The Three Great Brides they called them.
When Aemma Arryn conceived for the nth time, King Viserys I and presumably the entire realm were certain it was the long-awaited heir in her belly.
Viserys, a dreamer, once dreamt of this heir circling King's Landing astride Vermithor.
In his visions, he saw "Baelon" conquering the Dornish.
But in contrast to the uncanny accuracy of the Targaryen augural gift, Aemma failed again.
At 105 AC, the fifth king of Westeros fathered another girl.
Daena—beautiful in name, yet a solemn birth.
The infant survived, but the mother did not. Aemma Arryn died in the aftermath of her deliverance.
Dragonfire by the royal dragon, Syrax, was a befitting funeral for someone of her station.
The question remained was who would replace her position as queen consort?
The king still lacked an heir.
There was the Rogue Prince, of course, but before the crown could ever be settled upon his brow, Viserys' council must've uprooted all alternatives just to prevent it.
Pressured by his close seven, Viserys concluded that he must take another wife, though his heart still mourned his beloved cousin.
One night, beneath a full moon, another dream struck him.
"The Prince that was promised," the king whispered in delirium.
The next day, the realm was shocked by the proclamation he made.
"I, Viserys, First of My Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, shall take my daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, as my wife and future queen at my side."
Rhaenyra Targaryen was only ten years old at the time.
Though she was far from ready for consummation, she was ready to be courted.
But by the gods, no Westerosi could have expected such a betrothal... even from the Targaryens.
Viserys' council attempted to wrest him from this decision, to argue against the scandal and the taboo, but it was one of the few choices the king wasn't indecisive about.
"Your Grace… taking your own daughter as wife is… unthinkable. The Seven would see it as sin, as blasphemy. How would the people follow a king who bends his blood so? What example do we set for the realm?" argued the Hand of the king, Otto.
"Rhaenyra is your only daughter. She is the living seal of your house, the proof of your blood," argued Lord Corlys. "She should be wed to a house, a lordship, a power that strengthens the realm, not… married to you. A union like this risks more than it secures."
"My king… consider her body, her youth. Aemma's womb failed her. Rhaenyra might become the daughter of her mother. Should misfortune strike again, Your Grace would remain without a true heir. A new wife, of age and strength, could bear your seed and secure the line."
Viserys' council, especially Maester Orwyle, had laid forth wise arguments. They spoke of bloodlines, the fragility of youth, the wrath of the Seven, and the stability of the realm.
But the king seemed to have lost half his sanity beneath that full moon.
'The Prince must be of dragon blood,' he thought.
A year later, the council had managed to convince the king of polygamy, for he did not upend his declaration regarding Rhaenyra.
Ser Otto Hightower could feel war coming, though he could not yet discern who would be fighting whom in a realm conquered entirely by the dragons of House Targaryen.
A war with the Faith?
Could the days of Maegor the Cruel prevail again?
With ten adult dragons awake and ready, the Targaryens could crush any opposition that dared rise. Fire and blood would answer all.
The Three Great Brides were Lady Alicent Hightower, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and Laena Velaryon.
It was a race for the first bride who would conceive a boy, though no one admitted it aloud.
The Hightowers sought power, dreaming of placing their blood upon the throne through Alicent.
Lord Corlys Velaryon would not allow that, which was why he offered his daughter, Laena, in the marriage arrangement, securing both legitimacy and influence.
And as for Rhaenyra Targaryen, the only support she had was her father's.
The Faith had already cast a red eye upon her marriage, murmuring in hushed condemnation, but many believed that Viserys' illness and fevered visions had driven him to madness.
When the king dies, they expected Rhaenyra to be wed off to another, as was customary for princesses of the realm.
Most believed she would not conceive, even if Viserys ever actually bedded his daughter.
Her co-wife, Alicent, had given secret orders to mix a sedative and subtly bitter herbs into the princess's drinks, ensuring that the childbearing race might tilt in her favor.
But Rhaenyra was the Littlefinger of her time, a cunning lady who knew the game of power better than most men in the Red Keep.
She was the first to conceive, and soon she gave birth to a son, whom she named Baelon.
"I, Viserys of House Targaryen, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, declare that the Iron Throne shall pass to my daughter, Rhaenyra Targaryen, and thereafter to her son, Baelon, heir of dragonblood and my line."
Yet no one believed in the legitimacy of the child, especially not the Hightowers.
The relationship between Rhaenyra and her uncle Daemon had long been the subject of suspicion, and many quietly claimed that Baelon was Daemon's bastard rather than Viserys' true heir.
It remained only a rumor, and since Targaryens resembled one another so closely, there was no way to declare Baelon illegitimate with certainty.
There was no proof to satisfy the realm, nor the Seven.
