Twin Flames: Ashes Beneath the Crown
Chapter I – The Chamber Beneath the Hightower
POV: Corlys Velaryon
The letter arrived sealed in tar and salt.
Not by raven.
By ship.
Corlys dismissed all attendants before breaking the wax.
Inside was not inked parchment alone — but copied diagrams, coded ledgers… and a charcoal rubbing of a stone door.
Below the Ravenry. Beneath the third ring of vaults. Restricted to archmaesters of silver, lead, and copper.
He read in silence.
"A hidden chamber. Accessed through a false wall behind astronomical charts. Guarded not by swords — but by knowledge. Within: records of royal lineages. Marginalia. Observations. Corrections."
Corrections.
Corlys' jaw tightened.
The spy — a Lysene scholar in his employ — had written with shaking hand:
"There are scrolls labeled: 'Dragon Decline – Generational Instability.'"
"Case studies of Targaryen births."
"Methods."
The Sea Snake's knuckles whitened.
He read the copied list:
Delayed medical intervention in high-risk labors
Administration of 'calming tinctures' that thin the blood
Encouragement of intra-familial unions during unstable magical periods
Separation of dragon eggs from cradle proximity
Religious reinforcement of humility doctrines to limit dragon proliferation
And at the bottom of one copied page:
"Subject: Reign of Jaehaerys I Targaryen — High fertility. High instability. Intervention recommended."
Corlys exhaled slowly.
There were names listed beside case notes.
Children who died of "fevers."
Infants "born weak."
Queens who "failed to recover."
One entry bore a name that froze his blood.
"Aemma Arryn – High probability of fatal outcome given surgical urgency protocol."
Protocol.
Not tragedy.
Protocol.
Corlys folded the letter carefully.
This was no superstition.
No fear-driven paranoia.
This was documentation.
The Citadel had not merely recorded history.
It had edited it.
And now he held proof.
Chapter II – The Weight of Proof
POV: Rhaenys Targaryen
The chamber in the Tower of the Hand was silent when Corlys presented the documents.
Viserys read them once.
Then again.
The color drained from his face.
Daemon did not sit.
He paced like a caged predator.
Rhaenyra stood unmoving, eyes sharp as Valyrian steel.
"This is forgery," Viserys whispered weakly.
Corlys shook his head.
"The diagrams match the Citadel's internal architecture. The coded references align with known archmaester signatures."
Rhaenys picked up one page.
"'Gradual reduction of draconic reliance ensures long-term societal stability.'"
She looked up.
"They saw dragons as destabilizing."
Daemon's voice dropped to a lethal calm.
"They saw us as disease."
Rhaenyra's hand trembled over the name of her mother.
Aemma Arryn.
Reduced to a case study.
Viserys finally broke.
A strangled sound left him as he sank into his chair.
"They told me it was necessary."
"They told me we tried everything."
Silence swallowed the room.
Because everyone now understood:
The decline of dragons.
The fragile births.
The miscarriages.
The stillborn heirs.
It was not coincidence.
It was policy.
Chapter III – Alicent's Fracture
POV: Alicent Hightower
Alicent found the first sign by accident.
Her father's study door slightly ajar.
A half-burned draft of a letter in the hearth.
She had not meant to read it.
But one phrase caught her eye:
"—containment of draconic resurgence remains paramount—"
Containment.
She felt cold.
Later, whispers reached her chambers. Servants murmuring of Velaryon ships. Of Rhaenys' tightened council. Of Daemon threatening maesters openly.
Then Viserys stopped consulting her father.
Stopped inviting him to private discussions.
Otto grew restless.
Agitated.
She confronted him at last.
"Father," she said carefully, "why would the Citadel keep restricted genealogical records?"
Otto stilled.
"Knowledge requires discretion."
"And why write of containment?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Where did you hear that?"
The shift in his tone frightened her more than the words themselves.
"I am your daughter," she pressed softly. "I deserve truth."
Otto sighed.
"The realm cannot be ruled by creatures of myth forever, Alicent. Dragons are not governance. They are weapons."
"They are our blood."
"They are instability," he snapped.
She flinched.
And in that moment, doubt bloomed fully.
Not about dragons.
About him.
Chapter IV – The Revelation
POV: Aenarion & Daenerys
We felt the realm tremble before the announcement was even made.
Viserys chose transparency.
It was not subtle.
It was not strategic.
It was grief turned into proclamation.
Before the lords of the Seven Kingdoms, within the throne room of the Red Keep, he unveiled the copies.
Not all details.
But enough.
Enough to name a hidden chamber in Oldtown.
Enough to reveal documented "interventions" in Targaryen births.
Enough to shake the foundation of centuries.
Gasps echoed beneath vaulted ceilings.
Some lords paled.
Some whispered prayers.
Some looked furious.
The Faith's representatives stiffened visibly.
Viserys' voice trembled but did not break.
"For generations, my house trusted the Citadel as counselors. If these records are true, that trust has been betrayed."
Shock rippled like wildfire.
In the Reach, banners hesitated.
In the Westerlands, lords demanded verification.
In Dorne, envoys listened very carefully.
In Braavos, the Sealord's court began calculating.
Oldtown itself fell into guarded silence.
Ravens flew in frantic numbers.
The High Septon denied knowledge.
Archmaesters demanded inspection of the alleged chamber.
The realm divided not by swords—
But by belief.
Chapter V – The Seven Kingdoms Hold Their Breath
POV: Multiple
In Oldtown, the Hightower burned letters before dawn.
In King's Landing, maesters swore innocence while avoiding Daemon's gaze.
On Driftmark, Velaryon ships quietly blocked certain trade routes.
At Dragonstone, dragons roared restlessly as if sensing ancient tension resurfacing.
Alicent knelt alone in the sept that night.
"Mother Above," she whispered, "if my father is wrong… guide me."
But no warmth came.
Only silence.
And far above Blackwater Bay, we stood together, watching storm clouds gather over the horizon.
"They will not surrender quietly," Daenerys murmured within our shared mind.
"No," I answered.
"This revelation humiliates them."
"It forces them into the open."
Below us, the Seven Kingdoms trembled.
Faith versus Fire.
Knowledge versus Blood.
And for the first time since the Doom of Valyria, the Citadel was no longer an untouchable pillar of neutrality.
It was a suspect.
And the realm would never look at chains of silver and lead the same way again.