Disclaimer: This is a story based on ASOIAF Universe and all recognizable characters, plots belong to GRRM. I have no ownership to it. Chapt
Chapter 41: The Bastard King- II
Everyone looked at the Velaryons nervously. No one had ever blackmailed the king like this before. Even the Bastard Prince had never resorted to blackmail. In fact, he had never asked for anything from the king until now. He simply took what he wanted and spoke as if it was expected.
The Old King's eyes glinted with madness and rage as he stared at Rhaenys' face.
"I see," the king whispered with restrained fury. A chill went down Rhaenys' spine.
"You will not back down. I can see it in your eyes. It is screaming, 'I want something,' just like a spoiled child throwing a temper tantrum, not considering the consequences or the damage. I should have interfered when Aemon and Baelon were raising you. I should have taught them how to raise children. It seems Aemon never denied you anything. And now, when you are denied something, you dare to blackmail me? Your king and your grandfather? It seems you need to be whipped into shape like the spoiled child you are. Viserys, come,"
Viserys nervously approached the king.
"Your Grace," Viserys said.
"You are my heir. It is time you learned how to say no when people want something from you, and how you respond to threats and blackmail. Take out your knife, make a small cut on your palm, and place it on the wall."
Viserys obeyed. He let out a small hiss of pain as he cut himself. The wall rumbled, and a small box-like opening appeared. Inside was a blood-red horn engraved with runes, made from dragonbone and weirwood. It radiated a powerful aura that screamed danger to everyone in the room.
"Take it," the king ordered, walking back to the rest of the family.
"Rhaenys, do you want to know why I did not punish my mother and uncle when I became king? Because I could not do so openly. Appearances had to be maintained, and the sacrifice of Maegor could not be wasted. So I did nothing openly, but I had my revenge in the year 59 AC."
Corlys gasped, his mouth falling open in horror and shock.
The king looked at him with a sadistic smile and continued,"You see, Rhaenys, your husband understood what I meant. The deaths in the Velaryon family during 59 AC were not caused by the Shivers. It was my curse. I used the plague to ensure only Daemon Velaryon—my uncle—and his youngest grandson would survive. The rest died painfully. My uncle knew it was me and never again dared show his face before me. It was a good couple of decades of Velaryon-free life for me, until the youngest grandson became wealthy through trade and voyages."
Rhaenys paled at the smile on the Old King's face.
Alysanne, shocked by the revelation and seeing her husband's unmasked cruelty, whispered in horror, "Husband... I see it now, and I believe it. You truly are Maegor's son. No one except that sadistic monster could do such things." Her Targaryen grandsons and only son present were further frightened by the shadow of Maegor they now saw in the king's grin.
"Viserys, come quickly. Stand near me. This is your lesson, one I learned in this very room from my then-unknown father. A lesson for a true heir."
Viserys, who had lagged behind, was afraid to approach the king. Even on ordinary days, the Old King had a presence that demanded respect and a touch of fear. But now, his presence was like standing before Balerion himself. Viserys knew nothing good would come of this. Even so, he obeyed and quickly approached.
"Now tell me, what would you do? This is, after all, your child - your cousin—being asked for in marriage. Tell me your plan, as if you are king."
"Your Grace," Viserys said, trying to remain calm. "Rhaenys is my cousin. We grew up together. We are friends. If circumstances were different, we might have wed and ruled together. My father loved his brother. My uncle, your own beloved heir—loved her more than anything. Let us end this fighting and join our lines. I am sure she only said those things because of the world-shattering secrets we have all learned today. We are not thinking clearly. Let there be no more grudges or fights."
Viserys finished and looked at Rhaenys, then turned to face the king.
There was a kind smile on Queen Alysanne's face. Daemon scoffed. Vaegon remained calm and careless, still studying the runes on the horn in his hand. His younger brother Aegon sulked in the corner, seemingly unaware of what was happening.
And then—
Slap!
A harsh slap echoed through the chamber, and Viserys crashed to the floor.
