Chapter 90: Chapter 56: No ReturnNotes:
Fun bit of trivia. As a Singaporean, I was first trained in the metric system. I was initially gonna use metric for this fic, but Alice pointed out that it'd be illogical in Westeros, so I sat down and learnt the Imperial measurements.
But in hindsight I realised that this was a missed opportunity to subtly demonstrate the gaps between Earth and Westeros. Like having Rhaenyra be the only POV character to use and/or think in metric while everyone else uses Imperial.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
"The King is dead, long live the King!"
-Ceremonial proclamation announcing the death of a monarch
114 AC, Red Keep,
Pain.
Pain beyond pain.
I remembered that when I was a child in Primary School, I'd fallen over and skinned my knee. I spent three hours crying, only for Mom to scoff at the injury and say that as a guy, any pain I felt would be but a pale shadow as to what a woman experienced when giving birth.
It probably went triply so for Mom, considering that she had a constitution that made childbearing a truly strenuous task.
She nearly died giving birth to my elder brother. The labour and birth had been so terrible, the doctors said that she likely couldn't get pregnant again, and even if she did, the birth would likely kill both her and her baby.
Considering that I was born less than a year after my big bro, Mom clearly hadn't listened to the doctor's orders. And allegedly nearly tore herself in half giving birth to me.
Those two births were excruciating, and caused lasting damage to her reproductive system. So much so that my little brother was a solid decade younger than me, for that was how long it took her to recover.
I was half Mom's age when she was giving birth. I was healthier and fed better in terms of both quality and quantity of food. Rhaegar had given me an absurdly strong painkiller, and I had magic to aid the birth.
I still screamed myself hoarse while in labour. Every contraction feeling like a tide of endless agony, coming and going in an eternal ebb and flow.
Things had gotten so bad Daenys had snapped a magical suppressor around my wrist, because I was starting to bring the building down in my blind suffering.
"Keep pushing, Your Grace, I can see the head!"
Could she? That was nice.
———
2021, Alice's Condo, Singapore
"So which movie are we watching tonight?" Alice's Dad Micheal asked.
"Not anything spy-related!" I warned. "My commanding officer thinks he's a funny guy, and stocked the Army Intelligence break room solely with spy movies. I've seen enough of them for a lifetime!"
"Spies watching spy movies." Alice's Mom Ming chuckled. "That's funny."
"Not to me." I retorted.
"I vote for something romantic. Like Twilight." Alice coyly suggested, much to the distaste of the rest of the room.
"No, no, no. Not that." Ming denied. "I vote for a Jackie Chan movie."
"Hmm. Why not. I'm game for that." I shrugged.
"We watched that last movie night." Micheal rejected. "No."
"It's two on one, dear." Ming pointed out.
"Yuri, you agree with Grandpa right? You don't wanna watch Jackie Chan right?" Micheal tried, turning to face my one-year-old daughter.
"Ya!" Yuri babbled, before resuming her attempt to put the armchair she sat on into her mouth.
"See, she agrees with me." Micheal smirked.
"Traitor." Alice grumbled. "Can we just watch Harry Potter? We're up to the second movie now."
There was a round of murmured agreements.
"I think the books are better." I felt the need to say.
"So do I. But the movies aren't bad." Alice replied. And with that, Micheal pressed a few buttons on his remote, and the family all sat down to watch the Prisoner of Azkaban.
It was only when the boggarts came out, that conversation resumed.
"So random question, but what would your boggart be?" I asked. "Mine would be the sea, obviously."
"Mine would be seeing Taiwan fall to China." Ming replied. Unsurprising. The woman was born and raised there, after all. In fact, she still had her Taiwanese citizenship and passport, if I wasn't mistaken.
"How would those two even look as a boggart?" Micheal asked. "Not that mine is any better.
"I fear dying before I see the face of my first grandchild." The 76-year-old revealed.
I said nothing, but pointedly looked at Yuri, whom was curled up on the armchair with the family dog.
"My blood grandchild."
"I'm adopted." Alice pointed out.
"You know what I mean."
There was a long silence, as both father and daughter looked at one another.
"I'm sorry Dad." Alice replied. "For my greatest fear is giving birth."
