129 AC
The Fifteenth Day Of The Eight Moon
Oldtown
Alicent Pov
"Accursed is the kinslayer," the septon intoned, his voice carrying through the gathered crowd on one of the streets of Oldtown.
"The one who commits such a sin is banished to the depths of the seven hells," he continued. I grimaced at his words, knowing exactly who he was referring to. The city watch guards appeared and swiftly took the septon away, his shrieks of indignation ringing in my ears.
"I am a man of God, and you are protecting a monster wrapped in human skin!" he screamed.
"I will kill that fucker," my younger daughter spat, brandishing her dagger. I grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving the carriage.
"Alyssanne," I said firmly, meeting her mismatched eyes.
She despised me, just as she despised everyone since we came to Oldtown.
"I hate it here," she declared. "Your family is a pain in the ass, always talking in their flowery words. Fucking cunts, especially Lord Ormund's son, Lyonel," she said with venom. "Every time he sees me, he starts to drool, I swear."
"Alyssanne Targaryen, mind your tongue. The ones you are disparaging are your family," I said sternly.
"Well, so were the 'blacks,' Mother, but most of them are dead now thanks to the kinslayer," Helaena said quietly, fiddling with her thumbs, unaware of the impact of her words.
"Do not call Jaehaerys a kinslayer!" Alyssanne screamed at her sister, fury blazing in her eyes as Helaena realized her mistake.
"I did not mean..." Helaena started, but before she could finish, Alyssanne stormed out of the carriage.
I said nothing as I leaned back, taking a deep breath to steady myself. Jaehaerys, my sweet, quiet boy. The one child who gave me the least trouble. Fierce and loyal to his family, he took the eye of Rhaenyra's bastard for daring to attack Aemond.
"The Silent Fury, the Kinslayer, the Monstrous," they called him.
"Mother," Helaena's voice broke through my thoughts. "I do not wish to ride Dreamfyre," she said quietly.
I nodded and instructed one of the knights to turn back towards Hightower. He mentioned that Alyssanne had already departed towards her dragon.
"Let her be," I said.
It had been close to six moons since we arrived in Oldtown, and each passing moon brought more worry. The ravens from my father spoke of Jaehaerys' victories, how he defeated each of Rhaenyra's children, and turned the North and the Vale to our side. My father wrote of what a boon Jaehaerys had been for our family.
"He will be remembered just as the Old King was," he had written, and I could not help but agree. But while King Jaehaerys would be remembered as one of the greatest Targaryen kings, my son would be remembered as a kinslayer,
But I was worried for him. He had not written a single letter since the last time I saw him. Alyssanne wrote one each day and wanted to send a raven every time, but I convinced her otherwise.
The most hurt was Alyssanne, though she hid it behind her anger. Jaehaerys and Alyssanne, named after the King and Queen, my twin children, had been inseparable since birth. While Alyssanne was hotheaded, Jaehaerys was calm and loved reading.
"He will be the greatest Hand of the King," my father had said, and if there was one thing to know about Otto Hightower, it was that he did not lavish praise lightly. Yet, this sentiment was not shared by others. They feared Jaehaerys, and rightfully so. Aemond was wild and whimsical, whereas Jaehaerys was a mystery. The unknown was what everyone feared most.
At first, the lords loyal to Rhaenyra thought Jaehaerys was in Oldtown, but he wasn't. Then they thought he was in King's Landing, but he wasn't. He made a fool of everyone, and his actions in the Vale solidified his fearsome reputation.
The bards sang of how Jaehaerys rode up to the Eyrie on horseback and opened its gates, slaughtering everyone present. The worst treatment was reserved for Lady Jeyne Arryn, thrown through the moon door. I had silenced most of the bards with threats, but the songs spread regardless.
Sitting in the carriage, I thought of my boy. Jaehaerys, my sweet, quiet boy, now feared and reviled. The world saw him as a monster, but I remembered the child who loved to read, who was calm and thoughtful.
How did it come to this? My heart ached with the weight of his actions and the knowledge of what he had become. Would he ever find peace, or would he be haunted by the ghosts of those he had slain? The uncertainty gnawed at me, and I feared for the future of my children, my family, and the realm.
I overlooked the city from the balcony of the Hightower, the sprawling streets and bustling people stretching out before me.
"Grandmother," Baelon called out to me as he approached, standing beside me.
"When can we go back to King's Landing?" he asked quietly. "I miss Father."
I bent down and hugged him tightly. "I do not know, Baelon," I said, gazing at him as he looked forlorn.
Nearby, my granddaughter Jaehaera sat silently, her eyes reflecting the same longing.
Suddenly, a thunderous roar pierced the air. My eyes widened as I saw a massive bronzed dragon soaring through the sky.
"Jaehaera, it's Uncle Jaehaerys!" Baelon exclaimed, his mood brightening as Jaehaera rushed to the balcony, a smile spreading across her face.