The Rogue Prince's hand reached for Dark Sister and he rushed toward Viserys, but a harsh glare from the king and a growl from Bronze Fury in the background, froze him in place.
"Pathetic," the king sneered. "Daemon, I believe what you said about King Viserys."
Viserys was stunned. No one had ever struck him outside the training yard. A scowl briefly formed on his face before it vanished beneath pain and fear. Blood pooled in his mouth. He spat it onto the floor, and with it came a broken tooth.
The king did not mind it and said, "Get up. Let me teach you how you should respond to threats, especially from a fellow dragonlord."
"Viserys, the horn in your hand is a legendary dragon binding horn. A horn bound to certain war dragons by their fire and blood to order them during the war even if they do not have riders. This is currently bound to, as you can guess, the greatest war dragon, Vhagar. A temporary bond is maintained, and orders are given mentally. Normally the person who blows the horn will die by the dragon's hand first, and the orders given while blowing the horn are followed through. In Valyria, normally the families use some lowly uninitiated member of their courts as a scapegoat, promising them the dragon itself. Then there are people the dragon knows very well and knows that the horn is blown in a situation for their help. Then the dragon will not attack the hornblower. Vhagar knows me very well. I have ridden and been near when Vhagar was ridden by my grandmother. Vhagar loved my grandmother. He loved my father, as for fifteen years he only rode in her with his mother. Vhagar knows me as his son, a person who was dear to her. Later my own son became her rider until this year. When I blow this, she will come and do my bidding without harming me. Rhaenys, do you want to guess what I am going to order her if I blow it now?"
Corlys and Rhaenys eyes widened in horror as they registered a impossible thought.
"Grandfather, please," she started, but the king interrupted sadistically.
"The first order is to kill Meleys and throw her body to the sea after having a hearty meal out of her as a reward to Vhagar for services rendered and for power. Next is to fly to Driftmark and make a new Harrenhal out of High Tide and other silly towns your husband built there by morning."
Horror-stricken faces looked at the king, except for the bastard prince. The bastard prince looked at them all as if it were a live play, and yet he had some respect in his face for the stone-cold heart to make the threat just issued. Even then, only one word echoed in their minds.
Kinslayer.
Not even bothered with the faces, the king continued. "The tale that the world will tell is pride comes before a fall and ambition leads to destruction. The realm will make songs out of your husband's greed for the throne that led to trying to use his poor seven year old girl to try to bond to Vhagar for threatening me, for making his king choose his son as his heir. The realm will make songs out of the loyalty of Vhagar to his previous rider that made her go so angry in sadness and burned down Driftmark for their audacity to command her with a little weak child. Now this is going to happen right now if you continue to push me, Rhaenys. You are of course welcome to go on Meleys and try to stop Vhagar."
"Grandfather, please no," Rhaenys pleaded in shock and disbelief.
"Brother, do not do this, they are our children." The queen tried to be strong, but even then her voice was quite feeble as if she could not believe what her beloved husband had just done.
"Your Grace, please, how could anyone do such an atrocity? This is not war and there are innocent people in Driftmark," Viserys said.
"Yes, I will do such atrocity if that is needed to preserve the peace I built in life. I have sacrificed much for our house and the stability of this realm. I am too old and at the end of my life to care about what my beloved sister wife will think to limit my actions anymore. I have sacrificed my father to build this long peace and I had to punish my favorite daughter to maintain the ruse, and you think I will not punish the stupid granddaughter who disobeyed my order to marry you and married a man decades her senior? This is what it means to be a king, Viserys. Balancing your pride with restraint when needed, so that your legacy will endure. Or do you all think I did not punish Daemon Snow because I love him? No. I will have my revenge on him one way or another, but the bastard is too powerful now and I do not want to risk my house for my pride."
Daemon Snow just looked intrigued at the king and tried to see how the old king could get his revenge. Daemon already knew his daughter Lyanna was here in Dragonstone, but even then he knew the king was not foolish enough to go that route. In the end, he had to dismiss it as just bluster to save face among the lesser Targaryens. His thoughts broke at a yell from Rhaenys.