Whenever the dying Viserys heard even the slightest whisper of this rumor, he would turn feral, and order the tongue of the utterer to be ripped out.
Daemon, ever loyal to his own instincts of cruelty, executed these commands with satisfaction.
But the Hightowers were not appeased.
They funded the rumor to spread wide. Hence, the Crown faced the strongest resistance from the Faith since the reign of Maegor the Cruel.
The greater despise wasn't even that Baelon was likely a bastard, but the child of a father and daughter, a blasphemous abomination by Westerosi law.
Yet the king's words remained unbroken, and his statement of succession was absolute:
—Princess Rhaenyra, heir of the Iron Throne
—Prince Baelon, son of Rhaenyra
—Prince Aekar, first son of Baelon
—Prince Jaeherys, second son of Baelon
—Prince Valarr, second son of Rhaenyra
—Prince Aegon, son of Alicent
—Prince Jaeherys, son of Aegon
—Prince Maelor, second son of Aegon
—Prince Aemond, second son of Alicent
—Prince Daeron, third son of Alicient
Sadly, the king's third wife, Laena Velaryon, remained barren.
This misfortune drove Lord Corlys Velaryon to grow contempt for the Targaryens, despite Daena, Rhaenyra's sister, being married to his heir, Laenor.
But no matter which enemies turned friend in the face of a collective threat, nothing could be done because the king's words remained law.
"The Prince that was promised," a gaunt, skeletal Viserys whispered regularly from his bed to his wife, Alicent.
"Aegon's dream… The Prince that was promised…"
Alicent, tears streaking her cheeks, looked upon her husband with dread, voice trembling: "Aegon… my son?"
"A… Aegon… Aegon's dream. Aegon… Aegon is king. Aegon is king."
Alicient couldn't believe how long it took her husband to realize that Baelon and Valarr were illegitimate, sons of his brother Daemon and his whore daughter Rhaenyra.
Her son, Aegon, was the true heir to the Iron Throne, rightful and pure in the eyes of men if not dragons.
Hence, the throne was usurped.
Rhaenyra had made the fatal mistake of leaving Baelon, his sister-wife Baela, and their first son Aekar in King's Landing.
She believed their presence would reinforce Baelon's claim, and to a great degree, it did... until treachery moved unseen.
After King Viserys' death, the Hightowers struck in secret, shutting down the city and silencing opposition.
Despite the Queen's Guard of Rhaenys' chosen warriors who had accompanied her son, the Hightowers slaughtered them all, slitting Baelon's throat alongside his wife and child, leaving the Red Keep soaked in blood and betrayal.
Three days later, their half-cousin, Aegon, was crowned in the Dragonpit by the High Septon, under the light of the Seven and before thousands.
With the Conqueror's crown upon his brow and Blackfyre in his grip, he was the king the realm and the Faith accepted, for Baelon's parentage was deemed blasphemous and unacceptable.
BOOM!
Alas! The beast beneath the boards had awakened.
The Red Queen, Meleys, tore through the hall, killing many upon her emergence, with the Queen Who Never Was astride her.
On the platform was the coronation with almost all the HighTarg heirs present, the golden dragon banners fluttering at every corner.
Rhaenys stared down at the treacherers with hate burning in her violet eyes as the commotion echoed all around her.
They had locked her up in a chamber, and she couldn't forget it.
RROOAAAARRR! Meleys reared.
"Dracarys."
The walls of the Dragonpit ignited as dragonfire engulfed from the dragon's mouth.
Meleys' fire consumed King Aegon II, Criston Cole, and Alicent Hightower, who had come in front of her son.
Before she could strike the Hand of the King, a roar shook the Dragonpit from outside.
"Meleys, leave!" Rhaenys ordered.
Killing hundreds in her path, Meleys turned, trudged, and flapped out of the Dragonpit before Vhagar could reach the entrance, leaving behind screams and ashes.
Aemond One-Eye had been stationed atop the Hill of Rhaenys, at the Dragonpit's western flank.
It was the highest perch near the Pit, a place from which he could see everything in the filthy city.
He had been ordered to remain there as the watch of dragons, and to strike if any resistance arose during the coronation.
Vhagar was the largest dragon, but also the slowest. Meleys, the Red Queen, was smaller and swifter, and her rider was seasoned.
But her foe that day was a creature much younger, much cruel.
Aemond was vicious, and his hatred of the Blacks couldn't be tempered.
"Dracarys," he hissed striking his whip.
SHROOOOM!
Vhagar's fire poured down the hill, swallowing the square.
Rhaenys clutched her reins and slung her whip through the air. She pull
ed at the riding chains she'd fastened in haste, tightening her grip as the Red Queen spiraled upward to evade Vhagar's breath.
Below, the people screamed.
And thus, the first Dance began.