Twin Flames: Ashes Beneath the Crown
Chapter I – The King Who Began to Question
POV: Viserys I Targaryen
The Iron Throne had never felt so sharp.
Viserys sat alone in the Red Keep long after court had ended, Otto's absence echoing louder than any presence. The Hand's chain lay removed. The golden pin of office rested cold beside the crown.
Rhaenys had accepted.
Not eagerly. Not triumphantly.
But firmly.
Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, now wore the brooch of the Hand.
And for the first time in years, Viserys felt… steadier.
But doubt lingered like poison beneath skin.
Oldtown.
The Citadel.
Patterns of death.
He summoned no maester that night.
Instead, he requested records — birth ledgers from the reign of Jaehaerys I Targaryen. Letters exchanged with the Citadel. Copies, not originals.
He did not trust the maesters of King's Landing anymore.
Not entirely.
Maester Mellos had attended Aemma's final labor.
He had insisted on the procedure.
The choice.
The knife.
Viserys' fingers trembled.
"Bring me the older archives," he commanded a silent steward. "From Dragonstone as well."
No mention of why.
No mention of the twins.
He would not accuse without knowledge.
But he would not remain blind again.
And quietly, without fanfare, the king of the Seven Kingdoms began investigating the very order that had guided his house for a century.
Chapter II – The Rogue Prince and the Chain
POV: Daemon Targaryen
Daemon preferred directness.
So he did not whisper.
He did not scheme.
He cornered.
Maester Orwyle found himself summoned not to council chambers — but to the Dragonpit.
The great dome loomed above them, dragons shifting in their chains.
"You wished to see me, Prince Daemon?" Orwyle asked carefully.
Daemon circled him like a predator.
"You studied in Oldtown."
"Yes, my prince."
"Under which archmaester?"
"Archmaester Vaegon," Orwyle replied.
Daemon's eyes narrowed at the name — Vaegon Targaryen, son of Jaehaerys. A dragonlord turned maester.
"How often does the Citadel correspond with King's Landing?" Daemon asked casually.
"Regularly, my prince. Matters of scholarship—"
"And dragons?"
Orwyle hesitated.
"We document their health."
"Document," Daemon repeated lightly. "Or experiment?"
The maester stiffened.
"My prince, the Citadel serves knowledge."
Daemon stepped closer.
"And knowledge serves power."
A dragon roared behind them, shaking dust from the dome.
"You will provide me copies of every letter sent to Oldtown concerning dragon health for the past twenty years," Daemon said softly.
"My prince, that would require the king's permission—"
Daemon smiled.
"Then let us not require it."
His hand rested on Dark Sister's pommel.
Orwyle swallowed.
The Rogue Prince did not need evidence to feel threat.
But he did enjoy hunting it.
Chapter III – The Queen Who Never Was, Now Hand
POV: Rhaenys Targaryen
The brooch of the Hand felt heavier than expected.
Rhaenys stood in the Tower of the Hand overlooking Blackwater Bay, wind tugging silver hair loose from its bindings.
She had watched men rule poorly.
Watched ambition fracture unity.
Watched her own claim dismissed.
She would not let the house crumble from ignorance.
The twins' words echoed in her mind.
"Influence."
"Management."
"Extinction."
She summoned the small council — minus Otto.
The looks were varied.
Curiosity.
Suspicion.
Relief.
"I will be reviewing all correspondence between the Crown and the Citadel," she announced calmly.
No outrage.
No accusations.
Simply governance.
"Additionally," she continued, "dragonkeepers will report directly to me regarding hatchlings and health. Not solely through maesters."
That stirred discomfort.
Good.
She would not accuse the Citadel openly.
Not yet.
But she would shift power quietly.
The maesters would remain advisors.
Not gatekeepers.
And in private, she sent word to her husband.
It was time the Sea Snake moved.
Chapter IV – The Sea Snake's Web
POV: Corlys Velaryon
The harbor of Driftmark bustled as ships prepared to sail.
Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, studied a map of the Narrow Sea.
Oldtown sat heavy in the southwest like a jewel guarding knowledge.
And secrets.
"You will not go as Velaryon men," he instructed the captains before him. "You will go as traders. As scholars. As sailors seeking employment."
Spies, though he did not use the word.
"The Citadel is not a fortress," Corlys said quietly. "But information flows through it like wine."
He tapped Oldtown on the map.
"I want names of archmaesters who correspond frequently with King's Landing."
"I want records of dragon studies."
"And I want to know which Hightowers host closed-door gatherings."
One captain hesitated.
"My lord… this borders on treason."
Corlys' eyes turned glacial.
"Treason is allowing your bloodline to wither because you feared asking questions."
The ships would sail within the week.
Oldtown would not know they were watched.
But it would be.
Chapter V – Fire and Fear
POV: Aenarion & Daenerys (Shared Mind)
We felt it.
The shift.
Like threads tightening in a web.
Viserys searching quietly.
Daemon pressing openly.
Rhaenys reorganizing power.
Corlys sending shadows across the sea.
And beneath it all — resistance.
Whispers carried by ravens.
Maesters writing longer letters.
Hightower gold moving subtly.
"They're aware," Daenerys said within our shared mind.
"Yes," I replied.
"They fear us."
"They fear losing control."
We stood atop Dragonstone's cliffs, wind whipping around us, dragons circling above.
"We did not awaken for politics," she murmured.
"No."
"But we may have to master them."
The sea crashed violently below.
If Oldtown sought slow extinction, it would now meet vigilance.
The game had shifted from quiet influence…
To quiet war.
And somewhere in Oldtown, beneath the shadow of the Hightower, an archmaester read a letter from King's Landing with a frown forming slowly.
The dragons were asking questions.
And questions were dangerous.