"Order? What order? You just advised that Viserys will be the better choice, even disparaging my own fear of Daemon. I married because even now Viserys is too weak to actually defend the title if my bastard brother comes for it," Rhaenys snapped.
"A king's advice is an implicit command, Rhaenys. If you do not even know that, I wonder what made me think you would make a fine queen. As I said, my grandson will not come for the throne and you let your imagined fears and the hatred your mother had for the bastard girl and the hatred your father had at Daemon rule you. You only met him once and came back deciding to marry Corlys," the king replied back with derision.
"You were not there, Grandfather. What he threatened me with. He used me and tried to take Meleys for himself. Even now I cannot forget the pain both I and Meleys felt as he tried to bond with Meleys forcefully. And he would have succeeded if not for Meleys burning him. No one knows this. He is a monster in human form that made me almost a kinslayer."
They all looked at the otherworldly prince who never had any scarrings. Daemon graced them with a smug smile.
"And I thank you, dear sister and Meleys. It was that burn that allowed me to survive Cannibal's first fire when I tried to bond with him. Without my own body adapting my trained fire resistance to withstand the magical dragonflames, I would have died that day in ninety five AC. Also, you are mistaken, dear sister. I had no intention to claim Meleys. I tried to warg him to make him breathe fire on me, and that was it. I had no clue it was meeting me that made you choose Corlys. Daemon Snow said then grinned which turned to outright laughter.
"Now you mentioned that, it is quite ironic, and I really enjoyed it." Daemon said through the laughter.
"And now you want these monsters to be free and out there in Essos, and you will kill your own great grandchildren for it?" Rhaenys asked the king.
The king looked indifferent and answered, "Yes, I will, Rhaenys. They are Velaryons, after all. You have the higher station in that marriage and could have petitioned me to have them named Targaryen, if you had the pride in the name Targaryen, or named them Targaryen yourself. But the pride of the Sea Snake did not allow it, did it? So I will not even have to be sad after doing what I said. I punished and turned my favorite daughter into a whore to maintain the ruse of my supposed hatred for my father. It was the most heartbreaking thing I had to do, and I had to actually threaten the Volantene magister to marry her. The only thing I could do."
"I will not have my legacy be war and ruin, or worse, the end of dragons. I will not allow a weak king or a prideful idiot like Corlys near the throne to ruin what I have sacrificed so much for!" Jaehaerys yelled, ending with harsh breathing and crimson eyes showing his rage.
Rhaenys immediately took a breath, as if trying to yell back, but—
"Silence! I have had enough of this!" King Jaehaerys shouted. "Rhaenys, you are going to do as I command if you do not want me to blow this horn."
Jaehaerys took the horn and brought it near his face, preparing to blow it.
"Anything, Your Grace," Rhaenys said, defeated, after taking deep breaths to calm herself.
Jaehaerys looked at his granddaughter closely, as if trying to see the honesty in her words, then lowered the horn.
"Bend the knee, both of you. Apologize to me, and beg for pardon. Swear eternal loyalty to me, House Targaryen, and to my chosen heir. Now." Jaehaerys commanded. There was no smirk or smugness in his face, only calmness.
Rhaenys and Corlys looked at each other and obeyed without hesitation.
"Now, you are going to write letters saying that you are giving up your and your children's claims to the throne. You are going to write to every lord in the realm, and the ravens should fly tomorrow. In one month's time, you and your family are going to bend the knee in front of the throne and apologize for contesting my decision for heir and give up your claim publicly. If anything that occurred here is heard by anyone outside this room, I will make sure you are paid for it. As for marriage with Viserys's children, I do not care about it. Do as you wish after my death. Viserys, this is how you respond to threats, not by appeasing them."
Jaehaerys finished by looking at Viserys.
Viserys looked down in shame. "Yes, Your Grace. I will strive to be better."
