Notice! This fanfiction has already been completed. Starting from this chapter, only 30 chapters remain until the story is fully posted. I'll keep the same posting schedule here while I work on other projects now that this one has been completed and is available on Patreon.
[Chapter Size: 2400 Words.]
Third Person POV.
King's Landing.
...
...
Everyone waited while the throne room itself was washed with buckets of water by the servants, who began cleaning the place, even pushing around remains of entrails with mops and buckets, quickly removing weapons and the grotesque mess.
They even picked up severed limbs, somewhat heavy because they were still wearing armor. It was actually a bit awkward, as everyone remained silent while watching that scene.
It was only when the last servant hurried out, not forgetting to perfume the place as well, that Daemon finally sighed.
"Now we can continue, right?" he said, looking at his allies, the members of the court, the guests, and, even more so, the surrendered enemies on the right side of his view.
No one said anything, they simply waited for the king.
"Well, I imagine we can start by talking about whether or not I am recognized as a trueborn prince. Well... as some of you must be thinking at this moment..." Daemon's voice echoed through the throne room, with everyone, for an instant, immediately looking toward Lord Stark, since he was more or less the origin of that whole mess. He should have information.
But instead, Daemon finally made a movement with his arm, and a scroll appeared just as the glowing sword had before, while he grabbed it.
"Maester Nolum, I would like you to read this aloud," Daemon requested.
The maester approached and took the paper, removing the small cord tied around it. He opened it and began to read:
"By this decree, we witness that Daemon Targaryen is the legitimate son, born of the lawful marriage between Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, through the marriage officiated by Septon Maynard..."
Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell.
Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell."
He began listing several names...
Lady Alys Karstark of Karhold, Ned Umber of Last Hearth, Robert Glover of Deepwood Motte, Lord Reed of Greywater Watch, Lady Maege Mormont of Bear Island...
And so he continued speaking the names of all the lords who had gathered with the king in Winterfell's throne room, when the matter had finally been settled once and for all, proving that Daemon Targaryen was the legitimate son of Lyanna and Rhaegar, the rightful heir to the throne, and that the North supported him as King of Westeros.
"Well, that's only the first document," Daemon merely said, while making another movement and a book appeared in his hand, already marked on a certain page.
"Read this page aloud as well..." He handed it to the maester, who returned the scroll before Daemon stored it away.
The maester opened Maynard's diary, silencing the hall once more.
"On this day, Prince Rhaegar and I had a very serious conversation, and he requested that I annul his marriage to Elia Martell so that he could marry Lyanna Stark, without losing the legitimacy of his first two children..."
Maester Nolum began to recount, as he read the account of the marriage between Daemon's parents. There were whispers and exchanged words among the people as they listened to more and more of that account.
"I won't need to show the document with which the North acknowledged it, but I invite everyone to read the words written by Septon Maynard. If anyone is capable of recognizing his handwriting, feel free as well," Daemon said.
Everyone remained silent for a moment, looking at one another, waiting for someone to say something, until someone in the back stepped forward.
"I intercepted some messages from Septon Maynard many years ago. I can recognize his handwriting. May I see the book, Your Majesty?"
The one who asked had a golden aura. Daemon narrowed his eyes slightly and nodded.
"Please, come forward, maester..." Daemon spoke, remaining seated on the throne while the man advanced through the middle of the hall, with everyone watching.
This was Maester Marwyn, whom Daemon had already become quite interested in because of his golden aura ever since he first saw him. The man, under everyone's gaze, stopped in front of the throne and knelt.
"Your Majesty," he said politely.
"Rise, maester. Please confirm whether these words are false or true. Confirm the authenticity of this book and these writings."
Maester Nolum handed the diary to Maester Marwyn, who took it before reading the cover and examining the handwriting. He studied it honestly, spending at least a minute reading the content and inspecting the details before turning toward everyone.
"This is authentic. I can also confirm it within a few days if I send a raven to the Citadel. They will certainly send documents containing Septon Maynard's handwriting, but there is no doubt. I, as an Archmaester of the Citadel, declare that everything written here was done by Septon Maynard."
"Now, bring me a long table, a quill, ink, and a large scroll." Daemon's voice rang out toward the exit of the throne room, while one of the guards at the door quickly nodded and left to fetch what Daemon had already requested some time ago for this meeting.
"Maester Marwyn, since you are here, I would like to request your services," he asked, not hiding in the slightest his interest in the maester, who looked at him somewhat surprised, but nodded.
Unlike the other maesters, this one was devoted to magic and its mysteries, and to him Daemon must have been of great interest, capable of using a form of magic unlike anything ever seen in this world. A magic that required neither sacrifice, blood, nor offerings.
Soon, a table was brought, along with a quill and an enormous scroll that seemed endless.
"I would like you to write something on this scroll, but do so horizontally," Daemon instructed, while Maester Marwyn approached the scroll, spreading it across the table from one side to the other, looking at the king curiously.
"I want you to declare that, in light of the evidence presented in these documents and as testimony from all the lords present here, you recognize my legitimacy. Sign as official witnesses. Also divide the scroll according to the nine kingdoms, leaving enough space beneath each for hundreds of signatures..." Daemon said.
With his allies, this would not be a problem, but it would corner his enemies. What would they do if they refused to acknowledge it? Win a trial by combat against the king?
Daemon seemed somewhat amused while Maester Marwyn quickly began marking the paper, declaring all the documentation in a concise and truthful manner.
When he finished, he returned to Daemon.
"Very well. You may stand aside to assist the lords," he said, while making the very book that had been returned to his hand by the maester fly toward the table.
The book opened exactly on the same page and landed beside the enormous scroll. There was also Lyanna's marriage declaration, another document that he pulled from his dimensional space and sent flying to the side. It was the document of his marriage to Daenerys Targaryen, recognized as queen.
