Chapter 30: The King's Death
The bell tolled at midnight.
Deep. Resonant. The sound that announced a king's death.
I was at my post outside Helaena's chambers when a servant ran past, shouting.
"The king is dead! King Viserys is dead!"
The words echoed through the stone corridors.
It had finally happened.
Helaena's door opened immediately. She stood there in her nightgown, face pale as bone.
"It's begun," she whispered.
"Yes."
"The children—"
"Come."
I escorted her to the nursery. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera slept peacefully, unaware their grandfather had just died. Unaware their world had just shattered into factions that would tear the realm apart.
Helaena knelt beside their bed, touching their faces with trembling fingers.
"They're so small," she whispered. "How do I protect them from dragons?"
"You don't. I do."
She looked up at me. "You can't fight every dragon."
"I can fight enough of them."
Footsteps in the corridor. Multiple sets. Purposeful.
I moved to the door, hand on my knife.
A knock. Otto's voice. "Princess Helaena? The queen mother requires your presence. Immediately."
I opened the door. Otto stood there with four guards. All armed. All loyal to him.
"The children stay here," I said. "Under guard."
"Agreed. You'll accompany the princess. The queen mother insists."
Helaena stood, kissed each child's forehead, then followed me into the corridor.
The Red Keep was chaos. Servants running. Guards taking positions. Doors being locked and barred.
Otto was moving fast.
The small council chamber had transformed into a war room.
Alicent sat at the head of the table. Criston Cole stood behind her. Aegon—dragged from whatever brothel he'd been in—slumped in a chair, still reeking of wine and sex.
Aemond stood near the window. Alert. Eager.
Grand Maester Orwyle shuffled papers nervously.
And in the corner: the Conqueror's crown. Valyrian steel, ruby-studded, waiting.
Otto addressed the room. "King Viserys is dead. May he rest with the Seven." No one mourned. This was business. "The matter of succession must be resolved immediately."
"Rhaenyra is the heir," Aegon muttered. "Father named her."
"Your father was a sentimental fool," Otto said coldly. "The law is clear. Eldest son inherits. You are the rightful king."
"I never wanted—"
"Your wants are irrelevant." Otto's voice cut like a blade. "Your sister's children are bastards. Strong bastards, not Velaryon. She's married to her uncle in defiance of the Faith. Her claim is poison to the realm."
"So is forcing me to be king."
"Nevertheless." Otto turned to Criston Cole. "Lord Commander. The crown."
Criston picked up the Conqueror's crown. Carried it to Aegon.
"Your Grace. The realm needs you."
Aegon stared at the crown like it was a viper. Then, slowly, he reached out. Took it.
"Fine. I'll be king. But when this all goes to shit, don't say I didn't warn you."
He placed the crown on his head. It sat awkwardly, too large, tilting slightly.
King Aegon II. The usurper. The beginning of the Dance.
Otto nodded. "The coronation will be public. Dawn. The Dragonpit. The smallfolk must see their new king."
"And Rhaenyra?" Aemond asked.
"Will be informed after the coronation. By then, it will be irreversible." Otto's eyes swept the room. "All gates are sealed. No ravens leave the Keep. King's Landing is ours."
A coup. Clean. Efficient. Executed before anyone could react.
Alicent turned to Helaena. "Come, daughter. You must be prepared."
"Prepared for what?"
"You are the queen now."
Silence. Helaena's face went pale.
"No. I don't—I can't—"
"You must." Alicent's voice softened fractionally. "I know this frightens you. But your children need you strong. The realm needs you strong."
"I just want them safe."
"Then wear the crown. Use its power to protect them."
Helaena looked at me. Desperate. Seeking permission or guidance or escape.
I met her eyes. "Will this make them safer?"
I wanted to lie. Wanted to say yes, wearing the crown would protect them.
But I couldn't.
"No," I said quietly. "But it gives us resources. More guards. More control. More ability to prepare."
She closed her eyes. Took a breath. Opened them.
"Then I'll be queen. For them."
Alicent nodded. "Good. Come. We must prepare you for the coronation."
She stood. Walked past me. Paused.
Whispered so only I could hear: "Don't leave me."
"Never."
Then she followed Alicent out.
Otto watched me. "You'll attend the coronation. As her guard."
"Of course."
"See that she doesn't make a scene. The realm needs to see a united family."
I didn't respond. Just left the chamber, following Helaena.
Dawn approached. I stood in the empty throne room, staring at the Iron Throne.
Swords. Hundreds of them, melted together by dragonfire. Built by Aegon the Conqueror. The symbol of absolute power.
And in a few hours, Aegon II would sit upon it. Would claim it. Would start a war that would kill thousands.
I thought about the original timeline. Helaena losing her children to Blood and Cheese. Going mad. Jumping from a window.
I'd prevented Blood and Cheese. Killed them both. That one horror was averted.
But the Dance was so much more than one assassination. Dragons would burn. Cities would fall. Families would fracture. And Helaena—gentle, prophetic Helaena—would be caught in the center of it all.
"Ready?" Criston Cole's voice behind me.
I turned. He stood in full armor, white cloak pristine.
"For what's coming? No. But I'll do it anyway."
He almost smiled. "That's all anyone can do."
We walked together to the royal quarters. Helaena waited outside her chambers, dressed in green and gold. A crown—smaller than Aegon's, delicate—sat on her silver hair.
She looked terrified.
I took my position beside her. "Breathe."
"I can't—"
"Yes, you can. In. Out. Just like that."
She breathed. Found some measure of calm.
"Will you stay with me? During the coronation?"
"Every second."
"After?"
"Every second after that too."
She took my hand. Squeezed. Then released it before anyone could see.
Outside, the city was waking. The Dragonpit was being prepared. The smallfolk were gathering.
The Dance of the Dragons was beginning.
And I stood beside the woman I loved, knowing the next months—maybe years—would be fire and blood and horror.
But for now, in this moment, she was safe. The children were safe.
That was enough.
It had to be enough.
Because everything else was about to burn.
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