The Rogue Prince was looking at the brother he loved with new eyes. His loyalty was shaken, as the brother wanted that cunt Otto as Hand rather than him, when their father was preparing them as Aemon and Baelon. To even consider the velrayons for marriage when his own future child would be the perfect choice, he truly has to reconsider his position in Viserys heart. The rogue prince did not even want to think about what his grandfather had done. A true madman who played the greatest trick anyone had ever played. The greatest trick to make the world believe he did not exist. The world believed in a sane but stern good king. Respect and fear for his king echoed in his mind again and again. Daemon, for all his temper, had already heard the rumors regarding himself, and here was the king who seemed crueler than even him and yet with the reputation of the Father himself.
"Now, let us end this meeting for now and meet again tomorrow. There are going to be many changes to the realm and plans to make. It seems that ants have been growing in the dragon's shadow for too long, preying on weaklings and younglings," the king said thoughtfully.
"Grandfather," the bastard prince began, "I only came to rest after some killing. Let me give you early notice. I glassed one of the small islands in the Stepstones. The ship captain I hired in King's Landing thought it was a good idea to sell me and my wife to pirates who wanted us as hostages against the Iron Throne. Something I truly hate is slavery and cruelty for cruelty's sake. So I made an example out of them by making the greatest fire the Stepstones have seen. Morghul glassed the surface in its fire. He even used the killings and eating so much human meat to empower himself. As they say, fire and blood, you know. Now let me leave."
The bastard prince slowly turned back and started walking.
Everyone looked at the bastard prince like a madman. The king sighed and frowned at the thought of his already fragile relations with Essos, and where the bastard was going — to Essos with his daughter.
"Great. Another headache for me to deal with," the king said with frustration.
The prince turned and said, "Hey, do not be like that, Grandfather. Let me tell you one thing more. Contact Lord Stark and Lord Aethan Reed. The First Men will be eager to fight against the Faith and the Citadel. They may be able to help you. After all, they won the five thousand years of Andal invasion through various methods."
The king looked at the retreating back of his firstborn grandson, a true dragonlord of Valyria. In the shadow and darkness of the hall, the silhouette of his grandson made him remember his father, King Maegor. The architect who enabled his reign and House Targaryen's current prosperity. His grandson had inherited the same madness and greatness — or maybe the cruelty — of the ancient Winter Kings. He looked at Viserys and Rhaenys. Even then, he saw their weakness, pride, and ego without the power to back it up.
Jaehaerys knew he could get his revenge on Daemon years later, but that would depend on whether his grandchildren behaved the way he wanted, let alone the idiots raised by them after he was long dead and irrelevant. He thought about how Aemon and Baelon had failed in raising their children even when he was alive and watching them. Imagining the next generation would be better was a fool's hope. Even now, he could see that Viserys was just appeasing him and Rhaenys was biding her time.
Jaehaerys sighed in defeat and closed his eyes in preparation. He opened them, and there was no defeat in them, only confidence. He sent a silent prayer to the Fourteen Flames for the step he is going to take to be successful, if not atleast to not end in complete catastrophe.
"And pray, tell me. Where are you going, my dear firstborn grandson? Do you really believe that I will allow you to leave after causing this much trouble for me, after helping me uncover plots but refusing to help more, after stealing my daughter, my sword, and a dragon?" the king asked, deadly calm and calculating every single word to make sure he would get what he wanted by the end of the upcoming confrontation.
The Queen, Prince, and Princesses were glad to see the back of the bastard, as the madness had started with his visit. They paled when the king tried to stop the madman from leaving.
The Bastard Prince did not bother to stop walking or turn around. Daemon said, "Wherever the sky takes us, Grandfather. I do not need anyone's permission to do whatever I want. So…. " He finished with a shrug.
"If you abandon us now, I will disinherit and disown both you and Gael from House Targaryen… "
The Bastard Prince scoffed in the middle, as though the disownment was worthless.
"I am not a Targaryen. Whatever I have, I made it with my own power. I will do it again. Your words are meaningless to me in the long term."
….Magically." The King concluded.
