blood all out of her.
She’s gone. And yet her children didn't stop holding onto her, snotty and bleeding faces as they screamed at their mother to wake up, to not leave them. He had never seen such desperation on a child’s face. His dearest Rhaenyra had been so stoic at the passing of her own mother, not a tear in sight, so much stronger than him. She would have been a good queen, always level headed and not led so easily by petty feelings. His hopes and dreams, now all gone.
He slowly got up, the desperation still present but now tinged with maddening sorrow.
“Get her out of my sight,”
His near whisper caught no one’s attention. So he commanded a little louder, teeth clenching to stop the overflow of tears, his face already wet with weakness.
“Get. her. Out. Of. my. Sight.”
Upon hearing his command, everyone jolted into silence, the commotion finally commencing.
“Your grace?” Lord Westerling was the only one brave enough to ask.
“Get the queen and her children out of my sight right now.”
At his harsh command, Alicent standing still with horror in the near corner startled out of her stupor.
“I- I- I didn't mean to- I- your grace, please,” Her voice was constricted by her tears. She was breaking into pieces right in front of his eyes yet all he could see was the knife still in her hands, loosely grasped as if in a trance.
“My daughter, my only daughter. My heir and you killed her in cold blood. Your bastards, guilty of accusing my dear grandchildren of bastardy.”
At his pronouncement, the entire proceeding gasped, shocked by the harsh accusations.
He felt Daemon move to stand behind him, his hand resting on Dark Sister ready for any sign of defiance. The kingsguard slowly came to stand around him as well. Corlys and Rhenys still stood at the far back with Rhaenyra and the children, both Daemon and Rhaenyra’s kids clasped in their arms, shielding them, misery and sniffles audible.
On the other side, Alicent stood sniveling, Otto holding onto her. Her children had all come to stand with her, even Aemond, his gruesome wound bleeding once again. The blood was terrifying to him, he wanted to shield the little boy he had sometimes held close to him as a babe. Born smaller than his other children, he had reminded him of Baelon so much. He remembers reading Valyrian stories to him, entertaining him all hours of the day before Alicent diverted him with lessons from the maesters. He can see now how carefully they were separated, the only one still visiting him were his two daughters. Aegon had been a lost cause from the start, drunkard and repulsive from such a young age. It was the presence of Ser Crispin that should have been inevitable to him but was not. He stood with them, his hand holding onto his own sword. That incompetent fool.
There was now a distinct line drawn in the court, one side his family and the other them. He could not, would not consider them family anymore. They would be punished. He would see to it, the dragon blood in him demanded it. Anything to divert his attention from his dear daughter’s demise. Wiseness had struck him, late but never say never.
The night ended there but its repercussions were felt for ages. A name had been struck from the annals of history, a new proclamation in place, a high lady brought low. The warden of the legacy of his great house finally gained the fire and blood that embodied the spirits of his ancestors.
“Note this my lords. From now till time memorial, the queen Alicent Hightower will be stripped of her royal position and titles and will now be known as the royal mistress, lady Alicent Hightower. She will be sent to the silent sisters for the crime of murdering the heir to the iron throne, to atone for the great sin of kinslaying, slaying her own step daughter. Furthermore, thereafter the children of Alicent Hightower will be known as Targaryen Bastards, dragon seeds. They have no claim to the throne or any other Targaryen heraldry including their dragons. All Targaryen heraldry including the crown jewels and the dragons will be returned to the crown.” The greens moved to interrupt him to plead their case but he didn't let them continue, knowing his weak heart.
“Aegon Hightower will be sent to the wall for accusing my grandchildren of bastardy, this is treason as they are in line to the iron throne. Healena Hightower will be a ward of the crown till her marriage which will be decided by me as her king and sire. Aemond Hightower will be sent to squire for a house in the Crownlands. At the completion of his boyhood, he will be given the choice to either take to the wall or be sworn into the kingsguard. Daeron Hightower will continue to remain at Oldtown with his maternal family. Refusal to commit with any of the terms will be taken as treason and rightly punished/rewarded with execution.”
His command was set in stone, his eyes steely. He had lost his daughter, his beloved Aemma’s only living child and for what a Hightower whelp? All of it, his quest for heir, his remarriage, all of it was futile because his one true treasure was gone forever. Her children had lost their mother just as she had once lost hers. He knew the rumors spread about them, started by his own queen. He had tried his best to ignore them because he knew that it did not matter if the kids were Velaryon or Strong, they bore the blood of the dragon through their mother. All of them had hatched their eggs just like their mother had, proving their claim to their Valyrian ancestry unlike his own Hightower children. They spoke Valyrian, rode dragons, and above all respected the legacy that had granted them their entitlement. They were the only reasons Rhaenyra would truly smile anymore, her children, her sweet boys as she had pronounced to the court.
In the pages of history, King Viserys I, once known for his peaceful reign, came to be known as the forlorn king. His elder daughter’s death broke the king's heart. His reign was riddled with deaths, of his queen of love, his many children in childbed and later his heir and only lawful child, the princess Rhaenyra in the most gruesome of ways. It is said that the king was witness to the butchering of his wife and daughter, held onto them as they bled out in front of him, eyes dimming of life. His reign thereafter was short lived and shrouded in misery as he took to wearing black in mourning.
He was seldom at court thereafter and the prince Daemon ruled all but in name as the hand while the king drowned in grief. In his later years, when the king's physical and mental health deteriorated, he further promoted his brother as the prince regent. It was a great tragedy that he could only serve as prince regent to King Viserys I for three years before the king passed away. He was 52 years old, young by all standards, departing on a day different from no other if not for a once good king's demise.
His actions though that tragic night at Driftmark had averted a civil war. At his death, there was but one heir viable for the throne, despite the quickly silenced protests from the Hightowers. He was succeeded by his grandchild, the princess Rhaenyra’s eldest son Jacaerys Velaryon who took on the name of Targaryen once he took the throne
The darkling king as he was known by the smallfolk, for everything from his uncommon dark features among the fair haired Targaryens, his black mourning attires and gloomy countenance. He was but four and ten of age when he ascended the Iron Throne pledging his life to a throne that had robbed him of his mother. The prince chose to reprise his role as regent for his grand nephew and good son for the next two years and later served as his hand.
Prince Daemon Targaryen had served as regent and hand to two kings but never once wore a crown of his own except the one he forged with his own prowess at stepstones. His act of devotion to his dead niece, he spent all his life protecting her legacy. His life was thereafter spent in toil to his children and the ones of his niece. After the demise of his second wife, he chose to never remarry, instead raising his kids and that of his niece’s with his good brother. Lord Laenor Velaryon was said to be a constant companion to the prince and perhaps more, they were seldom without each other and his predilections were well known to the court.
With just one action, Alicent Hightower, the once great queen of the greens was reduced to a mere mistress. Though there were plenty of protests, the king's mind could not be changed. His daughter’s death had struck him and his bitterness knew no bounds. In her last years, the once royal wife lived the life of a wraith, isolation and silence, her only shadow. The brothers Aegon and Aemond lived and died at the walls, lost to the snowy ranges south of the wall never to be seen again. Once lauded as heirs to the house of the dragon, their graves did not even bear their names.
Although Lady Helaena Hightower was spared their exile, she died young in just as tragic a fate. On losing her elder son to looting marauders, she flung herself from the tower of her lord husband's castle in grief. Undoubtedly Daeron Hightower had perhaps the best fate of all as he served as a maester commanding several chains, one of high Valyrian as well. He was later assigned to serve at Dragonstone after maester Gerardys’ death.