There was a stunned and awkward silence.
"Uh Alice, this is Singapore in the 21st century. Our modern healthcare is good enough that women didn't die in childbirth." I pointed out. "This isn't the Middle Ages."
"Yeah I know…" Alice muttered. "Can we just get back to watching the movie?"
We did, but my girlfriend's admission weighed heavily on all our minds.
It was only far later, when both Alice and I lay in bed, enjoying some post-sex cuddling, that the whole topic about children came up again.
"You know, I'm amazed at Yuuki." Alice muttered, fingers dancing across my chest. "She's so brave, you know. Going through the birth like that."
"I didn't think she had much of a choice." I pointed out. "She only found out she was pregnant literally three weeks before she gave birth."
"And you only found out you were going to be a father a week later." Alice fondly remembered.
"Yeah, fun times. Getting told I was gonna be a dad two weeks before the baby is born." I sarcastically groaned. "I swear I lost years of my life after that little incident."
"It probably had something to do with the amount of alcohol you drank after finding out." Alice giggled. "You downed an entire bottle of fortified wine in a single go!"
"Can you blame me? I was freaking out at the time."
There was a long silence, as we both lay in bed.
"Yuuki's a lot braver than I am." Alice whispered. "I would never have dared give birth."
"You're that scared of childbirth?"
"Yes. It scares me. Like nothing else." My girlfriend confessed. "I don't want to get pregnant. I don't want to give birth. And the instant I turn 21, I'm getting myself sterilised."
"You're kidding!"
"I'm not. That's how much I fear childbirth."
There was a long and stunned pause as I tried to get my bearings.
"But what about us?" I finally asked. "Don't get me wrong. I respect your decision; Your body, your rights. But what about us? I've got that image of the family I want in my head, and children are definitely a part of it."
"I love kids, don't get me wrong." Alice replied. "But I don't want to give birth to any. And we have Yuri already, don't we?"
"I always wanted her to have siblings. At least one more, preferably two." I softly said. "Not now, obviously. But in the future?"
"There's enough people on the planet without us adding onto it." Alice replied. "There's enough parentless children out there. We can adopt. Maybe even from the same orphanage I came from."
An orphanage in rural China. Not too far away from the Nepalese border. I idly wondered if it was still open now, 18 years later. Or if Micheal and Ming even remembered where the place was. Still, I saw my girlfriend's point.
"And if you really, really want bio kids. I don't mind you having sex with another woman for them." Alice paused. "Maybe we could even ask Yuuki if she's willing. Would make things easier, in many ways."
"But the bottom line is that you're not going to give birth."
"No. And nothing you say can ever change my mind."
———
114 AC, Red Keep,
"Fucking hell, Alice." I groaned. "You were right. Childbirth is scary."
"Rhaenyra?" A female voice asked, rippling like it was underwater. "Are you there?"
"Who's Rhaenyra? I'm Lucky. Lucky Prosperity Wong." I slurred.
The world was swimming. Why was the world swimming?
"Prosperity?" The female voice incredulously repeated.
"She's delirious. I can't tell if it's from the painkiller, or the pain itself." Another voice said. This one male.
"How long until her grace becomes lucid again?" An older man asked.
"Grace was my old Sec 1 and 2 form teacher. She was pretty mean, stuck me beside the most annoying kid in class, but she was a good math teacher." I babbled.
"Not anytime soon, I see." The older man dryly said.
"I can burn the effect out, but it's not gonna be pretty." The female replied.
"I'm pretty. Very pretty. Was voted 7th place in my school's 2020 beauty pageant. And I was a guy. A crossdressing guy." I laughed. "The girls were all so jeal—"
A hand was placed on my forehead.
"-oooooossssss." My voice went soprano for a few minutes as what felt like electricity coursed through my veins and body. I sat bolt upright, gasping for breath. It felt like an entire jar of coffee had been injected into my veins, the world snapping back into painful clarity as my mind spooled back into lucidity.
I winced as the mother of all headaches assaulted me, and my crotch was killing me. It felt like I'd been kicked in the balls, but a thousand times worse. Like fire ants were eating away at my womb.