The rhythmic sound of boots stopped. The Bastard Prince ceased walking, his shoulders tensed, and his frame coiled with tamed power.
The King casually said, "Aye, it is as I thought. You do not know about this meeting, this room, or the magic House Targaryen has from ancient Valyria. Your dragondreams do not extend beyond this room's protections. You told me that in the future you saw, House Targaryen lost its dragons and magic in thirty years. It lost everything due to the foolish decision I made to call a great council, and the foolishness of my heir Viserys.
You are playing god with our lives, dear grandson, and I have already identified your great plan. It is a pragmatic one that gives you the least trouble regarding your legitimacy and right to rule. You wanted the Dance to happen, and once both sides are nearly dead, you would step in as the savior who brought peace and stability, just like I did after Maegor. That would cement your rule. You are charming enough to make the naive young lords who survive the war your puppets and worshippers.
You wanted freedom, but the coming threat to the entire world forced you to take the crown. What better way to start a golden reign than by being the savior? After all, you have me as the perfect example. So no, you are not allowed to leave House Targaryen now and then come back when it pleases you. If a threat is needed to make you stay, then it will be made."
The Bastard Prince turned slowly. The rage in his eyes was so intense that none except the King could bear to meet his gaze. Daemon was surprised the Good King had figured out his plan Maybe he did brag too much and needed to temper his arrogance and stop treating the world like a joke. The vow he had made made it possible—after all, it was not his fault if Viserys's heir was ousted and killed. Daemon only need to come and just deal with Aegon after he killed Rhaenyra and then he would be the king, just because of personal power and the masses would eat up the good king and queen reborn propaganda, since Gael is his wife.
"Your belief that whatever puny magic you have can override mine is hilarious." Daemon said in derision. "I will leave and not be part of this madness, this farce of a Game of Thrones. I would like to hear what other threat you can make that will stop me. For your own sake, I hope it is not a threat like the one you made to your other great-grandchild just now."
Jaehaerys looked curiously. "Your warging is impressive, Daemon, that you could see into even Dragonstone's hidden rooms and know Lyanna is here."
Daemon shook his head. "No, I do not have that many animals wherever I go. You were just foolish enough to invite one of my children—personally trained by me—to your citadel and then conduct a secret meeting. I felt her presence in that cat the moment I entered. Hello, Lyanna," he said, waving toward a shadowed corner where a black cat lounged.
Almost everyone except the King and Daemon gaped in surprise, but they remained silent, feeling the tension and pressure bearing down on them.
Jaehaerys just waved his hand.
"I assure you I had no hand in it. She came looking for you, and she was very angry—something about not being invited to a marriage or something like that," Jaehaerys said with a knowing smirk.
Daemon sighed in defeat.
"Of course it's that. She had enough daring to ride Caraxes when Daemon visited Winterfell. I wonder how she even found out about the marriage. Also, I'm sure you will not do anything about what she just overheard in this meeting."
"Of course not," the king replied. "She is clever enough to know not to speak of this meeting. No, Daemon, I will not threaten her or your other bastards—at least not directly. But they will suffer the most indirectly. By banishing you, no child of yours will bond with dragons easily or naturally. The ability will fade if I cast you out from House Targaryen. Of course, they could tame a dragon, just like you did with Morghul. But the real question is—will they survive the attempt? Or will you have to handhold each one as they try to tame a beast?"
Daemon's eyes glinted as he replied,
"That is a very good plan for you, my king. If I must kill you for it, then I will gladly behead you now before you can cast me out. Then there will be no imaginary threats to hang over my head or that of my children."
The Bastard Prince rested his hand on Blackfyre's hilt, making the threat clear.
The king ignored it. He was already near death's door and cared little for his life at this point.
"I assure you, Daemon, my curse will work perfectly. After all, every Valyrian must find a way to secure their rule over the House. You acknowledged me as your grandfather and the head of House Targaryen—that is all I need to make the curse take root. You will be banished from the magic that graces our bloodline," the king said with a shrug.