"Jaehaerys," I whispered softly, feeling a tear slip down my cheek at the sight of my son.
The high hall of the Hightower was filled with nobles, knights, and courtiers. I was seated at the high table alongside Helaena, with my grandchildren beside me. At the head of the table sat Lyonel Hightower, the son of my cousin, the current Lord Ormund Hightower.
Nervous chatter filled the room as I struggled to control my anxiety, yearning to see my son.
At last, the ornate doors of the high hall swung open, and Jaehaerys entered. He wore bronze dragon-scale armor, a helm on his head, and a Valyrian steel sword at his hip. He cut a menacing figure. Beside him stood Rhaena, the younger daughter of the Rogue Prince. Her eyes were red, as if she had been crying.
The murmurs ceased as Jaehaerys removed his helm, revealing his face. His hair was cut short, and his face was gaunt. When I looked into his eyes, they seemed lifeless, hollow.
He stepped forward and spoke, his voice echoing through the hall.
"Rhaenyra Targaryen, the false claimant to the Iron Throne, is dead. So are her children. Their bodies are burnt to ash, and her line is extinguished forever," he declared.
All hell broke loose. The room erupted in chaos, the atmosphere charged with a mix of shock, disbelief, and a strange sense of relief. The uncertainty that had plagued the hearts of the people vanished, replaced by the brutal finality of his words.
I sat there, stunned, as the reality of Rhaenyra's death sank in. My son, once full of life and promise, now stood before me as a living husk, delivering the news that would change the course of the war.
We were currently at the top of the tower where the apartments of Lord Hightower were located.
"Uncle!" Baelon and Jaehaera rushed toward Jaehaerys as he entered. They hugged him, but he stood motionless. When I looked into his eyes, I saw a flicker of fear.
"Uncle, are you all right?" Baelon asked, but Jaehaerys did not respond.
"Baelon, Jaehaera, your uncle is tired. Let him rest for a while," I said gently. The servants took the children away, leaving me with Jaehaerys and Helaena in the room.
I walked up to my son and hugged him. He had removed his armor, and I noticed he had lost weight. "How are you, my son?" I asked, looking into his eyes.
He did not reply, just stared at me intently before turning away. "Let us not make the others wait," he said, walking towards the war room.
As we entered, everyone stood up, seeing Jaehaerys. Knights of House Hightower, various nobles, and Lady Samantha Tarly, the second wife of my cousin Ormund, were present. Lyonel Hightower, my nephew and the heir, was there as well.
"Prince Jaehaerys, you truly are great," Lyonel said. "I am proud to call you my kin," he added, though he and everyone else looked uneasy. Jaehaerys' presence had that effect, enhanced by his imposing height of nearly six foot three.
A huge map of Westeros was spread out on the table, and Jaehaerys walked toward it, examining it. "The war is not over," he spoke softly.
"What do you mean, my prince?" Lyonel asked.
"The Rogue Prince still lives," Lady Samantha said, and Jaehaerys' eyes locked onto hers, calculating.
"One dragon against six does not count, milady," one of the knights of House Hightower said proudly. "The Rogue Prince only has a single dragon while we have six," he said, preening.
"What I am about to say will not leave this room," Jaehaerys said coldly, a chill passing through everyone. "My brothers Aegon and Daeron are heavily injured and will not be able to assist us in any way," he said, and my heart started beating faster.
"How?" I croaked out.
Jaehaerys looked regretful as he spoke. "My brothers attacked Dragonstone while I was set to Driftmark. I ended the blockade of the Gullet by burning the Velaryon fleet with the Triarchy's ships. Then I invaded Driftmark, killing every single Velaryon and beheading the Sea Snake. Only one child remains, who will marry my nephew Maelor once they come of age," he said.
"At Dragonstone, Sheepstealer and Seasmoke had riders. A battle took place, leaving Aegon and Daeron injured, while Aemond was unhurt, but the Old Queen's wings were injured and she will not be able to aid us," he said.
"But we still have three grown dragons here," Lyonel interjected, but a single glare from Jaehaerys silenced him.
"My sisters will not be fighting against the Rogue Prince," Jaehaerys said matter-of-factly. "The Lannisters are in tatters as my uncle must have finished them already," he said, walking towards the map.
"How many men are besieging Goldengrove?" Jaehaerys asked.
"Alongside my husband, close to thirty thousand men, my prince," Lady Samantha spoke.
"What the fuck is taking so long to sack one fucking castle?" Jaehaerys shouted, leaving everyone stunned as rage filled his voice. "Send a fucking raven to Ormund Hightower and tell him to return as soon as possible," he spat out.
He placed a black dragon near the Riverlands. "The approaching Riverlands army will invade the Reach, and once the news of Rhaenyra and her children's slaughter reaches them, the Rogue Prince will want to burn down Oldtown at once," he said coldly, reigning in his anger.