"Rhaenyra, you okay?" Daenys concernedly asked.
"I'll survive." I moaned, shaking my head. "What happened?"
"You passed out after giving birth." Rhaegar reported. "But I don't foresee any problems with either you or your baby."
"The baby?" I asked incredulously, as the full magnitude of what happened hit me.
"Yeah." Daenys replied, walking over with a tiny bundle in her hands.
It was red-faced, and oddly wrinkly for something so young. It looked nothing like Laenor, completely lacking the dark skin. And what tufts of hair I could see were gold-blonde. Was it supposed to be that small? I felt like Yuri had been larger than this one at birth.
"It's a girl." My cousin told me, passing my daughter to me.
I let her nurse at my breast for a bit, leaning back slightly in disbelief that I'd actually given birth to a daughter.
"Well, I guess Yuri did get a sibling in the end. However belated and convoluted the whole thing was." I muttered in Mandarin, before letting Rhaegar help me to my feet.
He offered me a cane, which I took gratefully. There were initials stencilled into the pommel atop the cane, I saw. On the back of the silver dragon ornament.
A.T.
It then hit me that this cane had once belonged to Alysanne Targaryen. Used in the last years of my great-grandmother's life.
"Alysanne." I murmured, trying out the name. "Not a bad one."
I limped towards the door, still weak from childbirth. Every step felt like running a marathon, but I soldiered on, putting one foot before the other.
The spread wings of the dragon made for easy grasping, though the cane had clearly been measured for a woman a foot shorter than I was. Still, I was able to hobble my way to the door, Master of Health Geradys opening it for me.
Behind it awaited my father, and pretty much every other member of my family. Alicent, my siblings, the Dragonseeds and more.
"Father." I greeted, weakly leaning on my cane. "May I present to you your first granddaughter."
I raised my baby girl up, such that my family could better see the latest addition to the clan.
"Princess Aly—" I caught sight of Shaera—attending via glass candle—and on a spur, decided to change my decision. There was perhaps, a name more fitting for my daughter. A name that would win infinitely more brownie points with Viserys than even Alysanne could.
"Princess Aemma Targaryen." I decided. Smiling in triumph as Viserys immediately broke out in tears upon hearing my words.
———
"She's not doing much." Helaena noted, looking down at her niece.
"She's a two-month-old baby." I replied. "Of course she's not doing much."
Now that my pregnancy was over, I was sipping my coffee with great relish. God, but I'd missed drinking the Drink of the Gods. I'd honestly started my coffee addiction pretty late, at only two months shy of my 21st birthday.
While pretty much the entirety of Singapore Army Intelligence was addicted to coffee, I was the notable exception. I'd once taken a sip of my Dad's morning coffee when I was 12, and found the drink bitter beyond belief, leading to my aversion to the drink.
This aversion only ended when my fellow Sergeant Brandon—tired of how sleepy I'd be during morning shifts—had once surreptitiously slipped me a cup of what he claimed was hot chocolate, but was in truth a mixture of milo and coffee. And ever since then, I'd irreparably fallen into the addiction.
It was the point where I'd get debilitating headaches if I didn't get my morning cup of joe.
Reincarnating in Rhaenyra had forced me to kick the habit, but I'd immediately relapsed the instant trade routes were opened with the Summer Islands.
"Did I look like this?" My five-year-old sister asked, poking the sleeping baby in the cheek a couple of times.
"No, you looked a lot less grumpy, that's for certain."
Yeah that was the unfortunate truth of the matter. Aemma hardly cried—which was a relief—and generally speaking was not a rather needy baby. But instead, all she did was stare out with an expression I could only describe as silent loathing at the entire world. As though condemning it's entire existence.
Oddly enough, Aemma Junior reminded me of Daemon Junior. The boy had been just as unamused at being born as my daughter was.
Just then, there was a knock on the nursery door.
"Enter." I called out, a young page bursting in.
"Lady Hand, Princess Helaena." He breathlessly said. "Queen Alicent's labour is at an end."
"The baby?" I asked.
"A healthy boy. Hale and hearty."
"Come on then." I smiled, taking Helaena by the hand. "Let's go meet your new brother."