Daemon frowned and immediately contacted Morghul to confirm whether such a thing was possible. He almost roared in fury when Morghul confirmed it. Daemon studied the king carefully, trying to read his emotions. All he found was rage—and a surprising amount of determination. Even though Daemon knew success was unlikely, he decided to try anyway.
"So, you must have realized the reason behind my spreading bastards throughout the kingdom. You knew the purpose. And yet you dare condemn the future of this world? For what? Just to punish me? Just to have your revenge? You would gamble with the end of the world? With the end of your house?"
Everyone except Viserys looked at the king and the Bastard Prince as if they were speaking nonsense—to the Bastard Prince's amusement and Viserys' horror.
The king simply shrugged. "I will be too dead to care about the world or even my descendants, Daemon. The only thing I care about is my immediate legacy—not what happens two hundred years later. That is your problem, since you claim to be unaging and immortal, not mine. It will make your path far more difficult if you go through with this and refuse my suggestion."
If you wish to see this as revenge, then so be it. My original plan since your visit to King's Landing was to ensure there would be no Dance for you to exploit. I wanted to deny you the easy opportunity. I wanted you to work for kingship if you desired it. But I couldn't trust my idiot grandchildren to follow the path I envisioned—let alone the idiots raised by them. And so here I am, taking the greatest risk I've taken since cursing my own father. The difference is—I have nothing left to lose. You, on the other hand, have everything to lose."
"Then it seems you've gambled poorly, my king," Daemon said with a snarl as he half-unsheathed Blackfyre and then stopped.
The King just smirked at the sight of the half-unsheathed Blackfyre and shrugged.
"Maybe. But I know for a fact that you will not kill me. I don't think you want to start your marriage to my daughter by killing her father. Whatever dislike she had for us, she will hate you if you kill any one of us now. You just told us that you rewarded her by sharing your powers. She may not betray you for this, but she will be unhappy for a long time. And whatever journey you are embarking on will be ruined by that. You do not want to risk losing your magical potential as a Targaryen."
The King paused, then added with a smirk, "Also, Daemon, it seems I forgot one very important detail when I asked you to stay. It is an offer you cannot refuse."
He straightened his back.
"As I said, I had already planned to legitimise you—to explain Gael's marriage and the dragon you claimed. Now I am certain of my decision. You are my heir. The firstborn son of my beloved firstborn, Aemon. You shall save us from whatever the future holds. And thus, you will be the legitimate king after me, while Gael will be your queen."
Everyone in the room, including the bastard prince, was astonished.
"What?" Viserys shouted. "Grandfather, I am the heir! I was chosen by the lords!"
Vaegon openly scoffed. "Viserys, don't be an idiot. Even if all the lords had voted for Rhaenys, you would still have been chosen, because the King had already made his choice."
Immediate protests broke out from every corner of the room, voices overlapping and shouting over one another.
The King, who stood near the sturdy ironwood table, suddenly leaned forward and slammed both hands on the tabletop.
"Enough of this! I have made my decision, and I will not change it for anyone—not even for you, Daemon. You will accept the position now and be done with it."
Daemon's thoughts raced as he weighed the pros and cons. The advantages outweighed the risks, yet the very idea of this being a punishment from the King, something handed to him on a platter, stung his pride. It rankled him to just accept it.
"No," he growled. "I don't want to be your heir. I have said it before and I will say it again. If I want to be king, I will take it with my own hands. I don't need it handed to me like this, especially as part of some punishment."
His voice turned colder.
"I don't care if I have to kill you right now just to make sure you don't curse me after I leave. I could do it without any remorse or guilt."
Jaehaerys looked at his ever-prideful grandson and understood that he was speaking the truth.
"And what will you do then, Daemon? Let's say you kill me here—then what? You will have to kill everyone else present to make sure word does not get out, as being known as a Kin-slayer will affect whatever plans you have. And when the lickspittles in King's Landing take power in the name of a regency, you will be forced to intervene. You will have to become regent, or even crown yourself king, just to ensure the realm survives. After all, is that not what you wanted? A powerful kingdom, ready for the end of the world? Your every move made it evident that was your goal and I allowed it all these years as it was good for my realm."