"How many men do we have present in the southern Reach?" he asked.
"Lord Unwin Peake has the largest army of around seven thousand men, maintaining the border against the Dornish raids by pushing them back," Lady Samantha spoke up again, unfazed by Jaehaerys unlike the others.
"It seems a woman knows more about the matters of war than the lot of you," he said harshly.
All the nobles and knights looked down in shame.
"Pray to the Seven that our army near Goldengrove does not get massacred," he said. "Remember, the war will end once Daemon Targaryen is dead," he said as everyone nodded their heads.
"Inform the blacksmith to produce weapons at haste and get every boy over the age of twelve to join the army," he ordered. Everyone left in haste to follow his commands, their fear of Jaehaerys palpable.
The only ones left in the room were Jaehaerys, Samantha, and me.
I looked at my son, who seemed to be intently studying the map, his knuckles white from gripping the edges of the table too tightly. His body was tense, like a bowstring drawn too far, ready to snap.
"What of Princess Rhaena, my prince? Will she be our hostage in case Prince Daemon comes?" Samantha asked, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her apprehension.
Jaehaerys looked up sharply, his gaze locking onto Samantha. He walked towards her with a deliberate, menacing stride.
"You seem to have a lot of questions, don't you, my lady?" he said through gritted teeth. The muscles in his jaw twitched with barely restrained fury. "I haven't thrown anyone from the top of the Hightower yet. Would you like to be the first?" he asked with a cold smile that sent chills down my spine.
I was left aghast by his words as Lady Samantha recoiled in fear. Her composure shattered, her eyes wide with terror.
"The Tarlys fought for my sister, did they not? Your brother led the charge as well," he continued, his voice low and dangerous as he advanced on her. "Do not think for a minute that your charms will fucking work on me. Do you hear me?" His hand shot out, gripping her throat.
"Jaehaerys!" I shouted, my voice trembling with a mix of horror and desperation.
His eyes snapped to mine, a fleeting moment of recognition crossing his features. Realizing what he had done, he released his grip, and Samantha staggered back, gasping for breath.
Lady Samantha fled the room, her hurried footsteps echoing through the corridor. Jaehaerys turned away from the door and sat heavily on the table, clutching his head. His body shook with a strange, hollow laughter that was devoid of any joy or mirth.
I stood there, motionless, my heart breaking as I watched my son fall apart before my eyes. The strong, determined boy I once knew was now a shadow of his former self, consumed by the horrors of war and the burden of his actions.
"Mothe—please leave," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, not looking at me.
I felt a wave of helplessness wash over me. I wanted to comfort him, to reach out and hold him like I did when he was a child, but I knew that in this moment, he needed to be alone with his torment. Slowly, I turned and left the room, closing the door quietly behind me.
As I walked down the corridor, memories of Jaehaerys' childhood flooded my mind. I remembered his laughter, his curiosity, and the way he used to look up at me with those bright, inquisitive eyes. The war had taken so much from us, and now it threatened to take my son as well, not in body but in spirit.
When I reached my chambers, I sank into a chair, my strength leaving me. Tears streamed down my face as I thought of the burden Jaehaerys carried. He had been thrust into a world of violence and betrayal, forced to make impossible choices. The man I saw today was not the boy I raised; he was a hardened warrior, a product of the relentless bloodshed and the weight of his responsibilities.
Jaehaerys had always been different from his siblings. While Aegon, Aemond and Daeron had their own strengths, Jaehaerys possessed a fierce intelligence and a quiet determination. I remembered how he would sit for hours, pouring over books, absorbing knowledge like a sponge. He had a natural talent for strategy and a mind that seemed always to be working, always planning. But now, that brilliant mind seemed to be unraveling, the horrors he had witnessed eating away at his sanity.
The room felt colder, the air heavy with sorrow. I thought of Helaena, of Baelon, and Jaehaera. How would they cope with the changes in their uncle? How would they understand the depth of his suffering? I knew I had to be strong for them, to shield them from the harsh realities that Jaehaerys now embodied.
The war had cost us dearly. The deaths of Rhaenyra and her children had been a neccessity, but it had come at a great personal cost to Jaehaerys. He had become a living weapon, feared by his enemies and even by those who were supposed to be his allies. His actions, though necessary for our cause, had taken a toll on his soul.
I wiped away my tears and stood up. I had to find a way to reach him, to help him find his way back from the brink. He was my son, and I could not abandon him to the darkness that threatened to consume him.
Taking a deep breath, I resolved to speak with him again, to offer whatever support I could. The path ahead would not be easy, but I had to believe that there was still hope for Jaehaerys, that the boy I loved was still there beneath the armor and the scars.
As I prepared to return to Jaehaerys' side, I whispered a silent prayer to the Seven, asking for strength and guidance. For the sake of my son and for the future of our house, I would not give up. I would fight for him, just as fiercely as he had fought for us.