———
"Is he still my godson?" I asked Alicent, as I held baby Daeron Targaryen. "Our reconciliation has failed, after all."
"By all means." Alicent sighed.
My stepmother was slumped over on a massive and sprawling bed, exhausted from her labour. It was telling just how tired she was, that she completely lacked any and all of her usual queenly poise.
"Hmm. I'll do my best to raise him then." I promised. "Can't say I'll do a good job, but I'll definitely try my best."
"Ah." Alicent didn't sound surprised. "It's my time, then."
"You're a woman weak from childbirth. Dying in the night is hardly surprising."
"Should I ask why?" Alicent mused. "You're no idiot. You know that it wasn't us whom killed Viserra."
"I do." I nodded. "But in many ways, her death was a wake-up call."
I leaned forwards.
"Do you remember what I told you, on the eve of the ball at Casterly Rock?"
"When my father passes, I shall inherit the Iron Throne." Alicent quoted. "There shall be no compromises, no negotiations, no elections and no viceroyalties. The Iron Throne will be mine, with no ifs ands or buts. Make your peace with it, for I shall not hesitate to serve fire and steel to all whom would rebel against my rule and jeopardise the safety and sanctity of the Realm, be they my friend, sibling or even my own child."
"Indeed." I solemnly nodded. "I take no pleasure in doing this. But it's my duty to see all traitors of the Realm rounded up and executed. This, unfortunately, includes House Hightower."
"We would have peacefully knelt, if you ascended the Iron Throne."
"I was naive before, believing that reconciliation was possible." I lamented. "But I now see that it was just shying my eyes away from harsh reality."
"We wouldn't have risen in rebellion."
"Shall I tell you of a man?" I asked. "His name was Daemon Blackfyre, and he would be born approximately… fifty or sixty years from now?"
I shrugged.
"Ah well, regardless of dates, he's my great-grandson. A Dragonseed whom rebelled against the Iron Throne." I stated.
Alicent was rapt with attention, looking at me like she'd never seen me before.
"His brother King Daeron II Targaryen was a scholarly man and gentle. Never wielded a sword in his life, while Daemon was considered the Warrior reborn." I told my stepmother, running a gentle hand over my new baby brother.
It was one of those truly delicious ironies in life, that I was currently holding in my arms Daeron the Daring, whom was the namesake of Daeron the Young Dragon, whom was in turn the namesake of Daeron the Good.
"Daeron the Good was a rather proactive ruler and ardent reformer. He married the Princess of Dorne, and brought it into the fold of the Seven Kingdoms. And he passed many reforms, applauded by lords and commoners alike. But his generosity and liberal policies infuriated many conservative lords and knights, whom rallied around Daemon."
"How close did he get to succeeding?" Alicent morbidly asked.
"The ensuing civil war saw the losses of both Blackfyre and Dark Sister, and House Blackfyre would continue being a thorn in the side of House Targaryen for another five generations." I answered. "But that wasn't what I found the most striking about his Rebellion."
"Then what was?"
"It took a decade, before Daemon rose in rebellion." I told her. "Daemon may have peacefully knelt at Daeron's coronation, but he and his allies never stopped scheming. They waited patiently, knowing that Daeron was too powerful to contest immediately. Biding their time until they'd finally amassed enough power and support. And thus…"
"War. For five generations."
"Yes, compare and contrast another Lord, whom was born a century and a half after us." I added. "His name was Lord Tywin Lannister, and he was arguably the most powerful Lannister Lord in the entire history of his House. Not even the old Kings of the Rock could have contested his power and political influence."
"I'm going to guess he had a rebellion of his own to put down."
"Indeed, House Reyne and House Tarbeck rose against him." I nodded. "And as a veteran of the Fifth Blackfyre Rebellion, Tywin knew better than anyone the failures of King Daeron."
"He murdered them all, didn't he." Alicent gasped, appalled.
"And who are you, the proud lord said,
That I must bow so low?
Only a cat of a different coat,
That's all the truth I know.
In a coat of red, a coat of gold,
A lion still has claws.
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
As long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
That Lord of Castamere.
But now the rains, weep o'er his hall,
With no one there to hear.