Daemon just frowned as he realized that more than being known as the kinslayer or for Gael, the greater problem came from the consequences of "cleaning house."
"Then I will walk away, Grandfather," Daemon finally said. "I don't give a fuck about your curse. I tamed a dragon notoriously named the Cannibal. My children can do the same with the lesser dragons—or die trying if they are not worthy. As for the Dance, I have seen that the Song couldn't be changed unless it is by my own hands. whether it happens 30 years from now or 60, it doesn't matter to me. I will be still here to take over when it is time."
Jaehaerys sighed in tiredness.
"Daemon, I have never given you advice or any lessons, but let this be the one piece of wisdom I offer as your grandfather. You say you are willing to condemn your children to death by your decisions, but take it from someone who has already done so—for personal reasons and for survival—it will break you. It will leave you wondering if it was ever worth it.
"I did it once. An unknown future child meant little when compared to Alysanne and my own life. You speak from pride and bravado now, but tell me—can you truly condemn Lyanna, who is currently on this island, to death? I still remember Alysanne mentioning her first meeting with her in the Godswood of Winterfell petting Silverwing. I can assure you that without the magic of our house, it would be impossible and she will try to meet all dragons, that now she is here."
Daemon's eyes widened in horror and fury. The King smiled inwardly and continued.
"Daemon, are you sure your pride is worth the risk you are about to take? We both are clever enough to know there is nothing else but your pride stopping you from accepting this now. Take the kingdoms. If it is the pride of being handed the kingdom that is stopping you from accepting it now instead of thirty years down the line, then swallow that pride for now. Just like I did, by changing my decision on the heir—just now. Also, consider the amount of time loss you will have. I will die in couple of years and you will have 28 years of reign before your planned time comes. Before the end of this decade you will ask yourself, was I foolish enough to not take the throne just because of my pride?
I know the pride of achieving something with your own hands. I sacrificed that pride and took the reins by waiting until Maegor died or gave the order. But unlike me, you are not limited to just six kingdoms, Daemon.
Oh, do not look at me like that. Or were you not planning to plant the seeds for your future conquest of Essos during the next thirty years you intended to wander there? The only difference now is that you already have the support of the six kingdoms, and you can take what you want, starting with Dorne.
Accept the position of my heir, Daemon. This has been your destiny since birth. We both know that, or your abilities would not have manifested otherwise. You are pragmatic and clever enough to make sure they did not stand out too much or stayed hidden as useless. You made the best use of your abilities. Think about the Iron Throne the same way, Daemon. What is better—inherit a fifty-year-old continuous administration with no wars, or take up a war-torn kingdom and increase your workload a hundredfold?"
"Enough," Alysanne snapped finally. "Why are you begging this bastard to be your heir, Jaehaerys? You are giving him the kingdom and he is rejecting it. End this farce now."
"Exactly, Grandfather," the rogue prince exclaimed, and the shouting started again.
The yelling and interruptions made the temper of the bastard prince finally flare. He screamed, and Blackfyre finally left the sheath.
AHH!!!
The rogue prince had seen many great swordsmen. He himself was one of the best with Dark Sister in his hands. He had seen swords become blurs in spars and battles, but this was the first time a swordsman became a blur. Even with all the yelling from Viserys, his grandmother, and Vaegon, he was keeping his eyes on his namesake, waiting to save the king's life when the bastard inevitably drew Blackfyre.
So it was truly shocking when he just stayed frozen, helpless, even though he had expected it—watching the bastard prince disappear in a blur towards the king.
Viserys stopped yelling in protest of losing his heirship when he heard the shout. He looked towards his elder cousin and saw a blur approaching the king's table. The air shifted into wind at the speed of approach. He feared the worst when the sound of a sword being drawn rang out as the blur neared the table the king was leaning on.
