The throne room was empty now, the last of the courtiers gone.
Jaehaerys stood before the Iron Throne, his fingers brushing the cold, jagged edges of the blades that formed it. The steel was sharp enough to draw blood, even through the fine leather of his gloves. He had not wanted this. Not the crown, not the throne, not the weight of a kingdom that still whispered of madness and fire.
Queen Mother Alyssa found him there, standing before the Iron Throne. "You wear the crown heavily already," she said softly. Jaehaerys laughed bitterly. "I fear it may wear me before long." Queen Mother Alyssa studied him for a moment before placing a hand upon his shoulder. "Then make certain it is you who shapes the realm, not the realm that shapes you."
Vaelaris was in his chambers. The room smelled of oil, leather, and steel. Dark Sister rested upon a wooden table, its blade still stained with drying blood. Beside it sat a basin of water. Rhaena paused in the doorway, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her dress. For a moment she simply watched him.
He stood over the sword with a cloth in his hand, cleaning the blade with slow, deliberate movements. The water in the basin beside him was already clouded crimson. Rhaena knew suffering. She had survived Maegor's reign. She had known fear, grief, and captivity.
Yet even she struggled to imagine the years Vaelaris had endured alone across the Narrow Sea. They were not close. Not as she was with Jaehaerys and Alyssane But he was still her brother and she as his elder sister has to talk and reliew his burden as well. She stated "Did you truly have to kill him that way?" voice was soft, but it cut through the silence like a blade.
Vaelaris did not look up. He dipped the cloth into the water, wrung it out, then ran it along the length of the sword. The steel gleamed in the torchlight, clean now, unmarred. Only the hilt still bore the stains of battle. "He challenged and questioned the king's authority." words were simple. Flat.
There was no pride in them. No regret. Only certainty. Rhaena stepped closer, her slippers making no sound on the stone. She reached out, her fingers hovering just above the sword, as if she could wipe away the memory of what it had done.
But she did not touch it. "You could have spared him." Her eyes fell upon Dark Sister. "You are a prince of House Targaryen, Vaelaris. Do not try to become merely your brother's sword." Vaelaris set the cloth aside.
He picked up Dark Sister, turning it in his hands, testing its weight. The blade was flawless, balanced. A weapon made for killing. "He chose his fate." Rhaena exhaled, a slow, controlled breath. She knew that tone.
She had heard it before, it was a mix of his gradfather who had conquered everything and was tired of everything and maegor who has gone mad being a king Yet neither comparison truly fit. Vaelaris was becoming something entirely his own which she also didnt know was good or bad.
It was the voice of a man who had seen too much, who had experienced too much. She did not argue. she turned and left, her steps quickening as she moved through the corridors of the Red Keep. Vaelaris watched her go. Then he turned back to the basin, scrubbing at his hands in it.
The torches blurred in her vision, their light too bright, too harsh. The night was thick with the scent of salt and smoke, the air heavy with the weight of what had been done. The Red Keep loomed above the city, its towers dark against the sky, its walls casting long shadows over the streets below.
Somewhere beyond the Blackwater, Vaelkarax watched. The dragon's presence was a low, constant hum in the back of Vaelaris' mind, a warmth that never faded, a pulse that matched his own. He stood upon the battlements, his cloak billowing in the wind, his fingers resting against the cold stone. The city sprawled beneath him, a maze of light and shadow, of voices and silence. His hand tightened on the stone. The wind tugged at his hair, pulling strands loose from the leather that bound it.
Below, the Blackwater rushed past, its waters dark and restless. On the far bank, the fields stretched out, empty and still Suddenly footsteps approached. He did not turn. The steps were light, slow and deliberate. Not the heavy tread of a guard, not the measured stride of a lord. Jaehaerys stopped beside him, close enough that their shoulders nearly touched.
Neither spoke for a long time. The city stretched out before them breathing and restless. The sounds were distant, muffled, as if the night itself was swallowing them whole. Jaehaerys said, "The council will fear you now." Vaelaris did not answer at once. He kept his gaze on the darkness, on the shape that moved within it, vast and patient." Good." Jaehaerys looked at him, his violet eyes searching.
He was king now, in truth as well as name. But he was still young. Still uncertain. turned his head slightly, just enough to meet his brother's gaze. The torchlight flickered in his golden eyes, turning them to fire. Then perhaps," he said quietly, "Then perhaps they will think twice before plotting against their king." His gaze never left the city below.
"Let them fear me, if it spares you the burden." Then Jaehaerys replied, "You could have let me fight." turned fully toward him then, his expression unreadable. "You are the king."
"And you are my brother." his words were simple. But they carried weight. Vaelaris had spent years beyond the Narrow Sea, in places where blood meant little and survival meant everything.
But he was still Jaehaerys' brother. Still a Targaryen. Still his family.His fingers flexed against the stone. "A king does not answer every challenge. He does not stain his hands with the blood of traitors." Jaehaerys' jaw tightened. "And if they see that as weakness?" Vaelaris' gaze flicked back to the darkness, to the dragon waiting beyond the river. "Then they have forgotten what House Targaryen is." wind howled again, carrying with it the scent of rain.
Jaehaerys exhaled, his breath misting in the cold, The circlet on his brow gleamed as he turned his face toward the city. "The ravens have flown. The lords will come. They will bring their oaths, or they will bring their banners." Vaelaris said nothing. Jaehaerys' voice was quiet. "What do you see out there?" Vaelaris did not look away from the darkness. "The future." word hung between them, heavy with meaning.
Jaehaerys stared out across the city. "I wanted them to remember me for justice." Vaelaris' gaze never left the darkness beyond the Blackwater. "First they must remember to fear you." "Then what separates me from Uncle Maegor?" Vaelaris was silent for a long moment. "Choice." Jaehaerys frowned.
"Maegor desired fire." At last Vaelaris looked at him. "You merelyneed to understand its necessity. You are the king. They are your subjects. If they forget that, they need to be reminded."Jaehaerys swallowed. His throat worked, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "And if the reminder is fire?" did not look away. "Then it is, fire." Jaehaerys had always been the one who sought to mend, to build, to heal. Vaelaris had never had that luxury.
Vaelaris turned his head slightly, his golden eyes catching the torchlight. "It's just for the beginning." wind howled through the battlements, sharp and cold. Jaehaerys turned, his boots scuffing against the stone as he made his way back toward the keep. But he paused upon the stairs. "Vaelaris." His brother finally looked at him. "Thank you."
A faint smile touched Vaelaris' lips. The expression vanished almost as quickly as it came. Then Jaehaerys disappeared into the shadows of the Red Keep. Vaelaris remained upon the battlements. Somewhere beyond the river, a vast shape rested upon the darkened fields. Moonlight glimmered against scales the color of molten black.
The future was coming.
And it would not come gently.
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A/N: Thanks for reading this chapter of A Prince of Ash and Fire!
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