Yes now the rains, weep o'er his hall,
And not a soul to hear."
I sang the haunting and mournful tone to my stepmother, whom had gone rather pale at the implications.
"All of them?"
"He ripped both houses out root and stem. With not even the women and children spared." I gravely informed her. "And ever since then, none of Tywin's bannermen ever dared question his orders for the rest of his life."
"Seven Hells." Alicent swore.
"You didn't kill Viserra." I agreed. "But unfortunately the Realm at large believes that you did, and every moment you draw breath, is a moment my own credibility as a ruler diminishes. Why follow a ruler, whom can and will not protect and avenge her supporters?"
"So we are to be scapegoats?"
"No. But I am going to purging a great many enemies when I ascend the Iron Throne. The Greens just happen to be the largest and most visible of the factions. And I will not let you become my House Blackfyre."
"There will be more." Alicent growled. "Kill us today, and more will rise up tomorrow against your tyranny and cruelty."
"Then they shall die as well." I stated in a matter-of-fact tone. "Viserys let the Greens grow large, like a cancer in the body, but I am not my father. All threats to my Reign shall be nipped in the bud. Quietly and with minimal pain to the Realm."
There was nothing that needed to be said. Nothing left to be said.
I bent over, and kissed my stepmother on the cheek.
"Goodbye Alicent. I wish it didn't have to come to this."
Young Daeron and I left the room. And as the doors snapped shut behind us, I snapped my fingers, activating the spell array I'd discreetly laid during our final conversation.
Alicent's room would slowly drain of all oxygen over the night. A painless death. Human lungs couldn't really detect a lack of oxygen. She'd just fall asleep, and never wake.
———
I walked back to the nursery, and laid Daeron in a cradle, beside my own child Aemma. I ran a gentle hand over the pair of cradles, setting them to rock. My godson and daughter cooing happily in response.
I hoped that they could both grow up well, spared from the worst horrors of this dark and cruel world we lived in.
Helaena came over, and silently hugged me. She knew, I could feel. She somehow knew that I'd just killed her mother. And yet my sweet sister still put her arms around me, in silent absolution of my sin.
"Father is next." She stated in a matter-of-fact manner.
"If he abdicates, I'll let him walk away with full honour and dignity." I replied. "But I've waited long enough to take the Iron Throne."
"Odd, so many other impatient heirs lust for power. You see your rise as duty."
"Viserra's death has shown me that there are enemies out there whom would see us dead. Enemies lurking in the shadows, plotting to twist the knife in. And my father dithers! Does nothing! Worse, he actively prohibits me from going after those responsible for my cousin's death!"
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions."
"I have no illusions about the type of person I am. And Heaven is overrated, anyway."
"Two coffins, then. One to burn, the other to bury. A dragon, and his lighthouse."
I bent down, and looked my young sister in the eyes. Indigo meeting magenta.
"Do you see a way to persuade him otherwise?"
"Many threads in the tapestry. Some are tangled, others are broken. But in none of them does he lay down his crown. Father always dies, no matter the thread. Some are quicker, others later. But he always dies, and the dragons will dance. There is no changing this."
"Fate is a tug-of-war. The future is always in motion. What you see are mere snapshots in time. The threads can be pulled in a more favourable direction."
"Not today." Helaena simply said, and it felt like the last nail in a coffin.
———
Viserys was drinking.
He'd locked himself in his chambers, demanding that none disturb him, but what were locks compared to magic?
I found my father weeping beside his grand diorama of Valyria. A great project of his. My father had spent hours upon hours pouring over old books and maps in Dragonstone's library. Read old scrolls from the Citadel and bought old and survive texts from the Free Cities. Using them as references to painstakingly recreate a scale model of Old Valyria in it's heyday.
The model was massive, almost thirty feet in length, dominating the entirety of what had once been the King's personal living room. While some other rulers might have spent their time hunting or riding, my father had a more scholarly bent. Viserys had spent decades working on it, to the point where I often joked that he'd spent more time ruling this tiny city than his actual kingdom.
I said nothing as I sat beside him, a flick of my wrist creating a wineglass out of ice.
My father paused, and wordlessly poured me a drink.