"Any lords who have doubts may read all the official documents," he declared, waiting for someone to challenge him.
"Now sign as witnesses beneath the kingdom each of you belongs to. I wish to settle the matter of my legitimacy before the Seven Kingdoms first before we move on to matters of state that are even more important, but easier to discuss once we deal with this first," Daemon explained.
The first to step forward were the Northerners themselves, simply leaving their places and walking toward the table, a few meters from the staircase where the throne stood. They did not even need to read any of the documents, merely beginning to sign.
Soon his uncle and his cousin followed as well, signing right below. More lords of the North signed, followed by the other representatives from the remaining kingdoms.
Then came the people of the Riverlands, signing in a corner corresponding to their kingdom. People from the Stormlands, the Westerlands, and the Crownlands signed as well.
Afterward, some important guests did the same.
Then Daemon finally turned his attention toward the prisoners.
"Well, now I will need you to confirm the authenticity of the documents as well. If you do not accept them, there is no problem at all. You have that right, but you will have to prove it," Daemon simply stated.
The first to step forward, under the watchful eyes of everyone observing attentively, were the men of the Reach. Dickon Tarly also ended up accepting it as he walked toward the paper, signing alongside the other lords.
Daemon could still see the black aura among some of them, likely wanting to kill him at the first opportunity, but they had no choice at that moment. So they were playing by the rules.
Daemon did not care much about that while he watched the people of Dorne being called forward. They seemed extremely reluctant, their auras filled with red tones and tinged with fear.
Until one of them made a mistake. Daemon could feel the black aura even stronger within him, filled with bad intentions and malice. He had only one goal upon approaching there: to try to destroy the documents, even though he knew he would die... Daemon had killed his only son on the battlefield when he executed the Sand Snakes, and he wanted revenge.
But before he could move forward, a force restrained him the moment he stretched his hand toward the book. He wanted to tear it apart, but was stopped.
Everyone immediately backed away from the scene while the man was lifted into the air with invisible pressure crushing his throat, choking, as everyone's eyes shifted toward the king, who had his hand extended.
"You reveal your own intentions far too clearly, Lord Toland of Ghost Hill..." Daemon spoke in a neutral tone.
"You attempted to destroy a royal document in front of everyone... Therefore, I declare death. There will be no trial or right to speak."
He simply closed his fist, and the sound of bones cracking immediately echoed through the place. The man dropped lifelessly the next instant.
Everyone swallowed hard, staring in shock and fear at the corpse and the king, who had not moved a single step to kill a person. All he needed was his hand... while seated upon the throne.
And as he had already decided, there was no longer any danger in hiding his magic either, provoking an even more monstrous reaction than when he showed his sword appearing from nowhere, or even when he fought and massacred seven knights. He had also used the very customs of trial before the gods to prove his magic. What would they say? That his magic manipulated the gods themselves to win the trial?
He had also made that book and scroll levitate toward the table. Watching him kill a person merely by extending his arm was terrifying to everyone, but it was also a display of power.
And no one could say he was unjustified. The man had simply wanted to harm him.
"There will be no forgiveness for those who act like this. It is easier to get rid of them because they are troublesome, but I am reasonable. Just as there were many lords who did not even take a step to read the documents, and those who did read them simply refused to sign, correct? Lord Yronwood, Lord Uller, Lord Dalt..." Daemon began listing each of the names.
There was only silence in response to his question, but they stared at the king without lowering their eyes. Daemon then decided.
"Not only them, but bring all the others here to the front as well," Daemon ordered, causing his guards to simply enter the crowd and drag each of the lords out.
Some tried to protest, but they were given no opportunity. Soon, more than twenty lords from the Westerlands, the Stormlands, Dorne, and the Reach stood there before him.
It was no surprise. Most of them belonged to houses whose main families had not been exterminated by Daemon, while some were simply too loyal. Willing to die in their memory.
"You do not recognize me as the King of Westeros. Therefore, I shall leave it for the gods to judge you," the man declared, making everyone look at him in horror. "I call for a trial by combat for all of you."
There were some auras that were not surrounded by red or black tones, merely people who were afraid, acting under the manipulation of others whose pride weighed heavily. So there were some whom Daemon still considered saving somehow.
He turned toward his guards.
"Take them to the black cells. There is no reason to keep them here, since they are unwilling to recognize me."
There was no reason to keep them for the next throne room meeting. They would only get in the way, since some of them were clearly trying to cause even more trouble after the failed attempt to break and tear apart the diary from before.
"Please, no! I acted rashly! I'll sign!" Some immediately began to cry. Others were still terrified but said nothing, while some maintained their pride, looking at Daemon with hostility and even throwing curses at him, which he ignored.
Soon, those men were taken away, while Daemon merely made a movement with his arm and all the documents on the table began to float, especially the scroll that had been signed, flying toward Daemon seated on the throne and opening itself. He could see every single name while studying them.
His display of telekinesis never seemed to stop attracting attention with how effortlessly Daemon used it.
He read everything and then closed the scroll, storing it away, just as he stored the document of his marriage and Septon Maynard's diary, putting everything away.
"Well, it seems we are finished here. Apologies for the inconvenience," Daemon said in a more cheerful tone, even while maintaining a certain formality. "But I needed this document, because it may spare me and my descendants a great deal of headaches in the future. Now, the vast majority of Westeros recognizes me as king. We may move on to the next topic."
He spoke while looking across the entire hall, which remained silent. Maester Marwyn himself continued standing nearby, since Daemon had not dismissed him. He looked somewhat confused. But Daemon did not care much about the maester and focused on his next words.
"Now let us strategically deal with the war that is approaching. The war in the North against the army of the dead and the White Walkers." He simply dropped those words in the middle of the throne room.
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