The king had leaned forward onto the table, letting the others shout their protests. It was meaningless. The only relevant parties were him and his chosen heir. He had not looked away from his volatile grandson, knowing this negotiation required a delicate touch. He knew he would not be killed, so his heart nearly stopped when his grandson shouted.
The king blinked—and the next thing he heard was the sound of wood tearing and a sword swinging. The next thing he felt was the burning of his hands as they were rubbed raw against a rough surface. His hair flew loose from the wind generated by the impossible speed. He stumbled back two steps and looked down at his palms. They were red, and the skin had peeled in many places.
The rogue prince was shocked to see Blackfyre tear through the sturdy Ironwood from edge to edge horizontally, near the king's hands. He saw the king looking at his reddened palms, skin rubbed raw by the sheer force of the passing blade. Slowly, Daemon understood the impossible skill that had just been demonstrated. Even with Valyrian steel, breaking Ironwood was extremely difficult. But by moving at such speed and strength, the new heir had cut through it while keeping the blade just close enough to graze the king's palms without slicing them.
The bastard prince completed the swing, turned with the momentum, and sheathed the sword in the same movement. He finished the turn by sheathing and faced his grandfather.
"Never threaten me again in your life, Jaehaerys. I will forget that you are my grandfather and of Gael's feelings," the bastard prince said with eerie coldness.
Then he just smirked.
"So, you want me to be the heir? Are you insane? All the lords except the North will protest, and it will lead to unrest. Your death might even start a war. The lords will try to use Viserys. You want to cause a certain war instead of a probable one in the future that I foresaw?"
"Congratulations, grandson, on becoming the greatest warrior in the realm. Even Maegor could not have blocked or dodged that sword strike," the king said, looking at his palms. He showed the reddened palms to everyone and continued, "It stings, but the pain is slowly fading. Now, I have only two years left, according to your dreams. I want to ensure House Targaryen prospers for eternity. You just confirmed my decision. With you as king, whatever war happens, I am sure the dragons will survive, and so will the power of our house. With Viserys and the path I had chosen until now, I do not know if anything I did could prevent the war or the slow decay of our power."
Viserys scowled hatefully at the insult, but he remained quiet.
The king ignored him.
"I have conditions for accepting this burden," Daemon Snow finally said.
"Conditions?" the younger Daemon snapped. "You dare to place conditions on the greatest power offered freely?" Daemon was enraged.
"Enough, Daemon. Let him speak," the king said.
"From today onward, you may remain king in name for the realm, but I will hold the true power, and there should be changes in laws and administration." the Bastard Prince said coldly. "You may oversee the day-to-day running of the kingdom as it stands—I will not interfere. But you will remain king for five more years. You will hold on to life by consuming my potions, and you will do it. The realm will need at least those five years to fully accept me as the new heir, to recognize my strength and the greatness I can bring. If you die in two years, then I will be forced to bring fire and blood to all the existing Lord Paramounts when they inevitably rebel against me. It will be difficult to train and replace new leadership, along with their followers, if I have to wipe them out."
King Jaehaerys frowned upon hearing the condition.
"I accept," the king said at last, as he had no other choice. "Let us end this now and rest for the night. We will meet again tomorrow to discuss the matter further—and the new laws you wish to implement to safeguard our power. I was already going to implement somethings and it will also serve as a useful distraction for the other lords, who otherwise speak only of the new heir and his origins"
Everyone else nodded with resignation, having no choice but to follow the orders of the Bastard King's heir, for now.
Authors note: So anyone saw that coming ? I named this bastard king II not as part 2 of last chapter but the second bastard king !!!!!! this was planned from the beginning itself and the amount of effort it took for me to not spoil, whenever someone asks about dance is too damn high…
Canon dance of dragons and timeline is officially fucked and daemon becomes kings far faster than even he planned or anticipated…. Jae finally decided, fuck it and declared the most probable candidate that will allow the survival of house Targaryen and the dragons all the while fucking over said person's plans for vacation and some slave rebellions….
See you all in Chapter 42: Aftermath
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