"That's a new trick." Viserys finally said. "Creating stuff out of thin air."
"I could summon every single dragon we own, and pool all of their power, and I'd still be unable to generate a single gram of matter."
"Gram? You mean that newfangled metric system those radical maesters in the Citadel are proposing?"
"It's a superior system than the old Imperial Measurements." I shrugged. "I intend on officially adopting it, once I ascend to the throne."
"Hnn." Viserys grunted noncommittally. "So how'd you do it?"
"Humans exhale as much water as we piss." I shrugged. "There's plenty of water vapour in the air around us every day. I just used magic to condense this water and freeze it."
"Clever girl." Viserys praised, raising his own wineglass.
"To Alicent." I agreed, clinking mine with his.
"To Alicent."
We both drained our glasses, and Viserys refilled them both. I couldn't help but notice the massive pile of bottles on the table. Sitting alongside miniature replicas of the topless towers of Valyria.
"Mead?" I asked, swirling the golden liquid. "I thought you found it too sweet and too weak."
"I do." Viserys agreed. "But Alicent loved it. Not that she drank a lot of it, honestly."
On that note, we both clinked our glasses together and drank once more.
"Not going to wail about the injustice of the gods? The Stranger stealing your beloved wife away once more?"
"What's the point?" Viserys bitterly asked. "Not like that'll change a thing."
My father swept his hand out at his sweeping city before him.
"Look at this place. Valyria, capital of the greatest civilisation to ever exist in our world!" The man proclaimed. "Built into the face of a volcano, closest to the source of their magic and power."
He tapped one of the largest and tallest towers in the model, a thing of four-faceted diamonds, arranged in a way almost reminiscent of a four-leaved clover.
"And this was the Ānogrion." He said. "Where the blood mages worked their craft."
My father set down his wineglass and began to pace, stalking around his model with an almost rabid energy.
"The Freehold at its peak had over a thousand dragons. A navy large enough to span the seas of the world." He zealously declared. "This was a city for dragons and demigods, the glory of which would never be seen again in history."
"And they still all died." I pointed out.
"And they still all died!" Viserys shouted, slamming his fist onto the table.
A tiny dragon statue fell off it's pedestal, which I quickly put back into place with a wave of my hand.
"Death comes for us all, Rhaenyra." He sighed, sounding more tired and old than I'd ever seen him. "There is no fighting it. We'll just have to move on. Continue on with life as best as we can."
He sat down beside me, and gave my hand a fond squeeze.
"You've learnt how to deal with grief." I noted.
"There has been so much to grieve about. Since I took the Iron Throne." He replied.
"Do you wish to abdicate?" I offered. "You can retire to Dragonstone, spend your days building this model in the library there alongside your children. I am of age now, and can rule by myself."
"Like the lords will ever accept that." Viserys scoffed. "It will be taken as a sign of weakness in this dynasty, and your reign will be tainted however long I still live.
"No, I shall bear the burden of this crown until the bitter end, my dear." He solemnly said. "Such is my duty and responsibility."
He wouldn't budge, I could tell. No matter what I said or did.
I respected his decision. Really, I did. I could never fault a person for sticking to their convictions. To what they perceived as their duty or responsibility, even if such a duty was in my detriment.
Alas, I too was a person of duty, and mine was in direct conflict with his.
"I see." I sighed. "I'm sorry I asked."
I picked up my father's wineglass and refilled it, before pouring myself a drink as well.
"Long may you reign." I toasted. "And Long may I reign."
"Long may we both reign." Viserys toasted back, an amused twinkle in his eye.
———
114 AC, King's Landing
The very next day, King Viserys I Targaryen was found dead in his own chambers.
The cause of death was poison, found in the wineglass he was drinking from. The maesters ruled it a suicide, the King having taken his own life after the death of his beloved wife.
All seven bells of King's Landing rang dolorously through the day, as ravens flew out to every castle, holdfast and keep in the Seven Kingdoms, summoning the Lords and Ladies of Westeros to the coronation of King Rhaenyra I Targaryen.
Notes:
This should be the last Rhaenyra POV until the Epilogue. If things go according to plan, the next 13 chapters should be told via interludes.